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#I hope to make many more memories on the cursed site for years to come
idiot-arih · 2 years
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Hi :)
I’ve now been on Tumblr for a year so yay :D
A sentimental fool’s rambling under the cut-
This year was, for lack of better terms, trash for me but Tumblr made it just a bit brighter. I started off terrified and grew to enjoy the energy of the trash site and everyone in this little flaming dumpster of a community I’m in. When i joined, i’d expected inspirational quotes and memes more recycled than ur mom jokes. Upon opening this cursed app, the first thing I was greeted with was phallic shaped crystals. Instead of the common social media platform norms i anticipated, i received SKY and aroace centaur shaggy and shoelaces and none pizza with left beef and acceptance. Bread sticks too. I genuinely didn’t think i would find comfort in strangers when i started, but i did, so thank you. And here’s a bunch of people that helped make my year exponentially better :) @hyper-circuit-official @juniperleafdelivery @cloudys-transmission @blue-skeleton6289 @normalayasstuff @nothingbizzare @olalucreat @nixxy-can-draw @ferdi-art-30 @baron-elysium @satellite-starss @glitchysquidd @adorablemew @neonordream @fratricidee @awholeclxwn @hatso @eclipsestarnightmare @hikkiomorii @studionovella @aliza-eliza @maagii-chan @milkycookiereads @thou-shant-stop-the-errink @wolfieamwhitevoid @stonesandpeaches @yuckydraws @yuriyuruandyuraart @calcium-cat @cj-does-va @yeosin-n @sansarion @anonymous3ch0 @inkedintothepaper @kuro909 @itsmaplebeebs @zombiedoodlesstuff @a-wild-windings-uwu @swabencrer @bruhhhlookiturreblogs @neon--nightmare @doodledroplmao @pebbled-brain @alyss-eiz @warriorstale001 @lio-the-lazy @sky-aris-blog2 @silverryu25 @llocally @stxrlie @mariposawolf​ @night-tato @skitteringjunbug @scuddle-bubble101 @ahthedoodle​ @kawaizem​ @applecheeks255​ @novafruity​ @a-mega-sad-nerd​
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hollandcrush · 3 years
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take sugar?
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carpenter!tom holland x ex-bestfriend!reader
summary: a simple tea break brews into something more when old feelings come to the forefront. 
word count: 12k
warnings: slow burn, smoking mention, slight angst, alcohol mention, some fluff, mutual pinning, naive teens, clumsy!tom, injury mention, blood mention, cursing, bad writing, and lots of smut but what is new minors dni (18+) all extended warnings below cut. 
a/n: so my love for a tradesman is unbearable therefore i just had to show my appreciation to carpenter!tom. i mean those work pants… i am physically not able. anyways, this is the longest piece of writing i’ve done so far. wanted to try it out :) i appreciate and welcome any feedback or criticism. but tell me what you think? anyways, sorry if this sucks (it prob does suck so fair warning) !! thank you for all the support, it really means the world <33 sorry for any mistakes but i hope you enjoy !!
taglist || masterlist
extended warnings: dry humping, praise kink, hand kink, marking, power kink, body worshiping, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!tom, lots of dirty talk, pet names, spit kink, oral (m. rec), hair pulling, slight sadism + masochism, unprotected sex, manhandling, spanking, soft!tom :’(, slight cum play, filling kink, lots of aftercare and mention of step-bro kink lmao. 
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The cigarette smoke filled your nose, alerting you that you did not rest in the garden by yourself anymore. Marking the page of your book, you tucked it under your back as you turned your head slightly to see the culprit. Tom met your gaze with a soft, apologetic smile, smoke exhaling from the corner of his lips.
His short hair was stiff in the gentle breeze, the sunlight struck his skin, cheekbones glowed and there was a sharp shadow under his jaw, accentuating it. The sheen of sweat that covered his forehead was evident. His clean uniform was now dirty, dust covering the skin tight, back polo shirt and dunlop slacks. The clothing left nothing to the imagination, the fabric clinging to every inch of skin, enhancing the large muscles of his thighs and biceps. 
Feeling slightly self conscious, you grabbed the oversized hoodie from the ground, covering your body. Knowing your kitchen was under construction, you had decided to soak in the sun rays to avoid the loud sounds of the machinery; and the inevitable headache you would receive. Zipping up the woolly hoodie, you ensured the bikini underneath was hidden before standing up to cater to the guest. 
He took another puff, eyes scanning your body as you walked towards him. The shortness of your shorts was the first thing that caught his eye. Your thighs on full show making his mouth slightly dry, causing him to cough as the smoke got caught in his throat. “You okay?” You queried, trying not to laugh as you watched his face become a bright red.
“Yeah fine. Sorry. D’know what happened.” He shrugged, bringing the cigarette back up to his mouth, playing it off. 
“You want a cup of tea? I can make a pot?” You offered, brushing past him to walk into the kitchen. 
Finishing the cigarette, he dropped it to the patio floor, quenching it with the sole of his boot before following you. He sat down at the dinner table, watching you scurry around the construction site trying to find the mugs.
“Take sugar?” 
“No, no. Just milk. Thank you.” He relaxed, leaning back in his seat, legs in a man spread position as he kneaded his sore thighs.
Placing everything on the table, the kettle finally stopped allowing you to make the pot. Tom's eyes shamelessly scanned your body, taking in every inch. He watched as the hoodie rose every time you reached up to grab something, how your upper thighs would come into view causing his body to contract. A pang of guilt would follow, his eyes snapped away with shame. He shouldn’t be checking out his employer. 
Joining him at the table, the screech of the chair on the tile floor grabbed his attention. He sent you a subtle smile, thanking you for your hospitality. You let the tea brew in silence, tapping your foot on the floor. “So. See you’ve finally grown up.” He snarled teasingly, taking the pot to pour out the cups of hot tea.
“Yeah. Guess I am a grown up now.”
Tom had been a neighbour of yours during your childhood. He was a year older, but you two were always close. Endless memories could be recollected. 
The first memory that came to mind was the time a football had hit your head unexpectedly. You were in the garden, playing in the sandbox when something collided with your head. You balled your eyes out, like any other six year old would, forcing your mother to sprint from upstairs to check on you. She was confused on what had happened until a knock came from the front door. 
Tom and his mother, Nicki, stood at the door. An upset Tom told her that he lost his football to the neighbours garden. She promised it would be retrieved to lift his spirits. 
When the door opened, your bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks greeted the strangers. “Sorry to bother, my son kicked the ball over the fence by accident. I was just wondering if we could get it back? I’m Nicki by the way. And this is Tom. Say hi Tom.”
Tom just stared at you, suddenly losing the ability to use his tongue. He cuddled into his mother’s side. “Oh it’s okay Tom! I promise we are nice people.” Your mother reassured, placing her hands on your tiny shoulders. “This is Y/N.”
“He hurt me mommy.” You insinuated, ready to have another outburst.
He immediately defended himself. “No I didn’t!”
The statements were repeated over and over again until your mother persuaded you both it was an accident and to apologise. After that incident, the seeds for your relationship were sown. 
It continued to grow through the years. You both relied on one another for advice and comfort. Growing up is challenging, it is hard trying to navigate yourself through the harsh world, but Tom helped. He always was by your side, and you were by his. Both supporting and protecting each other, as friends do.
One time, Tom had gone through a tough, ugly breakup and removed himself completely from the dating scene. Prom was coming up, and not wanting to attend the event alone, he had kindly asked you to be his date for the night. You couldn’t refuse such an offer. You just wanted to be a good friend.
For that night, you had to put away your pride to be the best wingwoman you could be, no matter how much it would hurt you under your tough exterior. Tom Holland was always a desirable man. Even though he was considered a nerd, he earned the hearts of many girls. His kindness and cheekiness easily charmed the masses. 
Girl after girl, you would introduce Tom, placing him on top of a pedestal. They fell fast, their drunken state had them in a flirtatious and horny state. Tom would join in on their giggles before excusing himself and escorting you two away. He’d buy another round of drinks, insisting he wasn’t looking for anyone tonight. Therefore, you both came to the conclusion of drowning yourself in alcohol, to only wake up in his bed with no recollection of what happened the night before.
Tom returned the favour, often being a chauffeur for a night out or helping you sneak out of your strict household. He wanted you to experience and enjoyed the teenage years, but always made sure you were safe. He was very protective over you, like a big brother. 
After your first heartbreak, Tom ran to your side, giving you a shoulder to cry on. He listened to you rant, curse and rage, assuring you that everything would be okay. He promised you that not all boys were like that, and one day, you would find the one. Someone who would treat you right, like the princess you were. He held you all night long, his warm grasp soothing the ache that ruptured your body. 
But after school, Tom had left to live the apprentice life and you two lost touch. It’s natural for people to grow apart as they grow up. Tom had gone to Wales, to further his career, leaving you behind. You missed him. His quirkiness, his charm. Everything. It was true what people say, you don’t know what you got until it’s gone.
Tom was in the year above you, that intimidated you. You were scared to admit any feelings, knowing he probably only viewed you like a little sister. So you bit your tongue, trying your best to erase any feelings you once had for him.
The first few weeks he was gone, the feeling of heartbreak returned, only this time Tom wasn’t there to care for you. This time, he was the cause of your pain. But, it eventually passed.
Growing up is probably the most challenging aspect of life. Typically, a person spends eighteen years under the guidance of their parents, trying to prepare as best as they can for the real world. Most mammals may only spend mere months with their mothers before venturing into the hard, cold world of reality. Even with all those extra years we have with our elders, life still is a bitch.
It was always a goal to move out as soon as you could. To be independent. To be in control of your own life. And when the opportunity presented itself, you blindly grasped at it with two hands. Leaving the nest to create your own path.
That’s how you ended up in this situation. You were so excited to move into your own house after college. A slight naivety caused you to overlook the flaws the house possessed, falling in love with the location and other minor things. You and your mother did as much as you could to fix up the place, but you knew you were going to need help when it came to the kitchen.
The cupboards were rotting, the wood dull and unattractive. You both came to the conclusion that you’d get a professional to do the job. It was only a coincidence that your mother had talked to Nicki who told her Tom was back in town. Your mother, being a noble and supportive person, decided to ask Tom to do the renovation.
The steam from the tea filled your nostrils, causing you to emerge from your wondering thoughts. You were sitting across from him, legs crossed and arms folded. It was awkward to say the least. Two ex-best friends in a room together after such a long period of time. 
“So you finally moved out? You always talked about how you couldn’t wait to be your own person.” Tom recounted, breaking the silence. 
You muttered a response. “Yeah. Finally.” 
Tom cleared his throat, sensing the tension between you two. He never meant for you to grow apart. You had been a rock in his teenage years, helped him through many heartbreaks and dilemmas. But things were overwhelming when he first arrived in Wales at the carpentry school. Demanding hours meant he had less time to communicate with loved ones back home. It wasn’t until things eventually sizzled down that he deemed it too late to reach out. And he hated himself for that. 
“So what have you been up to since I last saw you… five years ago. Wow. It’s been a long time.” He chuckled, causing you to huff in agreement. 
“Yeah. I suppose it has been that long.” You sighed as your finger slowly ran around the lip of the mug. Your eyes were focused on the cup in front of you in fear that you might blurt out some horrible things to the man that sat near you. “I’ve just finished college. Got into that course I told you about. It was everything I dreamed about. Anyways, got a job and yeah moved out. Suppose you didn’t miss much.”
Your lips pursed, tongue pressed against your teeth. For some reason, after all this time, you still had a hatred for him. The pain you experienced from him suddenly abandoning you reappeared and hit you like a tonne of bricks. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream, cry or a mixture of both. 
“Oh, that’s amazing Y/N! I am so proud of you. I know you worked hard for it. Mom used to tell me that your bedroom light used to be on at all hours of the night coming up to your final exams.” 
Your head quirked, eyes meeting him for a quick glance. The fact that his mother mentioned you in conversation meant that he must’ve been asking for you? Why couldn’t he just have called you himself? The thoughts that rushed through your brain made your blood boil. Was he that much of a coward that he couldn’t text you? Instead he decided to vanish from your life in the blink of an eye.
“What have you been up to?” You interjected, changing the topic away from you. Tom could hear the spitefulness in your tone, the guilt and regret instantly returned.
“Well I’ve been working. Had a few jobs all over the place which was cool. I was in Edinburgh for a while. You would’ve loved it, I know you always wanted to go–“
“I went. Don’t worry. A couple of my friends brought me there for a weekend trip, as a birthday surprise.” You interrupted, not interested in reminiscing on the past you two once shared.
He nodded before continuing. “Yeah, uh, was there for a couple months. Anyways, I am back home, hoping to create a business here.” 
The silence returned, the slurps of tea were the only things that could be heard. Neither one of you wanted to bring up past relations, but you both knew you needed to talk if you ever wanted to mend the ruins. However, you didn’t know where to begin. What unanswered question should you ask first. 
Pouring out some tea, you raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking if he wanted more to which he extended his cup out to you. His hand was wrapped around the ceramic container tightly, the veins bulging from under his skin. They were always so pretty, but now they looked so manly. Cuts and bruises lined the thick digits. 
Distracted by his hands, you hadn’t realised how shaky your own had become. This had caused some of the tea to splatter onto his skin, making him hiss in pain. You slammed the pot down onto the table, striking up from your seat, stuttering your apologies as you ran to get a cold cloth from the kitchen. 
“Y/N it is fine! It’s just tea darling.” His voice echoed, trying to assure you that he was fine. 
The word darling made the butterflies erupt in your stomach. Thankfully, your back faced him so he couldn’t see how flushed you had become due to that one simple word. Tom never used it ironically, which you found fascinating as the kids used it to tease or degrade others. He only ever used it out of love, endearment for you. It was a nickname he blessed you with. 
Regaining composure, you grabbed a rag, drenching it with cold water before squeezing out the excess. You turned on your heels, strutting back to the injured man that sat patiently at the table. Wrapping the cloth around the burnt finger, he let out a soft gasp. 
The touch was like electricity, the shock shooting through your body. The feeling was like the thrill of touching an electric fence when your mother warned you not to. The feeling was unknown but familiar all at the same time. Keeping your tranquility, you let out a harsh breath. 
“M’sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Plus, I can’t have you injured, you still need to finish my kitchen.” You joked, settling back down in the chair. 
He joined in on the laughter, his uninjured hand pressing the cloth into his burning skin, effectively soothing it. “Suppose it would be a shame if I don’t finish it. After all, I know my mother put in a good word for me. Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”
You gave him a soft smile before lifting the drink to your lips letting the hot liquid calm your raging body. Too many questions and emotions tormented it. 
“So you’ll be around Kingston more often?” 
“Yeah. Just happy to be able to work closer to home. You’d miss it you know.” 
“What do you miss?” The question was innocent by nature, but it had a deeper meaning. It had slipped from your lips unintentionally. Your body yearned for his acknowledgment that what he did was wrong. That he should’ve done better. Treated you like the princess he promised a man would. 
“Uh, y’know. Family, friends, the typical things. Miss playing local league too. The lads were always good fun on a Sunday night in the pub.” He chortled.
His laughs ignited the sudden anger that serged through your veins. All the hope that your body has created subconsciously in the past few moments, dispersed into the air, leaving you with nothing but hurt. 
“Yeah they missed you too.” You weakly mumbled, standing up from the table to begin to clean. Tom sensed your uneasiness, joining in to help you. He carried some things into the kitchen, trying to be a gentleman. “Y/N, I –“
“How much longer do you think you will be today?” You choked, feeling as though you could burst into tears at any second. 
“I’d say maybe another couple hours or so. Hoping to get back to the family for dinner.”
“Perfect. I will be outside if you need me.”
And with that, you left on heavy feet, leaving him to his own demise and letting you get a well-needed breath of fresh air. The interaction was too much. Those buried emotions were begging to be rediscovered, but this wasn’t the time nor place to break down. 
Tom stood still like a statue, wondering how it all went sour. What went wrong between you two? He had hoped the reunion would be joyful, instead it was awkward and cold. In need of help, Tom rang the only person in his life that wouldn’t beat around the bush- Harry.
“Mate, help.” Were the first words to slip from the elders mouth once his brother answered.
Harry’s eyebrow furrowed with confusion, wondering why his brother was calling him from work. “Guessing it didn’t go well then?” 
Tom sighed, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I was expecting. I haven’t seen her in years, I thought we would just pick up where we left off I suppose.” 
Harry nodded, understanding his brother’s frustration. He knew you two were close, had been from a young age. He also knew how hurt you were the day Tom left. 
Harry knew Tom could be stupid, but he was an idiot for what had happened all those years ago. Harry vividly remembers you knocking on the front door, asking if Tom was around so he could join you on a walk. He was the one to break the news to you that Tom left. The way the smile got swept from your face, eyes glistened as tears began to form. It was imprinted in his memory. 
“What happened? I never got to ask.”
“What do you mean?” Tom replied, giving his phone a perplexed look as he shifted in the seat.
“What happened between you two? I mean, she had no idea you were leaving.”
Tom's face dropped, throat tightened. “I did tell her.” 
Tom had told you he was leaving to pursue carpentry, just not exactly when he was leaving. The night before your world began to crumble, Tom had visited you. You were perched up at your desk trying to study, body stiff due to the immense pressure that had pent up. Tom leaned against the doorframe, watching you intently as you vigorously wrote onto the blank piece of paper before you. 
“You know, it’s okay to take a break.” 
“Yeah I know Tom, but I need to get this done. I’m so far behind in studies already and I just wanna cry.” You exclaimed, slumping down in your chair as you folded your arms. 
Tom laughed at your childlike stature, your lips pouted as you threw a little tantrum. He rolled his eyes, sitting down on your bed, patting the space beside him. “Come here.” He ushered.
You gladly followed instruction, skipping to cuddle into side. His arm automatically wrapped around your waist, head resting on top of yours as he let you relax into his touch. “You are gonna work yourself to death, darling.” He stated, concerned about your habits.
“Listen, I just wanna get into that course. You know how competitive it is. These stupid GCSEs are going to be the death of me.” 
“I know, darling, I know. But you need to find balance. The only time you aren’t studying is when you are with me.” 
“So not true Holland.” You defended, poking his side causing him to wince.
“Uncalled for.” He grumbled before grabbing your hands and pushing you flat onto the bed. Your legs scrambled, trying to push his body off of yours. 
“Tom!” You giggled, as he successfully pinned you down. 
“Hush, just relax.” He muttered, his body collapsing on top of you, finding a comfortable position. Legs were mingled as his head was tucked into your neck. Conceding, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly.
“You know, I’ll miss you.” He whispered, his hot breath hitting your skin sent shivers down your spine. 
“I’ll miss you too. You are like my best friend.”
A silence fell, both just enjoying the company. Tom was scared to tell you, nervous to break the news. He was leaving the next day and he hated that he was leaving you. But there was no other option, he needed to move on in life. Find his own way.
He always had an unexplained soft spot for you. By your side through thick and thin. Through all the pain and happiness in your life, Tom had always been there. He was the Ant to your Dec. The straw to your berry. You get the idea. You were inseparable. 
As Tom laid on your chest, the realisation that if he told you he was leaving tomorrow, you would be heartbroken. And Tom never wanted to do that to you. He never wanted to be the reason for your pain.
Harry’s voice echoed through his ear, awakening him from his daydream. “Tom, why didn’t you tell her?” He reiterated, knowing his brother was lying through his teeth.
“I didn’t want to hurt her.” Tom blurted, the urge to press the red button on his phone becoming more enticing by the second. 
“Mate, you hurt her anyway.” 
Tom dropped his head, acknowledging that his past decision was idiotic and selfish. He simply didn’t want to see the pain on your face when the words slipped from his lips ‘I am leaving you tomorrow’.
Not a word was said between the two as Tom processed his thoughts. His foot tapped on the floor rapidly, trying to figure out how he could fix the situation. Maybe he should talk to you? Apologise for his boyish, egocentric actions. Or maybe it was best to leave it? Move on.
“Look Tom, we will talk about it when you get home. Just get the job done. Don’t need to give her another reason to hate you.” 
Before Tom could respond, Harry hung up. Tom cursed under his breath before shoving his phone in the pocket of his pants. He stalked over to the work station, wanting to be home already. To feel safe in a known environment.
Tom chipped away, getting one task done at a time. Focusing on anything but her. Each press carved carefully, elegantly with his steady hands. He found the sanding of wood to be therapeutic. Rough edges soften to become fine pieces of work. 
Once the wood was prepped, hinges were added before attached to the exposed cabinets. A proud smile erupted, happy with his handiwork. All that was left was the decorative pieces that would conceal the old frame. Slapping his hand to remove the dust that collected in the nooks of his hands, he grabbed another piece of wood and the hacksaw.
As he began the strokes, a picture frame in the dining area caught his eye. It was of you and Tom at his prom. Both clearly intoxicated, but bright smiles plastered on your faces hid the droopy eyes. His hand was snatched around your waist, pulling you in for a side hug. A gentle hand laid on his chest. His attention was on the green and white corsage he bought that matched your emerald green dress. He remembered all the flourist he had to visit to find the perfect match. All the moaning his mother had to endure about how it was impossible to find it. But in the end he did. 
Completely in a daze, the saw caught his thumb causing him to yelp. A sequence of curses ripped from his throat as he applied pressure onto the wounded skin. “Such a fucking idiot.” He groaned, scavenging the room for some sort of medical help.
“What happened?” 
He winced at your panicked voice. ‘If she thought you were pathetic before, she's definitely going to think it now.’
“Just an accident.” Tom muttered, the blood now dripping onto the floor. 
You gasped, running to his aid. Thankfully, you had a first aid in one of the cupboards. Grasping his forearm, you guided him to the table, encouraging him to sit as you bandaged him up. 
“Fuck what do I do?” You breathed, trying to stay calm in the situation. Blood never appealed to your senses. 
“Just- shit, clean it with whatever rubbing alcohol you have and wrap it.” He instructed through gritted teeth. “It’s not too deep.”
“I can see your flesh!” You exclaimed, looking at him with concern. 
“It’s fine. I promise.”
You nodded, starting the process of cleaning up the wound. Drenching some cotton wool, you placed it on the open cut. He hissed at the burn. Eyes snapped towards his, checking that he was still okay. 
His breath hitched as you continued to tend to his cut, the burning sensation simmering down as he got used to the pain. Once it stopped bleeding, you handed him a wipe to clean up the dried blood. You unwinded some clean bandage, getting ready to wrap the wound. 
“If you are gonna be a clutz, carpentry isn’t the career for you.” You snarled a small chuckle following the comment causing Tom to crack a small smile. 
“I suppose. Not usually this.. unprofessional.” 
Hands were in sync as you manoeuvred around his nimble digits. “Should’ve pursued a job in nursing.”
“I don’t like blood.” You stated, taping the bandage closed. 
“Thank you Y/N. And I am sorry by the way.”
You laced your eyebrows, stunned by the sudden apology statement Tom gave you. You stuffed the equipment back into the first aid bag before you slumped down in the wooden chair that was unoccupied across from him. “Well that was out of the blue.” You pointed out, folding your arms and crossing your legs. “Why the apology?”
Tom twiddled with the fresh wrapping around his thumb. “Y’know, for what went down between us. All those years ago.” He stuttered, not daring to make any eye contact with you. 
Opening your mouth, you tried to speak but no sound escaped. Throat was dry, tongue immobile. Eyes twinkled with the tears that wanted to slip. You hadn’t expected him to confront you about what happened all those years. You presumed he had forgotten about it, never regretting his actions. Too prideful.
“I should’ve told you. I realised I was selfish. I didn’t want to see you hurt.” 
Biting the inside of your cheeks, you tried hard to conceal any emotions that threatened to pour. “I wish you had just been honest Tom. It really hurt me. I thought you never wanted to see me again. We were so close, and you were my best friend. Why Tom? I mean you could’ve just told me you didn’t want me in your life anymore. People grow apart. That’s understandable. I loved you. As a friend. And you just got up and left with no reason. Fuck.” You blurted, words spurting out of your trembling lips through no filter.
His warm uninjured hand rested on your knee, comforting your racing mind. He scooted his chair closer, heart breaking at your fragile stature. Guilt consumed him. Even after all these years, you were still in pain. 
“Darling.” He cooed, squeezing your knee. “I wanted, want you in my life. You are an amazing, kind person. The sweetest person I have ever gotten to know. I was just stupid. I needed to get a job, a proper one. I couldn’t be working in Tilly’s Sweetshop my whole life.” He explained, moving the hand from your knee to cup the side of your face. Forcing you to stare at his warm brown orbs. 
“Please trust me when I say this, I never meant to hurt you. I was just stupid and young. I never thought about the implications it would have on you. Honestly, I thought it best if I was out of your life.” 
“What do you mean?” 
With a shaky breath, he grabbed your chair, legs dragging against the floor as he pulled it closer to him. “I am bad for you. Well I was. I was a boy, who just wanted to get drunk with his mates on the weekend. You were a beautiful, intelligent girl who understood the importance of school.”
“I was beautiful?” You quirked, trying to lighten the dull mood. 
“No! No. You are beautiful, I mean, very beautiful. Gorgeous.” He stuttered, kicking himself mentally.
“I was joking Tom. Relax.” 
“Nice to see you still have a sense of humour.” He chuckled, dropping his gentle hand from your face as he leaned back in his chair. “But you get what I mean. We were always going to go down different paths.” 
“So you left me? With no warning?”
A deep breath was pushed out by his heavy lungs, shoulders dropped in defeat. “I left because, somehow subconsciously, my mind knew that it wouldn’t work. We wouldn't work. So maybe I thought if I just left without telling you, you might hate me and forget about me. I guess my feelings for you scared me. But it’s the past.”
Eyes bulged at his admission. Thomas Holland liked you? But as your mature brain processed the information, it was obvious. Oh, how naive the young conscious is. The cuddles, the comforting, the compliments. They were endless. Tom protected you, cared for you. You remembered how his jaw would clench whenever a guy would be within a meter of you. The sudden jealousy he would have, his arm would sling around your body, holding you close. 
You began to laugh, Tom suddenly becoming uncomfortable from the outburst. Only moments ago it seemed like you were going to burst into tears. “We are idiots.” You stated, hands thrown into the air before slapping your thighs. “We are proper idiots.” 
“Care to explain?”
“It’s the past. Does it really matter.” You shrugged.
“It matters to me.” 
Tom leaned forward, elbows on his knee as he inched closer to you, showing you that you had earned his undivided attention. Eyes met in a lustful gaze, the hatred you had for one another gone. “Why does it matter to you Tom? Tell me.” Voice was stern, begging for him to finally confront those buried feelings. 
“For the strong, independent woman you are, I didn't expect I’d have to make the first move.” He smirked, knowing he was pushing the right buttons. 
“For the strong-headed, stubborn man you are, I thought you would’ve wanted to make the first move.”
“Can I?” He asked, lips lingering over yours. 
“Tell me.” You whimpered, needing confirmation of your assumptions. “Tell me, Tom.”
“Been in love with you since you were fourteen. People make mistakes, please give me a chance to redeem myself darling. I have always had a soft spot for you. I need you. I still want you, even after all these years. I still want you.”
Biting your lip, you prevented the smile from sweeping across your face. No matter how stupid this man was, no matter how idiotic you were, you couldn’t deny that what you two shared was unique. You would hate yourself if you didn’t at least try.
“I forgive you Tommy. Do you forgive me?” 
His heart skipped a beat at the nickname, not knowing he longed to hear it come from your lips again. His tongue poked from his tight lips, wetting them as he looked deep into your gaze. 
“I forgive you darling.” He whispered softly, mouth slowly edging closer to yours.
“Should we take it slow?” You queried with a gentle tone, lips grazing one another.
“Honestly, I think we missed out on enough time already. But if you want to take it slow, then we c–“
Lips finally collided sending tingles through your body as the butterflies erupted. His lips tender, just as you had imagined. Your hand found its way to his collar, tugging it, pulling him as close as possible. 
“She made the first move after all.” He mumbled against your lips causing you to smile. 
The kiss was gentle, sensual by nature. The neediness to explore one another reaching its peak. Years of unanswered questions finding a conclusion. His hands cupped your face, holding you still as lips began to move. Syncing together as you got your first taste. Appetite growing. 
