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d3wdropz · 6 months

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DIVINITY: PROLOGUE ~ SUKUNA X READER

a/n okay I'm very excited about this!

I'm planning on splitting up the story into a prologue, fight, smut, then epilogue. I love build-up and world building, not just the smutty stuff, so be prepared for more of a plot w/ porn set up- plans may change though and upload schedule will be chaotic so be prepared

hope you all enjoy!

pairing: True Form! Sukuna x Curse! Fem! Reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: Sukuna is feared and respected, a self-proclaimed "natural calamity". Shrouded in power and mystery, not much is known about him, other than the fact that if you bore him you'll likely face a gruesome demise.

Now where does that leave you? A powerful and new "natural calamity" as Sukuna would say.

content warning: no smut, fem! reader, canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence, blood, death, swearing, kind of anti-hero/villainous reader, canon! sukuna , slightly non-canon setting

credit to @cafekitsune for all the amazing dividers!!!

The Heian Era- a time that would later be recognized as the 'Golden Age of Jujutsu'. A period full of strong sorcerers- and curses.

Yet, no matter their strength, no one stood a chance against the reigning king: Ryomen Sukuna. The very mention of his name sent fear into those who heard it. While he stayed on top of the food chain, there was nothing to be done.

If a village wanted a chance at survival, they had expectations to uphold.

First: respect and fear the King of Curses. Even if he's miles away, when he is spoken of, it should be with care and respect. No one is sure if it's true, but there are tales of villagers speaking of Lord Sukuna in a lowly manner- only for them to be cut in-half before they could finish.

Second: his arrival should be met with offerings and praise. Not to feed his ego, but to give him a reason not to burn a town to the ground. If, for some terrible reason, a village has Sukuna housed within it, he is to be treated like a God. Anything less would mean the death of hundreds, such an easy act that Sukuna would do it with his eyes closed.

The third, and final, rule: everyone is beneath him. No one is allowed to look him in the eye, talk to him, or even breath too close to him. Weaklings are expected to know their place. If they forget, Lord Sukuna happily reminds them of his strength by crushing their windpipe with one of his four hands.

No village has ever really strayed from these rules after they were made- not if they wanted to live. Due to this, Sukuna's arrivals come with a sort of schedule: an invitation made in hopes of gaining his favor, offering and celebration preparation, the 'festivities', and finally, his departure.

The latest, pitiful town Sukuna has found himself in is in their third stage. He's seated comfortably on a pedestal of sorts, with Uraume close by. If Sukuna were to be honest, he finds these kind of events boring and tacky. He can't help but sneer when he looks into a sea of sad, lowly, humans giving him hollow praise to stay alive.

As Sukuna sits in his head, he thinks that maybe he endures this because there's nothing better to do. Pillaging and bloodshed isn't fun if don't give yourself the chance to relax, ready yourself for the next venture.

Another perk of being invited to these celebrations: hearing gossip. It's no surprise that Sukuna is not a very social man, and Uraume is no better when they spend all of their time with him. So these short instances give him a chance to hear the latest news.

It's not like he would be ignorant to anything if he truly wanted to know. He just finds more excitement in finding things out when villagers whisper their gossip to one another- it also gives him something to do.

Lucky for him, the townspeople are bustling with news. Their voices are full of fear and concern. They try to hide it, try to keep Sukuna's attention on the various gifts they offer him. It's not enough, sadly, and he's becoming intrigued.

This distress isn't being caused by him, from what he can hear and tell. None of them have verified or given a name to what is on their minds, so Sukuna decides to wait it out.

Night falls by the time Sukuna finally knows what's going on. By now, the offerings have been made, the praises have been given, and this meant it was time for him to take his leave. Both him and Uraume can see the sweat bead on the elder's heads as Sukuna remains seated.

Uraume is confused as well, but is wise enough to not question or make a fuss- Sukuna does as he pleases, sometimes with no rhyme or reason. Their job is to serve him, and right now that meant refilling his cup.

Just as he's about to call it a night, fed up with waiting for something interesting to happen, Sukuna hears it. Some young, quiet girl was speaking with her friend as they cleaned up. Their conversation was of some new curse- 'if you could call her that' as they said- was causing chaos in a neighboring village.

As Sukuna continued to listen, the girl shared more. She informed her friend that the curse seemed to appear out of nowhere, one that no one recognized. The rumors are that she looks human, beautiful even! But she's really a cold-hearted monster. When her companion scoffs and claims this to be false, that if this were true more people would know about it, the girl argues back. She explains that this has all happened within the span of a day or two.

Sukuna quirks his brow, slightly surprised by this news. He didn't sense any new cursed energy, at least to the extent that this girl is speaking of. If some curse were to be close by with this much power, he would know. But, it would bring some much-needed entertainment if this rumor were to be true.

Just as Sukuna was about to rise from his seated position, he felt something shift. It was as if a balance inside of him tilted. He tensed up and looked to the source, sensing it's placement. Uraume turned to the direction, having picked up on the intrusion as well.

Within seconds, a shriek was heard. It was quickly cut off by the sound of clatters. The shift Sukuna felt morphed into a detection of cursed energy just as the scream died.

As if the yell was some kind of alarm, the village quickly fell into disarray as people ran away. Families held each other tight as they rushed to the center of town, right where Sukuna was seated.

He watched as their determined faces fell, filling with fear and despair as they were met with the sight of the King of Curses. It was easy to see that the villagers were now stuck between two deadly curses, having to chose which death they'd prefer.

Without hesitation, Uraume calmly creates a rush of ice that destroys all of the obstacles between them and the curse that's entered the village- leaving behind a small pile of dead bodies. It was a simple and effective move, the opponent is caught off-guard and usually frozen in the ice. Oftentimes Uraume freezes the curse until they're veins are frozen solid, an easy victory.

So Uraume is left shocked when they watch the ice fly back towards them. It's wasn't too fast, they're able to create a wall that protects both them and Sukuna. They try to analyze the curse, but it's hard to see them through the ice.

Before Uraume could speak, a joyful laugh rang through the silent village. To any human, it sounded innocent and childish. But Sukuna and his attendent knew better, they sensed the power oozing from the curse, the malice behind that laugh.

With his interest peaked, Sukuna stood up, towering over the wall of ice after he cuts it away. He's left intrigued for the second time that night when he sees a woman standing before him, now only about 300 feet away.

She looks to be about 20, but appearances can't be trusted when dealing with immortal cursed spirits. Her body is adorned in a loosely fitting, silk robe. It's large and ill-fitted on her, falling off one shoulder, showing off soft skin. There are unmistakable dots and splashes of blood that stain the front of the pristine and bright fabric.

Her laughter dies down as she wipes away a tear. When she looks up, her eyes lock onto one pair of Sukuna's. An amused smile spreads on her face as she stands tall.

"Well, I knew there was something interesting here. I could feel it," she spoke carelessly, twirling a strand of hair and cocking her head to the side, "I didn't think it would be this fun."

By now, the rest of the villagers have snuck away. This left an empty town, with only the sounds of fire crackling and the curses to fill the night.

Sukuna can hear Uraume sneer, disgusted by the disrespect coming from this uncivilized curse, "Have some decorum." Their voice is full of malice, as they ready for another attack.

Deciding to take this chance to observe the curse in front of him, Sukuna doesn't stop Uraume from using Frost Calm. He watches as the cold air quickly makes it way to their adversary. Both curses are left confused as the blast is halted just inches away from the woman's face.

The smile is quickly replaced by a glare and disgusted look. She glances at them, giving the Frost Calm in front of her little thought, "I didn't come here to fight some insignificant, little snowflake."

With that, she sent the attack right back at Uraume. This time, it was different. It was faster, more concentrated, and dripping with an immense amount of cursed energy. Left with no time to react, the smaller curse is sent flying backwards and into some buildings. Their impact is made worse as the ice encases them.

"Compared to the sheer amount of cursed energy you exude, that little pebble was nothing," the woman takes a few steps forward. Only now does Sukuna notice just how unproperly done her robe is. As soon as the binding at her waist ends, there's a large slit that reveals her legs, just short enough to hide her more intimate parts. Even with a lack of shoes, her feet and legs seem to be clean- in fact everything about her seems to be unblemished except for the blood. It leaves the Cursed King confused, but he easily drops it.

If Sukuna wasn't busy observing her and trying to figure out what exactly her cursed technique was, he would find her attire humorous and immature. It reminded him of Yorozu, her naked introduction still recent. A quick thought crosses his mind: is it some new trend for female curses to walk around half-naked? He knows he has no room to speak but at least he wears proper pants.

Coming out of his thoughts, Sukuna lifts his head and smirks ever-so slightly, "You're one to talk, woman."

Anyone could tell that this lady is a talker, and she returns his smile with a mischievous one of her own. "I wouldn't know, I'm new here," she stretches, raising her arms above her head, "All I know is that when I sense something strong- like you- I find it-" her eyes seem to shimmer as she stares into his own crimson ones, "and I take it."

With a little more time to stare into her eyes, Sukuna was able to detect what that excited gleam was: hunger. Some part of him felt a shiver run down his spin when she licked her lips and lowered her arms, "The stronger they are, the better they taste."

This leaves Sukuna chuckling under his breath, willing to humor her, "Aw, so that's it," in an instant, Sukuna is right in front of the woman, towering over her, "you're a dumb little thing that just came to life, hungry for power."

She held her ground, staring up at him confidently with a sort of excitement in her eyes, "I wouldn't say I'm dumb," in retaliation to his attempt at intimidation, she quickly pokes his chest. It was a gentle movement, something he wouldn't have even noticed. If it wasn't for the shocking strength he felt as he was forced to lean back. "but you would be right about the other thing, I just came to be about three days ago."

For any other curse, they would have been sent flying a few meters back. If she were to have used that move on a human, their chest would have been shot open from the force. This interested her even more as she took a simple hop back, only for her to fly high into the air. She then sat herself on a nearby roof, leaning her head on her knees.

"You're the most interesting thing I've found, none of the others could talk, or lasted that move," she grinned down at Sukuna.

Both of them knew this was just banter. The fighting hasn't quite commenced yet. They seemed too invested in the other, neither ready to kill and miss out on this opportunity to chat.

Sukuna glances up at her, crossing a pair of his arms, "Is that meant to impress me, woman?"

She only gives him a cheeky smile, "Not at all, I can tell that you're powerful, feared. Something like that would do nothing to sway you from fighting me." She closes her eyes thoughtfully, "I am curious as to who you are, you'll be the first thing I've ever cared enough to remember the name of. The first. . . 'curse'- if what the humans call me is true- that makes me need to try out my abilities."

His excitement only intensifies- this woman is something else. Sukuna can tell that this battle will be one for him to remember. It won't be simple, one-sided, and consist of him using his cleave to destroy his enemy in a second. He'll really get to go all out, get to have fun.

A rumble reverberates in his chest, a chuckle, "I'm your king, woman." Sukuna slicks his hair back out from his vision, smirking at and teasing the younger curse which only grows as she furrows her brows in anger.

She raises her hand lazily, keeping it level to her head, "You're getting annoying." The woman thinks for a second, before a smile graced her face, as if a light-bulb went off. She stands up from her seated position and jumps to the ground.

Out of annoyance, and some respect for her confidence, Sukuna averts his eyes from her figure as the wind blows her robe about. It doesn't reveal much, and Sukuna might be a tyrant, but he still likes to think of himself as a chivalrous adversary.

When she's on the ground again, she walks right up to him again. Her hands a clasped in front of her, joyfully. In any other circumstance, she would be a puddle of blood for getting this close to the King of Curses. But, Sukuna must admit that her presence has provided him entertainment for the night. So he allows it.

"I know! If I beat you, you'll tell me your name. If you win, I'll tell you mine. I'd love to continue this conversation, as you're the most fascinating thing I've come across in my short life. But- I'm itching to have a little fun." Sukuna listens to her ramble, rolling his eyes at her proposition.

Now, Sukuna can't help but find this plain hilarious. This stupid, little curse is making a simple bet and placing her life on the line. He could almost smack her on the back of her head from how absurd it sounds- but, if he were to agree, he'd get to truly see her abilities.

With a lop-sided grin, Sukuna extends his hand, imbuing it with cursed energy in preparation for the binding vow. He watches as confusion washes onto her face as she stares at his hand.

"What are you doing?" her voice is laced with frustration and bewilderment.

His brows raise before he lets out an exasperated sigh, "I forgot you're new- this" he nods his head to his hand "is a binding vow. It's a promise made with cursed energy that requires us to fulfill it. In this instance, it makes you're silly deal something that must be upheld."

She nods in understanding, taking an extra second to study his hand. She then shakes it, both of them taking a second to feel the difference in hand sizes. Hers is dwarfed within his, practically invisible when held in Sukuna's. This brief touch is also a chance for them to feel the others cursed energy on a closer level, more personal.

From what Sukuna could pick up on, before he dropped her hand, was that this wouldn't be an easy fight. He's both put on edge and roused by the amount of cursed energy coursing through her veins. What makes it even better is that she's completely unaware of the power she's holding.

He can't wait to be the person that forces her to unlock it.

The two take a few simple steps back. Sukuna grips his kamutoke in one hand, readying for battle. The woman, on the other hand, stands gleefully in place. She has no weapon, isn't readying any chants or dances, hell- she doesn't even look serious.

Even with her immature behavior, the female curse looks her enemy in the eyes with an intensity Sukuna's only seen in few. She puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head, "Ready?"

Sukuna nods with content, watching from the corner of his eye as Uraume finally begins to make their way over again. The look he shoots them is enough for the servant to realize this wasn't something for them to interfere in. Instead, they stand in the background, ready to jump in whenever their master needed.

As both curses begin to emit immense amounts of cursed energy in preparation for the fight, Uraume can't help but notice a new emotion reflect in Sukuna's gaze. It's something they've never seen him express before, though most ordinary people usually experience it many times. It leaves them confused and wondering what the hell conspired while they were incapacitated.

The thing that's left Uraume stumped, that's making it's first appearance in the Cursed King's eyes, is admiration.

Admiration for the curse that's about to battle with him to the death.

final notes okay! wow- i'm sorry this took so long! i'm happy to get this ball rolling though, be prepared for some fighting and more explanation in the next part!

oh- also i hope sukuna isn't too ooc in this- it's hard to get that guy down!

hope you enjoyed!

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna imagine #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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dangermousie · 1 year

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My favorite non-danmei web novels

Since some of you were interested, I decided to make this list. It’s in an alphabetical order since to figure out which I like more than the other is too hard. I have either finished all of these or enough to have an opinion.

1000 Miles of Bright Moonlight - one of my ultimate favorites, this would make such an epic drama! A smart as hell heroine, a hero who is a monk and a warrior (but also terminally?) ill and such a vivid world and amazing secondary characters (heroine’s brother is possibly my favorite supporting character of all time) and so much angst and happy ending. This has an amazing romance but it’s not romance-centric if it makes sense - ML doesn’t appear for a while. But once he does, it’s worth it!

Apocalypse Arrival - Gong Xinwen’s novels are made just for me. Her heroines are always powerful as fuck and rescue abused MLs. In this novel, our heroine who lives in the post-apocalyptic world, wakes up right before that apocalypse happens. She forms a survival crew and also rescues ML who has miraculous blood and has been drained of it and is now hunted after the rescue for it. SO GOOD!!!

The Blue Whisper - the drama was so-so, but the novel is a bona fide angst masterpiece, which really delves into what it feels like to be imprisoned or to love.

Black Moonlight Holds the BE Script - so fucked up, so good, with monster hero who learns to love and be human and heroine who learns to love and be human (but from the other side, her tower of perfection.) Much better than the drama.

Chang’an’s Greatest Beauty - a starkly realistic look at what happens to a beautiful period woman with no options. She becomes an outside mistress of a powerful aristocrat who she loathes. The delight is when ML, who barely thinks of others as human, falls in love with her and realizes she does not care about him and descends into regret and despair.

Chang Feng Du - reading it right now. Amazing ML and FL who grow together, clever plot, arranged marriage to love etc etc. Oh, and one point he feeds her his blood to keep her alive, what’s not to love?

Dandere General and His Lord - hi there, Gong Xinwen! God, I love this one. Heroine transmigrates from modern world into a brutal slaveholding world at war (think something like Warring States era.) Our heroine transmigrates into the body of a noblewoman who just hung herself. When she comes to, she discovers that woman’s twin brother was the ruler of a city poisoned by a rival claimant and the besieging army of said claimant is about to take the city and original occupant of the body and the rest of the family chose suicide as a way to avoid dishonor. Our heroine refuses, schemes with advisors to pass as the brother and rally the troops. Once the invaders are defeated, she keeps on the masquerade and rides off to one of the never-ending wars “she” is summoned to. Our hero couldn’t be farther from this. A slave and a son of a slave, he’s escaped a horrific, starving childhood during which he narrowly avoided being murdered or raped, and ended up in the army. When the story opens, he distinguished himself in battle and as a reward, he and a few of his fellow slave warriors are invited to a banquet, where they are given some alcohol and to be playthings of any nobles who want them. One of them does not survive this but ML is lucky - heroine feels terrible and so “claims” him for herself. Instead she just tends to his wounds and sends him back. She does not fancy him or anything, she is just a human being with a conscience. And the story goes from there.

Doomed to Be Cannon Fodder - I hesitated to put this one on the list because by the end I was not keen on how misogynistic novel got to original female lead but it was one of my earliest novels and I loved it for 90% and it’s fucking hilarious at times. Heroine transmigrates as bit villainess into a novel, all she wants is not to die, but her new attitude of “pls stay away” catches the attention of her terrifying general husband. Honestly, imo still worth it.

Dreamer in the Spring Boudoir - my n1 novel on this list, smart and fierce and don’t really read this for romance because it does not start until really late, but ice cold heroine x ice cold hero both of equal brains and ruthlessness is everything. I went from loathing the ML to finding him fascinating to adoring him (and yet he softened around the edges only for FL, he never became “nice”) and loved FL throughout; secondaries are epic. If you read only one non-danmei web novel, make it this one.

The Emperor’s Beloved Ugly Girl - my n2 novel on this list. Our heroine is the unlucky laundry maid A’Chou. She is a di daughter of an upperclass family but her family got destroyed in one of the political upheavals of the time and A’Chou, only a small child at the time, was the only survivor and was made an enslaved laundry maid. Due to various events, at the start of the novel she is a laundry maid in a minister’s household and the minister’s beloved daughter is having a fit because she’s supposed to marry the former Crown Prince which may have been great a few years back but Crown Prince had since been deposed, tortured, imprisoned and now is living in the middle of nowhere under conditions that are too meager to be called house arrest. And he’s seriously crippled too. Understandably, the young lady doesn’t want to marry him! She’d rather kill herself and so she does. And so, a desperate plan is hatched - why don’t we pretend the laundry maid is the di daughter of the minister’s household and send her off? And so A’Chu is sent as the bride. She arrives to discover a broke, seriously injured man on the verge of death...and we go from there. This is so gorgeous and tender and slow in just the right way and like AAAAAA! Secondary OTPs (one of which is MM) are also epic.

Futu Tower - the drama was terrible but the novel is such a lovely, dark exploration of coming back to life, for the ML from his dark revenge-strewn path and for heroine from not being allowed wishes of her own. She is a tribute bride, he’s a (fake) eunuch, they are both servants who use themselves to achieve goals and find peace and happiness together.

Heroine Saves a Gentleman - Gong Xinwen novel so we have a tough martial artist lady saving a very upper class scholar and it goes from there.

Husband Be a Gentleman - schemer meet schemer. He’s an idle prince she’s perfect daughter, in reality both are wolves out for blood. Mmmm.

I’ll Be the Male Lead’s Sister in Law - one of my all time favorite novels. Heroine is made to marry a disabled nephew of the emperor. He used to be a victorious god of war but went mad and now is basically locked away and kept as a beast. GOD I LOVE THIS NOVEL SO MUCHHHHH! So much hurt/comfort and awesome OTP and after he eventually recovers, all he wants to do is to fight and murder things and dote on wifey. MMM. He’s honestly one of my fave MLs.

I Married a Disabled Tyrant After Transmigrating - if you have a Florence Nightingale complex, this is for you. Heroine wakes up as tribute bride to an almost dead dragon lord and slowly nurses him back to life as his rivals try to murder him. They are both utter adorable babies!

Joy of Life - there is NO romance in this one (ML is polygamous) but this is such a smart, snarky delight.

Let the Villain Go - another Gong Xinwen novel, this and Apocalypse Arrivals are AUs of each other. Heroine is surviving in the apocalypse, ML is the “bugbear” of the world but in reality just reacting to all abuse and torture and after she accidentally saves him, devotes himself. Fun fun fun!

Love In Another Life: My Gentle Tyrant - so so fucked up in the best way! ML cannot live with OR without heroine. It opens on them banging in jail night before her execution (ordered by him) with corpses of men he killed for trying to defile her cooling nearby. If you want healthy relationships with respectful boundaries, gentle and considerate male leads who are modern men in period clothes, OP heroines who have everyone help them and are OP to the max, fluff and wholesomeness, that is about the worst book for you.If you want complexity, dysfunction, darkness, pain and an absolutely lyrical even if fucked up story, come right IN!!!!I am so fucking in love with the melancholy heroine, with ruthless psycho hero and the endless regret and devotion and paaaaain!

Nightfall (Ever Night) - so long but also so smart and unusual and bloody and tho it’s not primarily a romance, you will never see another ML who loves his FL as much as Ning Que does his Sang Sang.

Princess Agents - dark as fuck, with the best slow burn and heroine who kicks metric tons of ass.

The Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage - this is probably the one “typical” novel on this list, heroine is reborn as her youngest self and gets revenge on those who wronged her last time around. It is really really well-written and heroine is competent, hero is doting and powerful etc. It’s not a trope I tend to love but I do when it’s done THIS well.

Rebirth of the Tyrant’s Pet: Regent Prince is Too Fierce: Borgias cnovel style! Our heroine was empress in last life and put her husband on the throne tho he did not love her. However, he had her executed and had his half-brother carry out the orders and heroine died horrifically. She opens her eyes and she’s a little girl again. The OTP this time around is heroine and half-brother executioner. Why do I love it? Heroine is smart and tough but also this is a rare rebirth novel where heroine does NOT decide to seek revenge for past life wrongs because they haven’t happened yet! In fact, she sees ML abused and stands up for him because he’s a kid and no kid should be mistreated and this go around he hasn’t done anything wrong. She also gets and likes her former life husband. Anyway, this is fakecest galore because she’s supposed to be their half-sister and while she knows (from past life) she is not, they do not and fall for her anyway. ML is especially gonzo, at one point carving chunks of his flesh to save her. He’s feral and unhinged and she’s the one person he worships because she protected him and like - it’s all awesome. (I love secondary ML too.)