Tom rose from his chair, signalling you to do the same. One arm wrapped around your waist, crashing your body into his. Not a sliver of air could pass through. Body melted into his touch, brain turning into mush as it clouded with desire. His tongue budge at your entrance, wanting to deepen the kiss. 
Not denying yourself such pleasure, you gladly parted your lips, allowing tongues to battle. Your hands were carefully placed in his hair, remembering how much he enjoyed head massages. His moans vibrated through your body, finding a specific area between your legs to resonate. Tongues were tangled as his grip tightened, your front feeling a throbbing presence. 
Taking the initiative, one hand slid down his stomach to loop around his belt, tugging it as you began to shuffle your feet backwards. He followed your motions, moving your bodies in the direction you guided him. As you summoned at the end of the staircase, he lightly bit your lip as he pulled away.
“God you are magnificent. Are you sure?” He entreated, using his feet to kick off his steel toe boots.
“Tom, I have waited long enough. I am sure. Please.” 
His hand wrapped around the back of your thighs, hoisting you up. Legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. “Tom, mind your hand!” 
He rolled his eyes, giving the collarbone that poked from your hoodie a wet kiss. “Direct me to the bedroom, before I end up taking you on these stairs.” 
Somehow, Tom managed to carry you to the bedroom with no incidents. His tradesman strength came into use. He shielded you as he barged through the bedroom door. “Tom, did you break my door?” You scowled.
He laughed as he lowered you down onto your mattress. Your legs still wrapped around his hips as he ripped his shirt from his body. Mouth watering at the sight. “I am a carpenter darling. I will make you a new door.” 
His hand flung the shirt to the corner of the room. Your eyes shamelessly scanned his torso, counting every ab that was carved into his dense sculpture. His broad shoulders made you feel small as he towered over you. Hands reached forward, needing to feel his skin. Tom got the message climbing on top of you as lips reconnected, picking up from where you left off. 
Warmth spread through you, his body encasing yours. His elbows were propped up by your head, ensuring he didn’t crush you. Hands explored his skin and muscles. Feeling them contract under your loving touch. Hips thrusted against his, desperate for more. 
Flipping your bodies, you now straddled him. Hungry eyes trailed the deep v-line of his abdomen. Tom's hands wasted no time in discarding your hoodie, throwing it as far away as possible. His hips thrusted into you, bodies sporting more clothes then he wanted. The bump of his movements reached your clit through the thin material of your shorts. A sharp moan slipped from eager lips.
“Fuck. You sound angelic darling. Want to hear more.” He groaned, grasping your hips in his hands, guiding them in a rocking motion against his stiffness. 
Your hands fell to his chest, keeping you steady as he manhandled your frame. The feeling of his cock strained against your buzzing centre drove you crazy. Teasing you until you’d inevitably went mad. Hips found the perfect pace, causing your toes to curl and eyes to roll. 
Peering through your heavy lids, you watched as his face filled with pleasure. Lip tucked between his straight, white teeth. Hair falling out of its neat quiff from the movement against the mattress. Eyes shut tight, enjoying the feeling of your heat rocking against his hard cock. Even through clothes, he was thoroughly enjoying himself, as were you.
That was evident from the knot that quickly formed in the pit of your stomach. The friction stimulated the bundle of nerves that was hidden. His groans filled your ears, vibrating your whole body. Eyes flickered between his torso and face. The way his abs moved like a wave, enabling him to grind against you as his hands held you still. 
“Tommy. Tommy, I am close.” You gasped, throwing your head back as you prepared to reach your climax. 
“Fuck. Pretty girl. So fucking gorgeous.”
One hand trailed up your back finding the notch that held your bikini top in place, undoing it letting your tits fall free. You removed the fabric from your body as his hand grabbed one of the mounds, squeezing it before letting his thumb circle the bud. That was all you needed to reach your first anticipated high.
Back arched, hands grasping his strong shoulders as your body shook with pleasure. Tom's hand returned to your hip, steadying you. “God, you look amazing when you cum darling. The prettiest girl.” He praised as he slowly maneuvered your bodies so you lay flat on the bed, head resting on one of your silk pillows.
Tom hovered over you, lips puzzling together as one of his hands found their way to your shorts. Kiss fervent and fierce as tongues clashed. Head was still groggy following your first orgasm. “You okay?” He asked, lips pecking a wet trail to your neck.
“Yes. Amazing. Let me return the favour.” Hands pushing at his shoulders, however, he wouldn’t budge.
His soft lips found the sweet spot on your neck, sucking the skin. Marking you. Making you his. “Shush. Watching you come gives me all the pleasure I need. Don’t understand how beautiful you are. Fuck.” 
You cried out at his praise, and the fact that getting you off turned him on. What a man. His mouth continued its attack, bruising the skin of your neck. Focusing on the sweet spot, making your body weak under his strong, dominant presence. 
His rocky, ice cold hands found their way under the skimpy material of your shorts pressing against the neglected skin of your pubic bone. Lips began its descent south. Ensuring all skin earned the attention it deserved.
Beginning with your collarbones, his lips grazed the skin before travelling down to your tits. Tongue licked the navel between the mounds before latching around your nipple. He sucked and nibbled on the sensitive bud. Your continuous faint moans encouraged him to continue. He moved to the other curve, giving it its desired attention.
His hand continued to massage the skin on your lower stomach, the other placed on your waist. Body squirmed at his touch, his power over you evident as he kept you firm and stable. Tom trailed his lips lower, travelling down the centre of your abdomen, kissing every inch. Worshipping you. He stopped once he reached the band of your shorts. Eyes locked with yours, asking silently for your permission to continue.
“Please Tommy.” You mewled, hands entangling in his brown locks pushing back the fallen strays of hair away from his face. 
He smirked at your desperation. Hands pulling at the shorts, moving it down your body gracefully as his lips sunk into the newly exposed skin. Tom situated himself between your thighs, kissing light, teasing kisses into the sensitive skin of your inner legs. You giggled at the tickling sensation causing his teeth to graze your skin as a smile emerged on his face. “What’s funny?”
“Just not used to this kind of attention.”
“Get used to it.”
His hands raked the skin of your thighs before resting on the band of your lace thong. Eyes met the covered sacred lips, hungry filling them. “You wear these for me darling?” He purred, edging closer to your clothed core.
His hot breath fanned over your burning heat as his delicate fingers looped around the thin material, pulling at the fabric. Nervous, your hands entangled with one another on your mid stomach. He sensed the queasiness. Lips laid a tender kiss to your hidden clit. “Hey, are you okay? We don’t have to do this, remember?” 
“Yeah I know. I want it, trust me. But just haven’t done anything like this in a while. Busy with stuff, life.” 
His hands found yours, clasping them. You admired them intently. The veins that shone through the thin layer of skin. The discolouration due to all marks and bruises that littered them. His bandage still impressively intact. He gave you a squeeze, comforting you. “Hey, I’ll take real good care of you. I promise no need to be nervous. I’m going to take real good care of you darling, just relax and feel me.”
Keeping his hands on yours, he carefully used his teeth to remove your thong. You couldn’t help but moan as you watched the beautiful man elegantly remove the fabric. You helped him in his quest, hoisting your hips and lifting your legs.
Once you laid bare, his pupils bloomed, dark and full of lust. Like a predator catching prey, ready to feast. He returned to the position between your shaky thighs, lips in reaching distance of your soaked core. “So wet already. I am such a lucky man. Bet you taste amazing too darling.” 
His tongue reached out, licking a long stripe from your aching entrance to your throbbing clit. Latching onto it with all his might. Sucking and flicking the neglected bud. “Fuck Tommy.” Your fingernails digging into the palm of his hands. 
“Sweeter than I could ever imagine.” He hummed, tongue and lips working in sync to attend to your needs. You hitched up one leg, giving him better access causing him to groan. His wet muscle added to the puddle, creating sinister noises which brought euphoria to both your senses. 
“Taste divine.” Suck. “Princess fuck.” Lick. Back arched from the bed, the knot forming once again. “Good girl.” He moaned, sending vibrations through your overstimulated body. 
“Tommy, so close. Please. Right there.” You encouraged, rutting your hips against his face. 
Snatching his uninjured hands from your grasp, he added it to the onslaughter. Two digits easily slid into your dripping core, curling them to find the sweet spot hidden in your silky walls immediately. “Feel good princess. Stretching so perfectly round my fingers. Can’t wait to feel your walls around my throbbing cock. So snug. Fuck.” He muttered, eyes gazing into yours. 
The talk, the attentive touch. It was too much. The wave crashed through your body without warning. Body shaking with pleasure, enjoying the ride. The hand on your stomach pressed into it, keeping you safe as your muscles shook voraciously. His fingers continued their motions, helping you through the intense high. “Tommy, please. I need you. Now.” You panted, brain in a haze.
“I know, I know.” He assured, removing his face from the sweet nectar. His eyes were clouded, unrecognisable. Face covered in your arousal. Chin gleaming with a mixture of spit and cum. 
His fingers stopped, pulling them from your stubborn, pulsating core. Eyes glued to his digits, loving the way his fingers glistened with your arousal. He noticed the fascination, a smirk appearing. “Wanna taste darling is it?” 
Shyly, you nodded, unsure if he would like interaction. “Fuck gorgeous. Open those pretty lips for me. Taste your sweetness.” He encouraged, fingers poking at your mouth, begging for entrance. 
Gladly, you parted your lips, wrapping around his wet digits. He groaned as he watched you suck his fingers clean. “Didn’t care on sharing darling?” He teased, lips attaching to yours once again.
As tongues mixed, you could taste yourself causing your core to thump. His hard cock was pressed against your slit, begging to be released. Hips involuntarily moved against one another, grinding together as lips mingled. It was hot, messy but passionate. It made you nearly hit your third climax. 
“Please, let me.” He hissed, the pain from his evident hard cock beginning to hurt him. “Let me show you how much you mean to me. I need you.” 
Your hand squeezed through the little space between your bodies to palm his covered member. Following your actions, he positioned himself on his knees, your legs wrapped around his waist. He groaned as he glanced at your small hand that teased his cock. “Look at the mess you made.” He groaned as he spotted the wet print your cunt had left behind. 
Your cheeks grew hot, blushing at his comment. Shame overcoming you as you realised how desperate you must have looked beneath him. Your heat covering his work clothes in juices. But that shame was washed away when he echoed praise. “That’s all for me? Fuck. I am the luckiest man alive. My best girl.”
Eyes scanned his stature. His thick thighs bulging through the material of his tight pants. Core chiselled after the constant contraction of his muscles. An evident bulge in the centre of his pants, daring to burst through. His hands hooked around your thighs, holding your body close as his eyes flickered between your seeping core and face. 
Your hands reached forward, undoing the buttons of his pants. His hips rutted against them, eager for release. “I really like these. They look good on you.” You whispered, embarrassed that you were turned on by a simple piece of clothing.
“Yeah princess? I can see. Your eyes were prying on them all day. And my hands.” He chuckled, running his hands up and down your quaking thighs. Reminding you of their presence, their capability.
Biting your lip, you tug at the material, striking them down his thighs. His boxer briefs finally came into view, the light material clinging around the hardness of his cock. A small wet spot stained around the tip due to the copious amount of pre-cum that leaked from his member. “Excited?” You chirped. 
“You have no idea darling.”
Prepping up on his knees, he clumsily removed the fabric from his body. Your hands continued to explore, grazing across his clothed throbbing cock. He groaned as your fingertips traced him. You looked up at him with big doe eyes, pleading for relief. “God. Don’t look at me like that. You will make me bust. Fucking angel.”
That was the last straw for you, the hungry to feel the man inside you became overbearing. Your slim digits slipped under the elastic of his briefs, feeling his hot hidden skin against yours. “Take it off.” He growled, his anticipation growing with every touch, movement and breath. 
Obligating, you pulled down his boxers, his cock sprung free. Slapping his core with an emphatic thump. You watched his cock jump, pulse as blood rushed through his length. Veins popped, the bulbous tip red and angry. Licking your swollen lips, you wanted, needed a taste.
Lowering your legs onto the bed, you leaned forward, face hovering daringly close to his neglected cock. Your hand grasped the base of his it, feeling the veins pump against your tight fist. It stood tall, intimidating. With wide, bright eyes, you stared up at your lover as your lips made contact with his raging head. His hands laced in your messy hair creating a makeshift ponytail, clearing it from your face. 
Parting your trembling lips, you allowed the tip to pass through the barrier. His salty precum tangy on your tastebuds. Shallowly sucking the tip, Tom let out a guttural groan, his grip tightening in your hair. “Fuck darling. Look so good with my cock between those pretty lips.” 
His compliment made you blush once again as you pulled away, giving you the opportunity to wet his member. Using the built up arousal in your mouth, you spat it onto his cock. Tom's eyes nearly popped out from their sockets, watching your innocent face do such a filthy action. “Shit. Say my name as you rub your spit into my cock darling. Wanna hear you say my name.” He demanded.
As your hands began to twist up and down on his cock, your spit covered his cock. Soaking it in. Your lips rested on his tip, placing a gentle, tender kiss. “Tommy.” 
The sound that ripped from his throat was primal, encouraging you to continue what you were doing. So you did, lips sinking around his girth as hands moved in sync. Pleasure striking through his body. Hands tight around your hair, guiding your precise movements. Your tongue poked at the prominent vein under his cock, weighing heavy on your muscle. Taking a breather, you let the tip rest in your open mouth. Eyes still connected through a steamy gaze. 
Toms jaw clenched, trying to find the willpower to not fuck your face. “Shit princess. You think you can take me all? Fit me in that tight, little mouth?” 
A smile spread across your face, ready to take on the challenge. Moving your wet hands onto his hip bones, you prepared yourself. In a swift movement, your lips wrapped around him and cheeks hollowed as you glided down his cock painfully slow. Tom breathed in sharply through gritted teeth, his hand tugging at your hair. His cock disappeared. You began to splutter and gag as you reached his base. He tried to pull you off, your stubbornness shone through. “Fuck, fuck, fuck darling. Take me so well. So warm and snug. Can’t wait to be in that sweet cunt.” He panted, his balls tightening as he watched you struggle. 
Tom had enough. He pulled your hair, guiding you off his cock. You barely got a breath in before his lips were attached to yours. The kiss was sloppy as he guided you to lay back down on the bed. His cock pressed into your raw wetness as he situated between your legs. The heat pounding against one another, the intensity of the moment causing you to cry out against his lips. “Tommy please. Please fuck me.”
He got the hint, hooking one of your thighs over his strong biceps. His tip prodded at your bare core. He sat back on his heels, letting his hand wrap around his cock, pumping it a few times before slipping it through your soaked folds. “Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” He grumbled, staring at you in despair. 
“I am on the pill. And I am clean.” You stated, pleasure clouding your judgement.
“Clean too.” He responded, staring at you with clear eyes. “You sure?” 
“Yes Tommy. I am sure. Just please.”
Positioned at your entrance, his hips pushed forward. The tip penetrated, walls welcoming him with a warm hug. You adjusted to his size as they stretched your aching hole. Slowly, inch by inch, Tom dived deeper. His face contorted with pleasure, eyebrows laced, eyes closed, and jaw seized. He growled as your walls warped around him. “So snug darling. Fuck.” 
His hands grabbed your thighs, pulling you down on his cock, forcing you to take his length. Gasping, you clawed at his abs. Fingernails digging into his skin, leaving behind loving marks. “So big Tommy. Feel so full.” 
“I know princess, but you are doing so well. Love how you feel.” He assured, cock pulsing inside you. 
He stayed still, letting you adjust. Your continuous moans and whimpers assuring him you were enjoying the slight pain that mixed with the intense pleasure. His hips rocked, stretching you. His thumb found your clit, rubbing sloppy circles adding to the ecstasy that you were experiencing. “So tight sweetheart.” He praised, hips finally retracting before slamming back in. “Fuck. Perfect little cunt. Gonna make you feel so good darling. Gonna have you cumming all over my cock.”
The two previous orgasms had you on edge immediately, clenching around him. “Tommy please don’t tease me!” You whined, pleading for him to pound you into oblivion. You had waited too long for this moment. 
“Awh darling. Your little cunt is suffocating me. You really want me to demolish you. Split you in half. Huh? Always knew you were a freak under that golden girl persona.” 
Having enough of the teasing, you tried to flip him over so you would be in control. Tom was too strong however, grasping your hands and slamming them above your head. His dominant side awakening. “No. I am the one in control here. Keep those hands above your head, unless you wanna touch me. Don’t you dare touch that body of yours. It’s mine now.” His voice deep and low, sending shivers down your spine. 
“Well aren’t you mean.” You pouted. 
Tom laughed, giving your clit a light pinch. “You don’t even know. But thankfully, I know you love it.”
Yes, yes you did. 
With hands anchored on your thighs, his hips began to move. His cock entered you easily due to the immense juices pooled between your folds. His thrust began deep and slow. But escalated quickly into an animalistic, rough pounding. His cock furiously hitting your sweet spot, grazing your cervix with no mercy. “Taking me so well. Taking me like such a good girl.” 
His endless thrusts were overwhelming. The way his cock filled you perfectly with every single pump as if it was made for you. His curve molded, sculptured to find your g-spot. Your vision became blurred, a mixture of tears and euphoria. It vibrated through your whole body.  “Tommy.” Breath sharp, shaky. “Feels so good.”
“I know darling. Let me take care of you.” He murmured, enjoying his own euphoria.
His thrusts were relentless, deep and hard. He felt your heat react, clenching and clutching around his member. He watched your chest heave as you struggled to keep your eyes open. His cock was covered in your juices, creaming his hardness. Feeling the need to be closer to you, he leaned forward, lips entangling in a passionate, sensual kiss. Lips struggled to maintain a rhythm, brains succumbing to the pleasure. “Fuck so tight. Princess. God, so so close.” He muttered against your wet lips. “Get on top for me. Please.”
Keeping the connection between your bodies, you flipped around allowing you to straddle your lover. Legs spread wide, sinking down onto his length. Both groaning and moaning at the feeling of your walls engulfing him. Bodies were sweaty, hearts beating. Eyes locked in a lustful gaze. His hands glued to your hips, stabilising his fragile state. He was so close, it was embarrassing. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint after all this time. 
Your hands gravitated to his chest as you began to wind your hips against his. His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he watched your angelic movements. Unsure of yourself, you whimpered. “Tommy, guide me please. Wanna make you feel good.” 
The sudden vulnerability you showed made his heart flutter. “You are already making me feel amazing darling. But I got you. I got you princess.”
With a tight grip on your waist, he began to move you up and down on his shaft. You gladly followed instruction, letting his cock demolish your core. The hands on his chest, dug, trying to ground yourself not wanting the moment to ever end. His hips began to meet yours, stimulating your swollen clit. Feeling bold, Tom laid a harsh smack to your ass, feeling it ripple against his touch. “Thomas!”
“Sorry, I just couldn’t take my eyes off it all day. I won’t do it again.” He defended through his heavy pants.
A blush crept across your cheeks. “No, I liked it.” Your voice was soft and low, embarrassed by your admission. 
Tom threw his head back, neck long exposing his Adam's apple. His thrust became harder and faster as he held your own hips still, using you how he liked. “Fuck. I am so lucky to finally have you in my arms.” His hand slapping the other cheek. 
His hands eventually rested on your ass, grabbing and kneading the plush skin, ensuring he left behind marks. The rough touch had you swooning, unable to process anything but the pleasure he was giving you. The pornographic sounds rang in his ear, only edging him closer and closer. “Tommy, I am close. So close.” 
Tom had the urge to protect you, comfort you as you reached your high. He shifted his body, using his core to rise from the bed and his strength to situate you in his lap. Chest to chest, your arms wrapped around his neck, toying with the hair at the nape. Your forehead rested against his, not caring about the sheen of sweat that covered it. He cradled you in his large arms, cock rocking deep within you. The moment was intimate, loving, a contrast to the dominant man who had made you see the stars moments ago.
“You are so beautiful.” His lips grazing yours, eyes locking together. Breath was hot against your skin, your senses dialed to a ten. Suddenly, you became very aware of the position you were in. “Please, let go. I got you. Cum for me, let me feel you darling.”
With those final words, everything came crashing down. The wave of pleasure shooting through your body for the final time that night. You clung to his body, nails scratching his back as you buried your face into his neck. His lips sucked a deep mark into the exposed skin of your throat, muffling his own cries as his high crept up on him. Hips sloppy as they helped you through the wave.
The feeling of your walls clasped around him, the sounds that escaped your precious lips, it drove him crazy. He couldn’t hold back any longer as his balls tightened beneath you. Hot spurts of cum shot deep into you, filling you with his arousal. Tom had no shame in groaning your name loud and clear. Praising you, comforting you. Your walls continued to milk every last drop, loving the feeling of being full. “Shit shit shit. Relax, my cock is sensitive.” 
You giggled as his whines, as he flipped you over once again. Gladly, you sunk into the mattress, your muscles worn out from the long session. Tom collapsed on top of you, his cock still buried deep within your abused walls. His laugh brought you out of your haze. “What’s so funny Tom?”
“Just, this?”
You joined in on his laughter. “What do you mean? Us having sex is funny?”
Propping up on his forearms, he got a better view of your face. His fingers fixing your hair that had gotten knotted during the exchange. “No. The sex was extraordinary.” He reassured you. “Just you hated my guts less than two hours ago.”
Rolling your eyes, you clicked your tongue. “Don’t flatter yourself, I would say less than forty-five minutes ago.”
“Still impressive.” He defended causing you to chuckle. 
Once the laughter died down, you both began to sober up from your high. The underlying issues returning to the forefront. His eyes softened, those recognisable brown orbs emerging from his previous dark, lust-filled ones. He cleared his throat, realising that you were still attached. 
He mumbled a quick apology before removing himself from your tight walls with a low grunt. He tried to pry his eyes away from your soaked folds, but it was no use. The mess you had created was too appealing. His cock reacting, throbbing as blood rushed down through his veins. The way his cum dropped from the source was appetising.
Insecurity flooded you, crossing your legs depriving him. The action caused him to snap his eyes up at you. His hands soothes your aching thighs. “Hey. Are you okay?”
You nodded shyly. The change in body language worried him. Maybe he was wrong for doing this. Maybe he shouldn’t have acted on his lust. All those years of a crushing on you secretly, flawed his judgement. Should he leave? However, he wanted to show you that he learned his lesson, matured. He was serious when he said he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Just because you had shared an intimate moment, it wasn’t all he wanted. “C’mon.” 
His hand grabbed yours, carefully helping you off the bed. As soon as you stood up, gravity came to play, eyes widened. “Shit Tom. Run.” You exclaimed, pulling him to the adjacent bathroom, trying your best to not let anything slip. Watching you act all childish made him warm inside. Knowing you still possessed the charm he fell for when you were younger, it brought him joy for some reason. 
You plonked down on the toilet, Tom eyes glued on you as he reminisced on the memories shared between you two. You awkwardly coughed, signalling for him to look away. He squinted his eyes, confused, but quickly caught on when he noticed where you sat. He spun around, occupying himself looking for some sort of rag. Once he found a face cloth, he wet it in the sink, humming a tune. 
“Still have a nice voice.” You interrupted as you hopped onto the countertop, arms folded across your chest, hiding your bare tits from his wandering gaze. “Sorry, a UTI doesn’t sound very appealing.”
He simply smiled. “No need to apologise and thank you.” His cheeks turned a deep red at your compliment. “You mind?” He asked, lifting the damp cloth and tapping at your thigh, indicating he wanted to clean you up. 
You hesitated, unsure if you were understanding his message. You assumed he just wanted another round in the shower or something. “I was just gonna clean you up. Sorry if I am overstepping.” He clarified, sensing your confusion. 
“No, I’d really like that. I didn’t think guys actually did stuff like this. I’ve only read about it.” 
A sharp pang struck his heart. Upset that your ex-lovers never treated you properly. Treated you like you deserved. What he promised you all those years ago. 
It was silent as he wiped through your sensitive folds. Cleaning up the mixed arousals from your heat. You hissed everytime the rag grazed your loving marks or swollen clit, he would immediately apologise. Once he finished tidying you up, he attended to himself before discarding the dirty cloth. 
He settled in between your bare thighs, admiring your appearance. Your glowing skin, droopy eyes, broken lips. You swallowed air, eyes meeting the skin of his chest. Lightly, you traced the torn skin, the marks you created littered across his broad build. “I am sorry.” You whispered.
“I think they are beautiful. Just like the ones I gave you.” 
Instinctively, your lips laced with his. It was soft, sweet, caring. Radiating with love. Tongues mingled as it escalated. Hands roaming one another's body. But, you stopped it before it progressed into something more. Foreheads resting against each other. “I think we should talk before we,” finger waving between you two “do this again.”
He nodded, planting a quick peck on your wet lips. “I agree. And we should probably have some clothes on, to limit temptation.” 
Squirming in his touch, you jumped down before following him back into the bedroom, throwing a silk short robe around you, not bothered to properly get dressed. He threw on his boxers, deciding his work clothes would be uncomfortable to wear in his situation. 
Once decent, you sat on the unmade bed, patting the area beside you. He got the hint, taking a seat beside you. Shoulder to shoulder, your heart rate increased, confused on how you should handle the situation. After all, the man is just after blowing your back out. Not literally. 
Finding the courage, you broke the silence. “So.” Fingers fiddled. “Where do we go from here?”
A grin plastered his face. “So you aren’t mad at me?”
Grabbing his hand, you gave it a tight squeeze. “If I can be honest. I am mad. Well, more upset than anything. But we were young. And scared. I don’t really understand why you did what you did, but I am sure there was a reasonable explanation.” You concluded, eyebrows lifting in hopes for this explanation.
The grin softened, turning into a more serious expression. His free hand scratching the back of his neck, biceps bulging as they contracted during the motion. You shook your head to ensure your clarity remained. “I mean after all this time, I still don’t understand my actions. I knew I liked you, like a lot.” A snicker escaping his lips. “Maybe I was scared you didn’t feel the same, I mean I always thought you thought of me like a brother. But now that I finally got to sleep with you and know how much of a freak you are, I can assume you are into the whole step-bro thing. Turns you on eh?”
You slapped his chest, playfully, with a disapproving nod following. “Avoiding the question I see.” He muttered jokingly, only trying to rile you up. “To be honest, I was just selfish. I needed to grow up, move out, find my own way. Mum couldn’t shelter me forever. I didn’t think about how it would affect you, affect us.”
He turned on his side to focus on you. In this moment, he wanted to make sure every word he spoke was the truth. “I never meant to hurt you. I was too blind to notice the feelings were mutual. That we both were idiotically, madly and deeply in love with one another. And I am forever sorry. I lost so many years with you. Years I could’ve loved you, protected you. Treated you like the amazing, talented, and beautiful woman you are.”
Everything was clear, the hatred that had piled up over the years, scattered. Dispersed into nothing. Forgiveness is an act that not many can do. It is hard. Hard to not dwell on moments of hurt and grief. To forgive those who caused that pain. But everything happens for a reason. Deep down, you do believe your life would have turned out much different if Tom hadn’t left you. You wouldn’t have turned into the independent, bright woman you are today. And you were proud of her. 
With a wiser perspective, and quaking legs, you realised there was no need to dwell on the past. That Tom was back in your life for a reason. And there was no way you were going to ruin the opportunity to fall in love with this man once again. 
“I am sorry I held that grudge for all this time as well y’know? I shouldn’t have had. It was stupid of me. But it was the past, like you said, and we should move on. It wasn’t our time, no matter how much I want to cringe at that cliche, but it’s true. It wasn’t.”
His eyes fanned across your face, taking in your details. The bumps, imperfections, everything. His breath was taken away by your raw beauty. His hand rose to your face, cupping it as his thumb caressed your prominent cheekbone. Taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself for the question he was about to ask, nervous for your answer.  “Is it our time now?”
With pursed lips, you tried to conceal your emerging smile. Eyes glistened with hope. “I think it is Tommy. I mean, the sex is already amazing. I am very excited to see what everything else will be like.”
He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his chest, holding you close. “Yeah, it is. You make a good nurse.” Lifting his hand to show the bandage still intact. “And you make a lovely cup of tea.” You both joined in on a fit of laughter.
“Is that you politely trying to get me to make you a cup of tea?” 
“Well, I am parched darling.”