Reborn to Love Lord Qiansui - yes, this is a eunuch novel! If you like gender tropes reversals, this one is for you. Heroine is a tough martial artist, hero is a smart as hell and powerful eunuch. A real eunuch. Heroine finds out she owes him her life and decides to protect him. This is a total delight and an awesome love story between two really scarred people. And yes, there is sex - heroine literally reads manuals on pegging :P

Return of the Swallow - so freaking long! But really good. Heroine is neither transmigrator nor reincarnator, just a smart period woman. She is a lost family daughter taken back in. Her father is a minister in a dying empire (father-daughter relationship is one of the best things in this novel), her OTP is enemy general, and the smartness and the awesomeness of this all knows no bounds.

Revenge of the Cannon Fodder Chambermaid - I remember starting this and loving the realistic feel and the heroine and wanting to stab the hero and @mercipourleslivres telling me to be patient. She was right, by the end I was on board with both the hero (who was abused and is rather autistic-coded) and the OTP. Anyway, heroine is a servant who was a concubine in the last life and got killed as part of a rich family’s harem intrigues. In this life, she just wants to keep her head down but her life gets derailed anyway. She gets sold away and eventually made a servant in the household of an exiled prince who takes a fancy to her and she endures it because what choice does she have? All she wanted was to serve out her term and become a small time merchant. This is quite realistic about lack of options for women, especially lower class women or upper class male attitudes (ML is never vicious or mean to FL but it does not initially occur to him to wonder if she fancies him or enjoys being his concubine or w/e.) It is a DELIGHTFUL slow burn tho as they grow to love each other and grow together and become one of the most wholesome cnovel couples out there.

To Be a Virtuous Wife - some people prefer 8 treasures trousseau but I never warmed up to that one. This one is so good, with smart people (who actually enjoy sex, a ratity) and a perfect mix of plot and romance.

Transmigrator Meets Reincarnator - my very first web novel. A lot lighter than a lot of the ones on this list but a total delight. Heroine transmigrates into a novel as the heroine; she has no interest in drama or chasing true love, she just wants to live a nice life with her nice husband. Too bad for her, her husband has reincarnated into his younger self and remembers how she betrayed him, so is not interested. This one is funny and light and romance doesn’t start till late on but a total delight!

The Yandere Came During the Night - a bit of fluff that’s oddly delightful. Heroine is reborn as a (fake) sister of ML, she hurts her legs saving him and the “siblings” form a bond that ends up in fakecest delight. They are both smart and efficient and he becomes a sexy marquis etc.

#cnovel #the yandere came during the night #to be a virtuous wife #transmigrator meets reincarnator #so I married a disabled tyrant after transmigrating #chang feng du #the emperor's beloved ugly girl #ever night #nightfall #joy of life #Revenge of the Cannon Fodder Chambermaid #Reborn to Love Lord Qiansui #return of the swallow #doomed to be cannon fodder #i'll be the male lead's sister in law #Rebirth of the Tyrant’s Pet: Regent Prince is Too Fierce #The Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage #princess agents #Love In Another Life: My Gentle Tyrant #let the villain go #apocalypse arrival #husband be a gentleman #heroine saves a gentleman #futu tower #Dreamer in the Spring Boudoir #dangere general and his lord #Chang’an’s Greatest Beauty #black moonlight holds the be script #the blue whisper #1000 miles of bright moonlight

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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Neon In The Nighttime

Summary: It's the end of the word as we know it. A west coast baker and the drummer of a metal band team up in Boston, MA thinking they're one of the last few people left alive after a viral outbreak turns those infected into blood hungry monsters.

Their destination: Los Angeles, California- the last place Lucien's eldest brother was living while gearing up for a presidential run. Lucien is desperate to escape the memories of his past life and what he had to do when his wife, Jes, became infected. Elain wants to try and reclaim the fractured pieces of the life she remembers before everything went to hell.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Read on AO3

Thank you @corcracrow for the moodboard

Elain thought it was a terrible idea to open the door given they didn’t know if this even was Tamlin. It seemed cruel to keep him out in the dark, though, and crueler still to have that conversation while Tamlin could hear. And Lucien looked so happy to see his friend that Elain remained silent as Lucien stumbled into the night and pulled the blonde man into a rough embrace.

“How the fuck—” Lucien’s question dissolved into a joyful laugh as Tamlin clapped him on the back.

“I didn’t get far,” Tamlin’s rich timbre replied. His expression was lost to the nighttime, though Elain swore she heard a smile. “Fuckin’ Indiana.”

Elain twisted as Tamlin climbed into the back, his eyes falling on her while carefully pushing their supplies to the side. “What happened to Jes?”

Lucien slammed the door a little too roughly. “She didn’t make it. This is Elain. We’re…”

“Friends,” Elain finished for him, sparing Lucien from having to say anymore. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Tamlin was handsome and young—maybe five years older than Lucien. He looked well-fed and healthy which Elain supposed was a blessing in a world ravaged by a virus.

“Lucky you two found each other,” Tamlin said with ease, reclining back in the cab. “Need a place to crash for a day or two?”

Lucien and Elain glanced at each other. They had gas tanks in the back of their car, as well as other things that were valuable in a world without currency. Elain didn’t want to be the one to tell Tamlin no given Lucien’s history, but she didn’t want to stay in Indiana, either.

“Maybe for the night,” Lucien agreed, his tone cautious. If Tamlin caught it, he didn’t betray any discomfort.

“Alright, cool. At least take a break from running. Have you seen any infected?”

“A few,” Lucien told Tamlin after getting instructions on where to go. Straight to New Fort Wayne just a mile up the road. They might have stopped anyway, might have run into Tamlin organically by sheer chance.

“I haven’t seen one in months,” Tamlin told them, leaning between their two seats. “Are they rotting?”

Elain closed her eyes, not wanting to remember those bodies tripping mindlessly into an elevator shaft. Lucien gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles bled white, hiding the calluses and cuts from the steel cable they’d climbed down.

“Yes.”

Tamlin read enough in Lucien’s tone not to ask a follow up question. Instead, he provided instructions, turning them from the interstate down a dark, winding road that led to gravel, and then dirt. Hidden among the trees in a place no one would look unless they knew what it was they were trying to find, lay a fence eight feet high and made of wood and curling barbed wire over the top.

There was no getting in…and as they pulled through open gates, Elain wondered if there was any getting out. Lucien must have thought the same thing because he asked, “Do we ask to leave in the morning?”

“I’ll let you out,” Tamlin replied with that easy smile. “Whenever you’re ready. This isn’t a prison—it’s just a little commune of survivors.”

That did little to ease Elain’s anxiety, especially when Tamlin so casually added, “We separate men and women. I’ll have to wake—”

“No.” Lucien’s voice silenced them both as he parked his car in the grass. “Elain stays with me.”

Tamlin shifted. “There are rules–”

“She stays with me.”

Tamlin cleared his throat, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. “You two are friends—”

“She’s with me. That’s all anyone needs to know,” Lucien told Tamlin, not daring to look at either of them. “If you have to separate us, then it was good to see you, Tam. Really. But I think we’ll keep heading west.”

“Don’t—” Tamlin took a breath before looking at Elain. “You two can stay together. We’re trying to minimize unnecessary risk, that’s all.”

Elain could read well enough between the lines. They were trying to keep children from being born without careful and thoughtful planning. That made sense to her, and still she was grateful Lucien had insisted they wouldn’t be separated.

Elain didn’t move until Lucien pulled open her car door, grabbing her hand like Tamlin was going to snatch her away. Tamlin watched, too, his expression unreadable in the dark.

“C’mon,” he finally said, gesturing for them both to follow him. Lucien slung his arm around Elain’s shoulder, too possessive to be casual. As if anyone was going to try and steal her…and yet,

Elain appreciated Lucien’s willingness to stake a claim at all. It meant he wasn’t going to abandon her for Tamlin, which she’d been privately afraid of the minute Lucien leapt from the car to greet his old friend.

Tamlin led them down an immaculate path into a clearing that, much to Elain’s surprise, was lit up. Lucien, too, paused to take in the rows of wood-built houses that reminded her a little of an eighteenth century suburban neighborhood. But the electricity and the sound of whirring blades made Elain pull from Lucien’s grasp.

“How is this possible?” Lucien asked. Tamlin chuckled, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“We don’t need big companies telling us how to live. I’ll show you in the morning, if you want. For now, I’ve got a place for the two of you.”

“Is there hot water?” Elain found herself asking. Maybe they could stay, if only for the sake of a scalding shower. She still thought of the rusty taps from Ohio that she’d been so grateful for, even if it had been frigid river water.

“Yes,” Tamlin said, his handsome face made all the more so by that easy smile. “Lots of hot water. And clean clothes, if you want them.”

God, Elain did. She wondered if he recognized her own outfit having come from his closet. Elain stepped a little closer to Lucien, because she still didn’t trust Tamlin, and followed down the neatly laid stone path all the way to the edge of the fence. Lucien was clearly marking their way, though they had a car and could probably force their way through the front gates if they really wanted to.

“There is food in the morning, and no rush to leave. I’m just—it’s good to see a familiar face,” Tamlin told Lucien before handing over a little key. They stood at the bottom of a well-built wooden porch looking at each other. It wasn’t trust, especially on Elain’s end, but there was something especially potent about recognizing another face.

It was easy to feel alone, isolated. Tamlin had a whole community here, people Elain was dying to see in the morning, if only to prove to herself more than just her and Lucien had survived. And if Tamlin was normal, she didn’t see why they couldn’t stay for a little while. Not settle down, but maybe try and relax for the first time since the world went to hell.

“There are towels inside. I’ll have some things left on the porch for you. If you need anything else, just yell.”

And that was that. Lucien and Tamlin hugged one more time, the sort of one-armed, back slapping hug men liked to do. Elain raised a hand, offering a half-hearted wave. He gave one right back, that smile returning before he ducked off and left. Lucien sighed, his own smile slipping at whatever he found in Elain’s expression.

“Are you happy?” Elain asked him while Lucien slid the metal key into the lock.

“I’m not sure yet,” Lucien admitted, his voice low. “If he gives a place to stay and they let us go, yes.”

“And if this is some insane cult—”

“I’m sure it is,” Lucien interrupted, pushing open the door and beckoning for her to follow him in. “Probably a sex cult, from what I remember about Tam.”

“Really? He had that sort of charisma?”

Lucien chuckled. “Well–no. But he’s got…you know, his face. And he was a rockstar. You don’t have to work so hard when you’re good looking and talented.”

And before she could argue that, Lucien flipped a switch on the wall. Light flooded the room, rendering them both speechless.

“Wow,” Elain whispered, turning to look at Lucien in the light. Ordinarily, Elain would have sworn Lucien had a soft glow to him, neon even at night. But here, Lucien was practically the sun, Elain a swaying flower desperate for a little warmth.

“Thank you,” she told him, forgetting for a moment he was just her friend. She felt so starry eyed, drinking in his lovely face. Lucien, utterly unaware he was the subject of her fascination, furrowed his brows.

“For…?”

Right. Get it together. “Asking for us to stay together.”

Lucien cleared his throat. “I just ah…worried.”

“Yeah,” she agreed hastily. “That’s why I said thank you.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Lucien nodded toward the dark hall. “Want to check out the bedrooms?”

Elain thought that was rather optimistic of Lucien, given the size of the house, and was proven right. The hall was little more than three steps, opening into a bedroom that smelled strongly of cedar. The bed itself was small, draped in white linens that matched the curtain along the window. Another door opened into a small bathroom that had, to Elain’s relief, a working toilet and a tub that filled with water.

Lucien hadn’t moved from the hall, still staring at that bed. Dread filled Elain’s stomach. “Lucien?”

He rubbed the back of his neck again, unable to meet her eye. “Just…give me a second? I’m gonna grab something from the truck.”

Pace around as he wondered if he was betraying his wife, more like it. Elain nodded, though, thumbing toward the tub. “I’ll take the first bath then, if you don’t mind.”

“Go for it.” Said, staring straight at his shoes. Great. She’d just admired his face, she hadn’t wanted to undress him. Lucien was imagining too much, and when he turned abruptly, leaving her to her bath, Elain felt a little measure of relief. He wasn’t the only one grappling with things, she thought in annoyance. Thinking he was handsome and wanting to see him naked were two different things, besides.

He was her friend, and maybe that was why it stung. Did he see her as a friend at all?

Elain pondered that for so long, by the time she’d talked herself out of her worries, the water had become frigid.

She hadn’t even noticed.

LUCIEN:

“Knew I��d found you out here,” Lucien lied, making his way back to where he’d parked his truck. A few yards off stood Tamlin, staring up at the sky.

“I had to give up smoking,” Tamlin admitted ruefully, pushing his shoulder off a rough tree. “Still like being out here, though.”

“Yeah,” Lucien agreed. This was the perfect distraction from Elain, with her big brown eyes and her too trusting expression. He felt like a bastard—and not just on her behalf, but Jes’s too. The thoughts he’d had, though…Lucien knew he was better off burying them.

Elain was his friend. His incredibly beautiful friend, and nothing more.

“What’s going on with you and…”

“Elain,” Lucien finished, exhaling softly. “We met after Jes…” fuck he couldn’t do this. “Anyway, we’re heading toward California.”

“For the cure?” Tamlin asked, utterly blowing Lucien’s mind. “I heard that’s up in Seattle now. At least, that’s where they were heading—”

“Whoa, slow down. What cure?”

“Two scientists and a doctor came through her….eight months ago?” Tamlin began, scrunching his face as he tried to remember. “Maybe they were military. Anyway, they claimed they had a cure—it can’t bring anyone who has been infected back, but it keeps the virus from…whatever it does. They’d been discussing going to Seattle instead of Los Angeles because they’d heard there was a larger human commune up there.”

“I…I never heard any of this.”

“Most people leaving east end up here. So I hear a lot,” Tamlin informed him with a too-knowing look. One that said, you could stay, too. Oh, how Lucien could imagine it. And it was imagining that slow, domestic life that made Lucien feel so guilty again.

“Tell me the truth. Is this a sex cult?”

Tamlin threw his head back and laughed. “Not anymore,” he choked, hands on his knees. “No one would have fucked your girl, by the way. I know you were thinking it, but we take that really seriously here.”

“She’s with me,” Lucien said, ignoring the way his stomach clenched every time he declared Elain was with him—she’s mine, she belongs with me—

“I’m sorry about Jes,” Tamlin said, perhaps guessing Lucien’s thoughts. “I always really liked her.”

Lucien thought about what Elain said—-that Jes hadn’t felt anything when he killed her. She’d been gone long before he got home, and all he could hope now was that it had been relatively painless. That her last thoughts had been of him.

That she’d known how much he loved her.

“What about the guys?” Lucien asked, trying to remember their names. “Bron…Hart…and—”

“Andras,” Tamlin said, his expression gloomy. “Gone.”

Lucien knew better than to ask if Tamlin had been the one to dispatch them. Let them have these little secrets while they try to heal and try to rebuild.”

“So no to the sex cult?”

Tamlin laughed again. “No sex cult. I wish it was a sex cult. No, it functions more like a little town…if a town had a board of directors, I guess. We’re governed by a majority that get elected once a year. But honestly, we don’t have many problems anymore. Not since that fire.”

Lucien raised his brows but Tamlin only shook his head, jaw set.

“And you separate men and women—”

“Too many babies that first year,” Tamlin said quickly. “We aren’t equipped for that. I know it’s kind of fucked, but…we lost a lot of women, too. We didn’t have anyone who knew how to deliver babies or what to do when shit went sideways, so we separated everyone. It works a little better…and we found a fuck ton of condoms which didn’t hurt. We’ve got Briar, too, who was a nurse so we’re moving toward integrating.”

“Sounds like a good set up,” Lucien agreed, ignoring how Tamlin’s eyes sharpened. He knew what was coming.

“It is. Fuck, man…it’s so good to see you. I haven’t seen anyone from…before. I know you and her and trying to get to California but there is nothing out there anymore. Who are you looking for, anyway?”

“Eris,” Lucien replied, earning a grimace from Tamlin. Eris was his brother and he cared for him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t blind to what the rest of the world thought of him. Eris had been a bastard, and Lucien didn’t think a global pandemic had done much to change that.

“You know he’s probably—”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucien interrupted, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Stay with us. It’s safe here. I know it’s Indiana but…”

Lucien clapped a hand on Tamlin’s shoulder. “I’ll think about it. We’ll stay tomorrow at least. Get some rest, talk to people.”

A day without driving, without eating old, stale gas station food sounded like heaven, besides. “Good. Stay as long as you want. Real quick…Elain? What’s her last name?”

“Archeron. Why?”

Tamlin shook his head back and forth, a contemplative look on his face. “No reason. She just looked familiar. Have a good night.”

Lucien wasn’t sure if having a good night was possible. Tamlin melted away and Lucien dawdled, making his way to the truck as if he needed anything. Screwing around until exhaustion convinced him to go back, Lucien locked up and plodded toward the little cabin.

It wasn’t her fault that she was beautiful and it wasn’t her fault that he was attracted to her. Elain was his friend and Lucien didn’t want to push her away because he didn’t know how to deal with the guilt and want he felt. It would pass, he told himself.

The house was lit up when he returned, and old habits convinced Lucien to walk through the little sitting room, with only a wood table and chairs for furniture, flipping off the lights as he went. The kitchen had what he hoped was a working stove and an oven he’d expect to see back in the eighteenth century.

Back down that little hall to the bedroom where Elain lay asleep, curled on her side. Tangled, damp curls spilled over her lovely face—beckoning him to brush them away. Sighing, Lucien took himself to the bathtub and washed himself quickly. The scalding water was, perhaps, the best thing he’d felt since the world went to shit.

“Lucien?” Elain’s voice from the darkened bedroom convinced him to crawl out.

“I’m coming,” he replied, groaning softly. “The water is hot.”

A pause, and then, “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice wasn’t the word he’d use, though it was good to hear the smile in her voice.

“I cried a little,” Elain continued, her voice hoarse from sleep. “I can’t remember the last time my hair felt clean.”

“I know,” he joked, wringing his own out over the tub. “How is the bed?”

“Soft,” she said with a sigh. “Are you…?”

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

Lucien tugged his boxer briefs up over his hips, glancing at his jeans. He didn’t want to sleep in them again and didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, either.

“Hey, Elain? Do ah…do you mind if I skip the clothes?”

Another pause. “Are you naked?”

Lucien ran a hand down his chest, heart thudding in his chest. “Mostly. Nothing obscene.”

“That’s fine. We should have asked Tamlin for a change of clothes before bed.”

Lucien raked a comb through his long hair quickly, towel drying it one last time before shoving it off his face. Turning off the light so not to assault her with his body, Lucien hurried quickly to the bed while Elain scooted comically to try and make room. As if she was the problem and not him.

The top of Elain’s head hit his collar bones when they stood in front of each other. She was a small woman and though the bed was, too, it was Lucien who was eating up all the space. He hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how they’d sleep without touching.

And then he gave up. Better to just lean into the closeness rather than admit it was weird. She’d slept on the couch beside him the night before, head on his shoulder. How was that any different? Lucien slid his arm around her middle, careful with where he put his fingers, and drew her away from the edge.

Elain relaxed the moment her back hit his chest. “It’ll be easier this way,” he said, pushing her hair out of his mouth with his free hand. “And I miss…” Ah, fuck, he shouldn’t have said anything.

Elain twisted to look at him. “Miss what?”

“Being close to someone,” he forced himself to say. “This is nice.”

Elain sighed, her breath warm against his neck. “The last person who touched me was trying to kill me.”

Lucien blinked away the urge to cry, nodding his head. “Me, too.”

Elain relaxed further into his hold, reaching for his hand until their fingers were interlaced. “How long are we going to stay here, Lucien?”

“A day,” he replied as he focused on just breathing. “Tamlin told me something. He said—” Lucien hesitated, knowing if he told her, Elain would want to go. Looking for a cure would mean giving up on Eris, on any shred of hope that someone he loved had survived. It meant starting over from the very beginning, creating a new life in this new world.

There was no going back. He could lie to her and try and chase the past. But as Elain blinked those big, brown eyes up at him, Lucien had the most terrible feeling that she might hate him if she found out he’d kept this from her.

She might leave him. Elain and his past weren’t compatible. He couldn’t integrate them.

And Lucien knew he couldn’t go back. Even if he found Eris and the world went back to normal, he’d still be without his wife. He’d still have to carry the knowledge of what it had been like to kill her, to leave her body behind.

Lucien had been moving purposelessly since everything went to shit. Even now, finding Eris was just a distraction—a last ditch hope that he’d wake up one day and this would all have been a dream. Lucien took a breath, his chest aching for all that he’d lost.

Even as his heart quickened at the thought of everything he might gain if he was just honest.

“Tamlin said there’s a cure in the pacific northwest.”

Elain leaned up on her elbows, staring down at him. “What kind of cure?”

“It can't’ bring people who were infected back…but it keeps the virus from turning people into zombies.”

“Lucien,” she breathed, her eyes out of focus. “If that’s true…”

“I know.”

“We have to find it,” she said, just like he knew she would. “Lucien, if that’s true it means we’d be safe. We wouldn’t have to do so much running, I would—”

She stopped herself, but Lucien knew what she was thinking. She wouldn’t have to worry that one day she’d have to kill him. He hadn’t even considered that, but looking up at her, eyes shining with hope, he didn’t think he could. Even if it meant dying, too—Lucien couldn’t stomach the thought of killing another person.

“Tamlin thought it was up in Seattle. We’ll head that way and see if it's true.”

Elain settled back in his arms, head resting on his bicep. “I hope it is,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

Lucien breathed out a soft sigh. “I do, too.”

#spot both the feysand AND nessianriel hints in this chapter #elucien #lucien and elain have a small awakening

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aceforwhatevenisthis · 1 year

Text

Band of Brothers - A Good Omens Fic

Summary: “I have no intention of fighting in any war.”

But that’s now.

Then, in the midst of the cracking bombshells and the ringing bullets? War didn’t -- and will never -- care about your intentions, whether human, angel, or demon.

(World War I AU?)

Word count: 7.9k

Tags: World War I, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Angst and Hurt/Comfort except the comfort is really minimal, Military, Not Beta Read, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Author's philosophical musings, Demons, Switching perspectives constantly, Hell is Terrible, Heaven is just as bad but more distant, Serious Injuries

Author's Notes: I dug this up from my old drafts and it was close enough to being done so I did. Apologies if the history and/or medical stuff is outrageously wrong; I am trying my best and this was written for fun. Also, general disclaimer that a lot of the things said/done here are not reflective of my views on war (I despise the principle of it, I am very much a pacifist) but are necessary for the environment/plot of the story.

Be warned that people do die and there might be some triggering incidents (please tell me if you want something specifically tagged). Generally, warnings for: violence, chemical weapons, death, medical injuries (not described in too much detail but yeah).

Anyways, enjoy

Also on AO3!

Aziraphale had been called to service, almost entirely because he seemed able-bodied enough for the French government to draft into the army. He was in no written records but a couple of weeks or so into the start of the fighting, Aziraphale would get the strangest of glances from older men in the streets of Paris, so he decided to sign up for the MHS where they took one look at him and thought him a capable-enough physician. It took Aziraphale some amount of effort to convince himself that his new military service was not because he had received an inked letter from Heaven a few days prior.

So off he went, riding in the back of a crowded truck, fitted in a bright blue coat and a pair of blue trousers — a stark contrast to his preferred palette. It was, however, somewhat refreshing to wear such colorful clothings again after so many years since his last grand ball.

A sharp whistle called him to attention and the truck stopped. Aziraphale could see the gleam of eagerness and pride in the eyes of the young men around him. To die for your country, serving with dignity and courage, that was the greatest honor any young man could earn. Aziraphale had seen many wars in his time on Earth — had partaken in many as well, this was no different — and every time he couldn’t help but send a quick prayer for the men he encountered.

But as they left the truck, joyous chatter among the newly-deployed soldiers, Aziraphale frowned at the sight of men digging — trenches? Never in his years of military service had he ever seen soldiers having to dig into the battlefield like such. Aziraphale shook his head, warring off his worry. Perhaps just a simple evolution of warfare, as it tends to happen with humans. The medical tents were but a stroll away from the trenches and so Aziraphale slipped away and got to work. Already there were soldiers in need of attention and there wasn’t a moment to waste.

-----------------

Three weeks later and the trenches were miles along, eventually running throughout all of Europe.

A month and the stench became unbearable. One week later and the soldier’s boots were sogged all the way through. It didn’t take long for their feet to rot away.

Nearly four months and Aziraphale thought he could get used to the sight of corpses littered along the battlefield, in the trenches, in the medical tents. But the men weren’t smiling anymore and Aziraphale considered himself lucky that he wasn’t on the frontlines. The men who came back alive from there were the ones who at first wouldn’t cry, but at night Aziraphale saw them scream into the night void and curl in on themselves. Those were the ones he prayed for the most.

It was nearly three in the morning when Aziraphale paused from washing dirty rags and saw one of the men from the frontlines kick at a tree and then slide his back down the trunk, his head between his shaking knees. The young soldier stayed like that until the sun rose over the horizon, lighting up the dark patches of blood blanketing the destroyed ground around all of them. The next time he saw the young soldier, a mere two days later, Aziraphale was helping the stretcher-bearers support the weight of the soldier’s cold body.

The wrong end of a German machine gun was the last thing the young soldier saw. Aziraphale made sure to personally pass the news to the soldier’s secret lover, who was recovering in a hospital cot from a delicate amputation.

“Sir Doctor,” the lover choked out in French, reaching for Aziraphale’s sleeve. “Please tell me he went quickly.”

Aziraphale fought the urge to grit his teeth. With a warm plastic smile he’s come to perfect in his months reassuring dying soldiers, he said, “Yes, he did.”

The lover nodded and clutched a small green diary to his chest. Aziraphale resigned quietly and sought out other patients in need in the tent.

Within two weeks, the secret lover would be sent home. Nearly fifty years later, Aziraphale would see him again, guiding his hand as they wrote a memoir for the young soldier and his secret lover, a green diary nearby that was in near perfect condition. It would take nearly another fifty years for the memoir to reach the public. It was the one of the only books Aziraphale ever bought various copies of to sell in his bookshop, because it would be after the war that he made sure no soldier would be forgotten to the harsh desert sands of time.

But that’s later, and this is now.

-----------------

Crowley lounged atop his bed in the barracks, surrounded by his fellow soldiers. He smiled as he placed down his cards on his rough mattress. “I believe that,” he pointed to the pile of makeshift tokens on the ground, “is mine, boys.”

Hans threw down his cards and nearly banged his head on the wooden ceiling. “You cheated!” he shouted in German.

“I absolutely did not,” Crowley answered with feigned outrage. He looked down at the bed beneath his own. “Did I, Erich?”

Erich snorted, gathering some cards and shuffling them. “You always do, Crowley. I don’t know why anyone’s surprised anymore.”

“Rematch!” called out Hans. He then promptly cringed when some half-asleep soldiers at the other side of the bunker glared at him. More quietly, he said, “I’ll keep an eye on you this time.”

Crowley laughed and resettled back into his mattress. “Yeah, I think I’m done for the day, boys.”

“I’ll wager my portion of tomorrow’s breakfast.” Crowley could feel the smirk on Hans’ face.

The demon let out a deep breath and shifted, rubbing his eyes. “Erich, you think they’ll give out something good for breakfast tomorrow?”

Erich put the cards away and tucked the tokens under his mattress. “I think Crowley’s saying ‘no,’ Hans.”

“Bullcrap! You’d never give up a wager, would you, Crowley?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” Crowley said while pulling his hat down his face, “I do have some form of self-control.” He lifted the hat a little to give Hans a once-over. “Unlike some people.”

“Hey!”

“Honestly, Hans, get some sleep,” muttered Erich as he rolled over on his mattress. “Save it for the frontlines.”

Hans looked at Erich and then at Crowley, before deciding to look at the ceiling and lay down properly on his bed. “What do you think they’re like? The frontlines?”

Erich shrugged. “Didn’t you just get off from the frontlines, Crowley?”

“They’re not worth it. Not one bit. Just a death sentence, really.”

“Isn’t that the point of it? To die for your country?” asked Hans. Crowley looked at him and only saw curiosity in the young man’s dark eyes; a genuine interest in debate.

“Could be. But then again, I’ve always chosen to save my own skin.” And I’ve chosen the angel. Only him.

Hans hummed. “If I die, would it hurt?”

Erich sat up in his bed. “I’d imagine it does, don’t it?”

“You wouldn’t like it. What comes after I mean. Don’t get your hopes up,” said Crowley, pulling his hat further down his face. He imagined that judging by the quietness that the conversation was decidedly over.

Still, Crowley didn’t make any move to remove his hat from his face. From under his darkened glasses, his eyes shut as he tried to chase the peacefulness and emptiness of sleep. After a while, Erich and (eventually) Hans drifted off to slumber.

Come morning, Hans would be sent off to the frontlines and a new soldier would take his bed. Johann was a pleasant young man — the textbook definition of beautiful German youth — but there was the way in which he saluted his commanders, as if he’s putting his entire body behind every salute. Whenever a commanding officer would speak to him, he’d seem like he was hyperfocusing his entire attention to that one conversation, like nothing else mattered. They’d tell him to run at the daily exercises and he wouldn’t question anything; he’d just run until he’s told to stop.

-----------------

Erich threw a small rock at Johann’s bed. “Hey schön, what’re you always smiling for?”

Johann lightly threw the rock back. “Piss off! Go to sleep.”

“If you’re looking for a medal, I don’t think the General would ever give you one. You talk too much for his liking.” Erich shook his head and continued to stack a pile of rocks next to his mattress.

“What medal? You can’t get one without coming back from the frontlines.”

“Well, there’s nothing else worth smiling over. Not in this bloodbath.”

Johann considered this for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Crowley, why do you think I smile?”

Crowley did his best to look uninterested, picking at his dirt-filled nails. “For my money, I’d say you’ve got a nice partner at home.”

Johann laughed and nearly fell off his bed. “I wish!”

“Alright, now you’ve got to tell us,” said Erich, restarting his rock pile, this time adding in the extra challenge of making one vertical pile upwards.

Johann put a finger to his lips and his eyes smiled at them conspiratorially. He beckoned both of them to lean closer. “I’ve got word from a friend in the third division that we’ve got those Russian bastards on the run at the Eastern front.”

“Spectacular,” said Crowley mockingly, rolling his yellow eyes.

“The Deutschland is going to win this war and we can all go home, celebrated as war veterans who defended their country with pride.” Johann punched the air near Crowley, as if reaching for his arm. “Surely you’ve got your own nice German girl back home to impress, Crowley.”

Johann was posed as he waited for any reaction, unbearingly proud of himself for divulging this information. Crowley scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“I’m sorry?” asked Johann, clearly deflating.

“That’s bullshit. If we were winning,” Crowley looked at Johann, “they wouldn’t need anymore soldiers at the frontlines, would they? But they keep transferring more and more, while less and less come back.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Go on all you like with your terrible rumors. It doesn’t change what’s going on. Don’t slack off because you think it’s over. You’d just get yourself killed.”

“Didn’t—” Erich started, hesitantly, “Didn’t you sign up voluntarily, Crowley?”

Crowley frowned and lazily stretched in his bed. “Nah. I’ve got orders. You think anyone would want to sign up for this mess?”

“Well, why don’t you just leave then?” Johann asked with a defensive tone, tensing his shoulders. “Clearly you’ve got no interest in defending your country!”

Crowley smiled. Just by Johann’s normal behavior Crowley could tell the soldier was a ready model. The carefree attitude, the free spirited mentality, the “patriotism,” all of it was perfect. He just needed to push a couple of buttons. “I could just leave, can’t I? I mean, the easiest way to go is through the frontlines, though. Not sure I’d call that a pleasant departure.”

Erich was eerily silent (though Crowley could definitely see the smile in his eyes) and Johann’s mouth had dropped. It was late in the night and while most soldiers were sleeping in the barracks, no one was in a deep slumber. Everyone could hear Crowley, and that was a dangerous thing to hear.

Erich was the first to break the silence. “You’re right.”

“What?” Johann sputtered. Crowley craned his neck to stare at Erich.

“Crowley’s right. Why do we need to die for a country that’s losing the war we’re dying for?” Erich was smiling, as if amused. Crowley couldn’t help but think that it’s not right for kids their age to be so at peace with death. It’s okay for him, he’s thousands of years old, but human kids with their whole life ahead of them? Out of the question.

“Hold on a second! You volunteered too!” Johann pointed at Erich.

“Yeah, because I’m stupid kid.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well,” Erich shrugged, “You can join us, if you’d like.”

Johann blanched and Crowley eyed Erich questionably. “ Us? ”

“Yeah, you, me, and Johann here. Three men, not like they would miss us. I mean, they already replaced Hans. And don’t act like you’re not ready to leave too, Crowley.”

“Absolutely not!” Johann shouted. A couple of men besides them were further roused from their sleep. “We’d be a disgrace. Traitors! The Deutschland would fall to the hands of those French and English bastards!”

Erich shrugged again and laid back on his bed. “Do what you want, then. I bet you’d be glad if you end up in the frontlines. Hell, I bet you’d beg for the promotion . You can get yourself a nice shiny medal, if you really tried.”

Johann growled but didn’t move. Instead, he rolled over, his back to them.

Crowley spent the rest of the night trying to convince himself that this was just a simple temptation, that he was most definitely not trying to convince kids to commit treason, that Hell ordered him to do it. He was a demon, and demons don’t help pathetic human kids cheat death. That would be Nice. Crowley was not Nice.

-----------------

It was a pleasant day, well into a graciously warm April, and Aziraphale mindlessly redressed a soldier’s wounds. The wounds themselves weren’t far too grave (not anymore) and so the task was simple enough after sufficient practice, going through the motions. Aziraphale hummed as his hands cleaned the rags, tying off loose ends. The soldier looked at him with curious brown eyes.

“Why aren’t you out there? In the frontlines?” said the soldier. “I’ve seen you carry other men. You’re incredibly strong.”

“Ah, well,” said Aziraphale as he cleaned the dirt off the soldier’s recovering leg, barely brushing over the sore wounds. The soldier hissed. Aziraphale continued, “I’ve never been much of a fighter, in all honesty.” Not lately. He was once. That was a long time ago.

The soldier nodded. “That’s respectable. I think lots of boys here quickly realized they aren’t much of a fighter.” He chuckled darkly and pointed to his hurt leg. “Then they end up like me.”

Boys — that’s what they were. Simple teenagers expected not to run away or give in when a gun is pointed at their heads, held by a cruel hand ready to shoot, only because if they don’t then they’d end up with a bullet in their own head. Aziraphale remembered how simple warfare used to be, with honor and dignity and respect for the opposing side, split by a green battlefield where you can see clearly who it is you are shooting at. Even farther back, when knights would duel for the sake of their king or their honor, commending each other for the courage of carrying out a duel. Aziraphale remembered when the military was a respectable path of life, honored by the people and by the nobles. But down in the trenches, with the explosive crackling sounds of machine guns and tanks firing overhead, the boys weren’t anything but the same as the rats in the city sewers. All while the commanding officers refused to have their hands dirty, itching for a proper fight for the sake of violence.

In retrospect, not much was different from the trenches than the army camps of old. The technology was different, sure, but the hierarchy was the same. It’s actually not too different from Hea--

Don’t.

Aziraphale patted the leg of the soldier he was working on and pretended like he didn’t hear anything. “All better. Do try to keep it clean, dear. God bless you.”

The soldier nodded and limped away, back to the trenches, back to that insufferable inferno, back to hell.

Aziraphale set a mental reminder to ask Crowley about that when he next sees him; the comparisons of Hell and the trenches (at least, about how the humans see it). He wondered if Crowley even knew what was going on. He had to, didn’t he? Hell loves it whenever humans go to war, especially on this scale.

Then again, so did Heaven. But of course, Heaven had divine justifications; all in part of the Great Plan and thwarting the enemy, guiding humans down the path of good and virtue.

Good. Keep that up.

Believe it.

Never forget it.

The thought of Crowley troubled him. Oh, he did hope the demon was taking care of himself. Their last argument in St. James Park was not ideal, per say, and they haven’t spoken in decades, much less seen each other.

A few hours later, at the crack of dawn, the sound of a whistle was heard and French soldiers were sent off in waves, running across no man’s land, hearts thumping louder than the gunshots. Some time after that, the noise died down and Aziraphale was sent to help collect the bodies from the waste and the debris. He managed to locate an older soldier (around his early thirties) whose right arm was stuck in barbed wire and his rotted feet had gotten sunken into the crater full of water. Aziraphale ran up to him and the startled soldier’s free hand went immediately to his bayonet. It was a miracle that the bullet missed and Aziraphale was able to drag the soldier back to the medical tents, heaving him up to the hospital cot and ripping off his uniform sleeves, exposing his infected arm.

The wound wasn’t as deep as Aziraphale feared and some minutes later, the arm was cleaned thoroughly. The feet, however, were in such a terrible condition that Aziraphale might just have to recommend the soldier be taken off duty.

(It never works. Aziraphale has tried before. But the French high command is dedicated to keeping as many soldiers on the battlefield as possible, not letting any get off easily. It reminded Aziraphale of— Don’t. )

A nurse came by as Aziraphale finished up with the soldier. He looked around himself, at the crowded tent with no hospital cots to spare. Some men had to recover on the dirty mud of the floor and it pained Aziraphale to think that he could be doing more, more miracles, more something.

But Orders are Orders. It will all work out for the best in the end. It has to.

Right?

-----------------

The night was beginning to set in as Aziraphale sat down at the entrance to his assigned tent, overlooking the sleeping soldiers. Most were sleeping, though some were busy in their own hobbies: writing, painting, some were even reciting plays to the people next to them. It made Aziraphale think of the orphanages he would visit occasionally, how pleasantly delighted he would be to usually find Crowley there, and the angel smiled fondly. The demon never talked about it but after millennia of always being able to find him near one, Aziraphale had his own suspicions.

It was a quiet night so far, even with the muffled laughter where some men would recite lines from famous plays. The braver few would indulge in singing their favorite operas. Aziraphale made sure to place soldiers whom he knew had an affinity for instruments next to the singers. It warmed his heart to listen to the confident singers and the resourceful musicians (who more often than not recreated their preferred instruments with nearby objects or their voices). It made this whole mess almost seem normal, if only for a little bit, when the warfare outside has quieted down enough to forget where you are.

There was some shuffling outside, however. Aziraphale could hear it but thought nothing of it. It was typical. The cover of night helped the soldiers do things they normally weren’t allowed to do, like sing or fool around. Be normal young men. If only for some fleeting minutes.

Aziraphale smelled it before he noticed anything else. It was potent and irritating, stronger than anything he’s smelled before. He put down his book and took a breath in, trying to place the smell. Aziraphale gagged immediately, covering his mouth. It was most decidedly not something he would like to experience, thank you very much. Luckily, he didn’t need to breathe, and so he turned off his respiratory system. It was most likely some foul smell from the blood and the rotting flesh around the trenches. Maybe even mixed with gunpowder or the sweat of so many dirty people (who unfortunately haven’t been able to bathe properly in months ).

Then the shouting started and the peaceful ambience of the medical tent vanished as if it never existed. Sleeping soldiers jolted awake and some tried to stand to attention before realizing the pain in their bodies was more overwhelming than awaiting orders. Aziraphale rushed out of his wooden chair and exited the tent with a hurrying pace. Red, blazing flares went up in certain spots along the long trenches, illuminating the green sky.

No, that wasn’t right. The angel pushed his way to the nearby frontlines, searching— There! The sound of a cannon and somewhere down the line of the trench, a metal canister lodged itself between the ground and the sandbags of the trench barrier. Then, like a firework, it popped open, releasing nothing. Aziraphale stared at it, trying to make out any details in the extremely dim light and from such far a distance. But nothing came out of the canister.

The officers closest to his stretch of the trenches shook their heads. The eldest one spoke up. “It was a malfunction of their cannons. Tell the men not to panic but to be ready if needed.”

The officers dispersed and the eldest remained by Aziraphale’s side. He looked at the angel and sniffed. “What do you think of it?”

“Pardon?” asked Aziraphale. “Is it not a failed explosive?”

The officer scoffed. “That’s only to not raise more alarm than is needed, Sir Doctor. The Germans have been too resilient to send in failed explosives and not back it up with something more reliant.”

“Then, and forgive me for asking, but why ask me? ”

“Why ever not?” His pale eyes glared into Aziraphale’s. “I like having second opinions given to me. You are a respectable doctor. My men have said so.”

Aziraphale glanced back at the faraway canister. He frowned and tried to pull some miracle to be able to see it more clearly. It was a long moment before his blue eyes caught something unusual. “If you look closely, the area surrounding it is close to a green color.”

The officer nodded. “Most strange. I will advise the men not to touch it then.”

Then, more shouting erupted, more noise, the sound of help! down the opposite end of the trenches in the area. More emergency flares were sent up, accompanied by a faint green smoke, and Aziraphale paled. The officer must have noticed it too because his war-hardened eyes were full of fear.

The men returning from that side of the trenches were coughing, doubling over as they gasped for breath.

They would cough, and then they would fall, and they would cough again, liquid spilling out from their lungs until their bodies stilled. Paramedics arrived, would inspect the men, shake their heads to each other, before also having coughing fits. They too would promptly fall on the ground and convulse until they stilled.

The officer was the first of the two of them to move. “Damn!” he shouted as he raced to the first soldier he could grab hold of.

“Don’t let anyone get near the canisters!” he hollered to the nearby men.

Aziraphale flew past all of them. The officer called after him (“Are you out of your damn mind!”) but to no avail. His attention went back to commanding the soldiers around him. In the dense haze of the green gas, the angel could see closely how it affected the soldiers: extremely intense coughing, spasms, faints. The more you inhaled, the more you coughed, but the more air you’d need, and so the cycle continued. Aziraphale was quick to carry as many men as he could, tripping over himself multiple times, until he could deposit them into the farthest medical tents. The nurses and other volunteer physicians set to work immediately and Aziraphale made his way back to the trenches.

The sun was starting to rise when Aziraphale was able to sit down. He panted and ran his hands through his dirty hair, having spent many miracles to help where he could. The green fog was still dense by the time the sun fully rose and the once blue sky was a terrible green. Not so much because of the color but because there was no wind to disperse the gas somewhere else and so it all concentrated in the immediate area. The wet and damp atmosphere made it immensely worse, as the gas ate through and corroded the metal equipment in the trenches.

The next day, Aziraphale was given the casualties report. More than a thousand dead in an area of a few square miles. And those were only the registered soldiers. The doctors and nurses that cared for the poisoned soldiers were not recorded yet and it filled Aziraphale with dread.

The Germans did not start any attack for the rest of the week nor for the week after that. The eldest commanding officer was now a stout man with a full beard and stone-cold eyes. He did not meet the eyes of any of his subordinates nor of the doctors. He gave orders and expected someone to execute them. He was nothing like the officer before him.

“Those bastards will get what they deserve,” he would say often, and those around him would nod solemnly. If he heard laughter or saw smiles, he would roar. If he heard music or chatter, he would threaten to put the offending person on the frontlines as shooting practice.

Aziraphale hated him.

By then, it was well into a hot summer. Aziraphale was moved from the medical tents to the barracks, because the stout commanding officer decided that he looked strong enough to hold a gun and strong enough to face down the enemy. There were soldiers in Aziraphale’s barracks that he recognized from their stay in the medical tents. They looked at him and shook their heads in defeat, wondering how he ended up here and knowing the exact answer to why: the French needed more men. They were losing the war and they weren’t afraid to repurpose.

-----------------

“Put some backbone into it, men!” shouted one of the officers. He shook his fist in the air and the soldiers were drenched in sweat as they banded together to lift the fallen tree. It was blocking the transport line and any more delay would make the trucks late as they rolled their way to the trenches. After the tree was finally moved, the soldiers clambered over to the back of the army trucks. Crowley huffed as he got himself comfortable on the bench.

Hell was more rigorous with appearances this time around and Crowley could only guess why. The war has only been going on for about a year and already so many humans are dismissing belief in God, feeling as though She has abandoned them entirely. So many souls ripe for the picking. Temptations naturally come more easily, as was the logic of Hell, and thus Crowley did not need so many miracles, seeing as any display of the supernatural will equate to divine power in the eyes of the humans.

It was about the most creative thing that the Dark Council has ever come up with, like they were finally taking Crowley up on his advice of getting an imagination. And so, they’d sent him to ensure that the most amount of destruction was made possible, predicting that with Germany’s industrialization, if the Germans were to be only a little more ahead, then the vengeful nature of France and the imperial attitudes of England and Russia would maximize the tragedy.

As much as Crowley hated to admit it, it was working so far, and Hell was even keeping a closer eye on him. They’d even interrupted his depressive nap, claiming he’s done enough slothing about, and ordering him to fulfill his new mission with the utmost efficiency.

Crowley wondered if Aziraphale was caught up in this bloody war as well. He probably was; Heaven loved it when humans went to war. He tried to imagine Aziraphale with firearms and shuddered, feeling suddenly fearful of the soft angel he’s known for millennia. A sword was one thing, but a gun? Divine justice to the extreme, enough to make any demon cower in fear.

“—about that, Crowley?” asked Erich, snapping the demon out of his thoughts.

“What?” said the demon elegantly.

“The gas,” said Johann, as if that explained anything. “They just deployed it on the Western front. I think it’s a coward’s weapon. You don’t even face your opponent! And what’s it even going to do to the Allies? Absolutely nothing, I tell you.”

“I think it’s only good enough to shake up the Allies. But we aren’t any closer to going home.” Erich tapped the butt of his gun on the floor of the truck, fiddling with it.

“Sure. Yeah. Gas.” Crowley crossed his arms and laid his back against the wall of the truck. He crossed his leg over the other and fixed his gaze on the disappearing road as the truck carried on.