863 notes · View notes
mystic-sky · 3 years
Note
One shot wherein the s/o of Gojo Satoru gets injured trying to protect him and brought to the hospital but doesnt die. With a mountain of angst pls. 🥺👉🏽👈🏽
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Word Count: 1.6k
16-year old Satoru had never known much about compassion, or any crucial emotions that would’ve paved the way for him to be a brilliant jujutsu sorcerer, through and through.  He lived life as he went, nonchalant and never dispatching empathy in the moments it mattered most. You appeared like wildfire, ringing out so many emotions from him all at once. You were placed on his team without warning, and he felt like you were just another nuisance for him to have to pretend to worry about. You were undeniably cute though, which was the only reason he ever made conversation with you from time to time. But even though he flirted with you, he was always sure to remind you that he was always better, stronger and more talented. 
One day, to his surprise, you gave him a piece of your mind when he tried to pursue you. You told him to learn some manners, some compassion, and to come back when he wasn’t an asshole. You expressed that he was arrogant, and all but so many people would tolerate him the way some teachers and his so called “team mates” did.
“No ones going to fall in love with you for real if you keep being a jerk.”
That was when he first learned of rejection. He was so used to having everything he wanted. It didn’t register in his brain the first time that you didn’t like him. He picked on you more because of it, unfortunately. You were thick skulled, and headstrong. You were charming for someone who started out so weak. He watched as you worked hard, and never asked for help from him or Suguru, or Shoko unless it was for the sake of the mission at hand. You were extremely talented. Just a late bloomer.
He asked you why you became a sorcerer one day, much to your surprise. You explained it to him and from that day on, he wasn't so much of an asshole towards you. He’d learned of admiration, but considering he was so cocky, he never did tell you that. Instead, he went from saying things like “Leave this to us” to “I’ll leave this to you.”
Maybe you do or don’t realize that he finally acknowledges you as strong, but you do know talking to him was 40% more bearable when you reached your third year of high school.
That same year, you lose someone who was close to you. You had no control over it. The way it happened, the result was inevitable. It had nothing to do with weakness or being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There are some outcomes in life that are meant to happen- and no one is ready for it. All he knows is that he didn’t like how it made you feel. He couldn’t give you a rebuttal on how it was possibly yours or someone else’s shortcomings that fated such a thing to happen. Instead, you both sat on the steps of the school long past curfew, sharing ice cream while he watched you cry. Neither of you spoke. For the first time in his life, he had nothing to say. He also knew he shouldn’t leave you there. He hoped his silence and presence would convey something, along with the free ice cream. This was the night Satoru learned sympathy.
He never wanted you to feel that way ever again. He became a bubbly force, always in your face. He smothered you with activities, sweets, things that became memories to deter you from your loss, and somehow amongst it all, you forgot that you hated him.
Some years had gone by. You'd become a fine jujutsu sorcerer, with the help of Satoru and so many others. You’d acknowledged him as a friend and possibly something more due his flirtatious personality. He had became someone who filled the void of the person you lost, showing you that life does in fact go on.
“It took you way too long to kill that thing,” he rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you a special grade jujutsu sorcerer? Get it together (Name).” 
He playfully scolded you. “You literally stood there and watched me do all the work.” Your clothes were stained of blood, but you weren’t bothered entirely. You were looking for something to wipe your hands with, shaking them violently at the ground.
“What can I say, you’re truly a site to behold.” He winked, dwindling a handkerchief in front of you. The flutter in your chest was erratic. 
“Nonetheless, I knew you could do it. I was just here for moral support.” He grinned, patting you on the head.
“Satoru,” You say, turning towards him and sheathing your weapon. “You’re really important to me. You’ve had my back since we went to Jujutsu Tech and then some. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you for always being there for me.”
“So, thank you.” You say, offering him the warmest smile and making his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t known what to say. You hadn't ever put him on the spot like this before, which is what it made it so easy for him to be around you. You never praised him for anything, yet here you were thanking him, smiling at him like you loved him or something-
Did you? He wondered. He didn’t undertsand what it was he felt when he started to ponder the idea of you loving him. You never once complimented him on his looks, nor had you ever reciprocated his flirtations. And here he was, actively being your friend because he admired your character. He didn’t even know himself anymore.
“Stop staring at me like that and say you’re welcome.” You sass, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You’re freaking me out.”
“We’re friends. You don’t have to thank me for that.” He said cockily, getting right back in character. That night, he realized what it meant to love someone.
He got home and laid in bed, trying to draw the line in his head between how he loved you and how he loved kikufuku. Then he tried depicting the differences between his bromance with Geto Suguru and his friendship with you. He knew he liked being around you, and whatever goals in life he would eventually pursue- he wanted you to be there too.
You never once made it obvious that you liked him back in any sort of way, and it ticked him off. He would spend some days doing everything in his power to get a reaction out of you, even a kabedon, to which you burst out laughing in response. Satoru had never actually experienced true defeat until that moment. You had became one of the most precious things in the world to him, but he thought you were so dense and oblivious it pained him. He wanted to give up on pursuing you, but no one else in his entire life had ever made him feel anything. All these emotions he discovered were extensions and results of you allowing him to integrate himself into your life during your darkest moment. You had thanked him for being there; he wanted you to say so much more.
So when you leapt in front of him, coughing up blood in his direction and shielding his body, there wasn't a reason he could summon for it. What made him feel sick to his stomach is how you managed to smile whilst being impaled by the horns of the curse behind you. The rough taste of iron plagued your tongue and blood plopped from your lips and down your chin.
He caught your body with one arm, cradling you, before using his free hand to clutch the creature’s skull. He smashed it instantly, blood spattering all around your bodies. 
“Why did you do that?” He found himself panicking. He knelt down, stripping himself of his shirt and attempting to suppress the bleeding. “You’re not weak and you’re not stupid- why?!”
“Because, Satoru, I love you.” You say through blurry eyes. He’s petrified. Satoru Gojo did not know loss or grief. He was sure to feel it if you died right there in his arms. He already killed the curse that fatally attacked you. If you died, what would his purpose beyond that be? The only thing he hadn’t done yet was tell you he loved you. He knew in that moment that he loved you. But before the words could fall from his lips, your body went limp in his lap.
“No...” He took hold of you, immediately teleporting to the nearest hospital. If you died, he would blame it on his own incompetence. He’d flaw himself for this moment alone and take responsibility. He found himself praying to whatever God there might be, begging them to spare your short lived life. Not without him saying it back.
After multiple surgeries and blood transfusions, the doctors had informed him you were going to live, but recovery would take some time. Your cursed ability was able to delay the blood loss and neutralize a bit of the damage just before it became entirely fatal. He was thankful, the most he’s ever been for anything.
“I told you, you’re not weak,” he stared down at your comatose body. “You may make stupid decisions. But you’re not helpless.”
His voice cracked a bit whilst saying this, as he knelt beside you. He would stay with you endlessly through your recovery no matter how long it took. Nothing else mattered.
He was going to tell you that he loves you too.
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nillegible · 3 years
Text
Hua Cheng, with the ennui of an immortal whose reason to live had vanished from the face of the three realms, takes refuge in what little in the world still reflects his Crown Prince’s glory. He seeks out powerful, near mythical swords, and remembers the sharp eyes that would enjoy testing them. He seeks him in wayside flowers, and spring rain, and finds it strange that a world so empty of his prince could be so full of him. The god who had reached out to Hua Chang and commanded him to live.
The people have long since forgotten. The kingdom of Xianle is but a forgotten memory, a sidenote in history scrolls maintained by the larger library collections. Most of the Crown Prince’s shrines are also long gone, fallen into disrepair. Hua Cheng tries to make up for it with the resplendence of his own shrine to His Highness.
And then one more shrine to His Highness, appears.
Reappears, perhaps; there had been one there before. Hua Cheng spares it a glance, but when it is clear that His Highness had not returned, and that it was merely the work of a young Wen disciple, Hua Cheng ignores the site once more.
Well, he can’t resist keeping half an eye on him. Hua Cheng occasionally observes him – there’s so little else to do – and notices him giving medicine to civilians, watches him completely fail at bargaining and pay too much for every little thing, watches him return to the little shrine again and again, and stare at the words carved into the lintel, and repeat the words to himself, sounding confused.
The boy never kneels, but he prays.
His Highness would have adored this child, would have supported his almost inhumanly accurate archery, would have looked at his sword forms for barely five minutes before intervening to tell him that he needed a different sword for his stature and temperament.
Two believers. His God now had two believers; Hua Cheng, the Ghost King who had ascended to heaven and then turned them down, and little Wen Ning, a fifteen-year-old child of Qishan Wen, a ruthless cultivation sect that didn’t suit him at all.
(Hua Cheng watches Qishan Wen sect, knowing that like Xian Le, like Yong’An and hundreds of other kingdoms, they too would inevitably fall.)
Rarely, very rarely, Hua Cheng takes a child’s form and visits the other shrine and tells Wen Ning stories about His Highness, the crown prince of Xian Le.
*
And then Hua Cheng all but forgets about the little Wen, his Highness ascends a third time and Hua Cheng has finally found him again, this time, this time Hua Cheng would not lose him, would not be parted from him.
It’s when His Highness says that he has no believers that Hua Cheng remembers that it’s not true.
Two believers is not many more than one, and Wen Ning could never match the depths of Hua Cheng’s devotion.
(But when he leaves His Highness on that cursed mountain, it is good to know he would not be alone.)
*
And then one day there’s a prayer. Prayers sound different to heavenly officials, depending on who is making them. They are usually stronger from within a shrine, stronger with humility, and stronger by far depending on the strength of their faith. (Hua Cheng does not know why Wen Ning believes so steadfastly, when he did not know the man gege had once been, had not been saved by him, been told to live for him, and died for him, twice.) Wen Ning’s prayer echoes, and gege turns to him. San Lang, please. Would you take me to Yunmeng?
Yunmeng is burning down, and Wen Ning prays, “Daozhang, help them.”
His Highness loves Wen Ning.
*
Hua Cheng leaves a few butterflies to watch him, watches him dance around the fighting, never taking a life himself, returning the bodies of the deceased to the rightful places with respect, a battlefield medic, only seventeen, who sits beside the dying with empathy and grace, tries to lessen their suffering. His sister, Wen Qing, is remarkable, she pulls people back from the brink of death, produces miracles with her own two hands. Wen Ning follows after, easing the pain of those mangled bodies that Wen Qing cannot reach in time, or judges impossible to cure.
Where do they go? Wen Ning asks once, bathing in icy waters, washing off the blood of his day.
“I don’t know. The ones who stay are still here. I do not know what comes after,” he admits. “But I hope it’s somewhere peaceful, before they return again.”
Wei Wuxian does the unimaginable. If anyone of this current crop of cultivators deserves to ascend it’s him. But he’s carved out his golden core to give to his brother, and Hua Cheng thinks that if he does ascend, it might be downwards, like him.
*
And then Wen Ning is taken to a work camp run by sadists. “San Lang, can you take me to see Wen Ning?” asks XIE LIAN, and he seems frightened.
“What happened? Has he stopped praying?”
“He is only repeating ‘Body in hell, heart in paradise.’”
 Hua Cheng has seen the young man repeat the words a thousand times, but this time must be different. Wen Ning has finally learned what that means.
“I can’t go, I have to protect my family, Daozhang, Please. I can’t go,” are Wen Ning’s last words, though his mouth only shapes the words. His lungs have caved in from the beating and then the push off the cliff edge, and he can’t breathe enough to speak. Can only mouth the words as blood dribbles from his mouth.
His Highness kneels beside him. “Oh child, what have they done to you,” he whispers, resting a hand on his chest. The power flows from his hands, but he’s not a god of healing. All he does is ease his pain.
Wen Ning smiles.
“Can you watch them until I come back?” strangely, he’s looking at Hua Cheng, not XIE LIAN.
“I will,” he says softly.
“Thank you for everything, Daozhang,” Wen Ning whispers to his god, and then his spirit untethers. A small green flame, dim and exhausted from what he’s been through. Hua Cheng leans over and gathers the small spirit into carefully cupped hands.
“San Lang,” says Xie Lian, and he looks weary. Hua Cheng would gather him into his arms were they not occupied. “What are you doing?”
Some spirits don’t leave. Can’t. Wen Ning is a mild mannered, silly child and yet in this, he is no different than Hua Cheng; Wen Ning will not go.
There aren’t many places for lost, stubborn spirits, but Hua Cheng has carved one out painstakingly.
“I will take him home.”
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vivianweasley · 3 years
Text
Let Her Go (F.W. x Reader)
Summary: “Only know you love her when you let her go.” childhood friends to lovers, unrequited love
Prompt: This is for @vogueweasley‘s 1K writing challenge and the prompt is #44 “What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.” Congrats again lovely!!
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader
Warnings: angst to a bit of fluff, unrequited love, mention of alcohol (Fred being drunk), language (one curse word), Fred being stupid
Word count: 2.2k
A/N: Did I write another friends to lovers with unrequited love? Yes, but I love this idea and I’m just writing to cope. The inspiration is Let Her Go by Passenger! Hope you guys would like it! (Also, let’s pretend they used telephone)
Special thanks to @valwritesx for the support<3
Disclaimer: all the pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.
Please do NOT repost or translate my work on another site without explicit permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)
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In your memories, you were always following Fred Weasley around.
You followed him around when he and George were throwing dungbombs in their neighbor’s garden. You were six, and he was seven.
You followed him around when it was your first year at Hogwarts. You were an awkward first year, but he has already established quite a reputation.
You followed him everywhere. Whether it was a quidditch game or detention, you were always there with him. Some people called you his sidekick, but you never really minded because you were absolutely head over heels for him.
You knew he knew about your stupid little crush; you weren’t trying to hide your feelings anyway. And you knew that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, but that didn’t matter. Loving him was your own business. Plus, you knew that at least you meant something to him, so you’ve still got a chance.
You loved him with all your heart and without a doubt. It was one-sided and lonely, but you never cared. Well, at least not until now.
~
It was your party to celebrate receiving a brilliant job offer from America. All of your friends were there.
“I’m so happy for you! But I’m also gonna miss you a lot!” George exclaimed for like the twentieth time today.
You chuckled, “I know, Georgie, I’ll miss you too! And I’m not leaving until the end of the next month. I’ve still got a lot to take care of before I go.” Now that you were actually talking about leaving, the whole concept of living in another country so far away finally began to feel more realistic. “There are just so many things and people I’ll miss.”
“By people, you mean Fred, right?” Ginny teased, “Speaking of which, where is he?”
“I don’t know. He promised he would come,” you replied, couldn’t control the blush that was climbing up your cheeks.
Ginny was right. Of course you were going to miss all of your friends dearly, but you were also going to miss Fred just a little more than the others. And that’s why you were a bit disappointed that he was so late to your party. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the clock and the door every now and then. The butterflies in your stomach started dancing whenever you heard something outside, but they always die down when you realized it wasn’t him.
The clock soon struck 12, and when you were saying goodbye to the last of the guests, you finally accepted the fact that Fred was not going to show up tonight. 
~
You were helping at the joke shop the next day, and it was already noon when you heard Fred walking down the stairs. 
“Morning,” you could still hear the sleepiness in his voice, and you could tell from his messy hair and puffy eyes that it was a hangover. You frowned a little but you tried not to overthink. Surely he had a good reason, right?
“It’s already noon, brother,” George asked the question for you, “where were you last night?”
“I ran into Lee after work, and we went to the pub. Why?”
“Why? It was Y/N’s party last night, you forgot?”
“Wait, it was last night? Ah shit, I forgot. I’m sorry Y/N,” he turned to look at you. You could see the sorry on his face, but you couldn’t hear it in his voice. You knew that expression all too well. It was the same reaction whenever he got caught playing pranks on someone. He was saying that he’s sorry, but you knew he didn’t mean it.
“Fred, you do realize that she’s leaving soon, right?” George was finding this unbelievable too.
“Oh c’mon, last time I checked, we still have something called a portkey. And I’m sure Y/N will be visiting us pretty often, right Y/N?” The carelessness in his voice stung you.
Hurt, mixed with anger, was rushing to your brain. It was the moment that struck you, a moment that should have happened a long time ago. 
You always thought that even though Fred didn’t love you back, at least you were still a very important friend to him. But now you’ve finally realized that maybe this was just another self-comforting lie. It was not the first time he forgot something about you, and it seemed like he never cared anyway. 
“What am I in your life?” You asked quietly, “Because as of lately, I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”
“What are you saying? Y/N, you’re not making any sense.”
“I always thought it’s alright that my feelings aren’t reciprocated because it’s just my own business. But I’m not just that stupid girl who has a crush on you; I’m also your friend! And friends shouldn’t treat friends like nothing.” Your voice sounded calm, but tears were streaming down your face, “It was always me who’s looking for you and thinking about you, but friendship takes two, Fred. Maybe you should start trying too.” 
Then you just stormed out of the joke shop, before George could try to talk you round and before Fred could probably tell a joke to laugh it off.
~
One week later, you left for your new job in a hurry. You said goodbye to every one of your friends, except for Fred. 
Fred was feeling guilty but also confused. Why did you snap like that? What he did was surely just a small mistake, right? And he wasn’t too worried. He was sure that you would forgive him and come back to him. You always do. In fact, he was convinced that he could see you again the next holiday. 
Halloween night, George had plans, so Fred was in charge of closing up tonight. Looking at the empty bowl of sweets on the counter, Fred thought about you. You always remembered to fill it up, especially around Halloween.
The autumn wind was getting cold, and he pulled his coat tighter as he walked outside. The kids on the street were all dressed up, going from door to door trick-or-treating. Fred remembered how you two and George would always go trick-or-treating together on Halloween since you were kids. Even after you all grew up, you would still drag him to go with you. But now he was walking alone in his business suit, on his way home. This moment he felt as if the kid inside him has left with you.
When he got home, he turned on the TV and started switching channels absentmindedly. You should be there, suggesting to watch a horror movie, but then deciding on something family-friendly. You would always try to have a Halloween movie marathon but end up falling asleep, lying on his shoulder. He found it adorable, but he never told you that.
Fred sighed as he laid back on the couch. This was the first Halloween without you.
~
Christmas morning, Fred walked downstairs, noticing something was different in the air. The Burrow was quieter. Sure, most of his family were already up and were gathered around the Christmas tree, chatting and laughing. But you weren’t there.
You weren’t there, showing up at the Burrow way too early in the morning. You weren’t there knocking on his door and waking him up using a cheerful, sing-song voice. He would always groan and tell you to give him five more minutes. But this year, when he woke up to the mechanical sound of the alarm clock, he really missed your cheerful voice.
Fred walked downstairs with everyone wishing him a Merry Christmas, but his eyes were searching the crowd for a glimpse of you that was just impossible to be found. This was the first Christmas without you.
~
New Year’s Eve, Fred and George were at the local pub’s New Year countdown party, along with the other boys. Just like usual, the boys had too much drink and passed out in the pub.
When Fred was only half-awake, he heard your voice calling him, “Freddie! C’mon, let’s get you home!” A soft smile appeared on his lips. You were back! He knew you would be back for the new year. He knew you wouldn’t leave him for too long.
You were always there to pick him up and carry him home after New Year’s party. He was always amazed at how you managed to carry him as he was taller than you, but you were always there for him. He just felt so lucky now to have you in his life, and seeing you in front of him made him smile like an idiot.
You were frowning seeing him lying on the floor, but you soon gave in when you saw that smile. You chuckled and whispered, “Happy New Year, Freddie.” 
The soft smile stayed on Fred’s lips. He felt at home.
When Fred woke up again, he found himself lying on the floor of the pub. The pub was already empty. The boys were already gone. Someone must have picked them up, but there was no one for him. He finally began to realize that it was just a dream. You were still in America, and he was still a loser who’s lying alone on the cold floor on the first day of the new year. 
Fred managed to walk out of the pub. The freezing wind was slapping on his face, trying to sober him up. He walked past a coffee shop. That was your favorite. 
You were all he could think of now. Fred knew that you had a crush on him, but he always believed that it was just a stupid little childhood crush and it would fade as soon as you all grow up. He was just too familiar with you, and familiarity wasn’t what he thought he was looking for in romance.
But you were already in every part of his life. No matter where he goes or what he does, you were always there. But now you weren’t.
There was the first time Fred told a joke, and you weren’t the first to laugh. He loved the way you laugh, for it could always brighten up his whole day, but he never admitted it. 
There was the first time he was humming a song, and you weren’t there to sing along. He loved your voice, for it could always calm him down, but he wouldn’t tell you that.
There was the first time when he realized that he needed you in his life.
The first time when he realized that he loved you more than he thought he did.
It was like muscle memory for him to remember everything about you, but he wasn’t even aware of that, and you obviously didn’t know too. Instead of showing you how much he loved and appreciated you, he just took you for granted because he thought you would never leave. 
Fred dialed your number that night. He thought he might go crazy if he couldn’t hear your voice tonight. As he waited for you to pick up, he felt the inside of his stomach were all twisted together, but it was soon replaced by butterflies when he heard your voice.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Y/N, it’s me, Fred,” he didn’t know why he stuttered, “S-so, I was wondering...do you know where is the photo of us at the station? It was your first year of school. Did you take it with you?”
“No, I gave it to George. Why?” He couldn’t tell your emotion through the phone. Were you annoyed? Or were you happy to hear his voice too?
“Oh, umm, nothing, just missing the old days.” 
“Oh, okay...Anything else?”
There were so many things that he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you that he’s sorry and he missed you so much, but you sounded impatient. So all he managed to say was, “Happy New Year, Y/N.”
There was a few seconds of silence; then he heard you reply, “Happy New Year, Fred.”
Hanging up the phone, Fred felt his heart sank. He hated how emotionless you sounded, and he knew he had to do something. Maybe he couldn’t convince you to come back to him, but at least he owed you an apology.
~
Valentine’s Day. Evening, you walked out of the building you worked in. It was on a wizarding street just like Diagon Alley, so it didn’t take you too long to adjust to the new environment. 
The shops on this street were all having Valentine’s specials, and it reminded you of the Valentine’s specials of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Fred always had the most interesting and romantic ideas-you shook your head. You promised yourself not to think about him anymore.
A shop at the corner captured your attention. You’ve never seen this shop before. You looked for the name of the shop and the sign above read “WWW’.
Just when you thought you were losing your mind and associating everything with Fred again, the shop owner walked out. 
Fred smiled when he saw you. The same beaming smile that had you head over heels for him for as long as you could remember. “Hi, I'm new here. Would you mind showing me around?”
~
A/N: Sorry if the ending feels a bit rushed! I felt like it made sense to end here so the reader could decide if she wants to forgive him or not. 
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393 notes · View notes
accio-victuuri · 3 years
Note
Hi can you provide the link to read manhuas you prefer?
Hello Anon! OMG Manhua/Manhwa Rec! Here we go! I’ve only been reading for 2-3 months (consistently), so this will be pretty limited. I will link to the legit sites. A google search will direct you to others.
Most of these are WIPs and some, sadly, are discontinued. I won’t add TGCF or MDZS here cause those are already a given. 👇🏼
• Body Electric by Dong Ye ( completed, supernatural, lots of trigger warnings and plotty )
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Ba Song is the hotshot cop who’s been handed an open-and-shut case: the suicide of a young woman. Except… who commits suicide by stabbing their own body and strangling themself? There's only one man who can help him with this mystery ��� Bo Shan, the renowned forensic pathologist with a severe and cold personality. What's more, his body produces bioelectricity, allowing him to acutely sense bodily injury with his touch. There's an electric current between them, and each touch sizzles with energy
If you like crime dramas and stories where they solve mysterious cases then this is for you. The romance is subtle, and their relationship is not insta-love. strangers to colleagues to friends to lovers trope. This also discusses alot of issues the society has that will make you stop and think. Ba Song is really the honorable MC in here who always wants to help people and do good. While Bo Shan is the reluctant one but deep inside, he wants to make a difference too. I wish they would make a donghua or live action out of this.
• 30 year old by S-Monkey - ( ongoing, age difference, blind dates, slice of life)
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Charlie Wei is a single and handsome executive. He’s also a closeted gay guy who’s been on way too many bad blind dates with women. Charlie’s still hung up on his ex-boyfriend James and is… gasp, 30! Charlie’s family thinks he’s straight and too old to be without a wife! During another bad blind date, Charlie meets the flirty Ethan, who both annoys and intrigues him. Can Charlie finally come out and find true love with Ethan or will he continue on his streak of bad blind dates?
The cover looks melodramatic but it’s really not. This is so funny! I read this because people were saying it reminded them of BoXiao. And yes, there are moments here that remind me of them, but it’s more like an AU of BoXiao. I stayed up late trying to get caught up in the chapters and you won’t realize it cause it’s just that good. I love seeing the older MC loosening up and being more of himself. and the younger one being more responsible in his career. They just become better versions of themselves because of each other. It’s so sweet!
• I ship me and my Rival - by Pepa ( ongoing, comedy, reads like a meta )
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This follows the adventures of Wei Yanzi, a third-rate actor in the Chinese entertainment industry, stumbles onto a shipping fandom for himself and another actor (Gu Yiliang) while trying to escape from the flame wars and negativity. He's so taken with this group of fans who actually see him as a good guy instead of an enemy/rival of Gu Yiliang that he falls head-first into fandom and becomes actively involved in trying to provide shipping fuel and the fans' daily dose of fluff.
IF THERE IS ONE thing you will read here, let it be this. It is hilarious. If you are a CP fan you will relate so much and it’s a good time. It just shows how people who think are rivals can actually be really good friends in real life. What we see is not always what it seems. and people will interpret things based on their bias. The MC here is so dramatic! how his inner feelings/reactions were drawn will make you laugh.
• Path to You - by Sinran (completed, slice of life, age gap fluff and comedy )
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When almost college dropout Jensen attempts to drink away his problems, unemployed Nathaniel suddenly pukes on him and ruins his night. As an apology, Nathaniel offers to help Jensen with his studies. Despite Jensen's difficulties in getting along with people, the two become friends and something deeper begins to grow between them
The story is so soft. If you want something with mild angst/misunderstandings— then pick this. I love the progression of their relationship and how they take care of each other. There are other themes showed here other than the romance.
• Red Candy - by Hanse (completed season one with a cliffhanger, explicit scenes, assassins )
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Shihyeon, aka “Red Candy,” is a secret agent whose code name comes from bathing in the blood of his marks on dangerous missions. Shihyeon’s tasked with seducing and obtaining intel from Hajun, a hot college professor. Shihyeon can disarm enemies, but didn’t expect to be disarmed himself by Hajun’s own tight body. Now Shihyeon’s caught between loyalty to his spy agency and Hajun. Can Red Candy survive the incoming wave of enemies and still indulge in the sweet ecstasy of Hajun’s embrace?
THIS STRESSED ME OUT MAAAN. Wow. I loved this. That season one cliffhanger. It’s definitely up there as my favorite. If you think about it, the tropes are really not original. An assassin is sent to shadow a person and they develop a relationship. That simple. But NOOOOO! There are so many things going on. The Main mystery plot, Their relationship, their shared past plus you have other sketchy secondary characters. And did i mention explicit scenes? Lots of them. I want this two to have a happy ending!!!
• Lone Swan - by Chu Man (discontinued, cultivation, star crossed lovers)
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After losing his memory, Yiqiu Shen, a disciple from the decent sect meets a very special man named Luofeng Yan, who is the leader of the evil Divine Wind Cult. When escaping and conflicting with Yan, Shen gradually finds his original self as well as his previous love back. Together they rip off the facade of the martial world and reveal the hidden true
I didn’t want to add a discontinued story here, with no novel as a source material but this one made an impact on me. so. yeah. THE ART. breathtaking. The plot = layered. There are times I don’t even know who is telling the truth. It had so much potential and i hope it will get picked up again at some point. People rec this to those who enjoyed TGCF and MDZS, and they are right. 👍🏼
• Dragon in Distress by Si Wang Wen Hua - ( ongoing, dragons, past life, lost power, fantasy )
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This is a story about a little Eastern green dragon and a little Western black dragon playing together.
The synopsis is pretty simple if you look at it but this one is pretty interesting. and surprisingly funny. tinie AoAo is so cute! 🤍 the other MC has tsundere tendencies tho. Lots of lore and more truths to uncover as the story progresses. I’m not giving it enough justice with how i’m reccing it, but if you like dragons and fantasy — give this a go.
• Breaking through the clouds 2: Swallow the Sea - Huaishang (ongoing, based on a novel, crime, drama, cases)
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Wu Yu, a newcomer of the Public Security Bureau, is gentle and frail. He doesn’t care about the difficulties posed by Bu ZhongHua, his strict boss, and only wants to stay in the background to be paid on time with enough for food. However, no one knows that this young man’s head is targeted by top drug traffickers for a large bounty or that this courageous young man has once slaughtered the dragon of the abyss. With a chain of interlocking cases, a series of troubles come one after another. Can the two people work together to survive through the difficulties?
Do you see a pattern with me? lol. I like crime themes. This one is the same and by the looks of it, the cases they solve will take longer to unravel. I haven’t read the novel it’s based on yet so i’m just going with how the manhua is progressing. I like it when Wu Yu turns full on action-mode and when ZH takes care of him. Plus it helps that they are both gorgeous. I’ll get back this with a proper link.
• Where the Wind Stays - by Yusa (completed season one, curses, demons, possession, timeskip, explicit scenes)
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To break an ancient curse that plagues the royal bloodline, young Prince Tasara is destined to be sacrificed in death. Nara is enlisted as a palace servant to carry out the prince’s execution when the time comes. But he develops a soft spot for the cursed prince, and after committing an atrocious and unforgivable act against Tasara, Nara is desperate to right his wrongs. Soon, their lascivious relationship that had been kept under wraps tests his resolve. Will Nara be tempted away from his original mission? There’s no telling how far he would go to earn Tasara’s forgiveness.
This story broke my brain, in a good way. I don’t wanna say much cause it will spoil the story. It’s the type that you gave to see and suffer through yourself. I am excited for what happens in season II!!!
Honorable Mentions:
I’m placing these here cause I have only read a few chapters and tho I liked them, I wanna read more before reccing it in full. 👍🏼
• I accidentally saved the Jinghu’s enemy
• Global Examination
• Monster entertainment
• Demon Apartment
And that’s it! Hope enjoy Anon! 😊
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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years
Text
Toxicity - ao3
- part 3 -
It was not too long after Lan Wangji’s visit – a month or two, no more, and in the timescale of war that was very short indeed – that Lan Xichen finally returned to his side.
Nie Mingjue gathered his courage. “Did you speak with your uncle?” he asked, reaching out to take Lan Xichen’s hand in his.
“I did,” Lan Xichen said, and his eyes were bright as stars. “You want to marry me, Mingjue-xiong? You haven’t even kissed me.”
“I do. I do want to marry you,” Nie Mingjue said, taking the question seriously even though it had been made in jest. “I am not asking for your agreement right now, but I would not begin the process of courting you without making clear my intentions.”
Lan Xichen softened, smiling. “Righteous and unyielding, straightforward and upright,” he murmured and reached out with his free hand to tuck some of Nie Mingjue’s hair that had fallen loose back behind his ear. Nie Mingjue might be sick and tired of that particular phrase, but he would hear it a thousand times from Lan Xichen’s lips. “Oh, da-ge, you really are always the same.”
Nie Mingjue shivered a little at the familiar, intimate term of address. “May I kiss you?” he asked, and watched as Lan Xichen’s smile grew wider still.
“You may,” Lan Xichen said. “If I may kiss you as well.”
Nie Mingjue tried to find a way to tell Lan Xichen about his upcoming fate, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when Lan Xichen smiled at him so happily. The most he could do was remind him that their love had an expiration date, that it was better to marry and be done with it.
Lan Xichen refused, though. He said that he enjoyed their courtship, that he wanted the entirety of the experience for them both: the memories made together, the anticipation, the joy, and that they would wed when the war was over, in full view of both their families.
Nie Mingjue wanted that more than anything, and so he agreed…although in some respects, in his heart, he considered them already wed.
He did not intentionally keep his new relationship with Xichen a secret from his men – if he had not been so determined to treat Lan Xichen as he ought to be treated, with respect and honor, and feared the threat of distraction in the midst of battle, he would have shouted out the news of their engagement in the middle of the war camp. And yet he was also by nature a private man, inclined to be possessive of the few joys he had, and so while he did not hide it, he also did not go out of his way to mention it. It was already common for him to spend time cloistered with his guests, no matter who they were; in that way, Lan Xichen’s visits were no different from the rest, except in that Nie Mingjue enjoyed them far more.
It was not until months later that his camp discovered that their leader was courting, and naturally they discovered it in the most awkward manner possible: news coming of an imminent surprise attack at dawn that required Nie Zonghui to rush over to alert his sect leader without warning and thus finding him curled up in his lover’s arms.
“Can I help?” Lan Xichen asked as Nie Mingjue prepared himself for war, glaring at Nie Zonghui’s wide grin – the man has a fondness for gossip, and there would be no stopping him. “With the battle?”
“You may do whatever you wish,” Nie Mingjue said, leaning down to steal a kiss. “I trust you completely in all things, and not least of all your excellent cultivation. The attack is two-pronged – would you go the western front, while I take the east? We can meet in the middle. Take as many of my Nie cultivators as you think you might need.”
“No need,” Lan Xichen said. “There are a number of Lan cultivators in your camp, and the western side of the camp is guarded by a mountain ridge – we can ambush them there with musical cultivation and drive them running straight into the camp without their swords.”
Nie Mingjue nodded. “Nie Zonghui, you take command of the camp and half our cultivators,” he instructed. “When the Wen sect comes running towards you in their confusion, cut them off.”
Nie Zonghui saluted, humor gone from his face – postponed, not forgotten – and the three of them left.
Nie Mingjue hoped only to repulse the attack, but it ended as a complete rout, total victory, through factors neither side could predict: it turned out that the western ridge was housing one of the dragons that sometimes passed through the cultivation world, a celestial dragon in blue and white, and it took offense to the Wen attack, demolishing their ranks with fang and claw and song-magic that deafened the ear.
(Nie Mingjue wondered briefly if it was the same celestial dragon that had cursed him all those years ago.)
In the end, there was very little more than clean-up left over, with Lan Xichen leading his Lan cultivators to drive the remaining Wen sect cultivators into the waiting arms of Nie Zonghui’s forces, and most of them surrendered at once rather than risk being sent back to face the dragon’s wrath. With that battle concluded and the western front secured, Nie Zonghui and Lan Xichen were able to rush to Nie Mingjue’s side, providing timely reinforcement, and the eastern front was won as well.
Lan Xichen was totally uninjured and barely even winded, but Nie Mingjue kissed him out of joy in seeing him well nonetheless, heedless of the blood and muck on him, and after that, of course, everyone knew.
“Go talk to Nie Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue told Lan Xichen after that, ignoring the way he raised his eyebrows. “There are things you need to know, things I’ve been dragging my feet about telling you…I’ve tried time and time again to say, and each time the words stick in my throat. But he knows. He knows, and he’ll be able to tell you.”
“I will go,” Lan Xichen said, although he looked a little puzzled. “Whatever it is, though, we’ll face it together.”
“We will,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Now go, let my brother pester you about wedding plans. He has ideas.”
Laughing, Lan Xichen left, and Nie Mingjue turned back to the business of war: planning out battles, considering strategy, securing their supply lines, communicating with allies and spies alike.
The next missive he received from Meng Yao told him to go to Yangquan.
Meng Yao’s information had been excellent up to that point, and Nie Mingjue had no reason to doubt him. The maps he sent, along with information about the enemies’ movements, had helped Nie Mingjue win battles and minimize casualties, and he thought to himself that he would be forever indebted to his former deputy for the sacrifice he had made in going to obtain it, for surely Wen Ruohan would not be a kind master.
And yet, when he went to Yangquan with only a small party – any more, Meng Yao had warned, and he might be noticed, when the goal here was to strike quickly and retreat quicker – he found himself unexpectedly outnumbered, surrounded and overpowered: Wen Ruohan himself had come to inspect the site, and he had brought his strongest guards with him.
Nie Mingjue was taken prisoner.
Tied in chains and dragged to the Nightless City behind Wen Ruohan’s carriage, choking on dust and beaten like a dog by any Wen cultivator who passed by, Nie Mingjue’s only thought was that he would die before he went mad, and he found some small measure of relief in that.
He regretted it, of course – he regretted not marrying Lan Xichen, not insisting, though he knew war was no time for it; he regretted not having seen his brother more, though he knew the battlefield was no place for him. He regretted that his death was likely to be gruesome and painful, given Wen Ruohan’s usual proclivities, and that his loved ones would know that.
But at least, he comforted himself, he hadn’t gone insane, turning against all he held dear. That fate he had spent his whole life fearing, it seemed, would not be his.
With that thought in mind, he was able to go with some sense of peace to the throne room of the Nightless City, but when he got there everything seemed – not as he had expected.
Wen Ruohan was standing, for one thing, and he seemed almost nervous, looking Nie Mingjue over to confirm that he was still alive, muttering to himself that there weren’t too many marks, that he was still mostly intact, that he shouldn’t be too angry –
“He?” Nie Mingjue asked, entirely at a loss. He was chained and bound, on his knees in front of his enemy, the man who had killed his father and whose son he had killed in turn; the situation ought to be clear and yet he was more confused than ever. “Who are you talking about?”
“Me, I expect,” Meng Yao said, walking through the door arrogantly, as if the Fire Palace belonged to him instead of Wen Ruohan. “Ah, da-ge, as usual I seem to have underestimated you.”
Nie Mingjue blinked at him, surprised – Meng Yao had never used such an intimate term of address for him, though he would have permitted it if the other man had ever shown any interest.
Meng Yao saw his expression and laughed.
“Or perhaps not,” he said, and the smile on his face was pleasant as always, and yet there was cruelty in it. “So er-ge hasn’t told you yet, has he? No, of course, he wouldn’t; he’d think he was being noble, protecting you from your own past.”
“I don’t understand,” Nie Mingjue said, his eyes darting to Wen Ruohan – but that proud man was on his knees, willingly showing reverence, and to Meng Yao of all people. “Meng Yao –”
“Jin Guangyao, actually,” Meng Yao said. “‘Meng’ was my miserable mother’s surname, for all the good it did her…I did tell you that my bloodline was the Jin.”
“You were acknowledged? Jin Guangshan –”
Meng Yao laughed. “Oh, da-ge, da-ge, still so confused! You never did understand anything. I really don’t understand why er-ge was so desperate to bring you back – he slept for over a decade after putting your soul into your mother’s belly, did you know that? A decade! We may be ancient, but time is still precious, and he wasted so much of it on you...oh, you stupid fool. You still don’t understand, do you?”
Nie Mingjue didn’t understand anything.
“Perhaps a visual demonstration would be best,” Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao, apparently – said, and the air around him shimmered as if he were a mirage induced by heatstroke.
A moment later, there was no Meng Yao, no Jin Guangyao, no human standing there, but instead the massive coils of a yellow-bellied flood dragon draped themselves around the throne of the Wen sect.
Nie Mingjue stared up at him.
“Now do you see?” Jin Guangyao hissed at him, eyes glittering. “Do you know now, what you have cost me?”
“How – you’re…you’re a dragon!”
“And not just me,” Jin Guangyao said. “Your beloved Lan Xichen is, too: my beloved er-ge, my sworn brother, and yours, too.  It was the three of us together – we were all brothers once, long ago, before you died…I never understood. Why does er-ge love you so much that he would hurt himself to retrieve your soul and give you new life? Enough to lower himself into the filth of humanity, to forget his former self, to learn to love you from the beginning as if you were a brand-new person – why? What’s so interesting about you? You’re the most boring person I’ve ever met. A righteous prig, and a fool.”
“You – Lan Xichen –” Nie Mingjue stuttered, still staring, disbelieving. “My parents – the curse –”
Jin Guangyao laughed.
“I always planned to tell you before the end, you know, da-ge. I wanted you to know,” he said conversationally. “I wanted you to know it was your fault that your parents died. Lan Xichen, my er-ge…he kept your soul after it should have passed into the wheel of reincarnation, and when your human parents came to beg for a child, he gave you the body he thought you deserved, taking years off his own life to do it – and when he had slept, that was when I came in, gifting you with my poison, the only thing you ever deserved to get from me. I infused it in your mother and father both just to make sure it got to you; if it wasn’t for you, they might have lived long and happy lives. And they thanked me for it!”
Nie Mingjue felt numb. “You killed them to get to me? I wasn’t – I hadn’t even been born!”
“Your soul is still your soul, da-ge, no matter the quirks of personality you developed through your upbringing,” Jin Guangyao said dismissively. “If you weren’t, er-ge wouldn’t have fallen in love with you all over again, would he?”
Lan Xichen was the celestial dragon, Nie Mingjue thought, just as Jin Guangyao, who he had once thought was called Meng Yao, was the flood dragon. Except his parents had been deceived: there was no price for him to pay for his birth, for his strength and cultivation talent, for Lan Xichen had willingly shouldered that debt. Instead, the poison Jin Guangyao had claimed would help them minimize the cost, making him suffer only one year in eight, was actually the source of all his ills – without it, he might have not had to suffer at all.
“Your parents must have made your childhood a misery, training you up to be tough enough to live through your first tribulation,” Jin Guangyao said dreamily. “And then you must have lived the rest of your life in fear, fear and distance, allowing no one to be close to you – I knew you’d hate the idea of turning on everyone you loved most of all. You even tried to turn Xichen down! You’ll never know how much I laughed when he told me about it: he thought you meant that you expected your mortal life to be short, you know, or perhaps that it was an early death due to war that you feared.”
Anger came easily to Nie Mingjue, an old companion.
“Well, if your goal was to separate me from Xichen, you failed,” he said. “He’s agreed to marry me.”
Jin Guangyao’s smile turned into a scowl at once, and his tail lashed out, smashing the pillars and walls of the Fire Palace – no wonder Wen Ruohan was on his knees, shaking in terror; there was no way a human could fight a dragon of such strength.
“How dare you?” he hissed. “How dare you even think of tainting him once again?”
“How dare you?” Nie Mingjue shouted back, ignoring the look of panic on Wen Ruohan’s face. He had already accepted that his death would come to him here, today, a slow and gruesome demise before he’d ever reached thirty; Jin Guangyao could do nothing to him than he had not already anticipated happening at Wen Ruohan’s hands. “You claim to love Xichen, and yet by your own words you went behind his back to sabotage what he tried so hard to do! For all your talk about the filth of the human world, you’re the one who crawled through the muck, all lies and deceit, writhing in it like the pathetic worm that you are –”
Jin Guangyao smashed walls in his rage, and yet he calmed too quickly: that pleasant smile re-emerged on his face, and he reached out to catch Nie Mingjue’s head with his claws, the long, scaly claws sliding through his hair, closing around him to rest the tips on his face, pricking his flesh.
“Always so judgmental, da-ge,” he said. “Always so quick to look down on me for not living up to your expectations. Perhaps that’s the heart of you, the part of you that you keep in every life – you were just the same when you were the great azure dragon, the mightiest of us all even if er-ge was of nobler birth. And yet, even in that past life, your strength, your might, none of that helped you, did it?”
He brought his face close to Nie Mingjue’s, the dragon’s head the size of half his body, the longest of his fangs extending the length of his hand, from fingertip to the base of the palm, his long and serpentine tongue extending to lick at his cheek and lips in vile mockery of the kiss of brotherhood.
“Let me tell you a secret, da-ge,” he whispered into his ears, the latent poison on his breath making Nie Mingjue struggle to breathe even though Jin Guangyao wasn’t yet actively trying to hurt him. “In your last life? It was me who killed you then, too. I poured my poison into the song you got from er-ge, the one you so treasured. The more you played it, the more it would hurt you; the greater your love for him was, the quicker your death would come…you died within the year, da-ge, screaming in agony, blind and deaf, your powerful body rotting away beneath you, and you never knew why.”
“You’re disgusting,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao forced his head back, his sharp claws digging in enough to cause small rivulets of blood to start dripping down his face. “Are you jealous? Is that it? That he sees you as his brother and nothing more, even once I was dead? Or was it some other petty dispute that made you feel the need to smile to my face while stabbing me in the back, to persecute me not only in one lifetime, but the next?”
“Perhaps it’s only that I enjoy watching you suffer,” Jin Guangyao said, and his smile was as chillingly pleasant as it had been the entire time Nie Mingjue had known him, the same calm collected smile Meng Yao used to deal with everything. The same smile he’d given Nie Mingjue’s parents as he poisoned them, no doubt. “Did you think that you had escaped the fate I planned for you by coming here? It’s my poison that causes your agony, da-ge, your agony and your insanity, and I carry it with me everywhere – I’ll pour my poison into your belly until you lose your mind and turn into a mindless beast just like you’ve always feared.”
His smile widened.
“And then poor Meng Yao, who doesn’t know better, will rescue you and take you home. Home to your brother who will run to greet you, to your sect that will not want to fight back against you, to your lover who will have no choice but to put you down for your own good…I wonder how many of them you’ll take with you before er-ge has to eradicate you with his own hands? For good, this time.”
“Don’t pretend to care,” Nie Mingjue said, even as his heart froze in fear within his chest. His arms were chained to his side, the pressure of the massive claw around the back of his head irresistibly keeping him kneeling, keeping him from moving. “You miserable, pathetic little – son of a whore!”
It wasn’t one of the insults he generally favored, but for some reason it rose to his tongue now, and it seemed to strike true for Jin Guangyao in a way he wouldn’t have expected it to: he reared back his head a little, glaring down at him, but it was only another moment or two before his eyes narrowed and the pleasant smile returned.
“Good-bye, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao said. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck in your next life.”
And then he pressed his heavy head to Nie Mingjue’s, that long serpentine tongue forcing its way into Nie Mingjue’s mouth and down his throat, choking him on it, choking him on the fumes and acid that came with it, poisonous and searing the back of his throat, and then there was that familiar pain that he remembered from his eighth birthday, his sixteenth, his twenty fourth – the eight-year pain that he had feared ever since he knew what it meant, what it foretold.
Pointless pain. The grudge of another lifetime, carried over into this one, and for what?
For nothing.
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badwolf-winchester · 3 years
Text
Ancient Bloodlines
Pairing: Loki x Emy Nightstar (OC)
OC Summary: Emy is the newest Avenger. She specializes in Magic and close range attacks/ weapons. Her heritage is unknown to her as she was left at an orphanage door step when she was a young girl with only the memory of her name. She goes by her nickname Emy but has never told anyone her full name as its a reminder of her being abandoned. Emy can see through any illusion and Magic no matter how powerful they are or how strong the magic is and is unaware of this. Her powers include Telekinesis, Elemental Control, True Sight (as stated above) Enhanced healing and Shifting (she wont discover this till much later in the story). She loves to read, listen to music, play violin, sing, and draw.
Story Info: Takes place after infinity wars. Tony and Natasha are alive Steven comes back from the future after giving back the infinity stones. Vision is alive and living with Wanda in the tower. Thor and Loki live in the tower with the rest of the Avengers and for the sake of the story Himedall is alive and living with the rest of the Asgardians on earth in New Asgard (you will find out why later)
One last thing: Please do not repost my work on any other site or social media, however reblogging on here is fine. I work hard on all of my fanfics and it’s disappointing when people take my work as their own. I am the creater of all my OCs such as Sora Nightstar, Emy Nightstar, and Lithium Nightstar. My inbox is open for any and all requests as i am a multi fandom writer. Let me know how you like the story and i will do my best to answer any and all questions. As always i encourage any and all feedback as it helps with my writing. I hope you all like it!
The Beginning
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They say that your parents are there to teach you the rules of the world, but what happens when you have no parents? Who will teach you then? The world is cruel but people are crueler. Ive learned this first hand when the person i trusted most in this world left me on the door step of the St. Trinity’s Orphanage. I was 9 when my mother told me she didn’t want me anymore and i guess I couldn’t really blame her. I mean who could love someone who couldn’t control the powers that grew with each passing year. Someone who started fires out of thin air when they had nightmares, conjured whirlwinds when startled, unfurled earthquakes when angered, spring forth rain showers when sad, and levitate objects when riddled with anxiety. I will never forget that day for its seared into my mind like its own person brand echoing with every beat of my heart. A monster thats what she called me, her own flesh and blood was a monster in her eyes, and i could see the relief when she ran from the solid oak door finally rid of the burden she had to put up with throughout the years. An abomination she cried as she reached the cobblestone sidewalk eager to be rid of me and by the pace she was going at i could tell she had more spring in her step than on the walk over from the bus we exited from. Unnatural she bellowed as she disappeared around the corner a ghost of a smile springing from her lips as she disappeared. These where the last words i would ever hear from my mother, if thats what you would call her.
Emy’s POV
Tonight was just like any other. Crisp cold air submerged the city in a blanket of dark and silence while it settled into your bones. I never minded the cold in fact I welcomed it, it reminded me of the cabin i found one year after running away from one of the many abusive foster homes i was forced to stay with. I’ll admit it was one of the times I was able to avoid the social workers for longer than a week and the happiest I had ever been in my life up until i was captured by Hydra. When I had a flair up with my powers, which usually ended up being fire, i would immediately get sent back to St. Trinity’s but this time i ran before they had the chance to toss me aside. The staff there used to place bets on how long i would stay with a family, they would joke saying i was cursed or jinxed but i knew the truth, no one wanted me. Once the parents found out about my abilities I was sent packing. I was labeled as a flight risk and a danger to others which only deepened my anti socialism.
Walking through the streets of New York i pull my dark purple jacket on and my dark brown hair in a pony tail as I get closer to my destination. Because i don’t feel the effects of the cold weather Tony, being such the dad figure he is, has made it his priority to make sure i still wear one just incase so here i was walking home in black ripped up jeans, a black v neck T-shirt, black and purple checkered vans and a light weight dark purple jacket. With my headphones in my ears and “I like it heavy” by Halestorm blasting I make my way to the place i call home, Stark Tower. Walking through the front doors i make my way past the receptionist who always greets me with a bright smile. As I walk towards the elevator I give her a small smile back and a head nod. After entering the elevator and pressing the button for the penthouse I start to reflect on how i got here.
By the time i was 15 Hydra found me in that cabin and took me away. I went from hopping from family to family to being used as a science experiment, constantly being poked and prodded just so they could get a reaction out of me. As a child my powers where very unstable mostly flaring up with my emotions, its no wonder that Hydra caught wind of me its not like i was hiding it very well or more so that i couldn’t hide it. They tried to wipe my memory to gain control of me “a blank slate” is what they wanted, but for some reason, they failed as I wasn’t susceptible to their conditioning methods no matter how much time i spent in the chair. However, I could tell they were scared of me I could see it in their eyes. This didn’t last long though as they used what they called their perfect weapon code name Winter Soldier to beat me into submission. After that first meeting that left me with a broken arm and a fractured ankle i started to obey, since then Ive met the Soldier a couple of times but if he remembers me he dosent let on and I dont blame him, he has been in that chair so many times Im genuinely surprised he can even remember how to walk. He is stronger than the others as most of the other test subjects had turned to vegetables after the 4th mind wipe, he was on his 10th the last time i saw him with Hydra.
Another test was done on me and this one was different. They used a teseract? If thats what they called it I can’t be sure nor did I care all I could feel was pain like as if someone injected lava in my veins. After they injected me I started screaming after a while I couldn’t even hear myself anymore, my throat was so sore and horse from the constant roar of my agony I just wanted it to end. How long was I out for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Years? They didn’t keep clocks there or at least not in the dungeon like cell they had me in. When the fire faded i was left with this numbness and after further tests I realized that I was immune to fire. I can literally stick my hand in fire and i will be left untouched and unscorched. They did the same test with freezing temperatures to see if they could subdue me at least in some way. I must have been out longer than just a couple of days as during the tests i didn’t recognize any of the Doctors. In that moment I realized something, if they were trying to contain me then something must have happened to the soldier. It was time to plan my escape.
Back in my cell i could hear footsteps approaching me and then stop short. One of the scientists frantically trying to talk some sense into someone just out of my line of sight. “She is immune to anything we throw at her sir. We have done every test we could there is nothing left for us to do.” One of the goons in a lab coat stated to what i assumed is a higher up. “Bolden If her powers keep growing at the rate they are it could be days in which she will be unstoppable and with the soldier gone we dont have anything that can keep her in line. She broke Mandy and Rays arms the last time we tested her. She is getting too strong.” Brining a hand up to his chin the higher up Bolden stepped out of the shadows and looked at me with deep interest before he turned to looked at the man and scoffed. As he walked away i felt a cold chill ran down my back as I anticipated what was to become of me; I knew it was nothing good i had already broken their rules. His next words only confirmed what I feared. “ Its simple. Break her spirit or kill her Doctor. And when i say break her i mean in anyway means necessary.” His sadistic laugh is the last thing i remember before everything went black.
Its been 2 years since i have escaped and now I’m living in the avengers tower. I don’t remember what happened after that night in my cell its all a blur of red, screams, and gunshots. When i woke up next i was in a 6ft crater where I was being held captive without a scratch on me. Trees were uprooted and fallen over as if a bomb went off. Luckily the Avengers showed up not long after me waking up and took me to their base where i met Directer Fury. With his permission and 24/7 surveillance provided by Tony Stark via FRIDAY and training sessions to get my powers under control i was allowed to join the Avengers and fight for good. Little did i know that by agreeing to this I would end up in the path of a certain God or Gods who were also taking residence at the tower.
With the sound of a *ding* the elevator shook me out of my mind and back to the present. As i exited the elevator I pulled my head phones out of my ears and was instantly met with the sound of Tony losing his mind. “Where did she go? She knows she can’t be out this late. She could be taken again! Its 5 minutes past her curfew!” Rolling my eyes I roll my headphones up and shove them in my pocket and round the corner. “Tony it takes 5 minutes to get from the lobby to the penthouse calm down. I bet she will walk through that door anytime now.” Came the sweet voice of reason of none other than Pepper Potts. “I’m Home.” I said in a deadpan voice as i walked by the couple only for Tony to stand up and intercept me by placing a hand on my upper arm. “Where did you go and why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” I looked at him and raised an eyebrow pushing his hand off me. “Tony its Wednesday. I have training with Strange on Wednesdays and I had Friday alert you as I was leaving but you were in the lab with Bruce.” Not sure what to say next Tony mumbled a small apology. “Sorry I was just worried about you. I know you are grown enough to make your own choices as you are 25 but I just want to make sure you are safe. How was the training with The Wizard?” Sighing and shaking my head just wanting to go the library and read I decided to just let it go. “Strange is a hard ass that much you already know. It wasnt bad actually I think I’m warming up to him. I didn’t spontaneously throw him to the wall when he snuck up behind me as i was going over the ancient texts so i call that improvement.” I said sheepishly while side stepping around him. “I’m gonna go to the library now and grab some light reading before bed you guys have a good night.” With out waiting for a response I quickly made my way towards my new destination only to have Tony saying something about guests in the house but I ignored him.
Pushing open the library door I make my way to the poetry section to grab my usual copy of Edgar Allen Poe that I read before bed. As my had reached for the spot i knew i put the book in i find that its not there. “Wait what? Where is my book? I know I put it back here before I left for training so where did it go?” Frustrated I stomp back over to the entrance and rip open the door ready to go on a murder spree while shouting down the hallway. “CLINT! You better give me back my night time book or I’m breaking all your arrows again! No one reads in this tower but me! How stupid do you think I am!?” Straining my ears I listen for any type of movement but was met with dead silence. After a minute I finally hear movement through the vents coming from the west part of the tower and I take off sprinting. Sliding around a corner I barely miss colliding with Steve and Bucky who look like they were on their way back from a mission. Offering a quick apology before I continue my pursuit I hear Steve yell “Hey! No running in the tower!” Not faltering in my hot pursuit of the Hawk thief I continue to zip through the tower ignoring the Captains words until i was almost to the vent that lead to the 2 level family room. Using the railing for the steps leading down to the family area to give me more height i jumped as close to the vent as possible and conjured my signature Scythe to slice through it while twisting in the air kicking the vent free and off its track. A shocked and terrified scream resonates from the vent as the culprit falls to the ground with a thud and a grunt. I landed in a crouched position and slowly straightened to my full hight. “What the hell Emy?! When did you learn to do that?!” Clint yells as he sits up rubbing his left shoulder that he landed on. I started stalking towards him with the blade of my scythe scrapping across the ground as i went while giving him a death glare. “Give me back my book Barton.” At the mention of his last name his head snapped up to me fear replacing the pain from his fall. “Oh shit last name not good.” Scrambling up on his feet he turns and runs towards the common room that connects to the elevator with me hot on his tail and my scythe trailing behind me in my right hand.
“Shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!!” He yells as he makes it fully to the room only to fling forward as i jump and kick his back tired of all the running. Twirling my weapon around I place it at his neck sneering at him. “I will not ask you again.” I said placing pressure on his neck with my blade. Sensing a fast moving object coming from my left from the kitchen I move my head back 3 inches as what looked like a hammer flew by me embedding itself in the wall. Turning my head slowly in the direction of the flying object, I confirmed it was indeed a hammer that was thrown at me. Irritation flared through me as i released Clint from the end of my scythe and turned fully to the kitchen to face my attacker. There stood 2 men that i did not recognize, one tall oak of a man with blond short hair, blue eyes and tan skin in blue jeans, a red T-shirt ,and grey jacket. the other shorter man made me stare at him and faultier for a second as he was so different from anyone i have ever seen, dark blue skin covered his entire body with darker almost black symbols and piercing red eyes, long black hair with black jeans, a green dress shirt and black jacket. Tearing my gaze away from his own curious one i looked between both men before i clenched my jaw letting my irritation settle back in. “Which one of you threw that hammer.” I said venom dripping with every word. “Whoa its ok Emy thats just Thor and Loki they are the asgardian Gods that live here in the tower part time when they are not in Norway.” Clint said standing up quickly. Not moving from my position i narrowed my eyes and flicked them over in Clint’s direction. The ground started to shake as my irritation and annoyance grew to anger remembering what i was doing before being interrupted by the Gods. Throwing his hands up in surrender he then quickly reached into his back pocket and retrieved my book. “Ok ok dont blow a fuse Em.” He said while tossing me my possession stopping me from causing an earthquake. Catching it in the air with my left had I inspected the book to make sure it wasn’t damaged before I let go of my scythe, with a wave of my hand it disappeared back to the pocket dimension I keep it in then looked back at Clint as the tremors stopped. “Touch my things again and i will be wearing your guts like my mom’s pashmina.” I said to the thief before walking out of the room and disappeared down the hallway not giving the Gods a second glance. As I entered my room i could hear a silky voice ring out from the kitchen. “Well isnt she interesting.”
Part 2 coming soon
@nickkie1129
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Insufferable
Chapter two - A king’s duty is a king’s duty
Sander’s sides fanfiction - ‘Off the Devil’s head’ spin-off (can be read as a stand-alone)
Wordcount: 1928
Ship: intrulogical
TW: cursing - a lot of cursing (still Remus, lovlies, get used to it), confusion, cute bickering (I think...?), forests at night, very obvious autistic tics (based on my own, so I know they are real and how they work, in case you’re not sure ^^ I wouldn’t write something that I haven’t checked at least twice with someone who has, or deals with or is deeply interested in this stuff). And I think that’s all. If anything pops up, do let me know :) <3
Summary of the whole story: This might have not been the brightest idea - steeling from a cart right in the fucking smack-dab-middle of the Square. But Remus never claimed his ideas were bright. Never said his words and actions were appropriate either. So how in all off goddamned hell did he find himself sprawled out on a giant comfortable throne instead of a cold and dark (and very drippy) prison cell - with guards actually guarding his safety instead of assuring his imprisonment - is completely beyond him.
Link to AO3 for those who prefer reading there ^^
----------------------------
Chapter two - A king’s duty is a king’s duty
There’s not a lot of things Logan dislikes. There’s a total of fifteen so far. But disruption of order, change and tall grass is definitely in the top ten. And wouldn’t you look at that?
Green-haired hurricanes are tearing threw his peaceful kingdom, disrupting peace - thus creating an unnecessary change. Which caused his sleepless state, which lead him down a path where he has to hop from foot to foot like a dear, to eliminate any unnecessary contact with grass.
And the fact that all these things alone cause unnecessary stress, let alone combined, just makes it all worse. His movements are more jagged then usual, more frantic. Gestures all over the place in unorganized manors. And his eyebrows are stuck in a constant ‘thinking scowl’ as his advisors call it.
To any other person, his behavior would seem truly strange - Logan can’t say he doesn’t feel a little embarrassed by it, even now that he’s alone. But there are some things that just can’t be helped.
Besides, all of his kingdom know that their king is a ‘little weird’.
Since Logan first sat on the throne - at the mere age of thirteen - everybody’s been in love with their ruler. It sounds a little odd, that they let a thirteen-year-old kid on the throne, but Logan’s never really been a kid. Since when he can remember he read books far too difficult for the usual kid his age, listened in on conversations he probably had no business listening to, let alone understanding. Sat by his father’s side, while he made life-concerning decisions. Watched his mother as she took care of every problem with caution and care not everybody could offer. Although Logan never got around to fully understanding that care, he learned to act the same way. Same words, same gestures. Nobody was worried when the crown got passed down to him. All the people in the kingdom knew they were in good hands.
Logan’s very first mission was learning the name of every single person in town. It wasn’t an easy task, but it wasn’t as hard as someone would expect, since a surprisingly big amount of people shared the same name. And Logan had a really good memory when it came to association. A face to a name. A shape to a math formula. The smell, color, density and overall look to a chemical. And of course, the exact numeric measurement of a star’s whereabouts.
But there was no way of ‘associating’ his way out of this. He had no clue of the density, the weight, the pace, the name, nor the whereabouts of this mysterious disrupter of peace. All he knew was, that his hair was unnaturally green and he looked way too skinny for a wealthy towns-man - which just underlined the reason why he was steeling.
Oh, and let’s not forget he wanted to kiss Logan. Right there on the Square, apparently.
The young king scratched his arm, absentmindedly, trying not to think too much about it. Not that that’s helping. Questions keep popping up, tripping up his sane thought process.
It’s not like Logan liked the idea of the stranger kissing him. He didn’t like to be touched, let alone landing his lips to someone else. But the thoughts didn’t leave him alone.
Maybe that’s why he was here, stepping over unnecessarily high strands of grass in the middle of the night. He might not like the greenery touching him, and the jutting out branches and leaves of trees and bushes cause him immense panic (and make him scratch his exposed body parts like crazy), but he actually likes the forest. It is really calming (for the most part, anyways).
He hoped that this almost-calming surrounding would help him clear his head. But it just seemed to stress him out even more.
The thoughts kept on swiveling in his head - swirling and twirling, not letting the unknown thief out of their claw-clad grasp.
Logan needed to find out the thief’s name. He knows everybody’s name. And if this thief stays close to town, he’s considered a citizen. He needs to learn his name.
Not far from the obsessing king, Remus was lounging out in the hammock he hung outside Matilde’s old run-down cottage. One leg swung over the edge, he swayed from side to side, twisting the silver ring on his slender finger.
Bored out of his mind.
There wasn’t many days, when Remus’s screwed-up brain didn’t come up with things to entertain him; but some days even that head needed some rest, it seemed. Apparently today was one of those days.
Not a single fun thought. Even the inner monologue he never seemed to be able to end, somehow bored him to death. The only thing peeking even the slightest of interest in him, was the constant image of those scarily-blue eyes the king-dude possessed.
Seriously. In all his life, he has never once seen such ocean-blue eyes. Dark and deep, holding many a secret. It made Remus desperate to know each and every single one.
But that was not happening. No matter how much the eyes mesmerized him. How much he couldn’t get them out of his head. (Agh, Jesus fucking Christ those eyes…) There was just no way he could go back to that town.
The king has let him go once (he chalked it up to his good looks, charm and smooth words) and the second time is as likely as Matilde coming back from wherever she fled to.
So here he was. Bored as all hell.
He sighed heavily, wondering what kingdom was next on his agenda tomorrow. When suddenly he heard a scrunch. Then another. And another. This was no squirrel. Remus sat up immediately, eyes darting along the dark forest.
It was so late. What the hell would anybody be doing up at this hour of the night?
He darted out of the hammock - almost falling face first when his foot got caught in the fabric - hiding in the near-by bushes. Thank the lords that he didn’t forget to turn the fucking lights off again.
The scrunching got louder by the second, and Remus crouched lower.
Low muttering drafted into his ears. “…nice of you good sir, but I’ll have to decline. I am not sure that would be appropriate considering we just met…” A dark figure, drafted in shadow came into view. “And besides, you haven’t even introduced yourself. I know the name of every citizen in this kingdom. For the sake of consistency, I would also like to find out yours…” Jesus Christ, who were they talking to?  And what were they doing?!
One leg up in the air, like soldiers marching, then quickly stamped down, hopping to the other. Weird movements all over the place, not even in a straight line, like a sane person. Was this person drunk? They looked like a fucking goat, jumping from one small jutting out pebble on the mountain-side to the other.
The site alone would make Remus want to piss himself, but together with the inconsistent murmuring? He couldn’t hold back the snort.
The figure immediately froze in place. All movement and words falling into still silence. “Who’s there?” They called out cautiously.
Remus bit his tugging lip hard. Fuck.
Well, there was no backtracking now. Besides, it’s not like he was scared. It was more likely he’d scare the crazy-pants over there. So slowly, he razed from his hiding spot with hands in the air and a huge grin on his face. “What are you doing dude? You look like a fucking crazy person.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” came the person’s answer. Voice laced with nerves.
“Just a random dude in a forest.” Rem shrugged.
“That’s not a very satisfying answer.”
Roman bit back a laugh. Seriously, what the hell? “Don’t worry I won’t hurt you.” he snickered. Then this thought blinked into his head, and as you know, thought’s bring words. Stupid, embarrassing and unnecessary words. “Unless you want me to.” he winked seductively. Then realized the person probably couldn’t even see his face, let alone the wink he just threw at them. Ah well, at least it saved him some embarrassment, when his tongue betrayed him.
Swear to god, the person ‘Eep’-ed at this. He made this strangled sound that sounded like a nervous whine mixed with surprise cut in half and that just made Remus want to laugh even more. “That’s really unnecessary, thank you.” And they’re still being polite! How even…?
Rem couldn’t help it at this point. It was too much. He burst out cackling like to crazy idiot he is. Probably scaring the poor person to death. (But then again, the ‘poor person’ did come wondering into a forest in the middle of the night, muttering to themselves and jumping around like an idiot.)
“Am… You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Oh that’s right…“ Rem’s forhead creased in thought. “…what was the question again?”  
“Who are you.”
“I’m Remus.”
If Logan could allow himself to curse, he would. But he couldn’t so instead he just gave a long exasperate sigh. “And who might that be?”
The stranger stepped closer, allowing the fleeting moon-light to reach his features and gave a big bow. Hand gesture and all. “Me, obviously.” No matter how much he disliked to admit it, Remus was every bit as dramatic as his brother. If not more…
The king’s eyes lit up with recognition (not that Rem could see). Well, guess his duty’s done then - the thief’s name is Remus. Huh…Very interesting.
“Well, now that you know my name, it’d be nice to get yours, pretty.” Rem grinned, daring to get a few more steps in. Bringing him closer to the still standing-frozen person.
From here he could finally see more of them. Well, him. Because apparently the smooth deep voice he was conversing with was the royal-head himself.
And his royal head slanted to the left slightly, eyebrows drawing together. “Why should I give my name to unknown man in the forest?”
“Why should I give my name to some random bloke, then?”
“Because I asked you to?”
Remus wondered what this dude’s problem was. Logan wondered why even wanted to get out of the safety of his chamber in the first place.
“Alright then, weirdo, tell me one good reason why I should answer and you shouldn’t.” Rem crossed his arms over his chest. Yes, he was aware he was talking to the king. But that doesn’t mean he had to play nice.
Rem treats everybody the same way, because that’s how it should be. (Maybe that’s what landed his ass behind bars twice already…)
Logan jutted out his chin. He could use the ‘King-card’ - as his advisor calls it. Could easily force the thief to answer without any objections (that is if he abbeys rules; which he should.) But honestly, Logan felt like doing neither. It was late, and he was supposed to stop obsessing about this whole thing. Which he did. The thief’s name was Remus.
So, as gracefully as a king can, he shrugged. “I don’t have one.”
“Well, shit. Then you ain’t getting my name, darling.”
The royal couldn’t decide whether the thief was that simple-minded or just easily distracted. “You’ve already said your name.”
Our beloved idiot’s expression froze, grin falling. “Ah, fuck.” his shoulders did the same. (In a very overdramatic - and admittedly, impressively flexible - way)
Well, if he wasn’t screwed before, now he certainly was.
-----------------------------
Jesus Christ, I’ve never cursed more in my life and I hate it so much! I don’t curse in real life, not even while texting with friends (I use shit, hell and damn, but that’s about it) and this is killing me on a whole other level! But this is Remus, and I feel like a good Remus requires a hella lot of curses. 
So here we are. Me actually cursing more then my brain can accept it. But at least I get to project on Logan, right? I love autistic Logan, too damn much. He’s too precious. And the greenery thing? Believe me, my mum constantly makes fun of it XD But I don’t mind, I know I look ridiculous.
Anyways! I hope you liked this chap! ^^ I still have no idea where the hell I’m going with this, but I guess we’ll see where we end up. 
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areiton · 3 years
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three days - stony
Read on AO3 | Mind the AO3 warnings, friends. 
~*~ 
The day begins like this:  
Tony is cursing, and Steve is laughing.  
It’s how they’ve woken up for years now, Steve’s hands cool and familiar against Tony’s belly as he crawls back into bed with his husband, and Tony’s rasping complaints just as familiar.  
“There’s coffee, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, hair wet where it falls into his eyes and Tony peers up at him through his good eye.  
It’s been decades since Thanos, since he gave his right arm and his eye and almost his life—since Extremis reversed the damage and so much of his aging and slowed down the remains.  
“We could stay in bed,” Tony bargains, and Steve grins at him, rolls them in the sheets until Tony is straddling his hips and drags him down for a kiss, hands skating over his sides.  
~*~  
The day begins like this:  
There is silence. Cool sheets and bright sunlight. He hasn’t slept. He can’t sleep in the utter silence, and can’t bring himself to leave their bedroom either.  
There’s the scent of familiar cologne and motor oil in the air, and he can’t bring himself to leave, isn’t sure it’ll be there, if he does.  
There’s a tap on the door, and Harley comes in, trailed by Peter.  
“Hey, Pops,” Harley murmurs, hands shoved in his pockets. He’s wearing his suit, already. It’s not that strange, seeing him in a suit—Harley has been CEO long enough that seeing him wearing a suit as trim and fitted as Tony’s is familiar and comforting.  
Peter is too, though, and his eyes are wet and red-rimmed and he looks-- 
He looks like Tony did. Grey streaks his hair and his eyes are tired, his smile weaker than it used to be.  
He looks younger than Harley, and Steve wonders if that’s a curse or a blessing. Tony worried about it, about how he’d handle a long life, extended by his mutation, when his husband was gone.  
Steve blinks hard, because Tony had never considered that for them. Not when Extremis and the serum evened the playing field for them, not for decades now.  
“It’s time,” Harley says, softly.  
~*~  
The day begins like this:  
An alarm is blaring, beyond the walls of his room, and Steve jerks upright. “Report?” he barks, and there’s a brief moment of silence cut only by the klaxon.  
“Commander, they’ve asked you stay behind,” FRIDAY says.  
He snorts, and moves, all efficiency as he slips into the stealth suit.  
It needs a bit of work, but it’ll do, at least until he can get to the city.  
“What’s the situation, FRI?” he asks.  
She feeds it to the comm he never goes without, and he reaches for his shield before leaving the small, unadorned room behind.  
The halls of SHIELD are crowded, bustling with agents scurrying to answer the still screaming alarm, but they all give way, something he notes with only the barest kind of interest.  
His hair falls in his eyes and he scrapes it back impatiently, securing it at the nape of his neck.  
“Need to cut that, Stevie,” Bucky says, falling into step beside him.  
“Think you should sit this one out,” Director Bishop says as they stride into command center. Her eyes are worried and her mouth is tight and Steve smiles at her, sharply.  
“Now you know that’s not gonna happen, Katie Kate,” Bucky drawls, and because he’s looking for, Steve sees her tiny flinch.  
Even now.  
“Stark,” she says, and Steve straightens.  
“What’s the mission, Director,” he asks, implacable.  
She sighs and drags up a holoscreen. “We know he’s harnessing electricity,” she begins and he settles in.  
“This might be the one,” FRIDAY murmurs and Steve closes his eyes, and hopes. 
~*~  
The morning goes like this:  
Tony leans against him, half asleep against his back while Steve makes eggs. The house is quiet today—just the two of them, the team confined to the Compound. He thinks about spending a little time in his studio, after breakfast.  
“I need to do some work on the prototypes Peter sent over,” Tony mumbles against his back and Steve mentally rearranges his plans. Sketching in the workshop and going over SHIELD mission reports it was.  
There were days, of course there were, when they retreated from each other, spent in their own separate corners of the house, days Tony spent in the city because even now, years after Pepper’s retirement and handing the reins to Harley and Peter, he’s active at SI. There are days when Steve goes on a mission for SHIELD with Bucky, and they don’t see each other for a week or more.  
But mostly, when they can, they spend their time together.  
“Too many years apart,” Steve murmured, when Tony asked him about it, right after they got married.  
Now, it’s habit, and comfortable, and Steve smiles does at the eggs while Tony snores against his back, and thinks about the long empty day stretching ahead of them.  
~*~  
The day goes like this:  
They drive together, Steve and the boys who are not boys, the men who have been his sons. Morgan is waiting, with her children, and theirs, and Steve resents them, just for a moment, resents everyone here—the remains of their family and their team, Bucky and Sam, everyone standing around him and the fucking urn waiting.  
Peter speaks first.  
Because Steve—Steve loved him, loves him still, with every breath that is in him, he thinks he will love Tony until he’s dust and faded memories—but Peter was part of Tony’s soul, all his genius and sacrifice and kindness wrapped up in a boy without a speck of his blood. Peter was the son he chose, and it’s fitting, that Peter is the one speaking first, the one saying goodbye while Steve stands over an urn that feels too heavy and too light and all wrong.  
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.  
There was Extremis and the serum, there was every villain and battle they survived and all the years they fought and all the love they built despite it.  
There was a century between them and secrets and so much love he can’t quite breath through it.  
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.  
But then, he supposes. It wasn’t supposed to end at all.  
~*~  
The day goes like this:  
The quinnjet is quiet. FRIDAY has fallen silent, but Steve knows she’s running all the information she can find, and after all the years she’s spent growing, there’s nothing she can’t find.  
Bucky sits next to him, silent, because there’s nothing to say anymore.  
The SHIELD agents and Avengers—there are Avengers, new ones, people whose names he can’t remember or doesn't want to learn, a Captain America that Sam chose that he doesn’t want to know—are quiet, a low murmur of voices and spike of laughter, but it’s been long enough that no one disturbs him and Bucky, until they’re coming up on the drop site and Scarlet Witch—not Wanda, not his team, they’re all gone now—says, “Eyes up. Everyone comes home safe.”  
There’s a chorus of voices, and Bucky leans briefly into his side, and Steve’s eyes cut to his brother.  
FRIDAY is quiet in his ear and the wind whistles as the fliers take to the sky. There’s a lightening storm, just beyond the quinnjet.  
He smiles.  
“Commander Stark,” he hears, shouted, a moment before he throws himself from the jet, and Bucky follows.  
~*~  
The day goes like this:  
The alarm comes in while Tony is scolding DUM-E, and Steve is laughing, and he grins at Steve, bright and beautiful. “Wanna save the world, honey?”  
“We’re retired,” Steve says, dryly.  
“FRIDAY, what is it?  
“A new threat, Boss. Something in space.”  
Steve shifts, uneasy, because space has never meant anything good for them, but Tony is grinning, bright eyes and eager, and he already knows how it’ll end.  
“Get your suit,” he sighs, “FRIDAY, let Hill know we’re coming in.”  
“Sure thing, Commander.”  
~*~  
The day goes like this:  
After they scatter the ashes.  
After the family gathers and leaves-- 
After the house has gone silent, but for DUM-E's sad lonely beeping, when the lights are off and the curtains are drawn and the studio has been closed off-- 
He sits in the dark with a gun in his hand and only the thought of Tony’s disappointment in him keeps him from pulling the trigger.  
~*~  
The day goes like this:  
The fight is brutal. The Avengers are falling in around him and Bucky, but there’s rain and the air is thick with electricity.  
Hawkeye goes down under an electric bolt from the wizard wielding it and Scarlet Witch screams his name.  
“Cap,” FRIDAY murmurs. “Wait.” 
It’s going to hell, fast, the rain and the electricity working together to blind and ground their fliers, to slow the fighters on the ground. An EMP brings down Iron Patriot with a clattering roar that almost throws him back to that fucking fight in Germany, a lifetime ago, but he grits his teeth,  tenses-- 
And waits.  
It comes in waves, pulses where the wizard gather’s his power, before it’s thrown in a scattering arc, in a sharp concentrated bolt, devastating their ranks.  
“Now,” Friday snaps, and he throws himself forward.  
The last thing he hears is Bucky’s scream.  
~*~  
The day ends like this:  
They should have stayed home.  
Where Tony was warm and grumbling and their forever stretched endless in front of them.  
They should have stayed home.  
It goes to hell, fast, faster than he can parse. The villain is an alien they’ve never faced before, and Tony’s voice is sharp and worried over the comm. 
“Cap, he’s pulling the energy of a fucking star,” Tony says.  
“A star?” Steve echoes.  
“Stars are a form of energy—that's what he’s pulling.”  
“Ours?”  
Tony’s silent and Steve almost laughs, because of course they’re on a throwaway mission with a villain who wants to drain the power of their damn sun.  
“What can we do to stop him?”  
Tony is quiet, a long moment, and then--”FRIDAY, take care of him, would you? Ferryman Protocol, code echo alpha zeta tango niner.”  
The ship jerks a little, and FRIDAY says, apologetic, “Sorry, Cap. Orders.”  
“Tony,” Steve starts, but he’s flying already, the boosters on his suit bright as stars as he slams into the alien. Giant tentacles as black as the space around them snake around the suit and Tony says, softly. “I’m so sorry, beloved.”  
“Tony, come back here,” Steve begs. “Please--” 
“I wanted so badly to grow old with you, Steve,” Tony says. The suit is flying again, pulling the alien with him, and Steve can’t breathe, it’s flying. “FRIDAY--don’t let him watch.”  
He screams when the ships monitor’s go black.  
He screams when an explosion rocks the ship.  
He screams when FRIDAY reports, her voice shaking with tears, “I’ve lost contact with the suit.”  
He screams and he screams, and Tony never responds.  
~*~ 
The day ends like this:  
He catches sight of himself in a mirror in the dark. It’s been almost a year since that day in space, a year of searching space and scanning for lifesigns and Peter frantically building tech to go search for Tony.  
It’s been a year of unending grief and wild baseless hope and silence that’s never answered.  
He catches sight of himself and he breaks, shatters the mirror and then the table, so furious suddenly he doesn’t check himself. He finds himself in his studio, shattered easels and canvases, his pencils broken and sketchbooks torn apart, chest heaving and sobs trapped in his throat.  
He’s destroyed it, the place that Tony built for him, the place where he would sleep, while Steve sketched.  
He trembles, and says, softly, “FRIDAY. I can’t stay here.”  
“I’ll inform SHIELD you’re moving back to headquarters,” she says, and he nods.  
He takes his suit, the one that Tony made him, his shield, and a picture of Tony, saved from the ruined studio, and leaves.  
~*~  
The day ends like this:  
Bucky carries him.  
He can’t breath, and there’s a panicky fear in his gut, shades from a boy that he hasn’t been in a lifetime.  
He can’t breath and there’s peace in it, because FRIDAY is almost purring in his ear, and Bucky is carrying him and crying and there’s a smile, strange and familiar, on his brother’s face. 
He waited.  
Even now, almost a decade after Sam’s death, Bucky waited.  
“End of the line,” Steve rasps and Bucky laughs, lowers him in the quinnjet that is dark and still.  
The Avengers that he doesn’t know, never let himself know, are behind him, silent and grim and he thinks maybe they are crying.  
He wants to tell them not to.  
He wants to tell them this is his choice.  
Bucky knows, and that is enough. FRIDAY knows, his faithful companion for all the long empty years since Tony died.  
He closes his eyes and his heartbeat falters.  
~*~  
The day begins like this:  
He wakes and there’s a warmth, familiar and comforting, against him, and he twists.  
Tony smiles at him, impossibly young and heartbreakingly perfect, his eyes bright, and his right hand trembling as it pushes back Steve’s hair.  
“You kept me waiting a while, beloved,” he murmurs.  
Steve curls close, and Tony hums, soft and soothing and comforting, as he holds him.  
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baelpenrose · 3 years
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Under Avandra's Eyes II: Ambush
@canyouhearthelight continues to do beta reading, making the fights more visceral, making the Pikar extra disturbing. And a big thank you to @fiuxc0re and @oroborous9 for reblogging the first one - you're helping this take off and I really appreciate it.
TW: Violence, self-mutilation (implied)
Baldor
Baldor shook at the news that had come. It wasn’t the assault of the Pikar that had changed the world, it was that a second one was happening in living memory. In the past, the maniacs from the lost realm had ventured south every few hundred years. The razing of the north in Kazarak-Ur had been horrendous, but it was also expected of the mad barbarians - this assault, however, marked the second time they’d attacked in his lifetime, which meant they were about two and a half centuries outside when their next attack should have been. The massive knight knew full well what the savages did to lands they attacked, and the people there. His nightmares, the worst ones, were still haunted by the hideous scarred faces and their screams of “Blood on the Ashes! Skulls for the Maw!” Riding to battle against goblinkin, elves, beastkin, or members of any of the other human nations, the weight of his shield, sword and warhammer would have been comforting on his harness, but as it was…Pikar didn’t play by normal rules.
“Iris, Marcus, keep your eyes open, if Iris senses any swirling Chaos, or Marcus Senses anything moving…”
They’d been declaring the bad news to as many villages as they could, but they were getting closer and closer to the point where they’d realistically expect contact - and they’d given up the courier horses they’d been given by the officers in the city to the villagers to help speed things along. Baldor didn’t regret the action - disavowed by his lord or no, hedge knight or no, he’d taken a holy vow before Bahamut to protect the commoners of Faldrea even at the cost of his life, and he had no intention of breaking it now.
Marcus suddenly went very still, and cursed as a weapon came tumbling end over end toward him, one of the crude flint axes that the Pikar were fond of throwing aside once they had their hands on proper steel. Marcus’s frame twisted slightly as his arming blade appeared at the end of his arm, contempt suffusing his otherwise proud features as he swatted the weapon out of the air. “Ambush!”
The shout was unnecessary, it hadn’t fully left the young swordsman’s throat when a hideous, ashen pale face with grey and crimson scars streaking along it came screaming out of the brush.
“BLOOD FOR ASH!” Marcus parried the blade the Pikar swung, already sweeping his blade into the circular defensive patterns that he’d learned from pirates, sweeping aside the blows as Iris took a sight down a long shaft and loosed, striking the target in the upper chest as Marcus swayed aside to avoid his friend and sometime lover’s arrow. Baldor had already charged to attack the two Pikar clambering out of the bushes to support the first, sword and shield ready as he felt the bone-jarring impacts of their axes against his shield. He responded with a brutal sweep that sheared the first man in half, shoulder to hip, and wheeled to engage the other before a strike at his armored knee reminded him that the barbarian he’d just bisected hadn’t finished bleeding to death yet - and was going to do its best to take him with it until it did so.
“SKULLS FOR THE MAW!” Baldor’s iron-studded boot came crashing down on the torso while he struggled for the upper hand, with the still in-tact barbarian, screaming bloody murder as Thomas and Liza jumped in on a tag team against a fourth, Thomas ducking and rolling beneath a swiping axe and slashing his long knives at the ankle and calf of the Pikar as he came up, Liza delivering what should have been a killing thrust at its throat. Baldor could tell the one Iris had shot was struggling, as the slight stagger that getting a foot of ashwood driven through its ribcage had inflicted had allowed Marcus to take one of its arms and cripple it, even as it kept screaming and surging towards him with the remaining limbs, blood pumping into the soil as it howled.