“You know,” said Johann in that same conspiratorial voice, “I heard that the French have an angel on their side. He came out completely unaffected by the gas.”

Crowley sat up in interest.

Erich groaned in annoyance. “An angel? As if. We wouldn’t be here if God was actually benevolent. We’re all God-fearing Christians. Why do we need to die like this?”

Johann scoffed. “Again with that, Erich?”

Erich opened his mouth to retort but Crowley put a hand on his shoulder and turned to Johann. He’s a violent boy. Exploit that. “If you want to argue, wait until we’re out of this truck. You’ll have more space for a proper fight.”

Johann snorted. “I always think you’re too old for this job, Crowley. You sound like my father.”

“What, are you scared of a little scuffle?” Erich smiled.

“N-No!” Johann sputtered. “I just think that I should save my energy for some pathetic Allied bastard. Be able to enjoy it with all my strength at the ready.”

Erich made a disgusted face and gave Crowley a side glance. Crowley shook his head. “Very honorable,” he said with as much sarcasm as the demon could muster.

“Well, it’s what they deserve for trying to ignore Germany and her might. They won’t ignore us after this.”

“Is that what they tell you?” Crowley asked, in absolute pure disbelief. He shouldn’t be surprised, however, especially coming from Johann.

“Is it not true, oh wise old man?”

“Definitely not,” said Erich. “Do you even read the news?”

“The news from where? English papers and their lies?”

“ German papers and their reports. Do you even know what happened last summer? Or are you just that thick?”

Johann’s argument was interrupted by the truck lurching to a stop and the soldiers next to the trio filtering out. They’ve arrived at the newly built trench with a restock of supplies for the Eastern front. Johann got out first, Erich stuck his middle finger at him, and Crowley rolled his eyes. Honestly, Johann was too easy of a Temptation and Crowley hasn’t even done anything yet.

The trucks were unloaded quickly. While the other soldiers, including Johann, went ahead, Erich grabbed Crowley by his sleeve and pulled him back.

“What do you want?” hissed Crowley.

“We could leave. Right now.” Erich had a determined look in his eyes.

“Are you insane?” The poor boy would be shot immediately. At least he’d go quickly. Still, Crowley was not up to watch kids die.

“Come on! You want to leave too!”

“They’ll kill you,” Crowley said with a growl, yanking his arm free from Erich’s grasp.

“We’d die anyways if we stay.”

Crowley sighed and slung his gun around his shoulder, resting it on his back.

-----------------

“Shoot those bastards down!”

“We’re on our last bullets!”

“Crowley, look out!”

“Run!”

. . .

“It was him! It was all him! He made us do it! He’s the devil!”

“Shut it!”

“Please, Johann-!”

“ Shut it! Kill this one too.”

“But-!”

“Do you traitors have anything to say for yourselves?”

“...go to hell.”

. . .

“What shall we do with the Brit?”

“Leave him here. The rats will have him soon enough. The general requested us on the Eastern front.”

-----------------

“And why would saving the lives of these humans guarantee souls for our Master, demon Crowley?”

“Well, you’ve got all these humans ignoring orders, rebelling, ya know? And you’ve got 50 million people pissed off at their leader. They’re willing to do anything at this point. And it’s not really saving their lives, innit? We’d have them later in their lifespans.”

“...I see. Then you have your orders, Crowley. We will send a group of other demons to cover all of Europe.”

“...how many demons?”

“Does it matter? Enough to claim all of humanity’s souls.”

“Right. Okay. Yeah. Teamwork. Wahoo.”

-----------------

“Hail Satan,” greeted the demons with toothy smiles.

Crowley strolled up to them and gave a half wave. “Right, Satan. Er, what do you want?”

“To coordinate. Beelzebub wishes a smooth victory for Hell,” said the one with a head full of gray horns instead of hair.

“Right. Well, I’m pretty good here— er, bad— well, you get it.” Crowley stuffed his hands into the pockets of his uniform jacket. “You can do as you please. I’ve got this front covered.”

One of the demons frowned with what was left of their rotten, misshapen face. They sniffed the air and growled. “I smell humans.”

Another demon, much shorter, jumped up to hit their companion over the head. “We’re on Earth, moron. Of course there’s bloody humans!”

“No, not like that.” They thought for a moment and cringed, scowling. “I smell virtuous humans. Untainted by us.”

“Listen, I’ve already said I’ve got it under control here. You can move along and go tempt some other poor sods—”

“Shut it, Crawly—”

“ Crowley. ”

“—you’ve got explaining. Why are there good humans here? Where are they?”

Crowley shifted on his feet slightly. Just a few miles away, back towards the south, along a path he had hiked along, was a farm that had been abandoned at some point in the war. The family had left in a hurry when the war came their way and so the animals and some commodities were still there. Lounging just outside the main barn were Erich and his friends, gathered around a small fire and looking up at the unpolluted, untouched night sky.

Crowley gritted his teeth. “It’s a bit of a harder job than usual.”

The short demon jumped up repeatedly to reach Crowley’s eye level. “Let us introduce ourselves then!”

“Surely a demon would have no reason to object to the help of other denizens of Hell?” said the very first demon with his head of horns. It smirked cruelly. There were multiple reasons to object to the help of other demons. Many of which were fairly obvious, thought Crowley, and he was glad once again for the protection his glasses gave him as he tried for a pleasant smile.

“Oh, they’re already on the brink. It won’t be too long for them to give in.” His hands twitched in his pockets. “Got them to rebel, desert, see? Highest sin: disobedience. Especially in these times.”

The demon with hardly a face grunted, the short demon eyed the red-head suspiciously, and the horn-headed seemed satisfied with Crowley’s answer. “Very well.”

“Eh?”

“Carry on, Serpent of Eden,” said the demon mockingly. “But we’ll be here, in case you find it too hard to handle.”

The other two demons seemed to want to protest, eyes wide, but the horn-headed demon grabbed both of them and dragged them away, finally vanishing into the maze of branches and bushes beyond.

Crowley swallowed. “Right. That was a thing.”

He turned back in the direction of the farm. Upon arrival, he found the soldiers exactly where he left them, even if half of them were asleep or drowsy. Erich was one of the few still wide awake. He grinned at Crowley as the demon sat down next to him.

“Any news to report, Captain?” said another soldier.

Crowley was not a captain but the young man seemed intent on calling him as such. In fact, most of the soldiers here either called him “sir” or “captain.” The few who called him Crowley were the ones he respected the most.

“Ngh,” answered Crowley. “Just the occasional rabbit. More snow. Nothing much.”

Erich laughed. “Did you even try to patrol?”

Crowley smacked him in the arm. “If all of you end up dead, so do I. Not patrolling seems a bit of a conflict of interest, innit?”

The other soldiers hummed in agreement. Some even laughed as well. Erich just laughed harder. One particular soldier just glared at Crowley. The demon racked his brain for a name — nothing came up. That boy was more quiet than the rest and he always seemed reluctant to have joined their group. Back in the trenches, he was almost left behind while the group joined Erich and he had to run to catch up to them.

After a while, as the fire died down, most of the soldiers had drifted off to sleep. Erich was just about ready to turn in for the night, standing up to claim a spot inside the warm barn with the itchy hay. It was a harsh winter but with what all of these boys had seen in the trenches, it wasn’t so bad. It just took some getting used to. There were some sheep in the fields of the farm as well. One of the soldiers used to watch his mother knit and another used to live on a farm, although he only ever worked with the pigs. Together, they had managed to strip the sheep of some of their wool and make something that could count as blankets for the rest of the group.

Crowley stayed near the dying fire, acting as guard. He tucked his knees in and focused his eyes into the dark forest surrounding them. That quiet boy was staring at him with a blank face. It would be unnerving if Crowley wasn’t so used to it already.

Only a mere year into the war and already there were thousands — if not millions — dead, most on the Allied side only because the Centrals decided to play defensive and it seemed to be working. No one was prepared for this though, but it was coming, and Crowley hated that. That’s the thing with free will: humans do this to themselves. Crowley usually just has to open certain doors and they’ll walk right through. Same with angels, in a way. They hold the door open but the path is troublesome and Heaven likes to pride itself in the journey to virtue instead of the virtue itself. In reality, though, Blessings and Temptations are just two sides of the same coin. Free will is the one who flips it and decides which no matter what the result was.

At some point, deep into the night, the fire had died out. Crowley still refused to rest and he could already see just a sliver of sunlight peak over the dark horizon. But it was also the middle of winter and while the fire’s light would be useless in a few hours, its warmth was still valuable. Thus, Crowley got up to search for more wood.

Unfortunately for him, good branches for the fire were further into the forest. The big ones high in the trees were a bit difficult to break off and the ones on the forest floor were hidden by a fresh layer of glistening snow, not to mention wet as well. Frowning, Crowley resolved to snap off the smaller branches: the ones closer to the ground and the ones on the very ends of the bigger ones. Not too great to keep a fire going but okay enough for kindle, if only for a little while. Maybe he could use a miracle to keep the flames going more than they should. Shouldn’t be too big a miracle that Hell would notice, right? Damn their new restrictions for this mission.

Crowley reached towards a small tree, on the edge of a cliff. He stepped around it a bit, mindful of the sudden drop behind him as he found footing. His arms were full of dry branches and he quickly snapped another one off the tree. He stepped again, in the fresh snow this time, then—

The ground gave out from under him.

Crowley fell.

-----------------

Aziraphale always seemed to find looking at his surroundings much more stimulating than focusing on the monotonous marching of soldiers, even if he was marching too. That being said, it’s not like his surroundings were much more interesting. The open valley was the same landscape they’ve been in for the past week and other than some small game here and there, not much would happen. The most comfort they’d had was a small farmhouse they had spent part of the night in and had just left that early morning. The soldiers’ morale was at an all time low as well; anyone could tell you that. The winter was depressing and long and far too cold and Aziraphale had no idea what the actual status of the war was—

Wait. What the heavens was that?

Something fell from the valley walls around them. Aziraphale and the other soldiers near the back stopped and turned. A few of them already armed their guns, pointing in that general direction. But nothing moved so neither did they, except for Aziraphale, unarmed due to his position, who cautiously approached the area. And imagine his surprise when he saw a lanky figure with fiery red hair, stilled, deep in the snow.

“What is it, doctor?” one of the soldiers called, slinging his gun over his arm.

“Nothing, just a rabbit,” Aziraphale called back. “Nothing to worry about.”

The soldier nodded and signaled to the others to resume their marching. Aziraphale waved his hand quickly — a simple miracle to force the soldiers’ indifference — and got to work getting Crowley somewhere else. The farmhouse in the valley wasn’t too far and frankly, Crowley looked like he was in no condition to get there by himself.

-----------------

“What the hell are you doing, Aziraphale?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Crowley? It’s not exactly very discreet.” Aziraphale gently wrapped Crowley’s leg with gauze. He said sternly, “Stay still.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and growled. “Thought you had other people to fraternize with.”

“I still refuse to give you a suicide pill. I thought I made that clear half a century ago.” The angel propped a wooden board against Crowley’s leg and began tying the two together.

“That’s not—!” Crowley winced when Aziraphale tied his leg harsher than he probably should’ve. “Fine. Have it your way then.”

Crowley settled himself against a bundle of hay near the back wall. The splint was expertly made. After a moment, he looked at Aziraphale’s blue uniform, the red cross on the angel’s sleeve, and asked, “Why France?”

“Heaven’s instructions. They had caught me in the middle of lunch. Give me your arm. Why Germany?”

The demon extended his mangled left arm as best as he could. Aziraphale doused it with clean water and started wrapping it in gauze. Crowley said, “Hell’s orders. They caught me in the middle of my nap. Didn’t even know what was going on ‘til I walked out of Hell in a uniform.”

“Seems as though we are canceling each other out,” said the angel, teasingly.

Crowley didn’t smile. “Not this time, angel.”

Aziraphale stopped dressing the rest of Crowley’s wounds and sat down on the hay beside him, looking at him intently. “What happened, Crowley?”

The demon looked away.

-----------------

Crowley buried his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and wrapped himself around his soft angel. They were comfortably in bed and the world was, gratefully, not destroyed. Aziraphale held him in his strong arms, one hand stroking gently through the demon’s fire hair, murmuring sweet nothings. At one point, Aziraphale spoke up, as a thought occurred to him. “Dear? “Hm?”

“Do you ever wonder about your platoon’s families? From the Great War?”

Crowley squeezed him a little harder, sleep still in his voice. “‘Ey weren’t m’ platoon, angel, they were m’ friends. Far as I know, their families had the recession to worry about. No time for grieving.”

“Yes, but…”

Crowley shifted. “What’s wrong, angel? Talk to me.”

Aziraphale pulled his lips together and hummed in thought. “I was wondering… what with the relative life-spans of humans… and the fright we had at the beginning of the 20th century…”

Crowley pulled a face. “Oh, don’t start with this again, angel.”

“No, no, my dear. It’s not that. Though that discussion was certainly interesting—”

“You mean depressing.”

“—I was just wondering how they, the humans, put such blind trust in each other. We’ve been friends for six thousand years, but they only get a maximum of about a hundred. It’s so short in comparison.”

Crowley nodded, trying blinking the sleep in his tired eyes away as Aziraphale continued to run his hand through his hair. “It’s a miracle, innit?”

“It’s certainly heartwarming. I must say, they truly had it in the 1960s. Do you remember the 1960s, dear?”

“Bright as day, angel.”

“Oh, that was a terrible time. So much fighting, like a repeated cycle. But they made it out, to your night canvas.”

Crowley smiled fondly. “I remember your face when I forced you to sit through the recording of the moon landing. Do you really mean to tell me you hadn’t used a telly yet before that?”

“Oh, hush you fiend.” A moment passed in comfortable silence. “They really do love each other, don’t they, my dear? Like a family.”

“Pretty big family. Billions of distant cousins.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I’m very glad this all isn’t, how did you put it, ‘a pile of boiling goo?’”

“A big messy ball of boiling goo.”

“Yes, that.”

Crowley yawned. “A big soft pillow too. G’night, angel.”

“Good night, my beloved.”

Because even with all its flaws, humanity is not a species or a grand family; it’s a celebration of life and kindness. Because even in the end-that-wasn’t, through the sheer kindness of an 11-year-old boy with his dog and his friends, the earth continued to spin. Because even though terrible things have happened, whole cities destroyed, whole continents mercilessly bombed, whole lives with so much future potential lost, life finds a way. And an angel and a demon can stand testimony for it, because they’ve seen it all, through the good and the bad. And that’s beautiful, in its own complicated way. The unsung heroes of everyday life that you don’t notice, the newborn crying as their mother holds them tight to her chest and promises to protect them forever, the friend you lost but will never forget; they’re all beautiful.

They’re all worth it.

And that’s beautiful.

-----------------

More Author's Notes:

If this story made no sense, just pretend it did. I also initially wrote this during quarantine so do with that information what you will.

Historical notes: 1. The year 1915 was the year with the most fighting on the Western Front. It was also the deadliest year for the French forces, with 349,000 deaths.

2. In 1915, the Germans were also focusing on the Eastern front with Russia. On April 22 of that same year, the Germans unleashed chlorine gas on the Western front but that was the only battle they instigated that year, as an experiment for the gas. However, they didn’t think the gas would be effective at all so this allotted nothing other than further death and destruction.

3. The MHS (Military Health Services) was made up of volunteer doctors and nurses willing to put their life on the line to set up hospitals and medical tents wherever the fighting went. However, they were constantly overwhelmed with the amount of deaths per day on either side of the fighting. It was apparently common for civilians to see dozens of hospital trains and hundreds of ambulances pass through cities on the daily. According to German writer Leonhard Frank, these were a representation of the war as they quite literally brought home the horrors of the trenches, regardless of the side.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #ace writes #world war 1 #why is that a tag on this website #anyways i hope yall enjoy #please ignore any plot holes this is really old

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janetbrown711 · 1 year

Text

As the World Caves In

How on earth have they survived?

tw mention of childloss/miscarriage

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Ao3 Link

To say William woke up feeling refreshed would be the most obvious lie of all history.

His first thought in his painfully groggy head of his was of his location. Without opening his eyes, he recognized he certainly wasn’t in the palace anymore. It smelled of elixirs and medicines, and the bed he was on was slightly scratchy and worn.

His second thought was of Lena.He couldn’t feel her next to him, which worried him a lot. So much so he fought off his grogginess and opened his eyes.

This third thought was remembering what had happened.

Freeing Wakko. Hurting his arm. The attack. Lots of walking.

He tried sitting up but a wave of pain shot through his whole body and he was forced to sit back down. However, he looked across the room and saw her.

Lena was in a bed across the room from him. She had bandages wrapped around her shoulder and chest, as well as her hands and left foot, as her right leg was in a cast. Her face was also thoroughly bruised and William could still see the mark her mother’s ring had left on her cheek however long ago that was.

His fourth thought was of his children.

They weren’t here, he and Lena were in Acme Falls, far, far away from the castle. He missed them so much already…

“Oh good, you’re awake,” The familiar voice of Helloise Nerz spoke softly. “How are you feeling William?”

How was he feeling? Almost every inch of his body ached and hurt, his wife somehow appearing worse than him, and he was miles and miles away from his children, whom he already missed terribly.

“Right… dumb question,” She apologized. “How much do you remember?”

He thought for a moment.

“Last thing I remember is passing out on your doorstep,” He said. She nodded.

“Well, that’s at least good, because that was the last thing that happened,” She said, checking off something on a notepad.

“So… what’s wrong with me, doc?” He joked a little. Helloise chuckled.

“Nurse. Scratchy is the real doc,” She remarked.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Helloise. I’m sure you could run this place if you had to,” He said. She snorted.

“You’ve got a terribly sprained arm that I noticed was already bandaged, but you’ve made it much worse from, I presume, carrying her highness?” She asked, and William nodded in confirmation. “You also have a torn ligament in your right ankle, minor frostbite, and very strained leg muscles,” she read off of a chart.

“And Lena?” He asked.

“Broken rib, a minor concussion from what we can tell, fractured fibula, severe bruising on the face, minor frostbite, and blood loss from a wound in the right shoulder we cleaned and stitched up, as well as… well– we aren’t sure, we’ll need to talk to her highness before confirming our last suspicion.”

William looked at his wife again.

“How long have we been asleep?” He asked.

“Three days,” She said.

“W-what? Three days?!” he couldn’t believe it.

Helloise sighed. “William…” she sat on the edge of his bed.

“The whole kingdom thinks you two are dead, and honestly? You two are lucky to even be alive.”

“What? Why? How? What about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they alright?” He tried sitting up again, but the pain set him back.

“Well, her majesty the queen threw a funeral two days ago. They said attackers stormed the castle in the night and killed the two of you,” She explained.

“But what about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they okay?” He begged.

“I haven’t heard any news of the three of them, so they should be alright with the queen,” Helloise shrugged.

“If you could consider being with the queen alright,” he muttered.

“Yes… if that can be considered good…” She scratched the back of her neck.

William sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, Helloise.” His friend smiled pitifully.

Just then, a low grumble came from across the room, and Lena began to stir.

“What… where… Will..?” she mumbled as her eyes slowly opened and she took in her surroundings. William wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, and it took him all of his willpower not to. Instead, the good nurse went over and started evaluating her mobility and explaining the situation to her.

“D-dead..?” Her face went pale as a ghost. “That means… They’re with– We have to go. Now,” She looked at William, and started trying to get out of bed to the point where Helloise had to basically restrain her.

“Your highness, you can’t. You need to recover, and you have a broken leg, remember?” She said, adjusting her pillows, but Lena didn’t want to stop fighting.

“I can’t leave them with her- I can’t,” She shook her head.

“Lena…” William said softly. She looked at him for a moment, before giving in and turning her head away. Just then, the doctor came in.

“Oh goodie, you two are awake,” Scratchnsniff said, but he quickly read the room.

“Er… how are you two feeling?” He asked. William shrugged, while Lena remained silently looking away.

He then pulled the nurse back outside to talk for a moment, promising it wouldn’t be long. William nodded and let them go, and his eyes went to Lena.

She wouldn’t look at him, even when he said her name. It broke his heart in two despite that he knew she was going through a lot. After all, they were both terribly worried about the kids.

The kids.

William knew they were resourceful and clever, but he honestly had no idea what Angelina was going to do to them now that they were out of the picture- especially if she thought they were dead.

Especially to Wakko.

“So… your highnesses… what can you tell us about the attack?” The doctor reentered and asked.

“Oh god… where to start?” he chuckled nervously.

“If you aren’t ready, it’s totally fine,” Helloise sat on the edge of his bed. “We just… well… the people are curious. You are supposed to be dead after all.”

“Of course,” William said, before taking a deep breath and beginning.

.o0o.

It had been a tense week. William had been mad at himself when he had sprained his arm. He was a knight, dammit, he was supposed to be trained to be better than that. Now it meant he had to postpone any of his own mini training lessons he was giving Wakko and Yakko until later, which he knew Yakko would be suspicious of. He always had a habit of picking up on their anxiety and carrying it with him like it was his responsibility too, which was upsetting for multiple reasons.

Some of Angelina’s lessons were extremely difficult to try and undo.

At least Wakko was trying to be optimistic about things. After he had broken him out of the tower, Wakko was spending a lot more time with them as a family, suddenly talking to them a lot more than he used to, which William took as a good sign, as he desperately wanted something to look on the bright side about.

Dot was happy too, of course, as she was just glad to have Wakko back too. She could hardly tell everyone else was anxious, she was only four after all.

Oh to have such innocence…

When the first window broke, William had been up in a flash, and despite his injury, he grabbed his sword anyway.

“William? What’s the matter?” Lena had asked, halfway asleep.

“Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll handle this,” he kissed her head and headed out.

“...Be careful,” He heard her say as the door closed.

He walked through the halls, surprised at just how silent everything was. For a moment he even believed the sound might just be a figment of his imagination. Still, he kept his guard up, praying his knight training wouldn’t fail him now.

“…this castle is huge! Even with the map she gave us,” a disgruntled, not-too-far off voice said. William ducked behind a curtain for cover.

“Quit your whining! It’s only three steps: grab the king, grab the queen, and grab the kid if there’s time to spare,” A lower voice shrugged, and William immediately leapt from behind to attack.

Unfortunately, William found himself evenly matched by his opponent and also realized his attacker was surrounded by allies, some that were even taller than him.

He was kinda screwed.

Still, he fought and parried and swung and blocked with a valiant effort, though the pain in his arm burned more and more and it was evident he was becoming weaker. His opponent saw this, and got behind, and he brought down the handle of his sword onto his arm, and William dropped his sword and fell onto the ground, growling in pain.

“Remember, queenie said no blood on her carpets or tapestries if we can help it,” The tallest reminded his attacker, who was now pointing his sword at his face. “Tie him up. With the strongest removed, we can work on getting that queen and the middle boy,” He ordered, before taking a few and leaving.

Wakko.

William growled, and swiped his feet out from under him, causing his attacker to fall to the ground. William then began fighting with his bare fists against the men who tried jumping on and fighting him next.