Baldor was still keeping his shield between himself and his assailant, and feeling the dread of knowing that these things didn’t get tired like normal humans would, he forced himself to surge forward, pinning the barbarian to a tree with his shield and then stepped back, already winding up for the killstroke, and beheaded it, the massive sword sending a shudder up his arms as it struck through the neck and into the wood behind it.
Thomas had sprinted over to the Pikar Marcus and Iris had fought and shoved his knife into the back of its neck, with Marcus intercepting the downward stroke of the ax on the one engaging Liza, allowing the courtesan to lunge into the underside of its jaw and swirl her blade around. The abrupt silence of the screaming brutes echoes loudly through the small clearing.
“We have to keep moving before they…” He noticed something about the clothes they wore. Purple leather, some of it with tinges of the dried rust color of bloodstains, indicative of the vile fashions of those who grew up with the Dark Gods whispering in their ears. He’d known, from his time as a squire during the last Cleansing, that the Pikar made clothes from the flesh of the slain, but he’d hoped he’d imagined it. “Before any more of them show up. If there were this many, there’s going to be more.” The small group each ripped off the vicious necklaces, decorated with human teeth, from the corpses, as proof for bounty. Baldor almost wanted to scream at them that it wasn’t worth the time, but the little team started moving back, away from the site of the fight, the great knight limping as he went, the dent on the knee of his greaves paining him.
Liza was shaking. “I’ve...never seen a Pikar before. Those scars...that...oh Melora do they just wear the skins of the people they kill? Is that...was that true?”
Thomas shook his head. “Lucky you. We got lucky today. Lucky that the first one was an idiot, and lucky that Marcus has the Sense khym. That ambush would have killed one of us, otherwise. We also outnumbered them, and that isn’t as common as you’d want it to be. I think we’ve gotten as far north as could be expected. It’s not like there’s going to be anything left around here if they’re this far south.”
Iris shook her head. “They’re scattered. If we keep moving, we can probably...DUCK!”
A wash of fire blasted over the clearing and Iris came up at a roll, even as Baldor ducked behind a tree and snapped up the steel shield against the blast, feeling it burn him, even through the chainmail. “What the nine hells?”
“Just cover me a little longer. Drop your shield when I say.” The knight nodded at the archer’s words.
“Can you get him?”
“Yes.”
Another man, working with another archer, would have been justified in asking if Iris was sure. But he’d seen her thread her shot through a knight’s helm from halfway across a field before, when she’d had to. Iris never let them down.
“NOW!”
The shield went down and Iris’s recurve bow snapped a report, and an instant later, a pained gurgle coupled with the scent of lightning that accompanied a mage dying, mid spell, rang out.
“What the hell? When have they ever brought sorcerers to…” Marcus’s awed voice was cut off, and subsided at Liza’s glare. “The same time they started bringing down a horde more than once in a lifetime. We need to get out of here, report that back to the kingdom. I don’t know what’s going on, but…”
Iris coughed a bit from the conflagration that the sorcerer’s attack had started - fire, called up by magic, was still fire, after all. Which was one of the reasons it was so popular in combat wizardry. As rare as it was to find someone who simply was untouched by chaos, they existed - and where they did, the kinds of people who wanted to fight with magic didn’t want to have anyone standing unharmed in the midst of their blasts. “We need to go. Fire’s going to spread. Too long since this area had one.”
The team began moving away, Baldor struggling to keep pace until Marcus looped an arm under him. “Come on, old man. You saved my ass and Iris’s when you could have just ended us. I owe you.” He felt himself being supported on the other side by the archer, who gave him a quick smile. “Come on. Come on, we’ll get back to the village and start pulling back. If nothing else, the blaze should help cover our retreat.” She looked furious, but she also looked resigned, as though understanding that in the face of this, telling people what they’d learned would save more lives than reckless valor.
As the group started moving back, the forest burned, and howling madmen roared in anticipation of blood on the ash.
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sanktnikolais · 3 years
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Here Without You
A/N: I’m back for a moment to drop this sort of angst piece of god and goddesses au sort of. In which they are a bit like Poseidon and Athena but not really, I just needed the rivalry bc I’m trash <3 (it doesn’t make sense I know) 
Big thanks to @wafflesandkruge for giving me the idea. And for also going through and editing this long mess of words KJHASLFDJ ;-; 
Basically light/vague plot, only monologues and longing.
Summary: Cursed to live on earth as humans, Zoya has been finding Nikolai in every life he gets reincarnated. But every time they meet, it is always the same: he doesn't know her. He has no memory of her or anything about their past immortal life. And in every lifetime, she is slowly losing hope. For how long could she hold onto the thought of him remembering her again? Is her love enough?
Word count: 9629
How long does it take to fall out of love with someone who can't remember you? 
          If there was anything that Zoya learned after being stuck in a human body for so long was that nothing was ever permanent. All of it, whether it was a physical thing or an intangible emotion, disappeared in time. Such a harsh truth, she knew, but it was the truth. 
          For a long time, she had waited for it to disappear, or just fade if only for a bit. 
          But for over a millennium, her love for him remained. 
          Maybe that was what had driven her to stay away instead of finding him this time.  Because no matter how many times they met, or how many times their paths crossed, or how many lifetimes passed, the result would always be the same. 
          He would never remember her again. 
          It was only reasonable for her to stop hoping for the impossible to happen. 
---
Athens had been slightly cold that time of the year, even with the sun high up, which was a change since she last visited. 
          Zoya looked around. There were quite a number of tourists visiting today, bustling around the site and taking photos of the scenery. She almost chuckled at the silliness of it. If today had been some other time before, the sight would've been better when the temple was still intact. But looking up at it now, in its ruined state, only brought haunting memories of their last stand against their common enemy before everything fell apart around them. 
          Minnie? His voice echoed in her mind, along with the image of the worry and terror in his eyes as he knelt on the floor, trying to reach for her. What's wrong? 
          She shook her head, harshly shoving the memory away. But the sight of him vanishing after was already branded into her mind as if to remind her of her failure. 
          The coldness of the small piece of metal in her hand was enough to bring her back, and Zoya pressed it harder against her palm until it hurt. Better this pain than the one in the past.
          With a shaky breath, she made her way through the rubble of what once had been a divine place made by the people for the god of the seas. She remembered how much he appreciated the place, how much he took care of it during the old days they were still all in peace. 
          He grinned, the one that reached his eyes and made them bright. His arms were spread wide. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he said, gesturing to his newly built temple. 
          She merely raised an eyebrow at him. “Mine is definitely better,” she countered with a sneer. “And besides, yours wouldn’t even be there if I hadn’t allowed it.” 
          “Guess I owe you my reputation, then?”
          “Obviously, so stop being a show off.”
          Then he winked, and she didn’t like the way it made her heart skip a beat. “Only for you, dear.”
          The memory faded. 
          It was then she realized that he never got to see what she had done to his temple. If he saw it now, what would he feel? 
          Nothing, her cruel mind said. He doesn't remember anymore. 
          "Am I really waiting for nothing?" she said bitterly, not minding the weird stares she got from a nearby group. 
          Zoya reached the entrance of the front hall. It faced the seas, a view which he had never grown tired of. And seeing it from here, she figured that she could never really blame him. 
          The cliff from where the temple was built gave a wide view of the sea, stretching as far as it could until the other end that could be seen was only the horizon. Its glow of a mix of green and blue blended well with the afternoon sky, and it gave her a sense of serenity. Even if for a bit. 
          The seas can help us find peace, dear, his voice echoed in her mind again, unwanted and welcome at the same time. I'm sure you would appreciate it more in time. 
          Don’t call me dear, she had said, but it didn’t have the poison and sharpness from when they were still rivals.
          Zoya felt a sad smile twitch on her lips. She did appreciate it, loved it even. An eternity with him before surely contributed to the love she had for the seas now. 
          But an eternity without him only made looking at them feel bittersweet. It was as if she could see him nearby, but could never reach for him nor be with him. 
          It was never fair.
          She shook the melancholic thoughts away. She hadn't come here to lament over the things that could never be again. 
          Zoya opened her palm to eye the small object. It was a trident keychain she had bought from one of the souvenir stores near the site's entrance, its gold color immediately catching her eye as she had passed by. 
          It had become a tradition for her to leave various things by his temple whenever she visited. Whether it was of the strangest things like a water lily from a nearby pond or something like this, she always left things that reminded her of him.
          It was only fair to remember him even if he didn't remember her. 
          "An offering to the most infuriating deity I knew," Zoya whispered, her voice breaking slightly despite the softness of her tone. Her eyes suddenly burned. She blinked rapidly, feeling a tear fall on her cheek. She reached up to wipe it away. Why now? She laughed bitterly. "I am still crying over you even after a millennium while you live and pass by without any memory of me."
          She looked down to her right, where a boulder was perched on a pillar by the entrance, gently placing the trident on the surface. If only it was as easy to leave your feelings behind just as she left things in his temple.
          "Sad and fascinating, isn't it?" 
          Zoya jolted in surprise, her hand knocking over the small trident before she could let it go completely. That voice—
          But it couldn't be. It shouldn't be. 
          The voice continued on. "To have such a vast structure built only for it to be destroyed later," it said, "it really is tragic." 
          It was coming from behind her. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart was beating erratically in her chest. 
          It could be anyone else, her mind berated. Stop doing this to yourself. 
          But hearing his voice lifetime after lifetime, she would know it from anywhere. 
          It was him. 
          Zoya released a shuddering breath, finally turning around to face him. She had seen him be reincarnated far too many times for the past  two thousand years, had steeled herself from trying to run to him every time they met again. She had become better at making herself not care as the years passed. 
          What she could never get used to was the excruciating pain in her chest whenever she saw the person she had been longing to remember her appear in her path once more. 
          He still looked the same in every life, with his blond hair and hazel eyes, and that all-too-bright grin that she adored for thousands of years]. If she were to take a glance at him, it was as if nothing had changed. 
          But the lack of recognition and warmth in his eyes told a different story. 
          Were the Fates just that cruel to make their paths cross again and yet never last? 
          Her eyes stung again. 
          "I'm—" A look of worry bloomed on his face, and he held his hands up in apology. He winced. "I'm so sorry, I thought you could use some small talk. You look a bit sad earlier."
          Zoya wanted to laugh. He still talked too much in every timeline he got reborn in. "It's—it's fine." She waved a dismissive hand, wiping at her eyes for a moment. "Just had something in my eyes."
          If he wanted to say he wasn't convinced, he didn't bother to. He grinned and looked back up to the temple instead. "I'm really curious about this, though," he said as he approached the pillar to her left. 
          She drew in a sharp breath, wanting to step away and put as much distance as possible between them. But she stood her ground. She wasn't going to shy away from only that reason. 
          He touched the surface of the pillar and then pounded a fist on it twice. "The material looks sturdy enough to withstand a lot of calamities. But the damage looks far more than just that," he said, his eyebrows furrowing. Then he turned to her, hazel eyes curious. She found herself staring right back at them. "What do you think happened here?" 
          She raised an eyebrow at him. "If you're curious about it, why didn't you get one of the tour guides for your questions?" 
          Almost immediately, he grimaced, scratching the spot behind his ear. "I left my wallet back in the hotel I was at," he said, voice lowering with every word. "I only have enough spare cash for a bus ride back." 
          Zoya looked at him incredulously, and he obviously shrunk back slightly, the embarrassment still evident on his face. Still the idiot he is. 
          He sighed. "Well, at least I'd still be able to go back in a bus. I mean imagine walking back to your hotel in this kind of weather," he said, gesturing at the sky. "The sun god isn't merciful today." 
          She stared at him for another moment, and then she did one thing she hadn't done for a while. 
          She laughed. A genuine, loud one that surprised him, and even herself. Another moment passed, and then he was softly laughing along with her as well. If there were some things that remained unchanged, it was his blabbering mouth and idiocy in every life. It felt as if he was really here with her. 
          "Trust me, the sun god is more merciful than you think," Zoya said. If only Tolya can hear you now. "Give him a bit more credit." 
          "If he calms the blaze down for even a bit, then maybe." He shook his head with a chuckle. Then he patted the pillar. "I hope the god of the seas doesn't mind hearing me badmouthing his fellow deity."
          Whatever happiness she felt was short-lived and instantly faded at that, her heart clenching. She forced a smile on her face. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind." 
          "You sound like you know a lot about the gods." 
          I know a lot more. "I know my mythology."
          He raised a brow, an amused grin playing on his lips. "So does the mythology expert have a name?" 
          Zoya froze, and her thoughts stopped altogether. She had gone through this for as long as she could remember, and yet she still found herself stuttering every time. 
          "Minerva," she said before she could even think of it. Her mind panicked. It was her godly name. They had chosen their current names when they first answered to the humans a long time ago, and when they were damned to the mortal world, it had been the names they’d lived by ever since. 
          All the times she had met him, she gave a different one, while he said the same over and over. She didn't know why she told him her real name all of a sudden. 
          "A lovely name," he said, extending a hand out. "Nikolai." 
          She only hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. His skin was warm against hers, and she felt their connection throughout eons in that one touch. His eyebrows knitted together the moment their hands clasped together, but it was gone as soon as she blinked. She didn't know if she had just imagined it. 
          "Nice to meet you," she said. The words already felt hollow after repeating it for over a millennium. 
          Nikolai grinned. "Likewise." He let go of her hand before gazing up to the temple again. "So, I'm guessing it was destroyed from within. An explosion, perhaps? A divine explosion, if I may add. It's only plausible to think of that reason if we were to consider the mythology." He shrugged, looking totally satisfied with himself. "Correct me if I'm wrong, though, o' wise one."
          She didn't answer for a while. The question he asked was bringing back far too many buried memories of the dark era. Genya's unwanted deception. Harshaw's downfall. Alina’s sacrifice. 
          Nikolai’s doom. 
          It came back rushing to Zoya, and it took all she could to not break down. She clenched her hands to fists, willing the memories away. It wasn't the time to let them take over. Not that there ever was a right time.
          "Minerva?" 
          She broke out of her thoughts, turning back to Nikolai warily. There was a worried crease in his eyebrows as he looked at her. 
          "Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his tone. 
          "Yes, of course. I'm just trying to remember something," she replied. 
          "Ah, is the wise one starting to forget her mythology?" 
          Zoya tried to ignore the way the nickname prick at her heart. It was hitting too close to home. "I tend to forget things too, you dolt. Be glad I'm willing to answer your questions instead of leaving you hanging with your curiosity." 
          To both her surprise and expectation, Nikolai only laughed. He had never minded her sharp tongue and rough edges. Not even once. "Then do scold me for my wrong assumptions," he said.
          She huffed, but looked back up to the monument. "No need to ask for the worst," she said. "But you're actually quite right about that. It was destroyed from within, and not by a natural calamity." 
          "I knew it," he said triumphantly, his grin lightning up his face. "Though I'm quite surprised the sea god was allowed to be given a shrine in Athens. If my memory is right, didn't the goddess of Wisdom win that war?" He frowned. "I'm sensing there’s more than what was said in the books." 
          More than you'll remember from all your past lives, my love. Zoya recovered with a scoff. "The modern books are shit. Anything printed in them barely holds the truth." She wrinkled her nose. "I've been in far too many old libraries to know." 
          Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate on the real history, then?" he said, eyes holding only genuine curiosity and no mocking. "I'm all ears." 
          "You're not going to let this go easily, aren't you?" 
          "Not after you intrigued me with your confidence about its truth." He paused, his expression suddenly turning somber as he looked around the ruins of the old temple. "It's strange but there's something about this place that draws me in, and I just want to know what it is."
          Zoya felt her chest clench as she looked at him sideways. This happened in every life; Nikolai would be reminded or be familiar with everything, but he never remembered. And she was always left to deal with the pain alone. 
          With a quiet sigh, she braced herself from the upcoming pain of trying to reminisce a memory of them together, even more so when it was the start of their eternity together. An eternity that was ended in a blink of an eye. 
          But she figured that she would still indulge him. Even if it was the last time. 
          "They were rivals," she started. "Archenemies if you want to call it that, always had each other by their throats. It started when the sea god tried to ransack the temple of the wisdom goddess with a great flood." 
          She'd never forget the rage she felt at that time when she caught him in act, and how that rage deepened when he reasoned out that it was the sky god who had forced him to do it. His reason turned out to be true, but since the sky god was untouchable, she retaliated by stealing and burying the sea god's trident way underground for at least a decade. 
          It had rained non-stop in Olympus that time, but the defeated look on his face as he lived without his prized weapon was worth it. 
          "The sea god is a huge idiot, you see, and the wisdom goddess dislikes that kind of person." Zoya wanted to laugh in the way she was narrating their history, but the thought of him not remembering any of it was disheartening. "But that's just the way he was."
          Nikolai chuckled. "Am I sensing bias?" he said, shaking his head. "Sounds like they had a pretty silly rivalry." 
          A smile twitched on her lips. "That's a nice way to put it," she replied. "One petty thing led to another, until they were both interested in becoming the patron of this city that the rivalry between them worsened. The sea god even went as far as challenging the wisdom goddess to a duel the night before they set to present themselves to the king of Athens, saying that she only got interested because he was interested.
          "It was actually half-true, and also because the wisdom goddess did not want to make things easier for him as he did with her for centuries." 
          "Please tell me they didn't go on with the duel," Nikolai said. 
          "Joke's on you. They did."
          "Damnit." Then he laughed. "Who came out the victor?"
          Zoya couldn't help but smile triumphantly. "The wisdom goddess, of course," she said. "She put him in his place that night and told him to forfeit his plans being the patron of the city." 
          "I'm sure he didn't come to present himself to the king the following day, then?" 
          "Another joke on you. You're underestimating the stubbornness of the sea god." She shook her head in disbelief, and it made Nikolai laugh a bit more. She raised an eyebrow to his way. He should really stop laughing at himself. "If there was something else constant in him other than his idiocy, it's his optimism and stubbornness. He still showed up the next day despite having lost the duel." 
          Nikolai chuckled. "Sounds a lot like me," he said. Zoya's breath hitched, but she ignored the tiny spark of hope starting to ignite again. Then with a shrug, he added, "Well, you know what they say. No guts, no glory."
          "The wisdom goddess literally almost gutted him but he still persevered, and she had to commend that, at least. She didn't bother wasting her time berating him when he showed up." She kicked away a rock near her foot. It toppled over the huge crack dividing the ground, a fissure she had created after seeing him crumble to nothing in front of her. She forced her eyes away. "Even now, I still don't know why she didn't." 
          "Out of respect, maybe?" he offered with a shrug, and Zoya considered it for a moment. Perhaps it was. "What happened after?" 
          "They were asked to offer a gift to the people that will prove useful for a long time. Of course, being as confident as he is, the sea god volunteered to go first. He struck the earth with his trident and a fountain of water came forth. But what he didn't know was that it could only produce saltwater. It was pretty much useless for the population. 
          "Then it was the wisdom goddess' turn. From there, she struck her spear on the ground and planted a branch that grew an olive tree. The king was more impressed with the wisdom goddess' gift, so he chose her to lay claim on this city." 
          Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so that's what happened." He nodded in understanding. Then he frowned and glanced up at the temple, pointing a finger up to it. "Wait, that still doesn't explain how the sea god got his own temple in the city where his very own rival was the patron? I'm quite sure the sea god didn't accept his loss that easily." 
          "That's where you're wrong." Zoya followed his look up. "He peacefully conceded," she said. And it was the very first time you regarded and smiled at me without a hint of malice. "So she obliged his supporters' wish to build him a shrine near the sea. Thus the temple in this location."
          The smile that appeared on his lips was almost affectionate and soft, and she found herself smiling a bit sadly. "I guess despite the rivalry, they could still be forgiving with each other," Nikolai said. Then he turned to her. "What happened to them after that?" 
          "They—" Fell in love and had an eternity in front of them, she wanted to say but decided against it. She had told him enough truth. "—made a truce and agreed not to come after each other again. No other wars between them after."
          "Just like that?" 
          We've had a lot more than just that. He didn’t need to know how he became much different to her after that, his treatment around her becoming much better despite her initial hostility to his changed attitude towards her, or how he made his way to her heart without her even realizing that she'd let her walls down for him. 
          Nothing would make a difference.
          "More or less, yeah," she replied after a moment. 
          Nikolai still didn't look convinced when he turned back to her. "Not even on friendly terms?" 
          Zoya only shrugged. "There were no further things said in the old stories," she said. She didn't know why she was lying to him when he didn't even remember anything. "So we're left to our own assumptions on what possibly happened in the following years."
          A look of disappointment bloomed on his face. "I refuse to believe nothing happened else after that," he said firmly. "It's too….open. There must be something more."
          "It's quite disappointing, but it is reality. Sometimes that's just the way it is." 
          "Fair. I believe there's something more, but I guess I'll have to leave it open as well." He sighed, and then smiled ruefully. "The worst part of every story is having no ending."
          Zoya only smiled sadly as she turned away from the temple and faced the sea. Beside her, she felt Nikolai shift and do the same. The quiet stretched on, and nothing but the occasional sound of wind and the other tourists' voices could be heard. 
          It was at times like these that she appreciated the calmness that the view of the sea brought to her, and she was left to remember that what he told her about the seas was true. 
          Another wave of pain and longing washed over her, the stinging in her eyes returning. He was so, so close and yet she could never reach out to him and hold him close again. But she would be  content with having him near even without any memory of her rather than losing him forever. 
          "How about you?" His voice came after a long while, soft and soothing as the afternoon breeze. "Do you believe that there was nothing more for them than just their rivalry?" 
          Zoya didn't answer right away. It would be so easy to tell him the truth, to say that the two most opposite deities had overcome their differences and fallen in love against all odds. 
          But her exhausted heart was too afraid to open up with the truth when she knew that nothing would change if she told him. 
          "To be honest," she said, mustering up all her courage to keep her tone flat, "I don't know. Maybe there really wasn't."
          Nikolai nodded in understanding. "I suppose that's possible too," he said. "Guess we're of opposite minds, yeah?" 
          "We've always been," she whispered, and she was almost thankful for the shrill sound of his ringtone to cover up for her voice. 
          He immediately answered it, his becoming relieved. There were a few exchanges of words before he was ending the call. "My rental car is finally starting up again so I'll be able to head back to the hotel. I'm afraid I'll have to cut off our tour short," he said with obvious dismay. "Thank you very much for the knowledge and wisdom you have bestowed me today."
          Zoya was already starting to bid him goodbye, but her mind had begun pondering over his words and the ones from earlier. "I thought you said you were taking a bus back?" 
          "Oh. I, uh," Nikolai stuttered, scratching the spot behind his ear with a nervous chuckle. "I kind of made that up." Then he quickly added, "I'm so sorry about that but you looked like you needed a small talk or something, and it was the first excuse that came to my mind." He tried to smile, but it was pained enough to pass it off as a grimace instead. "Though it’s probably a good thing I hadn't hired a tour guide as I learned a lot more from you, I apologize for making an excuse up." 
          "You don't have to explain yourself, I did actually quite enjoy sharing too," she said, offering him a lopsided smile in return. "And also, thank you for being kind." 
          He grinned at that, his face lighting up. "Likewise." He tipped his head in a polite bow before extending a hand. "It is nice meeting you, Minerva." 
          Zoya tried to ignore the heaviness in her chest in the way he said her name. She put on a small smile. "Likewise, Nikolai." 
          He gave another smile before letting go of her hand and turning to leave. Only to stop after a few steps and face her again. Then he was pulling something out of his pocket. 
          "Well, a token of appreciation for your expertise on mythology," he said, handing her a small keychain. "And also for enduring my curious and talkative self."
          She opened her hand, and he placed the object to her palm. Her breath caught in her throat when she recognized it. 
          It was the miniature version of her shield. 
          "The wisdom goddess' shield," Nikolai said as he pulled his hand back. He offered her a soft smile. "It's only fitting for you to have it because you share the same level of wisdom as her." Then he gave another polite bow. "Farewell, o' wise one. Though I do hope to see you again some time."
          With a final grin, he finally turned and left. 
          Zoya stared at his retreating form until he disappeared among the crowd of tourists, feeling a lot heavier on her shoulders now that he had left. The keychain was still warm in her hand as she walked towards the cliff's edge, and away from the people that might possibly see her. 
          The weight of it all came crashing down at her. It felt surreal, a fever dream she couldn't get out of, and she was left reeling from the effect of what had just occurred. 
          Why today? Why here? 
          It was one thing to see him again. But in this place out of all the ones he could have met her? It was cruelty, a mocking from the Fates to show her that she was never free of her torment even when she already remembered, and he hadn't.
          She will never be free of it. 
          The burning in her eyes felt too much again. But this time, Zoya didn't do anything to stop the tears from falling.
---
What she hadn't expected was seeing him again later that night. 
          It wasn't new for her to stay late at the site, even after its closing time. If you were old friends with the manager of the place, you got quite a bit of special treatment. 
          You can stay for as long as you need to. The text message from Genya had been displayed on her screen for quite a while now. Just don't make yourself too sad. 
          Zoya huffed lightly. If that were easy to do, she would have done it a thousand years ago. But a lot of things were easier said than done. 
          The alcove she had been staying at was just several feet below the cliff's edge, particularly made for lounging a long time ago. But after years of neglect, what was once a finely made spot was now nothing more than a small opening carved from a trident's strike. The boulder that used to be big enough to hold two people had now crumbled to smaller rocks, and she was left to sit on the cold ground instead. 
          Nikolai had built the spot when they wanted to have a quiet time together without the prying eyes of mortals or any of their fellow deities nearby. She remembered nights when he would point out the constellations for her, and despite having all the knowledge about it, she let him talk and make up stories for each of them. Other times it would be still, neither of them talking and hands just clasped together, watching the waves on the seas surge and move to his bidding. 
          The memories hit her painfully. She longed to have those nights with him again, or even to just be with him, without having to worry about him slipping away from her. 
          But that seemed impossible now. 
          Her watch suddenly beeped, signaling that it was already one in the morning. But somehow, the sound was muffled amidst the memories in her head. She needed the calm, the quiet. A place where she could be in peace. And she knew just where that was. 
          Zoya stood up and dusted her pants off before making her way back up the cliff again. Slipping off her cardigan and shoes, she left them along with her phone and wallet by the row of rocks that served as the barrier for the edge. She made her way to the lower part of the ravine afterwards, where the drop was directly to the water on this vantage point. 
          If Genya were here, she would surely reprimand her from doing such a dangerous thing in the middle of the night. But Zoya usually did night dives during the times she visited here, as the seas brought the serenity she used to feel around him, and she was just desperate to have it again. And it wasn’t as if she could die.
          She closed her eyes and turned to the night sky, breathing in deeply as the wind picked up around her. Then, with a contented sigh, she broke into a run and jumped off the ledge. 
          The rush of air felt familiar in her ears as she plummeted to the sea, and a moment later, she was submerged under the surface. Underwater, it was quiet, the tranquility making it easier for the memories to come rushing to her mind. The coldness should have bitten at her skin the moment she sunk, but she didn’t feel anything. She closed her eyes. 
          Her mind chose to bring her back to one night on the beach, when he stopped the tides and held her close as they danced slowly under the stars. It was the very first time he had bared his real self to her, and the first time she had seen him past the confidence and the cruel persona he wore as one of the highest among the gods. 
She hadn't known how to react that time, and she found herself at loss for words. It was the moment she doubted herself. She was the goddess of wisdom who liked definitive odds and probabilities. She approached everything with caution and vigilance. And above all else, she was supposed to treat him as a rival. An enemy. An opponent of the other side. 
          But Zoya must have miscalculated, because she ended up going against everything she’d ever believed when she fell in love with him. 
          Her eyes stung, and her chest clenched. It wasn't from the lack of air. 
          Please, I'd do anything, she pleaded desperately to any other divine being that could hear her. Make him remember. Make him remember me.
          Something grabbed at her wrist, and her eyes shot open. A figure was trying to haul her up to the surface. She struggled for a moment, but whoever was pulling her had a strength of the currents and waves of the seas during a storm. 
          After a moment, they finally resurfaced. Zoya was gasping for air as they broke out of the water, immediately getting hold of the person's collar and turning them violently to her. 
          Whatever harsh things she was about to say were forgotten when the dim lights from above the cliff caught the face of the figure. 