However, he was too surrounded, and before William knew it, his wrists were tied and he was captured.

“Alright, move it, princey,” one of the men kicked him. William gnashed his teeth, but they planned for that, as two of the men held him down, and a third quickly put a muzzle around him.

“There, now that should get you to behave,” He grinned, pulling William up, and the three men forced him out of the castle, and into the back of a carriage, where he was locked in and left.

He tried kicking the door open, but it was pure metal and all he did was hurt his feet and exhaust himself.

William was alone for quite an amount of time, and he tried everything he could to break free of his restraints but nothing was working. He cursed his stubbornness that caused him to sprain his arm- if it hadn’t been for that he was confident he would’ve been able to take down the six men. He was a knight for god’s sake- he was supposed to be able to protect his family.

He was supposed to be able to protect his family.

After a long moment of silence and stillness, the door opened and Lena was thrown in next to him, and William caught a glimpse of the outside and noticed it was snowing lightly.

He didn’t dwell on that, his eyes falling onto Lena, who looked horrible. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked at him, and she had a giant gash in her shoulder. Despite that, she slowly and painfully crawled her way over and laid against his chest. William did his best to hug her with his hands tied.

Neither of them could say a word, but both knew exactly what the other was feeling, and they did their best to embrace and comfort each other.

Then, the carriage began to move.

They didn’t capture Wakko.

Despite everything, William sighed a breath of relief.

Silently, the couple rode for hours, not knowing where they were being taken or why or who was behind any of this, though they had a few guesses.

William was just glad he still had Lena, even if it wouldn’t be for much longer.

He loved her with his entire being, nothing would ever change that, not an evil queen, and not even death.

However, his mind quickly went to his kids.

Wakko was alive- at least, he hoped. The attackers said they couldn’t get blood anywhere, hopefully, that meant they just ran out of time to find him and he was okay.

But if they were killed, William had no idea what Angelina would do to them. They would have no protection from her now. They could be hurt, or worse…

William hugged Lena a little tighter.

After an hour or two of riding, the temperature inside the carriage got notably colder, the snow outside picking up.

William prayed for a miracle.

They continued riding on, William even drifting to sleep at one point, when they were suddenly jerked awake. there were shouts from out of where they were, and William and Lena sat up best they could, though Lena was in a lot more pain. Suddenly, the carriage lost control, and started to skid and slide, though William and Lena had no idea what the cause was- but it didn’t matter because not before long, it crashed into a tree and everyone was thrown into the air, and landed with a crash and crack.

William winced at the sound, closing his eyes but when he opened, he saw it-

The doors were busted open.

Quickly, William scooted out, gesturing for Lena to follow, but she was closing her eyes and cringing in pain, and William realized she had injured her leg in the fall. He knew they didn’t have much time to run, so he carefully got her out, having her arms go around him with the tie, and had her hold herself up best she could as they ran into the woods, and far, far away from the carriage.

It was extremely difficult for a number of reasons, but William was training in hunting and so knew at least how to cover his tracks. He didn’t know where they were or where a good hiding place would be but he just had to hope he could find one eventually– and hopefully one where there was a sharp rock or something so they could untie their wrists.

A feeling of pure relief washed over William as he spotted a cave in the distance and immediately ran for it, barely hiding his tracks anymore and once there, he carefully managed to get Lena off his back and on the ground, where he then found a rock like he wanted and cut the rope tying his wrists. He then took off his muzzle and did the same for Lena.

“Oh, William,” Lena said with tearful eyes.

“Lena,” He pressed his forehead against hers and they breathed together like that for a very long time.

“We can’t stay here for long, can we? There might be bears or something,” Lena broke the embrace.

“Just for a moment, we need to rest- figure out where we are, and what our next move is,” He said, sitting down next to her now.

“We’re so far from home… how are we going to get out of this?” She laughed pathetically.

“I… I don’t know, Lena,” He admitted. “But we’ll find a way, I promise.”

She didn’t reply to that.

The royal couple stayed hidden for quite some time, having only one close call when one of the tracker’s voices was close enough for them to hear, but William was ready with the sharp rock in case he got too close, but he never did, and so they remained until it faded far away.

Eventually, the sun started to rise in the woods, and it slowly dawned on William that the coast was clear, and they were free to go.

But… free to go where? They had no idea where they were- were they even in Warnerstock? They could be in foreign lands for all they know- a place where they didn’t even speak the language and they could be killed for sneaking in and-

Wait. Lena was the Princess, and knew all the languages of the neighboring kingdoms, and would likely be given aid. William was panicking over nothing.

However… Lena was looking rather weak. She lost a lot of blood, and her injuries were only piling up.

“Where do we go now?” Lena asked as he was looking at her.

“Well… I don’t think we can go home, as something tells me your mother was behind this,” He remarked bitterly.

“You’re telling me,” she huffed, before wincing in pain.

William smiled sadly before getting an idea. “I know a place where they can’t refuse us,” he grinned.

Lena frowned. “William… Acme falls is in the middle of nowhere and perhaps the first place they’d go looking for us if we were missing.”

“Unless your mother wants us to be dead. Then she wouldn’t have to or want to look anywhere,” he said. “It’d be just like it was when we had just gotten married.”

Lena still didn’t look satisfied, but clearly didn’t have any further arguing left in her.

“Look… I’m going to go and try to figure out where we are, so we can head to Acme. Will you be okay if you stay here?” he asked, holding her ice cold hands.

“I don’t think I have a choice,” she tried to joke, but William knew she hated it. He kissed her forehead.

“I love you,” He said. “I won’t be long.”

“I love you too, William. Be careful,” she replied, and William ran out of the cave.

It took a couple of hours, but eventually, William discovered that yes, they were still in Warnerstock, and found the direction they were to go to if they wanted to go to Acme Falls. It would be quite the trek, especially if this snow continued to fall, but he had determination on his side.

He was not going to die here, nor was he going to let Lena. He would carry her in his arms if he had to, simple as that.

.o0o.

“So… yeah. We hiked for hours to reach here, the strains and pulled muscles and frostbite are from trekking through the snow, and that’s how we got here,” William finished his tale.

“Oh William, that’s so terrible,” Helloise looked at him sadly.

“That does explain a lot… you two should really be getting rest now, no?” Scratchnsniff remarked, reading over their charts one more time.

“Rest, yeah…” he nodded slowly, though sleep was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to go back to the palace asap, and kill Angelina, and get his kids back. He was confident Lena felt the same.

Though they wouldn’t be able to do much good in this state, especially without a plan.

“We’ll leave the two of you alone for a minute… you’ve been through a lot and need time to process,” Helloise said.

“Thanks,” he gave a weak smile, which she returned. The good nurse and doctor nodded at the couple before exiting to deal with other patients no doubt.

ONce they were gone, William’s eyes then went to his wife, who still wasn’t looking at him, staring intently at the ground and wall.

“Lena, my love, what’s the matter?” He asked.

“That’s your first question?” She said bitterly.

Okay, that was on him. That was a pretty dumb question.

“What are you thinking about?” he tried again. Lena closed her eyes.

“I… I saw Yakko during the attack.”

William’s stomach dropped.

“D-do you think..?”

Lena shook her head. “N-no, I… I don’t think so– i just– he was so scared, William. H-he hugged me when he should’ve ran, a-and he was begging and pleading to stay with us and I just–” Lena covered her face with her hands.

“They must be so scared, William– all three of them. A-and if they think we’re dead? We haven’t even had the death talk with Dot yet, she won’t get it, and Wakko will be left with mother all by himself and Yakko will just blame himself and I just– I promised I’d never let anything bad happen to them, but look where I am, William. I’ve failed,” She was shaking now.

“Lena–”

“D-don’t ‘Lena’ me, William, I-i’m serious! Wakko has almost died three times now and I swore I’d never let anything bad ever happen to him, a-and Dot could’ve died too, stumbling down those stairs… and Yakko– Yakko might’ve died to the attackers too– they did think he was Wakko for awhile, and that gun knocked him clean out,” Lena began to cry but clearly was trying her damndest not to because of her ribs.

“L-... Darling, this isn’t your fault,” William so desperately wanted to hug her but the beds felt a million miles apart.

“Why did I ever want to have children? All I’ve done is put them in danger a-and–” Lena’s breathing hitched.

“It’s your mother’s fault, not yours– it’s not your fault she’s heartless and cruel and–”

“--But I keep just– a-and I– a-and now–” Lena held her stomach.

William stopped.

Finally, she looked at him.

“I-i barely knew, I-i mean I had a feeling, but it was only eight weeks, and so I didn’t tell you but when they attack I knew it could happen b-but I really, really hoped it wouldn’t, but th-they beat me hard, a-and when you left me in the cave I began to bleed a-and bleed a lot– a-and I just–”

Oh my god…

No…

“Lena… I-i didn’t know– I-i’m so sorry, I-i wish I–” William didn’t know what to say. Neither did Lena as all she did was cry now.

It killed him, it killed him to see her like that.

He had to do something.

Slowly and carefully, ignoring every single pain alarm bell in his brain, made his way over to her bed, where he picked her up softly and moved her over until he could climb in alongside and hold her close.

“It’s not your fault, Lena darling,” He whispered.

“I-i should’ve never confronted her– I should’ve just stayed quiet and been the daughter she always wanted,” Lena pounded against his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Lena,” He closed his eyes and stroked her head. “You don’t deserve this.”

Lena stopped momentarily at that before quietly just burying her head in his chest and crying silently there. William was okay with that, as despite everything nothing did feel better than getting to hold her close again.

But god he was scared. For Yakko, for Wakko, for Dot and for Lena.

“W-william..?” Lena eventually croaked out.

“Yes my love?” William immediately answered.

Lena thought for a moment.

“...William, tell me we’ll find them again.”

“We’ll find them again, Lena.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear to you, Lena; We will find our kids again.”

Lena’s tears stopped.

“We’ll find them again,” She whispered.

“Yes we will,” He kissed her head and couldn’t help but smile a little.

They were going to find their children and get them back if it was the last thing they did.

#animaniacs #angelina 1 lives au #wakkos wish #my fics #sir william the good #lena warner #helloise nerz #doctor scratchnsniff #angst #tw miscarriage #tw childloss #tw blood #tw kidnapping

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lifeinmythirties · 1 year

Text

First blog of my 30′s Making Bad Decisions.

It's been a long time since I've written anything. A paper, a poem, anything meaningful. I feel stuck in my life right now, and every decision I seem to make is wrong, or at least it feels that way. The day after my 30th birthday, my car got hit by a truck; I went through a month of trying to get the insurance company to total my car or fix it. They totaled it and gave me $7,000 bucks and the salvaged car back, which at least could drive. Not terrible, but now I had to find a new car, well, a "new" used car, and while that doesn't seem like it should be challenging, the market here in Colorado is terrible, and people sell their shitty high-mile cars for way more money than I have. I started to panic because I was supposed to have a job that needed me to have a car, so on the 5th car I saw, I decided it seemed reasonable and bought it. I paid almost $6,000 for it, plus my car. Well, two days later and the check engine light comes on. I made an appointment for a diagnostic to see what work was needed for the car. I drop the car off and walk back home, a beautiful 45-minute walk through Denver at 7:30 in the morning; little did I know that would be the most peaceful part of my day. Hours later, the mechanic called me to say the car needed A LOT of work. I tell him to give me an estimate, and I instantly get that pit in your stomach feeling, eyes welling up with tears, as he says $6,267. How could I be so stupid? I should have taken this car to a mechanic before I bought it, I should have done so many things differently, but these people sold me a bad car. So many of the things wrong with it should have been disclosed, but they weren't. I thought it needed fixing up, but not a whole other car's worth of work. So now I sit here stuck again, feeling like I never learned from my mistakes. You think you'll know more at 30, but you don't. I have no money and no secure job. I do freelance photography and teach people how to skateboard. I've started applying for jobs nearby, and hopefully, I get something. Anyway, I called the dealership and told them they sold me a bad car and that they needed to do something, like give me my money back. I have to take it to them so they can make their own diagnosis, and I just feel like I can't trust them. I want to be hopeful and tell myself things will work out, and I'll get lucky, but that isn't how my life has gone. Right as I let my guard down and feel like life is going well, something always goes array. What do I do now? These are moments when I wish my dad was still alive because he always could get me out of trouble. But he's been gone for a long time, and we all know you can't wake the dead. Tomorrow I will drop off my car and hope things go well; I hope I walk away with only a minor burn. How do people manifest good things? How do you get lucky? Are these things even possible? I always think I'll remember the lessons I've learned and will stick to my guns in these situations. An important lesson I have learned is setting boundaries. Saying no is not a bad thing! I can't go back in time, so dwelling on this bad decision doesn't help me. I've been proactive, and now I know I need to take control and find a solution. I'm not backing down, and I'm not walking away empty-handed!

#in my 30s #blog #first post #adulthood #life shit #life struggles #writing #not a writer #manifesting #lucky girl syndrome #keeping it real #thirties #adhd adult

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t-horn-n · 3 years

Text

— unspoken

PAIRING: finnick odair x reader (gender-neutral)

GENRE: mild-angst

WARNINGS: canon-level violence, mentions of torture, grief, mentions of death

mockingjay spoilers

SUMMARY: request from @lovelyjae07 “d'you mind writing that the same reader gets left behind in the capitol and finnick just going insane and depressed thinking about it because he hasn't told reader that he loved them, yk? plus points if when they're reunite, reader just keeps calling him home because that's what he was to them”

NOTE: thank you so much for requesting! hope you like this! i did not realise that this was nearly a thousand words, oops :) or that my finnick google doc was now 24 pages. lovely.

It was the times that he forgot that you were gone that was the hardest. It could be for mere seconds, it could be for hours, and for that duration of time Finnick would forget that you were not just in the next room and that he would not see you soon. And then he would remember that they had left you, he had left you to be captured, stolen, by the Capitol. And then it would hit him all at once like the weight of the entire universe collided with his chest in a split-second. He would have to take a breath at the pure force of the feeling, he would have to pretend to study something on the ceiling in order to blink away the moisture that stung his eyes.

Days passed in that same, tortuous loop. Or was it weeks? Finnick would crack a smile at something Katniss or one of the other District Thirteeners would say and then he was reminded that you were not there to share his smile and he would immediately feel guilty. Then sad and a thousand-tonne weight would drop on his chest, a colossal hand would constrict his heart.

He felt bruised and callous, he did not feel motivated to eat the dun oatmeal that was offered in the mess hall. He did not even feel like getting out of bed in the morning, he felt like the only action he could coax out of his exhausted body was tracing the pattern of the underside of the bunk above him with his eyes.

“You’re my ikigai,” you had once said to him.

He turned from where he was fumbling with the top button of an immaculately ironed white dress shirt so that it would not fall off the hanger. It was such a strange, domestic sight. “That’s not a new insult I didn’t know about, is it?”

“Nope. It means the reason for living or the thing that gets you up in the morning.”

“It better, because you’re my ikigai too.”

At one point it had occurred to him that through all of the chaos that ensued with the birth of the Girl on Fire, Finnick Odair had never once told you ‘I love you.’ Not to your face, at least. There had been a thousand scenarios, carefully planned out in his head where he was going to tell you. Once on the pier back in District 4. Once the day you got home from your Games. Once the day he got home from his Games. Once the night before the Quarter Quell. But each time the words had gotten caught in his throat or he had been interrupted. And now you were a thousand miles away and now it was not certain if he would ever get the chance to say those three, simple, poisonous, beautiful words.

“Latibule,” you had told him. “Is a hiding place of safety or comfort. That’s you.”

Finnick did not feel safe or comforted. He felt raw, he felt like he was going insane. He was a balloon and every day he was inflated just a bit more and he was bound to pop.

He watched Peeta’s broadcasts and despite himself, only thought bitter, venomous thoughts about how Katniss was lucky that they knew that Peeta was at least alive, albeit a little bit broken. He did not know if you were alive or what your mental or physical state was.

There were times when at random, insignificant times he would catch a whiff of your familiar scent or someone’s laugh would sound exactly like yours. And his head would move faster than one of the Capitol’s mutts and his eyes would alight with horrible, terrible hope for a second. And then he would be met with the always disappointing sight of someone else’s face, someone else’s profile, someone else’s ikigai.

The medical centre could not spare anything so he was forced to succumb to his insomnia. He would only catch a few hours of sleep when his body would not allow his thoughts to keep him up anymore. Over and over he thought I love you. I love you. I love you I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. I love you were shackles around his wrists.

On the day District 13 raided the Capitol something inside Finnick that had been dulled for a long time alighted. His foot tap tap tapped on the stone floor as he waited for the jet with the infiltration team, Peeta, Johanna, you to arrive. You you you. His mind was an infinite loop.

When you were rolled into the landing bay on a gurney Finnick’s heart stuttered in his chest. You were clad in one of those awful hospital gowns, your hair was cut shorter and your eyes had sunken in like impressed clay.

But the moment that you saw him you were tearing out the various tubes and lines keeping you from him and you were on your feet. You were running towards him and he caught you halfway. Neither of you cared that there were people watching you, all of Panem could have been there and you would not have noticed. Were there tears? Mucus running towards where your lips met? Probably. But you did not notice. Finnick was murmuring “I love you, I love you, I love you” into your hair and you were saying, “I’m home, I’m home, you’re home,” into his chest.

And the weight of the universe lifted with every unspoken word.

— m. list

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick x reader #finnick x reader angst #hunger games #hunger games x reader #finnick #finnick odair #hunger games angst

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professorrw · 3 years

Text

Leave a Light On

Pairing: female reader x Bucky Barnes

Request: Could you do a Bucky X Fem!Reader where Bucky is scared for the reader's safety, based on Leave a Light On by Tom Walker? And then it gets really soft and fluffy at the end?

Warnings: angst, fluff, presumed dead reader, missing reader, traumatic experience, grief, mentions of a mission, hostage situation

A/N: I would be lying if I said I didn’t cry while writing this. Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

It had been twenty days. Twenty days. Steve said the comms had gone out and that’s why there was no word from your team. The mission was supposed to be simple. So why weren’t you back yet? Two days you said. Only two and then you would be back. But it had been twenty and you and your team weren’t back yet. No one could get into contact with you or Natasha or any of your squad mates.

Everyone was worried, no one wanted to think that the worst had happened. Three days after your team had left Steve said there must have been a hold up. Then the fourth day came, and the fifth, and the sixth, and so on. If there was a hold up why weren’t you back yet? Why were your signals completely offline?

Bucky was checking in with Steve nearly every hour trying to get updates but every time there was nothing new. On the sixth day the atmosphere at the base was somber. Steve didn’t want to think that your group was dead. Bucky wouldn’t accept it at all. The very idea of living on without you was tearing him apart.

Steve did his best to make Bucky feel better, but unless he had news of your comms coming back online or them finding you he didn’t want to hear it. He blamed himself for not going on the mission with you. He thought that if he was there maybe you would have come back.

Bucky went to the base everyday to get updates. But after two weeks it was like every single person there had given up faith. Bucky would sit alone for hours at the base. He didn’t care about the downcast faces that passed him. They all felt bad, they all wanted to console him, but there wasn’t anything they could do to make him feel better.

He had dug himself into a hole of despair and pain that he wouldn’t let himself leave. He had locked himself into his own personal prison that only you had the ability to get him out of. Being without you was worse than being under the serum. He would rather have his memory wiped clean than have to live while you weren’t there. And the worst part was that no one knew what had happened.

No one knew where you were, no one could find you. In Bucky’s mind he thought they could be doing more. They should be doing more. Sending out search teams, scouring the area. If he could he would search until he found you, dead or alive.

He wouldn’t leave the base until it closed. Every night he would return home to your shared apartment. He wanted to stay away, or possibly sleep at Steve’s but he wouldn’t let Bucky stay there. Living in your shared apartment that housed all your belongings and so many beautiful memories of the two of you together was painful. It was a reminder of what was missing, you.

A part of him wouldn’t give up hope. Bucky wasn’t going to believe that you were dead until he saw it with his own two eyes. Until then there would always be hope in Bucky’s mind.

Before he went to bed he would turn on the light that was outside next to the apartment door just in case you came home. He prayed that maybe one day you would. It didn’t matter how long it took as long as you came back to him. He would stay awake and lie in bed scrolling through the endless amount of photos you took together, most he tried to hide or cover his face in. An endless stream of tears would roll down his face and sobs would rack his body.

The most prominent emotion Bucky felt was regret. He regretted not smiling in those photos, not telling you how much he loved you, and not enjoying the time you had together. Every mistake he ever made replayed in his head. It was his own form of grief, though he wouldn’t accept it as such.

On the twentieth day he carried on with his routine. He ate a bowl of cereal and then went to the compound to sit around for hours. Steve took a seat next to Bucky in the empty conference room.

“Buck… you gotta stop this.”

Bucky didn’t reply, just kept his eyes trained forward at the blank wall across from him.

“If-” Steve paused, “If Y/N is gone then don’t you think she would want you to move on? You’ve been coming here everyday for almost a month. At this point I don’t even think it’s safe to take you on a mission.”

Bucky turned his steely glare on Steve and erupted, “Say it as it is Steve! Say the word dead, because I know that’s what everyone thinks.”

Steve sighed and reached his hand out to his best friend but Bucky just moved away from him. “We don’t know if she’s dead. We don’t know anything. I know that you're mad. I know you want us to do more.”

“Yeah, I do. And until you search every inch of the ground she’s touched and found her body I won’t believe she’s dead. I can’t.” Bucky was furious but his voice cracked just like his resolve at his last sentence. The vulnerability and pain that was evident in his voice made Steve feel terrible. He hated seeing his best friend so torn up but he knew there was nothing he could do. Nothing other than get you home or find you.

Bucky put his face in his hands to hide the tears that were coming out. Steve didn’t need to see the tears to know what was going on. Buck’s whole body was shaking and he could hear sniffling.

Steve stood and rubbed Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Steve knew how hard it was to lose someone you love. He had once lost Bucky and Peggy. He didn’t want Bucky to go through that same pain and if Steve was in control they would find you just like Bucky wanted.

Bucky lifted his head up and looked at his best friend. His face was red and tear stained but he spoke anyway. “I can’t lose her.”

“I know Buck. Neither does anyone else.”

The two men sat in silence in the conference room for a few minutes before Steve was called to do something else. He left Bucky in the room but got someone to send him an actual meal, not the sandwiches he was eating from the vending machine.

Bucky was eating his food when he heard yelling. He got up from his seat and went to see what was going on. He left the room and saw people running around and shouting. He couldn’t understand what anyone was saying but he heard Steve’s voice yell, “Bucky they’re back!”

He didn’t know if he heard correctly but he pleaded that it was true. Bucky ran towards Steve’s voice and as soon as Steve saw him he grabbed his arm and they started running. They ran through hallways and into the main room of the compound. People were crowded around the monitor but a few seconds after Steve and Bucky arrived it was broadcasted on the big screen on the wall.

It was a radar and it showed seven dots moving closer to the base. Seven dots, seven people that went on that mission. Bucky crumpled to his knees in a fit of sobs. He pressed his forehead and fists against the floor. You were coming back to him. You were alive.