          "Minerva, are you alright?" Nikolai asked, concern evident in his voice. What the hell was he doing here? His eyes searched her face. "Why did—no, never mind that. Let's get you out of the water first."
          She was still too shocked to move or answer, so she let him drag her to the sands on the far left side of the cliff. He did most of the swimming, as her body still refused to cooperate with her. It must have been a struggle for him, but he didn't show it. His movements were precise and powerful as if he had been doing it all his life. Though considering his real identity as the god of the seas, this was nothing to him. 
          They hit the sands after a short while, and it was then a bit of Zoya’s strength returned. She immediately pushed Nikolai away. 
          "Let go of me," she hissed, voice hoarse from being under the water for too long. 
          He stumbled, clearly not expecting the act, and he looked at her with obvious hurt in his eyes. 
          If it was some other time, she would have felt bad and tried to apologize. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be hurt. But she was exhausted and miserable and she didn't want to deal with anything at all. She let her emotions take over. 
          "How did you find me?" She gritted her teeth as she wobbled on her feet. "You aren't supposed to be here." 
          A look of disbelief appeared on his face. "A thank you would be nice," he said. "I just saved your life." 
          "Who said I needed saving?" she snapped. "Didn't you consider for a second that maybe I knew what I was doing?" She started towards the path leading back up to the temple, calling out to her shoulder, "You should mind your business." 
          "So you preferred to drown down there alone?" 
          I can't die, Zoya wanted to say, and she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from saying it. She chose to ignore him instead and continue up the upward path. The cold was starting to seep to her skin, making her shiver slightly. 
          She could hear his rushed footsteps behind her as he followed. "Minerva," he called out. "Look, I'm sorry." 
          Zoya ignored him. They were almost at the top of the cliff again. 
          "I didn't mean to upset you—please, Minnie."
          She abruptly stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening. Her thoughts stopped all together. Could it be? 
          Slowly, she turned to face him, her heart in her throat. "What did you just call me?"
          Nikolai seemed to realize what he had said, and he looked mortified. "I—I'm sorry, it just came to my mind." 
          Zoya wanted to laugh bitterly at herself. Of course, he still didn't remember. It was always only reminders of their former lives that came to him just to keep her hopes up. But it was all the same after. 
          "Leave before I report you for trespassing," she said curtly and continued up the path. Just stay away, she pleaded in her mind desperately, even though her heart wished for the opposite. But she couldn't take any more pain right now. Please. 
          Thankfully, she didn't hear him behind her after that, and she made her way back to where she left her things. But when she finally got there, the exhaustion caught up with her and she stumbled to the row of rocks. Her body was already shivering when she sat down, and she put a hand to her face. 
          Realization dawned at Zoya all of a sudden. Her harsh treatment of him wasn't necessary, and there was no one else to blame but herself for letting her emotions take over. And even if she wanted to apologize, she had already scared him off. 
          Something warm was draped around her shoulders, and the smell of the sea wafted to her nose. A choked sob made its way out of her mouth. Why hadn't he left yet? She had regarded him badly when his intention was solely to save her from drowning. She didn't deserve his kindness. 
          "I told you to leave," she said, moving her hand away from her face. But she didn't turn to him. "I warned you that I would report you, didn't I?"
          Nikolai laughed lightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him settle over one of the rocks in the row near her, though he still kept a considerable distance between them. 
          "If you wanted to report me," he said, "then you would have gone straight to security the moment you arrived up here." 
          Zoya huffed, but didn't say anything more. She hated that he was right about her. He could always see right through her, and it was the one thing that didn't change in him. 
          His voice came after a moment. "Did you really intend to stay underwater for that long?" 
          She didn’t answer right away, because she didn't know how. She hadn't even realized that she had been underwater for too long. "How did you get here, anyway? And why are you here?" she asked instead, effectively deflecting the subject. 
          Nikolai winced. It was obvious that he didn't have a clear answer to her question either. "I have my ways. And I can assure you my reason isn't for cruel purposes." 
          "Guess I won't report you, then," she said, and Nikolai smiled at that. 
          "I owe you my life, o' wise one," he said. 
          I couldn't even save you on time, Zoya thought bitterly. 
          A long silence came after, with the both of them facing the well-lit temple that glowed against the night sky. The wind picked up, and she shrugged the jacket tighter around her. She looked at Nikolai sideways, remembering that he had also been soaked to the bone when he jumped in after her. But there weren't any traces of him being cold, so she turned her attention back to the temple. 
          "I couldn't sleep," he said after a while. He took a small piece of gravel from the ground and tossed it over the cliff's edge. "It might be strange to hear this reason, but the story you told me this afternoon kept me up, and it drew me back here. Maybe I wasn't thinking straight. It wasn't as if coming back here would answer the questions in my head." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I was never a fan of open-ended stories."
          "They fell in love," Zoya said simply, averting her gaze from him and looking back up at the temple. She could practically feel his shocked expression directed her way. She figured that she owed him the whole truth at least, after treating him badly just earlier. 
          And for the last time she would be able to talk to him. 
          "I'm sorry, what?" 
          "You heard me." 
          Nikolai scoffed. "If this is some lie just to sate my thoughts, then I would prefer the cruel truth to hit me squarely in the face."
          "I'm not lying. I know it seems quite impossible if you look back at their history," she said. "But the ones that happened after were more important. The oldest scriptures said so. They fell in love and had an eternity ahead of them." And we had. We just didn't know it would end in the cruelest way, and you would be taken away from me. "It wasn't well-known to the public as the modern books stated that they stayed rivals throughout the rest of their immortal lives." 
          "How could two gods who literally fought over this city fall in love?" 
          "I don't know." And it was the truth. He really was her biggest uncertainty and miscalculation. But it was the one thing she didn't regret happening. A rueful smile appeared on her lips. "And yet they did. Against all odds." 
          Nikolai laughed lightly. "I can't believe it," he said, his tone bordering breathless and disbelieving. "Do you think they're still in love?" 
          The question felt like knives being stabbed into her heart. I've loved you for an eternity, she thought as she looked at him, to the face that never left her mind for a millennium. Does your love for me still exist, even if it lays forgotten in the deepest depths of your heart?
          Her eyes burned, and she looked away. "I hope," she said truthfully. "It would have been extraordinary." 
          "I would have to believe they still do," he said. "I mean, it's kind of amazing, isn't it? To love the same person for thousands of years." 
          Zoya felt another crack on her mask. "It is," she whispered. "A lot have tried gaining her attention, but no one can ever compare to him. She doesn't see anyone else." 
          Nikolai sighed contentedly. "They're lucky," he said. "To have a love like that, I mean. Those kinds are rare."
          "Have you ever been in love?" she suddenly asked. She hadn't meant to pry, but she wanted to know if he found someone else during his time. She blinked, realizing how intrusive the question was. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to." 
          "Ah, is the wise one a curious cat now?" He laughed when she gave him a glare. He raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm joking." He turned back to the temple with a faraway look in his eyes. "But to answer your question, I don't think I have. At least not in the way the sea god and the wisdom goddess were."
          Zoya didn't know whether to feel relieved or sad at that. So she only nodded in understanding. 
          "I like to think that maybe I did, even just once. There had been a few people in the past." Nikolai smiled sadly. "But there's always something missing, you know? I could never tell what or why I am feeling that way. There's just this…hollowness I can't explain." He paused, his eyebrows furrowing. "Somehow coming to this place relieved me of some of the emptiness. I guess I should come back here more often." 
          A tear fell from her eye, and she quickly wiped it away before he could see it. Her heart was beating erratically in her chest, that tiny spark of hope that she thought was dimming had ignited once more. 
          This was exactly why she didn't want to meet him again. They would cross paths, and he would be reminded of something in their past life that made her heart believe that things could be what they once were. But they couldn’t. They never would. 
          Destined to meet, but never to last. 
          So she didn't let herself ponder over it. This had already happened so many times, and yet she always got hurt for expecting too much in the end.
          "How about you?" he asked, voice gentle. "Have you ever been in love?" 
          I have. And I still am. "Once." 
          A beat. "How was it?" 
          A curse and a blessing at the same time. She blinked her tears away and replied, "I still think about him everyday." 
          Nikolai hummed. "Lucky guy." 
          "He really is."
          "Can I ask what happened to him?" 
          Zoya let out a shaky breath. "He forgot about me." 
          "I would remember you," he said. 
          Then why didn't you? She covered up with a bitter laugh instead. "Easier said than done." 
          He didn't say anything else after that, and another wave of silence filled the air around them. Zoya appreciated the quiet, reminding her of the moments of peace in the past, and she felt a sad smile on her lips along the ache in her heart.
          She would remember this, even if it's painful for her. She didn’t know when she’d see him again. 
          If she would see him again. 
          Suddenly, a beam of light flashed to her face, and she raised a hand up to cover her eyes. "Miss Nazyalensky?" a voice asked. She immediately recognized it as Isaak's, Genya's head of security. "Are you alright?" 
          "Yes, it's me. I'm alright," she said, and the light disappeared. 
          The young guard's eyes shifted from her to someone past her shoulder. If he noticed their still-drenched state of dress, he didn't say anything. His eyes narrowed. "Who—" 
          "Don't worry, he's a friend," she said, glancing at him sideways. "He's just about to leave." 
          A look of disappointment flashed on his face, and Zoya silently apologized to him in her mind. It was the only way to make him go. Isaak was looking at him expectantly. 
          "Yes," Nikolai said, "I was just leaving." 
          She turned back to Isaak. "Be a dear and show him the way out, it's already dark."
          Isaak only nodded before turning to Nikolai. "This way, sir." 
          Nikolai sighed and stood up without further complaints, walking towards the young guard. But not before he looked back at her for the last time. He smiled softly. "It was actually good seeing you again," he said, and Zoya felt her heart break a little more with those words that held much more meaning to her. "Good night." 
          With that, he turned away to follow Isaak back to the entrance. Her feet were already moving before she even realized it. 
          "Wait," she said, and Nikolai stopped in his tracks. She made her way towards the temple's entrance, going over to the boulder by the pillar where she’d left the small keychain earlier. She found it on the floor, almost covered with rubble. But thankfully it was still there. She picked it up and turned back to him. 
          His eyes were expectant and curious when Zoya stopped in front of him, and she let her gaze linger to memorize his features to carry with her, as if she hadn't had all of him engraved in her heart and mind for thousands of years. 
          "Here." She handed the trident keychain to him. He took it reluctantly, a deep crease in his eyebrows evident as he stared at the object in his hand. "I left it this afternoon as an offering to him. But you might as well have it."
          Nikolai blinked, a grin appearing on his lips that brightened his face. "I hope the god of the seas doesn't mind."
          "Don't worry, I'm sure he won't." It's technically yours, anyway. "And it’ll be something to remember me by."
          "Even if you don't give me anything, you're not that easy to forget, Minerva," he said, and then he tipped his head forward in a polite bow. "Thank you."
          The look in his eyes was warm, and Zoya felt as if she was really looking at him. She desperately wanted to reach out to him and hold him close to her again. But she held back. "You're welcome," she said, stepping back before she did something she would regret later. She would not make this harder for herself. 
          With a final grin, Nikolai finally turned and followed Isaak. 
          And as she let him walk away from her for the umpteenth time in her life, she was left only with longing and the same pain she had been carrying for as long as she can remember. 
          I love you, she thought, hoping the winds would be kind enough to carry the words she had been wanting to tell him. This would be the last time. 
***
The memory of that night came back to her as Zoya stood by the entrance of his temple again more than a year later. She didn’t expect herself to be back here; she had vowed that she would stop hoping for the impossible. But it was never that easy to let go of something you’d been holding onto for a long time. 
          She had spent the better part of the year trying to convince herself that she could do it, that she could let him go. Sometimes she thought she did, as her thoughts about him didn't bring that much pain to her than before. But more times than not, she would still find herself crying at night, wanting nothing else than to have him with her again, asking any other deities to hear her plea and end their torment. 
          And yet it remained unanswered just like it had always been. 
          A strong breeze blew past the site, and Zoya shrugged the jacket tighter around her. It was almost the same as last year, albeit a bit colder, causing the temple to have less visitors than usual. The sun was starting to set in the west when she approached the cliff's edge, giving the sea an orange glow. 
          She smiled ruefully, suddenly realizing the depth of her decision. This view was going to be one of the sights she would have to give up if she ever stopped visiting here. And it was something she wasn't letting go. As much as she wanted to forget, his seas had been a constant part of her immortal life, providing her with peace that often slipped away from her, and it was the closest thing to him that she could be with. 
          The thought hit her like a ton of bricks, and Zoya wanted to laugh. She had been a fool to think that she could ever forget any of this, that she could forget him. 
          Because even after all her attempts to do so, he would always be the one on the other end of the red string tied around her wrist. 
          "It's not fair, you know? I'm still crying over you, and I'm so, so tired," she said to the sea, her voice quivering as she did. The stinging in her eyes came quickly this time, and she reached a hand up to wipe it away. A broken sob came out from her lips when she whispered, "It's not fair, Nikolai."
          She put a hand to her face as she continued to cry. There were times that her grief would overwhelm her to the point that she wouldn't have minded whether she was in public or not, and the pain in her chest was enough to break her. 
          This was one of those times and she had no control over it. 
          Zoya didn’t know how long she stayed there, crying her sorrows to the seas that could only do so much to comfort her, that she didn’t even notice the presence behind her until it spoke. 
          "When I first saw you here a year ago, you were just close to crying."
          Everything seemed to stop around her. Her thoughts halted and she brought her hand down from her face. 
          No, it's not real. 
          But she knew it was true. 
          Zoya turned to the direction of his voice, and there he was, basked in the glow of the sunset that made his eyes gleam much brighter than what she used to have engraved in her head. 
          Nikolai smiled softly. "It's been a while, Minerva." 
          She didn’t know why her mind suddenly started making up excuses, anything she could say to elude him before the pain became too much for her to bear. 
          "I'm sorry, do I know you?" It might have been the stupidest excuse she could think of, but it was all she had. A look of hurt flashed on his face. Walk away, Zoya. "You must have mistaken me for someone else." 
          She briskly walked past him, each step away from him feeling like daggers being driven to her chest. 
          Walk away, Zoya willed herself. 
          She could do it. She could walk away so she wouldn't have to suffer. She could do this, and do it again in the next life. 
          She could stay away from him. 
          But as she went further away from Nikolai, her mind narrowed to one thought. I can't do it. 
          It was then his voice came, gentle as the waves from the shore. "Are you really going to walk away this time, Zoya?"
          This made her stop abruptly on her tracks, her heart in her throat. A surge of wild hope ignited in her chest again. 
          No, he could've asked for it from the management, she thought. Isaak could have told him. 
          She had been waiting for a thousand years to hear it again, to hear the warmth in his voice whenever he said her name. But why wasn't she believing it? Why wasn't she turning to him? 
          Why only now? 
          Against her better judgment, Zoya finally faced him. Her vision blurred with another wave of unwanted tears. If this was some cruel trick to play on her—
          Nikolai must have noticed her look, because he gave her a reassuring smile. "The seas can help us find peace," he said as he approached her. Zoya could only look at him, her heart still not wanting to believe. But he continued, "And I would gladly stop the tides and currents if it meant giving you the serenity you desired."
          He stopped right in front of her, the gentle look in his eyes remaining the same. She looked back up at him, finding any traces of deceit in his hazel eyes, or anything that proved that he wasn't real. 
          But in them she only saw the warmth and love that he sent her way, the reflection of their memories worth for thousands of years, the one that the wisdom goddess didn't expect the sea god to give her. 
          "Hey," Nikolai said, his voice coming out in a broken whisper. His face crumpled when he brought a hand to her cheek. A quivering smile made its way to his lips as he said, "I'm sorry I'm late." 
          A sob tore from her throat as Zoya lunged at him, her arms wrapping around his neck tightly as if he would disappear again if she let go. 
          He's here. "You're back," she sobbed against his shoulder. "You're back."
          She felt his arms around her not a moment later, strong and warm and welcoming, the same way she remembered even after a long time.  The world could have burned down around them, and still Zoya wouldn't have cared, not when he was finally back to her. 
          "I remember," Nikolai was saying over and over, his voice shaking from crying. "I remember it all." He pulled away slightly, just enough to look in her eyes and see the relief reflected back in them. Tears fell freely from his eyes as he pressed his lips on her cheek— "So many lives, I've lived" —his lips went to the bridge of her nose— "So many times I've met you" —he moved to her eye— "And I didn't even know it was you that I was missing." 
          He pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closed tightly. He brought his hands up to the sides of her face. "You always found me," he whispered, "and when I remembered, I knew it was my time to find you." He reached for her hand, bringing it to his chest, and she felt the steady beat of his heart as if it had finally found peace and its home. "I love you. I loved you in every life. My mind could forget, but my heart and soul never did." 
          Zoya laughed, but it came as a broken sob instead. She reached her other hand up to his face, her touch still hesitant. Everything felt like a dream. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, and now that it was here, she wanted to make sure it was real. 
          But he was warm and his presence comforting, and he was looking at her the same way he did when he stopped the tides for her that one night on the beach. 
          More tears fell from her eyes. "I never thought I'd see you again. I've watched you slip away for a thousand years, and yet my love for you remained the same, if not stronger," she said, voice hoarse. "I missed you every single day." 
          Nikolai leaned into her hand, pressing a kiss on her palm, and then on her wrist. A few tears landed on her skin. "I love you. I'm here now." His lips moved to her forehead. "I love you."
          She clutched him closer to her. "I thought I lost you," she said. She closed her eyes as he moved to press a lingering kiss to her temple. Her voice broke when she repeated, "I thought I lost you."
          "I know, I'm sorry," he murmured against her skin. "But I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere." He pulled away to look in her eyes. "I'm not leaving you again." 
          And when he sealed his promise with a kiss, Zoya felt the thousands years' worth of pain and longing lift from her chest, replaced by the feeling of warmth and contentment, and finally, home. It would be another start for the both of them, as they had a lot of time to make up for. The road would be tedious, but they had each other. 
          Her love could last for another eternity.
***
A/N: I have a short, fluffy one of the same au in the works. Might post it soon. JASHFLJASF
44 notes · View notes
kenzieam · 3 years
Text
Us This Way - Oneshot
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Rating: M
Warnings: Angst, heartache, some language ****TRIGGER WARNINGS****
Word Count: 4417
Tags: @jewels2876​  @moonbeambucky​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​  @iammarylastar​ @captstefanbrandt​  @badassbaker​  @pinknerdpanda​  @oliviastan17​ @mizzzpink​​
***************************************************************
Okay, so this frickin’ song gets me every time.
Kudos to the beautiful Lady Gaga for this hauntingly beautiful gem.
**************************************************************
Lev swallowed past the lump in her throat, skimmed the note in her hand one last time. She’d wrote and rewrote the words so often in her head she knew them by heart, but it didn’t make reading them any easier.
James,
By the time you sober up and read this, I’ll be gone.
I can’t do this anymore, the drinking, the fights, the lies.
You aren’t the same man I fell in love with, and I can’t say anymore that I’m the same girl you knew either.
When we started this journey, you told me things would never change; that it would be just the two of us, against the world, travelling and sharing your music and voice and I, naively I guess, believed it.
But everything is different. You’re drunk all the time, drinking to excess and its only going to be a matter of time before your followers see it too, there’s already gossip on the fan sites about your behaviour.
And I’m not leaving because of that, I could deal with the alcohol if it weren’t for the craziness that comes with it.
These women aren’t here for you, they’re here for the idea of you, the Rockstar, and I can’t watch you take them into your hotel rooms anymore, I can’t hear you through the walls with them.
I deserve better and, to be honest, so do you but I can’t help you anymore.
God knows I’ve tried.
I hope one day you find peace and closure from whatever haunts you so badly and discover your voice again.
I love you; I always have.
I always will,
Levi
A tear burned hot down her cheek, but she wiped it away absently, clearing her throat. She’d already wasted so many tears, she couldn’t spare any more.
Laying the note silently on the bedside table, Lev took one last lingering glance at the man, her former lover and friend, current rockstar touring and conquering the world, now passed out face down in the hotel bed, back scratched and red from his latest groupie foursome she’d chased out just minutes ago, two or three empty liquor bottles visible among the tangled sheets, then turned and left the room.
*******************************************************************************
A throbbing headache dragged him from oblivion later and, for a time, James just lay there, eyes half-open, trying to piece together the last hours.
He remembered two, or was it three? Groupies: giggling girls with fake tits and trout pouts, wearing little more than ace bandages and laughing at his every word like he was the most charming asshole on Earth and everything that fell out of his mouth was pure gold.
Lev had never put up with his shit. She’d always set him straight with a few well-chosen words, a sharp glare with her hypnotizing violet eyes.
Come to think of it, where was Lev? Usually she was prodding him awake by now, pushing coffee into his face, talking about getting up, getting showered and getting on the damn bus.
Bottles clinked as he moved, struggled in the tangled sheet to push himself upright. His back stung and faint memories surfaced, one of the harpies scratching him, moaning theatrically as he fucked her, wishing it were Levi beneath him still instead of this random stranger.
God, he hoped he’d worn a condom, not that it stopped theses psychos; Christ, every week there was a new accusation, a new girl stepping forward claiming he’d impregnated her.
Thank fuck for his lawyer, Sam Wilson; the man was a gem, with the retainer bills to prove it.
“Lev?” He croaked, wincing as fresh pain shot through his skull.
No answer.
“Lev!” He chanced a shout, growling and grabbing his throbbing temples. “Fuck, where are you?”  
He turned his head, squinting before freezing as his glare landed on the letter.
***********************************************************************************
“So, you just left, huh?” Steve asked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, and staring at it contemplatively.
“Yeah, same as you.” There was a hint of venom in Lev’s voice and the blond man smirked.
“Yeah, same as me. Got tired of the shit.”
“Everyday.”
Steve sighed, staring out at nothing, thoughts a thousand miles away. “Remember when we first started out?”
“You, me and James in that old van? Driving from bar to bar and playing for peanuts?”
“You’d go up on stage when he reached for you, join him for a few songs?”
Lev sighed sadly. “Long time ago, man. We were just fucking kids.”
“Yep, but you two? Timeless. I remember when I first saw you. First day of grade three in Ms. Hawthorn’s class; James elbowed me and said, ‘that’s the girl I’m going to marry’.”
“He did not!” Lev fought a smile, she’d heard this story so many times, her reaction varying from honest disbelief to warm-hearted nostalgia depending on how fresh her latest pain was.
“He did.” Steve replied, smiling fondly. “Couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“Yeah, well… something else has caught his eye now.”
“You can’t save him, Lev. He has to want to save himself.”
“I know… it just hurts.”
“I know.” Steve murmured quietly. “I know.”
*****************************************************************************************
‘Rockstar James Barnes’ newest run-in with the paparazzi, next on TMZ’
Lev groaned and turned off the TV, throwing the remote onto the scarred coffee table.      
Obviously, he was perfectly capable of carrying on with his shenanigans without her, not that her pleas for him to stop had ever fallen on anything but deaf ears.
She glanced at her cell phone, then cursed and purposefully looked away. Every day for years she’d seen his name come up on her display, multiple times a day, through the night and she’d come to expect it.
The calls after she’d left had come heavy and hot, barely a pause in between except for increasingly abusive texts and voicemail messages. When they had changed to broken, mournful, pleading messages she’d thrown her cell away, smashed it for good measure.
It was just habit to look for his name now, a useless throwback.
She had left a month ago and James’ spiral of self-destruction was becoming a nightly news story.
She didn’t envy Pepper, his long-suffering publicist, nor Nick, the rep from Fury Records; word was both were close to dropping him soon, if he didn’t get his act together.
Cursing herself afresh, Lev reached for the remote and flicked the set back on. She was a fucked up as him sometimes, intent on making it hurt.
James’ face appeared on the screen and Lev was shocked at how haggard he now looked, pale and drawn. His hair was lanky, in his face, clothes wrinkled. As the paparazzi swarmed him, leaving the latest club, he glanced up at the cameras and Lev was struck dumb by the utter misery on his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, either from sleep problems (something he’d had more than his share of in the time Lev had known him) or he’d taken up hard drugs.
The pap screamed questions at him, jostling each other and him as he struggled through the mob, the slightly shell-shocked bottle-blonde woman on his arm being all but dragged behind. What security James hadn’t chased off was all but overwhelmed by the reporters and fans, light flashes strobing the scene.
“Just leave me the FUCK alone!” James roared, pushing hard at one spectacled paparazzi, knocking him to the ground and only inflaming the mob more.
Lev felt a surge of fear, mixed in with a healthy dose of rage at the sight. Someone could easily get hurt tonight, lines could be crossed that would never be forgotten. James was juggling with the remains of his career right now and he had the shakes.
“Are the rumors true?” One pap screeched.
“Where’s Lev?” Another yelled and Lev winced. They were still asking him, four weeks into her departure.
“Is the picture of you snorting a white substance outside The Down Low real?”    
Shit.
James didn’t answer beyond a wild-eyed sneer then he was scrambling into a large black SUV, the confused milling of his few remaining security guards telling Lev they hadn’t expected him to drive; then the SUV was screeching away, paparazzi and security scattering like flies, their shouted questions turning into screams of shock and fear and Lev clapped her hands to her mouth, biting back her own scream.
He had totally gone crazy; without Lev there to anchor him, he was dangerously adrift.
The clip ended and the TMZ crew started rehashing it, some expressing sympathy for James and others outright condemning him for losing his shit so badly.
“Does anyone know where she went?” Harvey asked, sipping on his trademark straw.
“Who, Levi Riel?” One the lackeys frowned in confusion.
“Who else?” Harvey laughed. “I mean, James Barnes was a wild man before but now he’s completely off the rails. Something’s happened there but his camp won’t comment. Any luck on contacting Lev herself?”
They’d tried, endlessly, until Lev had smashed her phone and gotten a new number; so far, that hadn’t been leaked but the pap was sneaky and resourceful, Lev had been in the spotlight long enough as James’ gal Friday to know how it worked and she didn’t expect to remain incommunicado forever. Besides, she was already fielding calls from other musicians, hearing she was free and desperate for her services. So far, she’d said no, it was still too raw for her to go back into the industry, but her savings wouldn’t last forever.
Would she be alright? Running into James at an award show somewhere, contracted to another singer, seeing him with some other woman (not that that was in any way new), or perhaps worse, doing just fine now without her? How long would he last like this? There were plenty of examples out there of musicians who’d self-destructed, died by suicide or misadventure, and if James had been spotted snorting white powder already, he was well on his way to joining the club.
Her phone rang and Lev almost dropped her glass, despite staring at the damned thing almost compulsively looking for James’ name, the sound still made her heart race.
“Hey, Steve.”
“You saw that?” His voice was resigned. “TMZ?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Every miserable second.”
“You going to tell me to go back to him?” A part of Lev wanted Steve to say no, but a larger part wanted to hear yes.
“No. I was going to tell you to make sure you stay the hell away. This isn’t your mess anymore, hon.”
“But… my leaving-”
“Didn’t do anything, he was already circling the drain, you were right to get yourself out when you did.”
Lev blinked back tears, wiped them angrily away. “When did it all go so wrong, Steve?”
He exhaled sadly. “Who knows? After Clint overdosed?”
“After my miscarriage?” Lev whispered, the memory of James holding her, crying with her on that hotel bathroom floor, blood smeared on her inner thighs rushed back into her mind’s eye.
They… he’d wanted a child so badly, back in the good years, when they’d lay sated and exhausted in bed together, murmuring softly before sleep claimed them both.
“I want a baby,” he’d whisper, eyes searching hers. “You’d be such a good mama.”
“Not right now,” she’d always answer, although the thought of growing round with his seed sparked heat low in her belly. “It’s not the right time, you’ve had five consecutive number one hits, you’re on top of the world.”
“We are.” He’d reply, reaching up and stroking his calloused thumb over her bottom lip.
“Maybe.” Steve replied softly. “It’s still not your fault, Lev.”
She couldn’t hear anymore; the memories were rushing back too hard and too fast. “Goodbye, Steve.”
********************************************************************************
A part of her expected the call, and she reached for the phone, half-awake, when it rang sometime after two a few nights later.
“Miss Riel?” A clipped, professional voice. “This is Dr. Keening from the UCLA Medical Center, I'm calling about your husband, James.”