Steve put a hand over his mouth and crouched next to Bucky. People were cheering yet frantic all around them. The gloom that had been cast over the base was gone. A flood of relief had been released and replaced the dreary mood.

The crowd of people began to migrate outside to the helipad. Steve pulled Bucky off the floor and they ran with the group. The helicopters were just tiny specks in the distance but just seeing them made the crowd hug each other and cheer even more. It was then that Bucky realized he wasn’t the only one that missed you. These people around him were family and they missed you and the rest of the crew too.

He turned to Steve and enveloped him in a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. Steve, with teary eyes too, smiled and hugged Bucky back.

----

You gazed at the compound with tears in your eyes. You were finally home. For nearly a month you and the rest of your crew had been held hostage. Natasha had taken the lead and carefully planned out your escape. It was mostly luck that enabled you to run away. From there all you did was hide and run until you found your helicopters. Thankfully they were still at the landing area, but that was many miles away from where you were being held captive.

Natasha was sitting beside you piloting one of the planes. She was biting back tears. You knew she was just as overjoyed as you were, though she didn’t show it as much. Over the course of those twenty days you saw a different side of Natasha. You saw her be afraid, you saw and heard how scared she was that your group wouldn’t escape. But thanks to her you made it.

You made it and now you were finally going to be reunited with Bucky. God, how you had missed him. You couldn’t imagine how worried he was. The only solace you had while being gone was knowing that Bucky was okay, even if you weren’t.

He was the only thing that kept you going and made you hold onto the hope that maybe you would make it out alive. And you had.

You were getting closer and closer to the launchpad. You could make out at least a hundred people surrounding it.

Natasha called out over the headset, “Get ready for landing guys. We made it.” She smiled and laughed as a tear rolled down her cheek. As you turned to look at your squad you noticed they were all crying. You choked out a laugh through your own tears as you realized how lucky you were.

Natasha hovered over the helipad before slowly lowering it down to the ground. As the blades slowed and your group began to litter out of the helicopter people surrounded you. You jumped to the ground and immediately started shouting, “Bucky? Bucky where are you?”

You saw the mass being parted from the back and then you saw him. You ran to him, bodies colliding. His hand held onto the back of your head and you could hear his heavy breathing and sniffles. You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could and it seemed he did the same. The thoughts running through your heads were one in the same. Bucky was overcome with joy that you were alive and in his arms. You were just happy to be back and to be with him again. Being apart for so long had made you realize how much you loved him.

After just a moment in the hug you both pulled back. Bucky surveyed your face, taking in all the cuts and small bruises that littered it. He pressed his lips against your feverishly before pulling away once more.

“I missed you so goddamn much Y/N. I love you. I love you more than anything,” he said. His eyes were looking tenderly into yours, savoring and memorizing everything he could see.

“Buck I love you too.” The whole time you had tears in your eyes but they really started flowing as you stood in front of Bucky. Your mouth was in an quivering smile but the happy tears still came.

The whole experience was traumatizing, but it made you realize how much Bucky meant to you, and made Bucky realize how much you meant to him. So much in fact that a few months later Bucky was down on one knee asking you to marry him.

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holocene-sims · 2 years

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next // previous

may 16, 2021 11:00 a.m. the callahan residence

he slept after all. perhaps not as long as he’d have like, but in the end, he wasn’t counting the hours, so it doesn’t matter. some is better than none, and grant feels marginally less exhausted. though he would be better rested, had he spent the last two hours of his morning snoozing as opposed to laying there wide awake, staring at the ceiling and psyching himself up the out-of-control chronic pain flare that has devoured him the past few days.

nonetheless, he would prefer that nobody notice. he’d rather lie than worry people, grant decides. it’s better not to become a burden–he’s not worth the concern or the coddling. he pretended well enough yesterday. he can do it again and again and again, even though today's pain is far worse than yesterday's.

and today is...well, he cannot move at all without wanting to collapse in a heap and scream into the void.

but grant can do it. he can lie.

besides, admitting to the physical pain inevitably leads back to acknowledging the emotional trigger, and that's not a can of worms he's prepared to crack open just yet.

he, too, can obscure the truth about päivi for as long as he wants to. or needs to.

grant reluctantly opens his eyes to reach for his toothbrush but he flinches the very second light hits his even the corner of his vision. crippling pain shoots though both eyes like a gunshot. he tries again and bears the brunt of the agony, peering through blurry, fuzzy vision into the mirror. his own face is nothing more than a myriad of blended colors without significant distinction–certainly, his vision is miles worse than it was yesterday–but he can see well enough to notice the whites of his eyes slowly being eaten alive by angry red inflammation.

he should have expected this.

“it’s fine, it’s fine,” he murmurs to himself, wincing as tears roll down his cheeks, “you’re not going blind. you haven’t yet, so it’s fine. it’s fine.”

this has only happened three times–well, now four times, he supposes. the eye thing, that is. his immune system exercises remarkable patience with destroying his eyes. he's been lucky so far, he supposes. it could be worse, given that his immune system is not so generous with his spine.

still. his body has destroyed his vision enough. he's not begging for it to worsen permanently again.

“just...relax. it’s fine. it’s fine. it’s fine.” grant sighs. “get yourself together. you’re making this worse. you’re making this worse. just...get it together. you can call the ophthalmologist tomorrow. and then the rheumatologist. because...life.”

he shakes it off and resumes his previous task, committing himself to the should-be elementary chore of brushing his teeth.

everything about his current state of life is ravaging his body and health, and as it is, fighting to keep himself from falling to pieces daily is a delicate balance. it’s always a losing battle against thirty years worth of trauma wearing him down.

but this week, the constant unchecked stress, the unforgiving heartbreak, the lack of sleep, the over-consumption of alcohol…

grant spits out the last of his toothpaste and gives himself another good, long look in the mirror, at least as best he can in his current state. this is mostly his fault. his own failure to cope with stress is killing him slowly, or so he tells himself.

you can’t do this anymore, grant tells himself. she betrayed you, she hurt you, but she’s not evil and you still love her and you’re responsible for yourself. you’re the idiot letting one person rule your life. stop screwing yourself over. you don’t have to destroy yourself. you’re making everything worse. let it go. just let it go.

a terrible pep-talk. his therapist would be pleased that he tried, but it’s a pitiful speech either way.

he wants to stop–god, he wants to stop spiraling–but he doesn’t know how to stop.

he should be past this now. he should be able to cope with the aches and pains of life. he should have escaped the bondage of trauma by now. he’s grown up, gone to therapy day in and day out, accepted and improved greatly on medication, and lived with the consequences and benefits of everything he has ever done. he’s thrown himself head-first into healing and for what?

he keeps staring at himself, desperate to recognize himself–physically, mentally, emotionally–in the heat of the moment. and then in a flash, he feels nothing but bitterness. the feelings are all-consuming but his better nature helplessly struggles against them anyway.

it’s just a setback. take care of yourself, figure things out, and you’ll be okay. you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.

god, he’d give anything just to slip back into a deep sleep, but he promised he’d be ready by noon and he promised he’d join the entire family for lunch today…

he wants to. he wants that more than anything–nothing makes him happier than his family–but it’s overwhelming, it’s all too overwhelming.

it’s all just too much. it’s too much.

it’s too fucking much and he’s ripping apart at the seams.

he’s tried desperately for years–years!–to fight the demons leading him off the edge of this sheer cliff, and somehow he always loses.

this is why päivi cheated on you. this is why your mother hated you. this is why you deserve this agony. they always saw the real you–you’re just a failure, a waste of time, a flaw in the universe’s plan. the universe wasted its materials on you. what a shame. you're a mess...physically, mentally. who would ever love you when this is the best you can be?

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 story #ts4 screenshots #simblr #SWEETIE NO DON'T LISTEN TO YOUR BRAIN #IT'S THE TRAUMA WE ALL KNOW GRANT IS A SWEETHEART #but also he do be fighting a lot of fires right now #my poor sweet boy just wants to feel useful *sob*#so many people do love him and he knows but sometimes he just cannot remember that #hlcn: everything the stars promised #hlcn: grant #holocene.docx #holocene.png

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

Text

Attack Of The Winter Wolf: Salvaging The Lost

Summary- 6.3k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. Your old pack has been torn apart by the Winter Wolf and Alpha taken. Steve and You rally the last together and offer then a home with you, some take the offer, others don’t. Steve and You prepare to go elsewhere though. A part of Steve’s past might have the answers needed. Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Warnings- Mentions of blood, death, smut- fingering.

A/N- Thank You for reading and following along with Alpha Steve and Little One. It means so much to me that their story is read. I hope you all enjoy. It is a slightly slower chapter. As always, thoughts, questions and theories are always welcome. Happy Howling. 🐺💙

Chapter Two / Masterlist

After you two came to a stalemate, you insisted on heading back outside and helping the remaining wolves. Steve didn't try to disagree, even though he could see the tired lines under your eyes from the events that night. His Alpha could feel it through their bond, finally returning to his Little One who was pacing, whining. The silver wolf approached her with a slight nudge and embraced her when she sunk into him, being her strength.

So Steve stayed close to you, even though you square your shoulders and did your best to show strength to those left. The moment you and Steve stepped out of the cabin, the scent of dried blood and death hit you both. It made your stomach roll and tears prick your eyes. You felt Steve’s touch against your hip, turning you into him momentarily so you could press your face into him, inhaling his calming scent, the woodsy smoke and steel covered the dried blood enough for you to regain your control till you pulled away.

What was the worst part of it was that you were becoming accustomed to that scent of blood and chaos. It was sinking into the ground like a story to retold. It reminded you of the last stand with Pierce, of your Alpha bloodied and panting letting you lean against him in the underground cold tunnels, those burning moments when the Little Wolf was fighting against the serum you were given. You shook your head a bit to clear your thoughts and Steve's hold tightened as he tilted his head to your shoulder, inhaling deeply with a hot press of his nose against your mark. “You don't have to do this Little One. No one will think differently.” Everyone was in shock right now, wandering aimlessly trying to find the surviving members of their pack. Hard to believe that four wolves could cause this much destruction, killing off most of them and taking their Alpha.

You lifted your head and weaved your hand with Steve’s, squeezing a bit. You were lucky, you still had your Alpha and mate, unlike others. Kat nearby wandered from body to body, searching for Caine. The Little Wolf whined seeing her friend search for him. Your throat shut at the pain she must be feeling. That selfish part of you thankful that wasn't you searching for Steve. “I have to Steve, they are my family.” You unwind yourself for him and went to Kat, who just blinked at you. Her eyes red rimmed as she knelt next to someone, feeling for his pulse.

“I can't find him Y/N, I don't know where he is.” She croaked out and you sunk down next to your friend, reaching to take her hand in yours.

“I’m sorry Kat, I'm so sorry… they took him.” You cupped the woman's face, making her listen to you. You could tell when it sunk in, when your words had a meaning for her, the utter defeat seemed to deflate her as she collapsed in your hold, her sobs shaking her as you gently tried to soothe her, strokes over her hair and along her back as she broke with her head in your lap. Steve watched a moment with a deep inhale and clenched jaw. Even the Alpha admired his partner so willing to take the others pain as your own so they wouldn't be alone.

It was apparent that the pack no longer had their own Alpha in the midst of all this, and Steve cupped his hands around his mouth and sent out a howl, calling those still alive to him so he could give them direction. Right now they needed a leader to pull them out of their shock, figure out where to go from here.

You felt your chest rise hearing your Alpha calling the others, his deep howl of “Come to me” made your own head tip back with the answering “Im here, Im here” song. Others started to join, moving in groups as they came out of the woods to return home, a mix of wolves and humans filling the sky with a mourning song.

Once they joined the Alpha, Steve quieted, looking at the wolves who weren't his own, but in desperate need of him right now. “Let's put the fallen to rest.” He simply said, and the wolves dispersed to gather those they lost.

Soldat happened to hear the Alpha’s howl he left behind reassembling the survivors from miles away. Not that there were many, it was the mission to disassemble the pack while removing the Alpha. Broken packs usually didn't survive long. The wolves either abandoned the area, finding family in other packs, or went into No Man's Land to live as loners till they lost themselves or found another to join. The Alpha they just collected was young. He laid curled up at Soldats feet, having shifted into a sleek black wolf. Soldat reached down, grabbing his muzzle to lift his head and inspect him for a moment. The Black Wolf stared back at him in defiance while Soldat snapped a picture of him to send to Brock.

~Mission complete, we will drop off the asset and be ready for the next mission.

He hit send and dropped the wolf's head to let it crash back to the floor. It wasn't long till an answering text beeped.

~Excellent, stop by the office for your next orders.

Soldat leaned back in his seat, quietly they drove. Under Hydra’s control, the wolves no longer sought the companionship a typical pack brought them. Even the twins sat apart from one another, staring ahead at nothing. Just waiting for the next mission. That was all there life was about, completing the mission. There was no remorse in what their actions just caused.

It was hours of finding the dead, hours of you finding the broken wolves in shock and doing your best to help them. Some point Natasha joined you all, having found you first. She wrapped you in her arms, and you let your friend hold you while you sunk into her strong hold. Everything smelled of death, but not her. She felt like home, as much as Steve did, and you let her be your strength momentarily.

“I got here as fast as I could.” Natasha squeezed you a bit more before letting go to step back, her hand coming to wipe at your streaked face. “Let me go check in with Steve and I will take over here. You look exhausted.”

“No, I'm okay.” You shook off the hint that you needed a break, but lifted your head to find where Steve was, closing your eyes as you sought him out using the bond. It was a gentle brush between you. Your Little Wolf went to seek for her Alpha, twining her body around the tired Wolf and pushing her muzzle under his chin in a nuzzle. The motion made you smile to yourself, because you knew Steve felt it too by the immediate warmth you felt flow through you. “He’s over that way.” You said and Natasha glanced over to see Steve making his way over, just as much a mess as You were right now. Natasha let go of you to meet up with Steve, embracing him as well before stepping back so he could wrap an arm around you, your hand sliding up the back of his shirt to knead the small of his back, seeking that connection.

“Natasha, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Steve gave a weak smile and Natasha gave a knowing smile back, nodding.

“I imagine, were you able to track where Bucky and the rest went?”

“Just to the road, I didn't dare continue. Not with everything that had happened here. It was… terrible. Whatever they did to him, they have full access to his Howling Commandos training, no one stood a chance here. Or any other pack they catch by surprise. I already warned Sam, seeing how close they are.” You could feel him rumble slightly, obviously wanting to return home to be sure their home was protected.

“This is the second in the area they have hit. They are just picking up momentum. I don't know what they are doing with the Alphas. But every one is the same.” Natasha bit her lip as she looked around. Even though the bodies have been moved, the ground still showed the story. You thought again how the blood soaked ground was going to be haunted by the memories of all the evil that had happened here. Natasha broke your thoughts. “What can I do to help?”

“Pick up the trail and see if you can tell where they are headed next Nat.” The silent command of ‘Make sure they are not headed for home’ was heavy between them. Natasha gave a nod and disappeared in the woods where Steve directed her.

The Alpha nudged at Steve when Natasha slipped from sight. <She's tired Steve, it's time to clean up and rest.>

Just what I was thinking as well.

“Come on Little One, you are dead on your feet and the others are going home to rest.” He nudged your temple with a slight bump as you both turned around. He was right, the grounds looked basically deserted now, it seemed hard to believe this had been a bustling lively pack not even a day ago. Now, it looked abandoned.

You let Steve lead you back to the cabin. “Go take a shower.” He eased you towards the stairs leading to the second floor. Making your way halfway up, you paused, looking over the railing.

“What about you? Are you coming?” Your voice had a bit of a concerned whine in it, and he gave a reassuring smile.

“In a minute. I'm just bringing us up some food and I will join you Little One. Now go on up.” His tone deepened, not demanding but encouraging you to listen, and you did. Each step up made you feel heavier, and once you entered the bathroom, you couldn't wait for the hot water to take away the feeling of death that clung to your skin, filling your senses. The idea of food made your stomach turn, but you knew it was just Steve trying to take care of the two of you. Downstairs you could hear him moving around and then the creak of the steps signaled he was making his way up when you stepped under the hot water, gasping as the heat encased you.

Steve brought up a tray of food he found in the fridge, making each of you a sandwich with grapes on the side, along with water. He would have done more, but right now he just didn't have it in him. Setting it aside on a night stand, he made his way for the shower.

In it he could scent your heated body, fresh with the scent of scrubbed soap, and a deep inhale of the steamy air lifted him a bit. He was looking forward to washing off as well, and ridding himself of his clothes, he joined you in the shower. You side stepped out of the spray so Steve could rinse off before going to clean himself.

Groans of appreciation at the hot water came from both of you and as you finished rinsing off, you took the cloth from Steve’s hand and scrubbed the spanse of his back and shoulders, leaning against it while wrapping your arms around his midsection, enjoying feeling him so warm and solid against you, so very much alive.

“Mmhh tired Little One?” Steve asked softly while rinsing off his chest, wide hands rubbing the suds away and you pressed a kiss between his flexing shoulder blades before dipping around him to step under the spray, rinsing off the soap.

“If I said No, would you believe me?” You blinked up at him and he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes scanning over your face that was dripping from the shower, he shook his head and kissed the droplets from your lashes and down to your wet lips, kissing you slowly. Savoring the feel of your warmth in the kiss, his tongue stroking yours before pulling away.

“I would be telling you that I knew better.” Steve stated while reaching around to turn off the shower and stepping out to grab a towel and hold it open for you to step into. When you did, he whisked you dry and you tucked it around you while leaving the bathroom to make your way towards the bedroom.

Steve was quick to follow, sure to gather the clothes and going into the bedroom. He found you sitting on the edge of the bed, doing what would normally be your routine before bed even though it was edging right on mid morning. Your hands swiped the light smelling lotion along your arms and over your shoulders. Steve didn't even bother with boxers or sleep pants. He crawled into his usual side, stretching his side and reached over to skim patterns against your back while you let your head dip forward, setting aside the lotion you have been using. “You okay Little One?”

You gave a shake of your head and you felt Steve’s arm circle around your waist and pull you in closer. You flipped in bed to face him, laying in against him with your head pillowed on his shoulder. “Why did that have to happen? They were just becoming a real pack Steve.” Your hand lifted to wipe at your face and you felt yourself sink further into Steve's hard body the more he rubbed at your hip and along your ribs, dipping along your curves. His rumble was deep when he pressed his lips to the tip of your head, letting his nose press against the crown of your head, burying into your wet hair.

He wished he had the answer, something to take the pain he could feel tightening inside of you, the bond sharing waves of sorrow for your old pack. Steve tugged you in closer, your face pressing against his chest, and he felt the hot tears start to fall.

“You should sleep Little One.” He responded while wrapping you in close and you gave a slight nod, wrapping your arm around him as well as your leg. Steve reached over and tugged a sheet over you while you cried against Steve.

After a while you lifted your head to look up at Steve. “I just want you to know I don’t blame Bucky, Clint, or the twins. I know they are not killers.”

Before Steve could say anything, you arched up to kiss him, whispering against his mouth. “I love you Steve, always will.”

“I love you to Y/N” he said softly, flushing gentle nips on your jawline and rubbing his chin against his bite on your neck while you settled back down. Soon after that you went quiet and let yourself fall asleep, Steve though ended up staying awake. His fingers drifted up and down your back while losing himself in thought. The Alpha gave a gentle nudge to the Little Wolf to see that she was sound asleep before he stretched out next to her, watching over the two of them while she slept.

It's just… even in the midst of all this, she isn't angry. It's just sadness and I got to just let her feel it. There is nothing I can do.

Steve smiled to himself hearing the wolf, as always the beast spoke common sense he sometimes didn't seem to have. Giving a sigh, he let his head fall back to let himself drift off along with his mate.

Hours passed and you woke to find Steve not next to you. Rubbing your face in his warm pillow, inhaling deeply. He hadn't been gone long. Lifting to see where he was, you saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, talking on his cell.

“Yea, There aren't many left Sam. And they don't have an Alpha anymore to keep them together.”

You heard Sam respond, but couldn't understand beyond the muted sound of his voice. You shifted across the bed to drape gently against Steve’s back, letting your forehead press against the back of his neck, soaking in the warmth radiating from him.

“Same track of mind Sam, I was just thinking the same thing. I will tell Y/N. Give Sara our love and be ready. Talk soon.” With that he hung up and tossed his phone to the side. You shifted around and moved to straddle his lap, rubbing your hands against the back of his neck. Steve's hands fell to your hips and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “Hello my Little One.” he growled softly while you arched in against him, rolling your hips while you whimpered softly, nipping at his chin gently.

“Hello Alpha. What did Sam say?”

Steve rumbled slightly enjoying the feeling of your hands on his neck, the way your fingers brushed into his hair and tugged slightly. “I was filling him in with what happened.” He buried his face in your neck and inhaled deeply, getting lost in you then. “How we are going to offer any that want to come back with us are welcome to stay with us. They can’t stay here.” You worked your fingers against a knot in his upper back, smiling when you felt him groan into the curve of your neck. “That feels so good Little One.”

Nipping at his ear, you shift to a stand. His hands trailing down the back of your thighs. “Thank you Steve, for taking those in that are in need of a home. For being an Alpha they deserve.”

He followed up to a stand and reached for the bags to dig out clothes for both of you. “How about we go make the offer together, Little One?”

Handing over some clothing that you started to pull on, you nodded.

The wolves that didn't have a place to go ended up taking Steve on the offer, the rest making arrangements to move on. Preparations were also made for burials, those remaining picked a peaceful spot in a clearing.

Within a few days Sam brought a crew with him, familiar faces and scents easing Steve. It was a solemn event, shared with tears as the ground was broken to lay those to rest. Each grave site was marked with a sapling that Sam had brought with them from the nursery they used to replace the areas they logged. The saplings once all set in place would one day become its own untouched forest, giving some form of life in the midst of the tragedy. That night the clearing was filled with the mourning howls telling the packs life story to the stars.

Steve took the time to call the other packs in the area, warning them of the recent attack, even though word of mouth had spread. The last number on his list, Tony. He hasn't really talked to the Alpha since the confrontation with Ross, but he just couldn't bypass him.

Leaning against a tree where the solitude surrounded him, he let the forests calm wash over him while the AI placed him on hold.

Tony was going over spreadsheets with Pepper when Friday announced Steve Rogers was on hold. The pair looked up at each other in surprise. “Well… this is a surprise.” Tony admonished and Pepper pointed at the phone.

“Answer it Tony, You know that Steve wouldn't call for no reason.” She grasped both their coffee cups and moved to a stand. Tony groaned a bit while watching his mate leave, making her grin at him over her shoulder. “Now Alpha.” Then she disappeared from sight.

“Yes Ma’am!” He stated while reaching to pick up the phone and hooking it under his ear. “Stark residence.”

“Tony? That you?” Steve grumbled into the phone.

“Yes Steve, it's me.” Tony rolled his eyes up, leaning back to place his feet on the edge of his desk. “What is going on? That's the only reason you ever call me.”

“It’s not exactly like we're friends, Stark.” Steve started.

“Ouch Rogers, here I thought we were.” Tony snapped, unable to pass up a chance to rile the serious Alpha.

“Stark.” Steve started in a warning and then his voice changed. “Listen, there is a group attacking wolves, they just destroyed Y/N’s old pack. Demolished them, there are only a few left.”

This caught Tony’s attention, dropping his feet and sitting up straight again. “Is it the ones who killed Happy Steve? Who was it?”

Tony waited, silence on both ends of the call till finally Steve spoke. “I really don't know if they killed Happy or not Tony. I will say if they did… it wasn't by choice.”

Tony snapped to a stand while Pepper came back in, immediately her wolf was agitated seeing her mate gripping the edge of his desk, his voice sharp with commanding tone looking for answers. The one he used when he was upset, only this was Steve he was talking to. Steve couldn't be commanded by anyone. She immediately set the coffee down and went around the desk, her hand moving along his back while he snapped into the call. “But you suspect it, don't you Rogers.”

“I'm not saying anything, all I'm saying is that you know Bucky, Clint, Pietro and Wanda would never hurt anyone willingly, not innocent lives.”

Tony and his wolf stalled a moment. <He found them, finally.> Tony had as much invested as Steve, seeing that the twins were his pack mates. But none of his trackers were able to get as close as Natasha had been able to, all these months they just kept hitting dead ends on trails gone cold.

“Did you see them?” He finally asked and Steve gave a Mmhm in response.

“They weren't themselves Tony… those fucking collars Pierce had, they had something similar on. Thinner, filled with magic. I've seen them before, years ago. And only one has ever escaped them that I know of.”

“You're talking about when you worked for Fury in Shield.”

“Yes, when Bucky and I were in the Howling Commandos unit. I also think I can get some answers. As soon as these wolves are settled, I'm going to go get them. You have my word.”

Tony sat back down, easing Pepper into his lap for the connection. “Whatever you need Rogers, let me know.”

“I was hoping you would say that.” Steve responded.

You stood at the car Kat had packed, holding her hands in yours as a teary goodbye was said. “Kat just stay safe out there, okay? I wish you would come home with me. No Man's Land, being a Lone Wolf…” You worked your lip, wrinkling your brow. “Who's going to watch your back?”

Kat smiled sadly, shaking her head. “I need to be by myself. Maybe, maybe Caine is still out there you know? We don't know what they did with him. I have to go look for him.”

You squeezed her hands, trying to make her hear your next words. “That's what Steve is trying to do, him, Natasha, other packs. They are doing their best to find Bucky, Clint, Wanda and Pietro. Bring the other Alphas home.”

“Im not looking for everyone, I’m just looking for one.” Kat stated softly while untangling her hand from yours and circled her arms around you in a hug. “I know they are trying, but I have to look on my own too. I can't just sit and wait for others.” Her head dropped to your forehead, and you both just inhaled against each other in your last embrace, committing each other to memory till your paths crossed again. You had to relent. If it was Steve, you would be doing all you could to find him to.

“Stay safe Sister.” You whispered and Kat pulled away with a nod, digging out her keys and slipping into the driver's seat. You circled your arms around yourself, watching as the car pulled away and out of sight. With a sigh, you turn to head back to the cabin, watching as Steve continued loading up a truck from someone's house. Lifting the last bag of clothes in, Steve circled around a truck he was loading up for another and wrapped you into his arms, kissing the top of your head.

“She will come back when she's ready, Little One.” He hugged you in close as your head laid on his chest, giving a nod.

“I know, it's just hard letting any of them go on their own.”

Steve hummed a bit in agreement. “Everyone here is ready to go, Natasha is coming back to bring them home.” You lifted your head in wonder as to why the two of you werent. Steve rubbed your back, looking down at you. “We're going somewhere else.”

“Where are we going?” you tilted your head in question, loosening yourself enough to look at him without craning your neck.

“Stark. Remember how I was telling you I've seen it before? When Bucky and I were in the Howling Commandos?” You gave a nod to confirm. “The shifter who got away, he went back to his home. I want to find him, ask him how he managed to break loose of the collar.”

“So… where are we traveling to?”

“Norway.”

Your eyes widened a bit, echoing what he said. “Norway?”

“Yup, if Fury’s intel is correct that Tony acquired, a little town called New Asgard.”

You couldn't hide the grin, knowing then what that meant. “Means were getting a jet, aren't we?”

Steve gave a wink at you, breaking out in a grin of his own. “Sure does Little One, you gonna let me teach you to fly it?” Clearly remembering how much you had enjoyed the ride from Wakanda in T’Challa’s jet.

You played your fingers up his shirt, skimming fingers against his stomach, gently scratching over his muscles that twitched in response to being touched by you. “I'm going to insist on it Alpha.”

Steve huffed at your playfulness, snapping his teeth near your lips and clasping his hands against your ass, giving a squeeze that made your arch into him with a giggle, some of your sadness fading away being with him. “Look at you getting all demanding. I like it.” He nipped at your lips and you smiled against his mouth, growling back at him momentarily. “But let's finish up here and we will get on the road again Little One.”

It was a few hours till Steve and You were the last ones left, while you waved goodbye to the last car driving away, the compound now eerily quiet. Steve nipped at your neck, nuzzling the back. “Ready to head to New York Little One.” You reached behind you and took his hand.

“More than ready Alpha.”

The drive was several hours, Steve had given you his phone to go through the email that Tony had sent him recalling the information of that particular mission. You read it out loud, while Steve stayed silent listening. Letting the memories of the Howling Commandos wash over him. He could tell the way your voice lifted and words rushed that you were getting caught up in the intel like it was a story. “... And then Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was taken hostage while covering his team members from higher ground.” You set the phone down, Steve could sense you looking over at him. “How long was he with them?”

Steve was quiet a moment, his fingers thrumming on the steering wheel. “Weeks Little One. The day he was captured we were removing prisoners from an experiment facility and I had scanned the area. It was all clear, so I thought. Somewhere I missed them coming back into the grounds and Bucky… well he was so focused on making sure the victims were being covered from above that they were able to take him hostage.”

“How was he when you all found him?” You moved over closer to Steve, and he reached over to grasp your thigh lightly, his thumb sweeping back and forth soothing, probably more for himself then for you.

“Luckily they had difficulty moving Bucky around, I'm guessing he put up a fight stalling their plans. Made it alot easier to track them with them being hindered. When we found Bucky he wasn’t as some other hydra victims but he was weak. Some of the damage was irreversible. His left arm was damaged, and as a wolf why he limps like he does on that left side. Some of the trauma to his mind.” Steve went quiet once more and you leaned your head against his shoulder, pulling your legs up. “Before that happened, Bucky would have been the next Alpha. He had the mentality for it, outgoing, part of the crowd, a born leader. Afterwards though, he almost left the pack to No Man's Land. There were so many times the Pack mentality was just too much, disappearing into the White Wolf for weeks living feral on the other side of the lake.” You heard the tinge of sadness in your mate for his closest friend, mourning for the man he once was.

“But he had you, Steve.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking a bit. “If I had been more diligent, Bucky never would have been caught.” That's when it hit you that Steve blamed himself for what had happened. You tilted your head to inspect him, and Steve glanced at you from the corner of his eye, patting your leg. “All in the past Little One. Right now we're focused on what we have to do today.”

You settled in against him. “You got him back then, we will get him back again Alpha.”

He rumbled slightly without saying anything else. But his foot dropped on the gas pedal, picking up speed in order to get to New York faster.

It was edging on midnight when he finally pulled up to Stark Towers, which Tony was waiting right out front with Pepper at his side to greet them. When Steve got out of the truck, he held out his arm and slipped it around your waist to have you slide out, when your feet hit the ground, you arched in a stretch and a yawn, making Tony chuckle.

“It's quite a ride, I'm glad to see you two make it.” He said genuinely, holding his hand out to Steve in greeting, which the Alpha accepted with a hand shake and one to Pepper as well.

“Pepper, pleasure as always.” Steve greeted Pepper warmly, and she returned the handshake. Tony took one look at you, giving a slight bow of his head.

“Y/N, I sincerely hope you forgive my actions after my last visit to your home. Regardless of the circumstances, it shouldn't have happened.”

You take a moment to consider, Steve rubbing his hand along your back reassuringly when you give a nod and hold out your hand. “Accepted Tony, Thank you.” The Alpha covered your hand in his with a smile.

“Thank you Y/N. Now let us give you a place to crash for the night? The jet is still getting fueled and might as well head out well rested. Norway is a several hour flight, even for one of my machines.”

Steve glanced at you as you did back at him, both of you coming to a silent agreement as the soft pattering of rain started around you, and the four of you escaped back inside. Steve gave a slight shake of his head to rid himself of the rain water and you used your sleeve to wipe away the rain water from your face. Heading for the elevator, Steve and Tony discussed some of what had happened the past few weeks, Pepper once in a while asking her own question, and Steve drawing you into the conversation when needed. But you simply answered the questions before falling silent once more, not really having the energy to be engaging to their hosts.

After several moments, the elevator dinged and Friday announced the floor level while it opened. The entire floor was a wide open floor plan, Pepper smiling at the couple. “We hope you two will be comfortable here.”

Steve nodded and you reached over to embrace Pepper for her kindness. “It's more than enough, thank you.”

“We will leave you two kids to rest then.” Tony was prepared for a quick exit, which both you and Steve were grateful for given the long trip there and the one upcoming.

Biding good night, you and Steve were left alone to settle in for the night. Steve was quick to send you to shower, knowing it would make you feel better and he went in after you while you dressed in some pajamas, brushing out your hair while you wandered the suite looking around.

You stopped at the ceiling to floor windows that ran along one wall in the suite. Your room was almost at the top of the tower, it gave an expansive view of New York City at night. It almost stretched as far as you could see, and it made you feel a bit small so high above it all, all these lives not knowing you were looking down on them. The water from the rain streamed down the panes of glass making everything slightly out of focus. Your fingertips pressed against the coolness of the glass, tracing the streams of water running down in an endless rush to get someplace else.

Behind you, you could hear the water to the shower turn off and the sounds of Steve moving around before the door creaked and the light to the bathroom shut off to leave you both in the dark of the room. There was a bed behind you, large and inviting after a day of travel, and you should make your way there. But the beauty of the glowing city held you enraptured.

Feeling the warmth of Steve's body move up behind you through your thin sleep shorts and tank top, you sunk back into the hard length of his body, your eyesight going out of focus to see Steve’s reflection in the glass, his eyes glowing a soft yellow haze in the darkness where the Alpha was so close. You inhaled deeply, reaching behind you to draw his arms around you, shifting his hands to slide under your shirt.

“You smell so good Alpha.” You whispered as his fingers trailed the band of your shorts and dipped beneath them. “Woodsmoke and the forest, home.” You could feel him easing to touch you, the rumbles coming from his chest sparking your arousal. It had been days since you felt him like this, not since the day of the attack.

Thick fingers traced your folds, easing into your heat while circling your clit. Your head fell back to his shoulder with a satisfied sigh. Steve trailed his nose from the crown of your head down to your neck while he circled slowly, pressing down hard enough to make the heat in your belly grow and your legs have a slight shake. Snaking his other arm around you, he palmed your breast into his palm, sinking his teeth into your neck to keep you held against him.

“You remind me of home, always so good for me. Letting me take care of you. I love you so much Little One.” He growled softly and you spread your legs for him further, letting him take over. Fingers sunk into you, scissoring against your fluttering walls that started to clench, trying to hold on as he stroked your walls, knowing just where to find that spot that made you cry his name.

“Steve, uh- more please.” you whimpered out, with Steve you could become needy, wanting only what he could give you.

Steve smirked against your neck hearing you, feeling your wetness start to pool against his palm that he was now using to press against your clit while his fingers plunged back into your wanting heat, moving faster the more you started pressing your ass back into him while rocking in his palm. Your hands were made to press against the glass as Steve stepped forward, pushing you to trap you between him and the windows. The coolness of the glass seeped through your thin tank and the warmth of Steve's fingers rolling over your nipple made it pebble, taunt and sensitive, making you whine out sharply.

“Steve I have to-”

Steve rumbled behind you with encouragement, your hips rocking faster and rubbing his cock harder between your ass cheeks. You could feel it rigid and thick with desire but it was all lost when he nipped behind your ear, his breath hot while he growled out his words. “Come on My Little One, My Omega, show me how good you feel.”

The spiral of heat exploded from your belly to rush all over, locking to hold him while Steve was sure to keep you upright. The city lights wavered in your gaze, losing any focus till they became starbursts in the glass.

Your forehead leaned against the cool glass, your hot breath fogging up the glass while you came back from your orgasm, the bursts of lights started to come back into focus when you felt Steve hard behind you, rutting his hips against yours.

He growled possessively against your mark, gathering you in his arms, ready to take you to bed and finish what he started. You clung to him, rubbing into his body with a purr of satisfaction, seeking that mindless escape with your Alpha.

#attack of the winter wolf #the pack #alpha steve x you #alpha steve x little one #steve rogers x you #steve rogers au #shapeshifter steve rogers #amber writes #sweater writes #marvel au

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stoneworldsimp · 3 years

Text

the dying poet

senku x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of food/water deprivation, swearing

day seven.

fuck, fuck, FUCK!

it felt like you had been running for hours, trying to shake this wild animal off. you made sharp turns behind large bushes in hopes of losing it, you’d hold as still as possible behind large roots on the ground, but the animal kept finding you in one way or another.

“please go away,”you panted. “c’mon. you’ve been chasing me fucking forever, can’t you just give up?!”

you were tired; your legs were about to buckle in on themselves. dinner one night was suddenly ruined when you realized the fucker was watching you eat. in the beginning you thought it was only after your food, not you; you threw a random ration away from your camp in hopes to get it away from you. in hindsight, it only worked until you fell asleep.

you were lucky to wake up the next morning alive; your set up had been ripped to shreds, and footprints were on the ground around your body. it was painstakingly slow and nerve wracking to escape your position, but once you had everything you absolutely needed, you booked it.

sprinting for miles after miles proved to be very difficult for quite some time now.

the phone...it’s weighing me down. my bag of food isn’t even half as heavy as the phone.

looking down at the call button in your hand, you thought about tossing the phone. maybe i can fix it.. no, i don’t have any tools, the fucking animal chewed on them like dog bones. is there any way to put the wire back together...?

“FUCK my life!”

you took the phone off your back and threw it to you left, careful not to trip yourself in the process. immediately, you and your body felt the difference. with your new found energy, the run away was becoming easier, and helped you see a large cave just over the horizon. using the last of your energy, you took as large of steps as you can, and practically threw your body into the cave. the animal’s footsteps were nowhere to be heard, but you figured you didn’t want to take any chances and look behind you. you were finally breaking free from being chased, just a little deeper into this cave, and if i can find specific markings then i can backtrack—

a deep, loud rumble took you away from your thoughts. in no time, you were engulfed in dust and thick particles you didn’t know of.

the caved had closed in.

day one.

“i can do it.”

“are you sure? its a pretty perilous trip—“

“you should at least bring one other person with you—“

you sighed, exasperated that you had to defend your case once again. it had been days since the decision was made; you were going to make a trip to another part of the island in hopes to find extremely specific materials for one of senku’s projects... and it was far, far away.

quite frankly, you were the only one fit for the adventure. you were known to travel well on foot, had an exceptional sense of direction and you had a good eye for natural elements, as well as food; you also were unintentionally the least helpful when staying in the village. you didn’t have the crafting skills to successfully make glass or metal components for his experiments, and you never trusted your brain when helping senku with calculations and blueprints.

hearing senku and gen talk about this long trip to another part of the island was almost a dream come true. it was perfect for someone with your skillset, and kept you from being in the way of everybody else.

“it’ll be fine. c’mon, you guys have SOME faith in our traveler, right?”

you turned around, a smile on your face as you caught senku walking out of his lab. thank you, you mouthed.

once senku reached you and the group of villagers crowding near you, he spoke up again. “this trip is a straight shot from the bridge, the only problem would be that it’s going to take some time. possibly a month just to get there. but you,” he turned to face you,”have excellent outdoorsy-type skills that will make it really easy for you to spot what we need right away. everyone needs to stop worrying, because you’ll be there and back in no time. two months will pass like nothing.”

as the rest of the group walked away, mumbling their skepticisms, senku took your hand and tugged you back to the lab.

“what’re you taking me here for? oh wait,”you planted your feet at the front of the lab curtains, keeping the both of you from entering. “are you making me help you with your math again? because—”

“no, you’re pretty terrible at calculations,”he replied. “i have something for you.”

you puffed out your cheeks in embarrassment, but your expression completely changed once the curtain was opened.

on the table, there was a telephone. if was the size of a backpack, but it still had a speaker, a microphone, and a call button.

“i made it for you to take on the trip, in case you have any emergencies. i fully trust you in your own survival skills, but you never know if something extreme happens.”

you gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. as you walked closer to the table, you touched the outer fabric. you turned back to senku. “thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me. i’m only making something that’s essential to your travels.”

“even still,” you trailed off. “i appreciate it.”

you turned back around and beamed at senku. “i’m not going to call you until i get there. i want to make sure that no enemies try to tail me if they hear me, as much as i’d want to give in right away and hear your voice. something like that...”

“how corny.” senku smiled and pulled you close while you laughed. you jumped a bit when his hands made their way around your waist.

“a bit touchy today,” you asked, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “but i’m not complaining.”

“i’m stockpiling the feeling of you for the weeks to come. we’ve never spent this much time apart before; it’s only logical.”

“i guess you’re right.”

he kissed you, multiple times; each one was deeper than the last.

day eleven.

he brought me a flower every morning, because i always slept in later than him. he’d wake up at the asscrack of dawn, just to have more time to jot ideas down. i used to try and pull him back to sleep with me, but he was so overflowing with plans, i didn’t want to stop him.

you turned on your side.

i remember he went to explore with chrome really early one morning, and apparently they found some huge meadow with a bunch of plants. ever since then, he would bring me a different kind; it was always a single flower, too. they were different colors and shapes, and some were enormous and some were smaller than my finger. he never woke me up for it, though. he would just leave it for me when i woke up on my own. it was always a surprise, almost startling when i’d open my eyes. it was my own pick-me-up for the day, in a sense.. no matter what happened the night before, waking up to a new type of flower would put me in a good mood every time. it was better than a coffee in the morning.

i wonder if he’s looking at the flowers with chrome everyday while i’m gone. man, i still wake up hoping to see a new one in front of me.

sure, reminiscing was fun and felt good, but what’s the point? you had eaten all of your food approximately two days ago, you only had about a teaspoon of water left, and there was no getting out of there. the way you came in had been covered in a dam of rocks. you couldn’t even dig yourself out.

you furiously wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. “senku...why did i think i could go alone?”

day fifteen.

poke, poke—

something was touching you. no, someone was touching you. your head bobbed side to side, in an attempt to shake them off.

damn, that’s persistent.

opening your eyes, you woke up to senku smiling. he was knelt beside your form. “wake up, sleeping beauty! it’s been almost three hours.”

it’s only been three hours?!

you sat up way too fast, and felt lightheaded as you tried to ask,”but...why didn’t you.. wake me up earlier? did everybody...did everyone eat already?”

he laughed. “yeah, sorry. we all thought you were out doing something with chrome. but,” he turned around, to grab something behind him,”i saved some in case you got hungry when you came back.”

you took the food in a dizzy haze. was it even food? you didn’t care too much, it felt like you hadn’t eaten for a long time. any food at this point was good food.

you couldn’t even swallow the first bite. “do you- is there..any water?”

“what?” senku pulled away from you, a look of disbelief painted across his face. it was clear as day.

you hesitated, feeling more lightheaded than before. “w- water?”

“don’t you remember?” he asked. he turned away from you. “there hasn’t been any water in days.”

it’s been days.

your body jolted from its spot, and harsh reality hit you square in the face.

yes, right. you shakily rubbed your eyes to make sure they weren’t cemented shut.

in the cave, finished your food, no water to be found. making yourself walk around was no use, either; without the fuel, your body was essentially just a trembling mess.

you scowled at yourself; unsure of what to do, what to even think.

day eighteen.

you remembered how he kissed you. the first kisses the most; you always had to tell him to not look so terrified. you also had to remind him to not stand like a statue when you kissed. pretty soon, after some reassurance, he got comfortable. there was nothing but confidence in the way he caressed your face in his hands. usually he was the one to pull away; you were so mesmerized, it felt as if the world completely stopped.

they were always quick and out of the way in public. usually, it was on your forehead or your one of your cheeks. the deep kisses you felt when you two were alone were incomparable. soft lips remained on yours for what felt like centuries. he tasted sweet, in his own way—

wait, who?

you licked your lips slowly, trying to think.

it was no use; you couldn’t even remember what he looked like. you lolled your head to the side and stared at the outline of a rock a couple of feet away.

once i get out of here, i’ll kiss him. whoever it was. it won’t matter if it’s just us, or more people. i’ll kiss him forever.

maybe if i go to sleep.. i can see him again.

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku ishigami #dr stone imagines #dr stone scenarios #senku ishigami fluff #aahhh this was a little half baked #I’ve been busy what can I say😔#my semesters almost over and I have a placement test #final drivers test(yes I’m 20 and my ass can’t drive legally)#and another performance with my current schools ensemble #despite all of this. I hope u like what is basically my first attempt with angst!#at* not with ew

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expectingtofly · 3 years

Text

January 24th

birthday boy dean, a little angst, then happy fluff, canon divergent bc the finale sucks, established dean/cas, human!cas, dean is loved <3

2.3k words

also on ao3

• January 24th, 2003 •

“Happy birthday to me,” Dean muttered, cracking open another beer. The Impala’s heating whirred, fighting to keep the cold out, the radio playing a mixture of music and static. Through the windshield, he could see the dark exterior of the Walmart, out back of which he’d parked under a broken streetlight.

He glanced at his phone, but there were no new messages. Bobby had called him earlier to wish him a happy birthday, to ask how he was. Dean hadn’t told him that he was alone. His dad had left a week ago for a rugaru case in Indiana. Dean hadn’t heard from him since, which either meant the rugaru was dead and buried, or something bad had happened… but he didn’t want to consider that. More likely, his dad had gotten tied up in another case in the same area. When he’d call or text again, Dean didn't know. Not tonight, that was for sure. He didn’t know if his dad even remembered it was his birthday, or cared.

Grabbing the plastic Walmart bag in the passenger seat, he pulled out the pie he’d bought for this not-so special occasion—blueberry, because the store had run out of apple. He winced opening up the plastic container; he was pretty sure his right wrist was sprained, courtesy of getting thrown against the wall during the salt ‘n burn his dad had sent him on before leaving. He’d found the bones soon enough and disposed of the ghost, and today Bobby had clued him in to a possible poltergeist case a few miles away. He’d head there tomorrow.

Tonight, it was his birthday.