********************************************************************************
Lev wouldn’t let herself examine the reasons why she dropped everything and booked the next flight to Los Angeles, maybe it was seeing him so distraught on TV, maybe it was thinking about their past; the way he’d held her so tightly, so lovingly, even as he cried so hard with her that night, the realization so fresh that their child, almost too early to even be called a baby yet, had left them already.
She gave the Uber driver directions then leaned back in the seat, staring out the window without really seeing and, all too soon, the car was pulling to a stop in front of the hospital.
The sterile smell inside made her stomach roil and she almost turned around and left, then squared her shoulders and pressed the elevator button for the right floor.
A nurse directed her to the correct room then had the grace to leave her alone. Lev milled around the hallway for a beat, chewing on her lip and struggling to find a reason, any reason, why she should walk through that door.
This…. He wasn’t her problem anymore, she’d left.
But they could both use some closure.
He was asleep when she entered the room but before she could turn around and leave his eyelids fluttered. He’d always been able to sense when she was near, and that connection apparently hadn’t faded in their separation. The instant his gaze landed on her the cloudiness vanished and a desperate, clinging hope took its place.
“Lev?” His voice cracked with exhaustion, his hand shaking as he reached for her and Lev was surprised by how hard it was to not step forwards and take it, smooth back the dark hair plastered on his sweaty forehead. He’d lost weight, dark rings under his eyes, the muscles that always flexed so deliciously as he moved fading away.
She squeezed her fist around the handle of her bag and waited, not moving forwards.
His fingers twitched, confusion joining the hope. “Levi?” His voice was plaintive.
“What are you doing, James?” She clipped.
“What?” His brow furrowed, his breathing beginning to speed up. Finally, he dropped his hand, pulling it back into his lap, fingers clenching.
“Acting like this? Getting caught by the gossip rags snorting coke? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He’d obviously not expected to be chastised and wasn’t that the heart of the issue; he’d always gotten his way before, the coddled rockstar, no one calling him out with any degree of seriousness, no one but Lev anyway and she’d always caved before laying out any real boundaries, never done something so extreme as leave before.
Was that why she’d come back then, because she felt responsible for this?
The furrow in his brow deepened, the simple hope in his face vanishing. Now came the temper, the short bursts of fury meant to force his will, likening him to a spoiled child, an attitude that Lev regretted not shutting down years ago when it first started raising it’s ugly head.
He stared at her, eyes dark and wounded, “you left,” he hissed.
“I couldn’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” A compulsive snap, he knew exactly what she was talking about, but he’d never owned up to it, never, not once.
“Watch you with all those girls, see you take them into your room, hear you fuck them through the walls, chase their skanky asses out the next morning so I could get you out of your drunken stupor and looking like a human being only to have you treat me like a piece of shit by doing it all over again the next night!” Lev hissed, enraged to feel the prick of tears in her eyes.
For a moment she was surprised to see betrayal flash through his eyes. “They don’t mean anything. They’re just groupies-”
“So that makes it alright? And telling people I’m your wife? What the fuck, James?!”
“Well, you should be!” He snarled. His arm snapped out, sweeping across the rolling table hovering over his bed, loud crashes sounding as everything on it hit the floor. “I fucking asked you enough times!”
He had. So many times, and every time she’d said ‘no’. What had held her back?
“Grow up.” Lev snapped, her face heating. How many times had they argued like this? How many times had they danced this twisted dance?
Too many fucking times.                    
“Fuck you.”
“No, James. Fuck you. I’m done. I don’t know why I came here anyway… I’m, I’m done. Have a nice life, what’s left of it anyway.” She turned to leave before the fury she was feeling was overwhelmed by the hurt and disappointment; what had she expected? Why did she always do this? Hadn’t she learned yet that he would never grow up and be the man she saw deep inside him? When would she stop hurting herself trying to draw that out?
She needed to stop trying.
“Hey. What are you doing?” James demanded but Lev ignored him, marching back out the door she’d just entered moments ago. “Hey!”
Lev stopped and took a deep breath, collecting her words. Without turning she swiveled her head enough to look at him.
“I’m done, James. I can’t watch you self-destruct anymore. I tried for years to be there for you, because I love you… but I can’t do this anymore, I need to live my own life.” Without waiting for an answer, she swiveled back, let her feet carry her away even as she felt her heart break anew in her chest.
If this was the right thing, why did it hurt so bad, why did she feel like she was abandoning him just when he needed her the most?
“Levi!” His voice broke on the scream, reverberating around her in the hallway but she didn’t turn back.
******************************************************************************
Ten Months Later
Lev sorted through her mail, separating the junk from the real then paused, lifting a large, cream coloured envelope from the pile.
Who sent letters anymore?
Splitting the seal, Lev pulled out folded sheets of thick paper, the same colour of the envelope, definitely expensive. As it opened, another smaller piece of paper fell out and Lev reached for it, brows drawn in confusion.
JAMES BARNES – STRIPPED BARE
A SPECIAL EXCLUSIVE, ACCOUSTIC ONLY ENGAGEMENT
She stopped reading, dropping the ticket to the table, and focussed on the letter instead.
Levka.
It’s been a while since we spoke, but I wanted to send you this anyway.
I understand why you left, and I applaud you for having the strength to do it. It seems to be the kick he finally needed.
James took a break from music, as you may or may not have realized but has recently decided to return, albeit in a much different capacity from before.
He has done away with the show, or ‘bullshit’ as he so eloquently puts it. No more pyrotechnics, no more lightshows and theatrics; he said he wants to return to the way he started, just him and his guitar, the band behind him.
Enclosed is a ticket to his first show and a plane ticket, first class, to reach it. The seat is in the back, where James won't be able to see you, if that is your wish.
I leave it up to you whether you attend but understand that James has not asked me to do this, and I have not told him I have.
Regards, Pepper
Lev stared at the letter for a full minute, marveling despite herself at the publicist’s flowing handwriting, her graceful hand.
She had stayed with James after all, even when Lev had left.
The second sheet was a printed plane ticket, leaving the next morning. Lev, if she took it, would land in mid-afternoon, giving her a few hours to gird herself before going to the show.
She recognized the venue listed; James had played it in his earlier years, just as he was starting to become famous and it was smaller, intimate, suited to an unplugged show. The seat shown was in the back, just as Pepper said; Lev could attend the show and leave again without James ever seeing her.
But did she want to?
What would it feel like to see him again, to hear him sing again the way he used to, his voice clear and full? When he’d reach his hand out to her, pull her onstage and sing with her, gaze at her so lovingly as they shared a microphone, voices melding and complimenting each other so beautifully?
Could she handle seeing him again?
She hardly knew.
*************************************************************************
Taking a deep breath, Lev opened the door and stepped inside. Other ticket holders milled around, no one paying her any mind. She prayed no one would recognize her, going so far as to dye her auburn hair a lustrous blue-black, switch out her contacts for the thick wayfarer frames she usually only wore in quiet moments spent relaxing or working from home.
The show was going to start in only a few minutes, but Lev resisted the urge to find her seat just yet, drifting until she gathered the will to enter the main area.
Finding her seat, Lev stared at the stage, hardly noticing as others shuffled to find their own places. Although small, the venue appeared to be sold out. Scott sat at the drums; Thor held an acoustic bass and James sat on a stool at the front, head bent over his favourite redwood acoustic guitar, the one he’d always said reminded him of Lev’s hair.
One jean-clad leg bent, worn biker boot on the footrest, he looked better than Lev remembered. Some of his physique had come back, thigh straining the jean’s stitching, biceps visible through the t-shirt he wore as he plucked the strings slowly, listening for the sound.
He looked good. He looked healthy again, his hair lustrous under the light, cheeks dark with just the right amount of stubble, fingers strong and sure, the boot flat on the stage floor tapping slowly to the beat in his head.
Lev felt a riot of emotions swell in her chest. This was the James she’d fallen in love with, the man she’d spent their early years with, before the vampire of fame began to bleed him dry.
He lifted his head, flashed a gorgeous smile at the audience and the show began.
It was beautiful, James’ voice strong and clear; the audience sat spellbound, hypnotized and Lev knew he’d made the right decision; to go back to his roots, let his talent speak for itself. He would enjoy a long career like this, unplugged and real.
Time passed like the blink of an eye and suddenly, too suddenly, James was standing, setting his guitar in its rest and stepping to the side of the stage. The spotlight followed, leaving Thor and Scott in the dark and illuminating a gleaming grand piano. The audience cheered in building excitement as he sat, adjusted the microphone.
He had not played piano is one of his shows for years, Lev wasn’t even sure he knew how to anymore.
The din died down, waiting and James looked out over them as he began to speak, a small, sad smile pulling at his lips.
“A while ago my life fell apart,” he stated simply. “I got tangled up in fame and being a rockstar and pushed away everyone that cared. Even Lev, the most important person in the world to me.”
Lev felt her cheeks warm, edginess creeping into her limbs. Was he about to blast her? Was she about to get her proverbial ass handed to her? Did he know she was here?
“She left,” he continued. “And I crashed. The only woman I’ve ever loved, and I hurt her everyday until she couldn’t take my bullshit anymore.” He swiped at a tear and Lev bit her lip.
“I hit rock bottom and Lev came to see me one more time. But instead of being grateful, of begging her for another chance, I acted like a total asshole and pushed her away again. And that was finally it, Lev leaving me like that was the push I needed to get my life together. I haven’t seen Lev since, I don’t deserve to…. but I owe everything to her.”
Lev heard sniffles around her.
“A while ago I heard this song for the first time. It made me cry like a baby and I listened to it for hours, until I couldn’t cry anymore. It brought about this idea I had about ‘stripping bare’ and starting over again…. This song is for you, Lev. I love you, baby.”
He focussed on the keys and a haunting melody began. Lev recognized it immediately, for it too had provoked her own tears the first time she’d heard it.
That Arizona sky burnin’ in your eyes.
You look at me and, babe, I wanna catch on fire.
It’s buried in my soul, like California gold.
You found the light in me that I couldn’t find.
His voice was heart-breaking, emotion pouring through as he sang, the piano a poignant, moving accompaniment, his fingers sure on the keys.
So when I’m all choked up,
But I can’t find the words.
His voice broke, but he pushed through.
Every time we say goodbye baby, it hurts.
When the sun goes down
And the band won’t play,
I’ll always remember us this way.
The band joined in quietly and Lev was lost in the sound, swaying slightly to his beautiful voice as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Too soon, the song ended, James’ head bowing as he breathed the last words, the last notes fading and the audience sat still, stunned silent for a beat before exploding.
Lev exhaled raggedly, wiping at her tears. As she watched, James tipped his head back, tears shining on his face and swallowed hard, seeming to gather himself before returning to the show.
The crowd continued to scream and cheer as James nodded once in acknowledgement, the smile on his lips tempered by the pain in his eyes.
He was open and vulnerable, stripped bare and he’d never been more beautiful in Lev’s eyes.
God, she still loved him, but was that enough?
Was she the key to his success, or the poison?
Should she go to him, step through the crowd and join him onstage, forgive him and start their next chapter together?
Or leave, let them both live their lives and follow the song, simply ‘remember us this way’?
She decided.
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angstysebfan · 4 years
Text
My Roommate’s Boyfriend 9/10
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Summary: Your roommate’s boyfriend and you do not get along. You don’t even know why anymore. When your roommate has to move unexpectedly across the country, you both begrudgingly drive her car to her new home. Adventure, angst, and secrets come alive.
Warnings: some cursing
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He takes a deep breath as he stands in front of the brick apartment building. He didn’t know how this was going to go. He hoped you would listen to him, now that you know the truth. However, he knows that he has more than one thing to apologize for.
He looks up at the window, where he knows your apartment is. An apartment he spent many hours in with Nat. Every time you were there, he couldn’t help but watch you. The way you moved, talked, laughed, and especially the scowl on your face when he would make a nasty comment toward you.
He winces at the memories of all the terrible things he said. He regrets everything from the last year, including going for Nat when she wasn’t what he wanted. He enjoyed his time with her, but it was always you.
He takes another deep breath before walking up to the door and pressing the buzzer for your apartment. He waits a moment before he hears the door unlock. He walks in and up to the second floor. He slowly walks up to your door trying to hold everything together.
He knocks and waits. As he hears your footsteps approach the door, his heart races in anticipation. He hears you unlocking the door and takes a deep breath in as you open the door.
To say you were stunned when you saw Bucky standing outside your door would be an understatement. You never thought he would turn up here again. “May I help you?” You say nonchalantly.
Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, and you see his Adam’s Apple move up and down. “C-can I come in... please?” He says quietly, his eyes begging. Your heart starts pounding in your chest and you are sure he can hear it.
You stand to the side, opening the door wider to allow him access into your home. He walks in and takes a look around the place. “Looks the same.” He says as he walks to the couch.
You nod silently as you sit on the far end of the couch, keeping your distance. You stare at him while he stares at his hands. You feel like you can hear the gears in his mind working. The silence is suffocating you, so you break it.
“Did you want a drink or something?” You ask. He shakes his head, before finally looking into your eyes. Your breath hitches as you look back. His eyes have never seemed as blue as they are right now. Bucky clears his throat.
“I, uh, wanted to come and talk to you about what you saw in that text message from Sam. You see-“ “I already know what it was about. I spoke with Sam the other day.” You say cutting him off. He gives you a small smile.
“Yes, I heard, but I wanted to know why you didn’t ask me about it. Do you really think so little of me that you assumed I would do that to you? I know I have given you a reason to feel that way.” He says.
You can’t help but scoff. “You have given me plenty of reasons to think that way. And even though it wasn’t true, it doesn’t change the fact that you were the biggest asshole to me for a whole year for something I didn’t do. No! I’m not finished.” You say to stop Bucky from interrupting.
“Besides your attitude towards me for the past year, you slept with me that night. That night was...” you shake your head. “But when I was upset at you, you kissed Nat the very next day!” You say as tears run down your face.
Bucky’s heart breaks as he sees your tears. “I was stupid. I was frustrated at not being able to talk to you, and I just lashed out. It meant nothing. Nat and I are over. My feelings for her are platonic, and have been for a long time, honestly.”
You look up at him in shock. “What? How is that possible? You were hear all the time! I heard you two fucking like rabbits nearly every night!” You say, getting frustrated. Bucky sighs, “It meant nothing to me. She knows that now, and we are okay. She knows how I feel about you.”
You stand up and start pacing. “I don’t know what you are expecting from me. I-I can’t... I...” you stutter unable to gather your thoughts together. When you turn to pace the other way you crash into Bucky’s chest. Bucky holds your arms and looks at you.
“Do you regret what happened between us? Do regret that night? Because if you do, I’ll leave now and you will never see me again.” He says quietly. You stare into his eyes as flashbacks of that night come to you. You remember all the feelings you had during that night. He made you feel beautiful and cherished. It was the best night of your life.
Bucky waits for your answer, trying to calm his pounding heart. You take a deep breath, “I...” you look down. Bucky’s heart breaks, as he takes a step back, releasing you. “I get it. I understand.” He says softly trying not to show his emotions. He walks around you and heads toward your front door.
“I will never regret it,” you say softly, keeping your back toward him. Bucky quickly turns around, “Really?” He asks, hopefully. You start to sob into your hands, going down to your knees. Bucky races forward and kneels in front of you, moving your hands from your face.
“Oh my beautiful girl,” he whispers as he picks you up and sits on the couch with you in his lap. You cry into the crook of his neck has he rubs your back, whispering sweet words into your ear and kissing your head.
You don’t know how long you sit on his lap, but when you finally calm down you finally look up at him. He wipes your tears with his thumbs with a soft smile. You take a deep shakey breath.
“I... that night, was the best night of my life. It was what I always wanted. I don’t know why, but I have had feelings for you since I saw you in the bar. Even when you hurt my feelings with your insults, I stupidly continued to have feelings.” You say.
Tears start developing in in your eyes again and your voice breaks slightly, “I never thought you would ever look at me like anything more then the annoying girl that was your girlfriends roommate.”
Bucky kisses your forehead. “I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the way I treated you for the last year. There was no excuse for it, especially since I know the truth. But, even through the insults and dirty looks I gave you, I wanted to be near you all the time.”
He tucks some of your hair behind your ear. “I saw you at the bar that night and I swear I fell hard. I firmly believe in love at first site because of you. I was angry when I heard what you said and tried to make myself feel better by being an asshole. But my feelings never went away. Nat... she figured it out a few months ago.”
You looked at Bucky in shock, as he nodded at his words. “Yeah, she told me to go for it, but I kept denying it. Didn’t want to believe it. But the more time I spent with you, the more I realized she was right. I... I was slightly relieved when she told me we should break up because she was moving to Seattle.”
You give him a small smile and look down at your hands. “That’s why she insisted we drive together?” You ask. He nods, “She told me to stop being stupid, that you liked me too.”
You rolled your eyes at that statement. “Yeah, she kept bugging me about you, which I always found weird.” You both lightly chuckle. Bucky brings his palm to your cheek and lightly rubs your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into his touch.
“Nat and I were a lie for most of our relationship. We both knew it, but kept up the lie. It was always you, and Nat wanted to make sure that you and I both got our happy ending. But I ruined it, as usual.” He says dropping his hand.
You grab both his hands, “No, it’s my fault. I should have asked you about the text. I just automatically assumed you were playing a trick on me. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.” You say.
“I don’t blame you, Y/N. I’ve never given you a reason to trust me. But I’m hoping that will change now.” He says with a smile. You smile back at him and caress his face.
Bucky looks at your lips, licking his. You lightly pull his face toward you until your lips meet in a soft kiss. When you pull away you whisper, “I would love for that to change, but we need to take things slow.”
“Oh baby, I will go as slow as you need, as long as I finally get to call you mine.” He says softly. Before you can answer, he pulls you back into another kiss. This one is more passionate. You allow his tongue access into your mouth and revel in his taste. You card you fingers through his hair and pull him as close as you can.
Finally you pull apart and lean your foreheads together, out of breath. “Yes, I am yours. I don’t want to be anyone else’s. It’s you Bucky. It’s always been you!” You say. Bucky gives you the biggest smile and hugs you tightly.
You both spend the rest of the day in each other’s arms getting to know each other. You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders.
Bucky felt like he was on cloud nine. He finally got a chance at redemption with you, and he was not going to ruin this again. You were too important.
Previous Chapter / Final Chapter
One more chapter guys. I’m kind of sad it’s almost over. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Feedback is appreciated.
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ezrasarm · 4 years
Text
Come Back To Me In Waking Dream
[ Day 5 | Angstaggedon Masterlist ]
Pairing: Ezra x Reader
Word count: 2.4K
Summary: Torn apart by the forces of the universe, Ezra becomes a ghost of himself.
Warnings: ANGST, hints at depressive episodes and thoughts of death, more angst. This is not an uplifting story.
Credits: A huuuuuge thank you to @din-damn-djarin​​ and @chaotic-noceur​​ for beta reading and letting me use them as a human squash court for me to bounce my ideas off of! The title is inspired by a piece of poetry written by David Keenan that preludes his song “Full Stop” and I thought it fit just right.
A/N: Not to toot my own horn or anything but... I hope y’all brought tissues.
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As with any line of work, the longer you’re in it, the smaller the world- or in this case, the universe- seems to become. You and Ezra had made a number of first encounters through your years working the aurelac business. It wasn’t glamorous by any means, no matter what the precious gem associated with it might suggest. The work was rough and often fruitless. But, on those rare occasions that you managed to find a sizeable deposit in those tangles of rhizomatic roots- provided you had the skill to extract them, one, without killing yourself, and two, without damaging the delicate bounty in the process- you could make quite the pretty penny off of it. And you could make it fast. It was part of what made the industry so cutthroat in the first place. It was also entirely the reason that making lasting relationships, business or otherwise, was nearly impossible for you.
Both Ezra and yourself had gotten into prospecting and harvesting aurelac even before the rush. It seemed like your timelines were interlinked. You couldn’t stop running into one another if you tried. You could recall quite vividly the first time you saw him. His rich smooth voice and exuberant charm were not things that detracted attention from him. So he was hard to miss in the small, dingy convenience store on the freighter back from the Bakhroma system. When you finally acquaintanced yourselves with one another quite sometime later, he insisted he had seen you around here and there long before that. You argued that he must have been mistaken because you couldn’t possibly have failed to notice him and that peculiar blonde patch in his hair. And that even if you did, you would have heard him coming even sooner. “That,” he said, “is not necessarily true.” But none the less you managed to crack him up. He’s had a soft spot for you ever since.
You had gotten to know each other pretty well through the many drinks you shared when you found yourselves on the same planet and the odd job you would work together in between. You now knew him well enough that if you were feeling bold you might venture to call him a friend. Perhaps even admit that at times you thought you could be a little more than that. Although you would never have the nerve to say it to his face.
Then he disappeared. One moment he was on The Pug scanning the boards, the next he was gone. Funnily enough, the job he managed to scrounge up was one you had been eyeing yourself. You got pulled away on a contract with an old client of yours to do some appraisals and he set off for this prospecting mission of his. He said it would take a week tops and that he had something he wanted to tell you when he got back. Then you never saw him again.
You see, Ezra had just been working up the courage to tell you how he felt. He swore the next time he saw you would be the day he told you he loved you. That you were the star of his dreams when he slept and the object of his reveries when he woke. That practically every moment of every day he spent away from you he was thinking about where you were or what you were up to. None of this stopped when his pod crash-landed on Bakhroma Green.
He just needed one more job to save up to take you out on Kamrea, your temporary home when you could afford to live there. He had this grand plan to woo you with a nice meal and a necklace made from a small aurelac crystal he had harvested on one of the first jobs you had worked together. He knew how hard you pushed yourself. You never gave yourself a break. He thought it would be nice to treat you to more than just a drink in a bar for once.
It was supposed to be a simple job. Prospect potential dig sites, maybe even harvest a little while he was at it, then get the hell out of there. But none of that happened. Instead, he got stranded on that godforsaken rock. It was years before anyone came to his rescue. He lost his arm somewhere along the way. A rogue thrower shot from a skittish young sater. He was normally quite conscious of staying out of their territory but with the seasons changing, foraging for food brought him out of his comfort zone. The resulting infection cost him his dominant hand.
But his physical injury was hardly the worst of his ailments on his extended visit to the Bakhroma moon. He was quite positive he was going insane hauled up in the damaged drop pod that only served as a reminder he wouldn’t be leaving the forest moon any time soon. As he quickly came to find, he and prolonged periods of time without human contact were not a good combination. While saters and other prospectors may have passed through every now and again, he often had enough trouble bargaining with them for his life, let alone a ride off the dumb rock. They never stuck around long and they certainly weren’t talkative. His mental health took a nosedive quite early on. He took to talking to himself, writing to keep his mind busy. At his worst, he could recall experiencing fits of hysteria and even hallucinations. He had the delirious diary entries to prove it.
It was around the time he lost his arm that he began to lose hope too. The longer he was stranded there, the more doubt that there would be any way out at all began to creep into his mind. There were some nights where the thought of seeing you again, brushing that rebellious strand of hair out of your face and pulling you into a long-awaited kiss, was the only thing that kept him going. He could still see your face. The upward quirk to your lip and the light graze of your hand against his as you passed him by in the hall on his way out. You were in some big rush as you always were. You assured him you would see him later. All he could think of was how wrong that assumption was now. He never could have imagined that would be the last time he saw you. And now here he was projecting phantom memories on the blank ceiling of the pod, cursing himself for not telling you what he should have the moment he knew. He refused to let himself die without letting you know how he felt. Maybe he would be able to rest easier if you knew.
For the first couple cycles you worried yourself sick. The risk associated with your field of work was not lost on you. He wouldn’t just leave you like that- he couldn’t. You wouldn’t let him. But years had passed. It soon came time for you to confront the acceptance of one of two realities: either he was dead, or he had abandoned you. The thought confused you. He wasn’t yours to be abandoned by and yet the resentment that came with it stung you just the same. You couldn’t tell which hurt you more but you knew you couldn’t sit around waiting for a dead man. And if he was alive, you refused to spend another second pining over a man who would up and leave you without so much as a goodbye. So you swallowed your yearning, the nag in your heart that clung to the hope he would still come back for you, and you moved on.
When Ezra got off the Green he hardly recognized himself anymore. His hair had grown shaggy despite his attempts to keep it under control, there were patches of grey in his dishevelled beard, his face had thinned, and those were just the physical changes. It was one of the last sling-backs before they killed the Central-BG line for good. A Kaslo Porting team, dropped to scavenge for old scraps and parts they could mark up and sell second hand, stumbled upon his pod. He was deathly frail when they found him. With his food supply having long since been depleted he had almost poisoned himself by mistaking a species of berry for its edible cousin in his desperation. If they hadn’t found him sooner, the doctors on board the freighter couldn’t see how he would have survived. He wound up hospitalized for weeks.
After all that time with just one thought on his mind, he knew he had to find you. Upon being discharged he searched high and low for you. He felt foolish checking all your old haunts. It had been so long. But he didn’t know where else to begin. He checked with mutual friends and old employers. They all seemed too surprised by being in the presence of a ghost to give him a straight answer.
He went to just about every place he could think of, asking your name as though it carried the same weight to everyone else as it did to him. He was sure he had searched every last corner of the galaxy. When he kept coming up empty he began to doubt whether you yourself were alive. It seemed like he was the only who knew who you were. It was like you didn’t exist. It was like you never had existed. He went so far as to question if he had made you up. If you were merely some fucked up defence mechanism manufactured by his brain to keep him hopeful. To keep him from giving up so long ago as he had been tempted to do. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop looking. That would be admitting something to himself that he would never be ready to. His head would perk up if through the chatter of crowded spaces he would hear a laugh similar to your own carry across the room. He would lose his place in conversations when he would see a flash of hair not unlike your own out of his peripheral vision.
Then one day he found himself back on The Pug, scanning the boards the exact same way he had been the first time he laid eyes on you. He wasn’t actively looking for you. No more than he always was. But sure enough there you were. Your arms crossed over your chest and your gaze tilted upward to read the job postings that flashed by not unlike flight numbers in an airport. You had matured a little. You wore your hair differently now. Shorter than he remembered but he liked it just the same. Your posture had changed too. You looked calmer, more confident and at ease as you watched the boards. Not tense and nervous as you used to be when you lived paycheck to paycheck, desperate for every opportunity you could leap at. Life had treated you well, he remarked to himself. As it should have. You looked just as beautiful as you were in that faded photograph of the two of you he carried everywhere with him. The same one he studied every night as he tried to fall asleep on those lonely nights on the Green.
He felt his heart leap in his chest when you turned in his direction, a graceful smile across your face and your arms outstretched. He felt the adrenaline kick in, like a jolt of electricity through his entire body. He realized then that he hadn’t moved since he had laid eyes on you, too startled by the long anticipated discovery to function. A hysterical grin had stretched across his face. He couldn’t believe he had finally found you. That you were there standing right in front of him after all he had been through trying to get back to you. He was just about to step towards you. To shout your name, take you in his arms and do what he should’ve done long before. That’s when a young tike, hardly three years old came darting past him, tripping over her own feet as she bumbled towards you at top speed.
Then it dawned on him. That smile? Those open arms? They weren’t for him.
You crouched and swept the child up in your arms, peppering her face with kisses as she giggled back at you. It was now that he could see the resemblance. The twinkle in the young girl’s eye and the way she threw her head back when she laughed were not foreign to him. A man he didn’t recognize came trotting after her, scooping her up from your embrace before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.
It finally occurred to him why no one had recognized your name.
You looked happy. The smile on your face made his heart swell as he watched you from a distance. He only wished that he was the cause of it. The realization struck him that he could never be that for you. A husband. A father to your child. Even if he wanted to, years of breathing in toxic particles does things to a man. Now he was too late anyway. He had never wished so strongly that he hadn’t taken that job, that he hadn’t boarded that pod and set off to Bakhroma Green. Tears stung his eyes as he choked back the confession welling in the back of his throat. He couldn’t do that to you now. You deserved better than the trauma of a phantom walking back into your life after all this time. And stood there, every semblance of hope he had harboured since your fingertips slid off his own in that hallway shattered around his feet, he considered something. He should’ve let himself die on that rock. It would have been a more merciful death than the one he had just experienced as he watched the very dream that kept him alive all that time fall apart in front of him.
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