Which didn’t mean much, all things considered. Earlier, he’d considered going to a bar, trying to find someone for a quick hook-up, but he was tired and bruised from the fight with the ghost, and in all honesty, he just wanted to fucking sleep. The roar of trucks passing on the nearby highway and the cold leaking through the windows was going to make that difficult.

He glanced at his phone again, but it remained dark and silent. Fucking ‘course Sam wouldn’t text. He was angry at himself for even expecting him to. They hadn’t spoken since Sam left for college. Dean knew why. Knew Sam was probably still pissed off from his last fight with their dad, too angry at Dean for not coming with him, for not telling their dad off. As if that was even an option. As if Dean could’ve changed their dad’s mind, as if he was supposed to abandon their dad when he was searching for the thing that killed their mom. That’s what was important—killing the monster, not taking fucking college classes.

The pie was cold and a little stale, but he was too hungry to care. “Smoke on the Water” played on the radio, and he turned the volume up a little. The trees lining the parking lot shook in a gust of wind Dean could feel rattle the car, and a stray shopping cart creaked in an empty parking space nearby. Dean eyed it. If it drifted over here in the night and scratched his car…

His phone vibrated in the center console and he snatched it up. A text from Sammy. Happy birthday.

Dean stared at the words for a long moment. The last text he’d received from Sam was a simple, I made it to Stanford. That had been nearly 5 months ago. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he tried to decide how to reply. How was Sam getting along? What nerdy classes was he taking? Had he met anyone? Did he regret leaving? No, most likely, Sam had found whatever he was looking for and was enjoying his normal, apple pie life. Weirdo.

“Thanks,” he settled on, because if he asked Sam a question about college, he’d only be waiting all night for a response that might never come.

Tossing his phone aside, he opened another beer.

He must’ve dozed off sometime later because he suddenly jolted out of sleep to an empty parking lot and 11:45pm on the dash. Stiff from sitting in the front seat, he rubbed at his eyes and swore as he almost knocked over a stray beer bottle at his feet.

Turning off the Impala to not run down the battery, he got into the backseat and kept his coat on instead of folding it into a pillow, covered himself with the two blankets usually stored in the trunk. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the back of the front seats, trying to ignore how tight his throat felt. Fucking pathetic, getting worked up over nothing. What had he expected? Today was just another day, nothing special about it. No reason to treat his birthday any different than any other day, to expect anyone else to treat it any different.

He clenched his hands into fists until the stinging in his eyes receded. Soon his birthday would be past and he wouldn’t have to feel like such a pathetic loser. Well, he thought as he shut his eyes, at least not one alone on his birthday.

• January 24, 2021 •

Nothing like depressing memories to wake up to on your birthday, Dean thought, lying in bed, staring up at the bunker ceiling. That night in 2003 was still fresh in his memory. He remembered waking up stiff and half-frozen the next morning, driving to another case, one more year under his belt. That was probably the last year he attempted to celebrate his birthday—if drinking shitty beer in an empty parking lot could be considered much of a celebration.

He always remembered the day, even if he tried to ignore it, and so did Sam, and Bobby, when the guy was alive. But apocalypses and cases always took first priority, so any celebrating went on the back burner. He wasn’t one much for parties and gifts anyway.

Whispering and footsteps sounded in the hallway outside his bedroom door and he glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 8:16am. Way too early for anyone to be wandering around. Cas hadn’t been in bed next to him when he woke, which was strangely disconcerting. He’d gotten so used to waking up to Cas in the few recent weeks they’d been together. Miracle wasn’t in the room either, asleep on his dog bed like he usually was, and for a moment, in the quiet of his bedroom, Dean felt the terrible loneliness of that night 18 years ago.

That was a long time ago, he told himself, trying to push the gloom aside. For the first time in a while, he was cautiously hopeful that this birthday would be a good one—or, at least, not a miserable one. Every day recently had been a good day—a phenomenon Dean was still getting used to. Chuck was dead, Cas was alive, his whole family was together. It didn’t matter if his birthday was celebrated, if anyone even remembered it was his birthday or not. He was more than lucky with what he had now. What more could he ask for?

All the same, his birthday didn’t exactly scream fun times and good memories, and he kinda wished the day would just be over with. As he lay there, willing himself to get up, his bedroom door cracked open, and he looked over to see Cas peeking inside.

“Oh,” Cas said, catching his eye. He stepped further into the room. “I was hoping you were still asleep.”

“Nope.” Dean propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed at his eyes. “Just woke up.”

Shutting the door, Cas came over and crawled into bed next to him. Dean lay back down to wrap him in his arms, and Cas kissed the side of his neck, then under his jaw, then his cheek, and finally propped himself up to look Dean in the eyes with a soft smile. Despite the heavy weight that had settled on him with the memories of his past birthdays, Dean found himself smiling back.

Leaning forward, Cas kissed him. “Happy birthday,” he said.

So, Cas remembered. “Yeah, guess it’s that day again,” Dean said. He glanced at the doorway. “How long you been up?”

“Not too long.” Cas studied him and Dean nearly squirmed under his gaze. Even without his grace, Cas still managed to make him feel like his soul was on display. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Just, uh, just thinking.” He touched a powdery white splotch on Cas’ t-shirt, a black AC/DC shirt that used to be his. “This flour or cocaine?”

Cas gave him a look. “Flour." He kissed Dean again, then pulled away too soon. "Are you ready to get up?”

“Yeah, was about to. Why? Were you cooking?”

“Um, maybe.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “You should come to the kitchen. There’s, uh, something you need to see.”

“What?”

“Just, come on.” Standing, he tugged on Dean’s hand, urging him out of bed.

Curious, Dean got up and let him lead him down the bunker hallway—Cas hadn’t even let him get dressed, insisting it was urgent. As they neared the kitchen, he caught the smell of coffee and baked goods, and he heard laughter, Jack’s, and someone quietly shushing him, Sam.

“What’s going on?” he asked, but Cas only said,

“You’ll see.” He paused before the doorway to the kitchen and gestured. “You go in first.”

Still unsure of what he was gonna be faced with, Dean braced himself before entering the room.

Darkness... then Jack leapt out from behind the kitchen island as Sam flicked on the lights.

“Surprise!” Jack shouted, and Dean was bombarded with both Miracle racing over and running laps around his feet and Jack wrapping his arms around him in a hug.

“Fuck—woah.” Dean hugged Jack back and looked around the room. Balloons were tied to the kitchen island, which was covered with a pie, bacon, a breakfast casserole, and wrapped gifts.

“Happy birthday!” Jack said, pulling back to meet his eyes. “Were you surprised?”

“Yeah, shit.” Dean looked back at Sam and Cas, who were smiling almost as big as Jack. “I didn’t know you guys were gonna do all this.”

“Cas and I made apple pie,” Jack said, letting go of Dean to point to the gifts. “And these are for you.”

“You made pie?” Dean asked Cas. “And didn’t burn down the kitchen?”

“Sam helped,” Cas admitted.

Coming forward, Sam clapped Dean on the back. “Happy 70th birthday,” he joked, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Funny.” But he pulled Sam into a hug. Sam let out a noise of surprise, then hugged him back.

Shit, they really had remembered, and gone above and beyond. Letting go of Sam, Dean cleared his throat. “This is, uh, this is really nice.” Damned if he didn’t get a little teary-eyed, though he would’ve denied it if anyone called him out.

Cas made him sit down at the table and served him a heaping serving of casserole, set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Sam lit candles on the pie and carried it over to the table as he, Cas, and Jack sang a horribly off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Dean rolled his eyes, but he blew out the candles and took the card Jack handed him.

“So this is what you were hiding,” he said, it dawning on him. Yesterday, he had walked into the library and startled Jack, who’d sprawled his upper half over the table, saying, “Don’t look! It’s a surprise.”

He looked up at Cas. “And this is why you were asking me all those damn questions. You were asking for gift ideas?” A week ago, Cas had hounded him with a series of vague questions that sounded suspiciously like the ones he’d been asked around Christmas, leading to several gifts under the tree.

“Dude, you didn’t think we’d actually forget your birthday, did you?” Sam asked, sitting down across from him.

In hindsight, he guessed he should’ve realized they were planning something, but it’d been a long time since his birthday meant anything more than a few beers and takeout. “No, uh. Just didn’t expect all this.”

“You deserve it,” Cas said, sitting next to him, sincere as always.

His face warming a little, Dean opened the card Jack had given him, smiling at the scrawled words in crayon—they really needed to work on the kid’s spelling. Sam and Cas had signed it too, and he smiled at the you’re a dinosaur now from Sam, and the I love you Cas had written, accompanied by a small red heart.

“Thanks,” he said, looking up. “For, uh, for all of this.”

“‘Course,” Sam said. Reaching over, Cas took his hand, and Dean squeezed his hand tightly before kissing him. Fuck, his eyes were stinging again—but it was his birthday, he should get a free pass.

“Try the pie!” Jack told him as he tried to discreetly thumb at the wetness in the corner of his eye. “Cas and I improvised with the recipe.”

Against all odds, the pie was pretty great, and Dean slipped food to Miracle sitting at his feet to hide how he couldn’t stop smiling.

Cas knocked their knees together under the table, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Happy?” he asked, pulling back to look at him.

“Yeah,” Dean said, looking around the crowded table, at the warm food, at Sam and Jack. He met Cas’ eyes and smiled. “Really happy.”

Tag List:

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007 @celestialcastiel @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @theangelwiththewormstache @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @darksongfire @lykanyouko

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#happy birthday dean <3 <3 #he deserves all the happiness in the world #being alone on your birthday sucks #but at least in the spn that lives in my head #dean will never celebrate his birthday alone again #fluff #happy dean #expectingtofly writes

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silverpaintedstars · 3 years

Text

Well, here’s a first chapter for y’all! Disclaimer it’s a little long, so be prepared for scrolling. I had a lot of fun writing this one

(if you havent read the prologue might wanna do that)

Chapter One: A Meal, An Encounter, and A Walk

He should be dead.

Somehow, though, he was alive.

But it felt like the opposite.

There was the left-over pain from the shadows, and on top of that, his face stung terribly. But he was alive, and he’d take that. Elliot didn’t open his eyes yet, still getting used to the fact that there was more life to live, and how he was going to use it.

It felt like he was laying on grass, or something of the likes. At any rate it was quiet, and he needed this moment of peace. He was lucky to snag them whenever he could, few and far between.

Finally he groaned and wrenched his eyes open. Grey sky greeted him overhead. He was laying on damp brush, rough and overgrown. Not too far from his original guess. A few trees dotted the land around, but he saw no other living form on this desolate wasteland.

Mustering all his energy, he slowly sat up, his head throbbing from the effort. He still had his traveling cloak over his shoulders, but whoever had put him here didn’t think to give him a bag or something?

Whoever had put him here…

Elliot looked around, then yelped.

On a rather large rock to his left, a black-clad figure sat, watching him. He wore a rather curious black mask around his eyes. A few strands of white hair peeked out from under his black hood. A scarf waved in the breeze, and a sword was buckled at his side.

All in all, he looked quite impressive, and like he could kill Elliot any second.

The black-cloaked young man quirked a small smile, his eyes completely concealed so Elliot couldn’t see any emotion from there. Clearly he knew Elliot had seen him but made no move towards his sword.

Elliot remained perfectly still, eyes wide and heart thumping. Did this person bring him here? Or simply stumble upon him? Not knowing made him feel even more helpless.

After a moment of the two staring at each other, the young man deftly hopped off his rock and strode towards Elliot, quickly closing the few yards between them. His boots flattened the tall grass, forming a temporary path.

Elliot swallowed, knowing he should run, but he was half curious what this stranger wanted, plus he doubted he could run faster.

The stranger stopped right in front of Elliot, who was still on the ground, staring up at him.

What he could see of his face betrayed no emotion as he reached a hand down, in the direction of his sheathed sword.

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut, frantically trying to shuffle back in the process. But when he heard no telltale shhhk of the weapon being drawn, he cautiously opened his eyes again.

A grey-gloved hand was outstretched in front of him.

Confused, ELliot looked back up at the stranger, who nodded his head towards his hand.

After a moment's hesitation, Ellliot limply grabbed it, his joints popping as the stranger pulled him to standing. Elliot dusted himself off, wobbling a bit. His face still hurt and he was terribly sore, but it was something he could bear to live with.

“Careful, traveler. Might get stepped on down there,” the stranger said. His voice didn’t quite match the rest of his outward appearance. Lower, a little hesitant but still confident. Elliot didn’t yet know if he could trust this stranger, but a part of him very much wanted to.

“Uh--em--tha-thank you,” Elliot warbled out, rubbing at his hands.

The stranger tipped his head slightly to the left. “And you are welcome.”

“Wh-who are you?” Elliot asked, knowing that stereotypical question had to be asked at some point.

“Around here you can call me Reaper.”

Elliot blinked. “Around here?”

“Yes.” He offered no further explanation. “I trust you are in need of food?”

Elliot hadn’t gotten there in his train of thought yet, but when it came around he found he was quite ready to board the car of food. His stomach grumbled hard when he found that inside this car were piles of food-breads, fruits, soups, and sweets. “Yes,” he said aloud, adding a hasty, ‘sir,” because it sounded safer.

Reaper smiled, pulling a wrapped parcel out of a bag hidden under his cloak. Inside were contents that added more memories to his car of food. A loaf of bread with a bit already broken off, a chunk of cheese, and an apple. He sat on the hard ground in one swift motion, crossing his legs underneath him and spreading the food on the paper, placing it on the ground.

Elliot clumsily sat across from Reaper, hungrily eying the food as more items filled his car as he looked at them.

Reaper tilted his head, as if studying him. “Go on.”

Elliot grabbed at the bread, tearing a hunk off and stuffing it in his mouth. He tried to go slow, act like he had some idea of manners, but the food tasted so good in comparison to what he was used to. Fresh bread--a rare thing for him. He was more used to barren soups, thin, watery things. This tasted a thousand times better, and Elliot felt himself feeling a sense of peace--despite dining with a stranger.

“So tell me,” Reaper said, watching Elliot eat, “how a High Elf like you wound up sixty miles from Orlem.”

He was that far away?

Elliot glanced down at his left hand, which bore the mark of a High Elf--black swirls along the side. He rubbed it. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. So then, Reaper hadn’t brought him here? Just...found him? He reached for the apple and took a meek bite, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“Quite a scar,” Reaper said after a few more minutes of almost quiet, save Elliot’s chewing.

Elliot trailed a finger along the ridge, not trusting himself to be able to say anything. He ducked his head, letting his long hair hang over his face. He had finished eating and stared down at the ground, his head aching not just from physical wounds, but from memories triggered by it. Terrible memories. He willed them away, but it didn’t really go away. Just retreated until another vulnerable moment.

Why was he here? He was certain his father--no, the king--had killed him. He didn’t deserve the title father anymore. Elliot could bear king but not father.

And who was Reaper? Why was a random stranger being so kind to this small Elf boy? Elliot didn’t deserve this. He’d never even had someone really be nice to him before. Except Moss. But she was gone.

“Wh-where are we?” he asked Reaper, dragging himself out from his maze of thoughts.

“About a mile from Holden,” Reaper answered.

Holden. A town. Elliot had never been there, his few leavings of Orlem, the capital of Lucero, north rather than east, where Holden lay. He’d studied the geography of Lucero and the neighboring kingdoms, Chexon and Andromarche, before, so he vaguely knew the rough area.

What was so important about Holden? Was there a reason he had woken up here? Or was it simply...more convenient? He could think of plenty of wasteland around Orlem that would’ve suited the same need, but was closer.

“So…” Elliot started, trying to order his thoughts. “You--found me?”

Reaper nodded. “I was headed to Holden and came upon you. I couldn’t exactly leave someone in your, ah, condition.” For some reason Elliot got the feeling he didn’t mean his wounds.

Reaper rubbed his neck in an almost grabbing way. “To put it this way--most you meet will not sympathize with you. Since Loot has the throne, life has been difficult for most people, from cause of Elves.”

Oh. Elliot let that sink in. Because...of his father, people just associated elves with bad? And Reaper didn’t even know his father was the king.

“You’re lucky I found you,” Reaper added, snapping a twig in his gloved hands and making Elliot jump.

The world suddenly seemed a very messy place, and he’d been thrust in headfirst with no warning. He wasn’t quite sure what to do or say, so he just took another bite of bread.

“Now I know you probably don’t completely trust me,” Reaper continued, “and you just met me twenty or so minutes ago, but we can’t stay here very long. Benedons roam these parts, but the closer we move to Holden, the safer we are.”

Elliot definitely didn’t want to have to encounter a Benedon, a fanged, sharp-clawed creature. And there was a part that desperately wanted to trust Reaper. If he’d wanted to kill him, he could’ve. Elliot didn’t doubt that. But he hadn’t--and he’d given him food. So he had at least one good reason to trust him. But was it enough? He didn’t know who lay behind the mask. For all he knew, they were nowhere near Holden and Reaper was really leading him to his death.

He could never know.

But there was only one way to truly be sure.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” Reaper said, looking around. “Because I doubt you have a choice.” He looked back at Elliot. “Rest a while longer--you don’t yet look strong. Then we will leave.”

Elliot nodded, wondering how he was supposed to rest.

Turns out he didn’t have to think about it, for he lay back in the grass and promptly fell asleep.

He woke up some time later to see Reaper anxiously studying the sky, where the grey had grown darker. He hadn’t noticed Elliot was awake.

Slowly he sat up, rubbing the cloud from his eyes and head. Reaper looked over and saw him. “Good, you’re awake,” he said. “We should be off. If it stays clear we should make it before nightfall, but it looks like storms. Though I know a shelter if we need it.”

Elliot listened to his words in silence. When Reaper had finished he made his way to standing with an amount of effort. His legs were sore and his head began to hurt again, but he made it. Reaper nodded.

“You seem well enough to walk. You feel so?” he asked, shifting the sword scabbard around his waist.

“I-I think so,” Elliot repeated, trying to convince himself that the words were true.

“Then off we will be,” Reaper replied with a readiness to his voice that Elliot couldn’t quite match.

They began to walk east, though it was hard to tell with the clouded sky, but Reaper seemed to know the direction, which didn’t really surprise Elliot. His strength still was weak, but he managed to get in a groove to walk, heaving breaths but refusing to ask for a rest, wanting to prove he could do this.

Yeah, well, he wasn't convincing himself.

At all.

They walked in silence, Reaper still kept looking at the sky, making Elliot start to worry himself if they would get caught in the rain. They had been walking for about forty-five minutes when Elliot felt it.

A drop of wet.

At first he thought it was a bead of sweat from how hard he was pushing himself, but when he felt another, he looked up, confused. Another drop hit him right between the eyes. “Um-eh-Reaper?” he said in a quiet tone. Reaper didn’t hear him. “R-reaper?”

Reaper looked at him. “Yes?” He wouldn’t feel the rain with his hood and cloak, Elliot figured.

Elliot opened his mouth to speak, when the whole sky opened up. He was drenched in approximately twenty one seconds.

Reaper let out a frustrated huff of air, the first time Elliot saw him drop the calm facade. “Come on--there’s a place just over this next way.”

“How far?” Elliot asked, but was lost in the torrent. He followed Reaper, almost running in the rain. His cloak was soaked through, his hair dripping rain in his eyes. He could barely see ten feet ahead of him, but he could see Reaper’s scarf, and followed that blindly like a lighthouse on a ravaging sea.

He squinted, rainwater running into his eyes and his strength almost completely gone, but if Reaper promised shelter--he would push himself as much as he could to get to it and out of this rain.

Finally he saw a blur of yellow. He wiped his eyes and it focused into a small building that was just coming into view from behind a small hill. “I-is that it?” he had to pretty much shout to Reaper over the wet.

“Yes,” Reaper called back. “We will stop there.”

Elliot let out a breath of relief. Finally, he could rest. He could stop and maybe, just maybe, feel safe. Of course, that was making a rather large assumption, but one could dream, couldn’t they? If you weren’t even safe enough to dream, then you were truly cut off from your largest freedom.

Then a crack of lightning struck somewhere close and he jumped, knocked from his thoughts yet again, remembering that he was still in the middle of a storm.

The building--or whatever--was closer now, and thanks to the light from within, he could make out Reaper, the clouds completely snuffing out the natural light. It wasn’t quite nighttime yet, but it was darkening towards it.

Elliot wrapped his dripping cloak around himself, utterly miserable in the wet, feeling like a cat out here. Finally, finally, he and Reaper stepped onto the small porch of the shack, sheltered after what felt like an eternity.

Reaper threw his soaked hood back, his white-grey hair also dripping into his black mask, but he kept that on. “We may have to stay here through the night,” he told Elliot, looking out at the desolate, wet land around. “Walking around in this isn’t quite my fancy, though we are not far from Holden.”

Elliot only nodded, trying to peer through one of the windows that opened onto the porch, but there was a cloth thrown across it on the inside, blocking his view. “What is this place?” he asked Reaper.

“Think of it like an inn for us...vagabonds,” Reaper said. “But less ravish.”

“Oh.” Vagabonds? Was he considered that now? Reaper definitely fit that category, at least from the time he’d known him. But he wouldn’t have labeled himself one before, but maybe now.

“Well then,” Reaper said, wringing the end of his cloak off and dripping into small puddles on the ground, “shall we go inside?”

Elliot definitely had no idea what to expect in this ‘inn for vagabonds’, in Reaper’s terms. But he supposed he would have no idea what to expect of anything he encountered from here on out.

“I-I guess we will,” he said, swallowing and moistening his throat, ironically enough the only part that seemed dry.

Reaper opened the wooden door, and it whined on the hinges. Then he and Elliot stepped inside, out of the external terrors, and into the internal mysteries.

#wip #my writing #writers on tumblr #silverstars writes #elliot loot #reaper #my ocs #how the son of shadows was cast out #chapter one #i don’t remember the word count so ehe #and it bugs me how it won’t copy paste indents #but I don’t feel like editing every single line #also are y’all fine just me posting it here #don’t know if you’d prefer or if it’s easier to read it on the doc #*shrug*

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

Conversation

RP meme from Werewolf: The Apocalypse "Kinfolk: Unsung Heroes" Introduction & Ch.1

"I have normal human fears and frailties, despite my faith."

"I’m terrified I won’t be there when they need me, that I won’t be able to give fully of myself to save them when the time comes. And the price of my failure, for them, would be too high."

"It was like nothing else mattered, nothing else could fill my eyes like the sight of him."

"Now, of course, I realize I was in shock at the time clammy skin, disorientation, that sort of thing."

"That night misted over my senses; even now, it seems more like a vivid dream than anything else."

"I had to watch. I couldn’t turn away."

"That night, I saw I had to protect him. He needed me, and it’s just as simple as that."

"Let’s just say what I know has come in handy."

"The best folks give the most of whatever they can."

"Think about it — would you like to go through childbirth every nine months from age 14 to 50?"

"We’re human beings, dammit!"

"I’ll always do anything I can to help, even if I’m royally pissed; I don’t expect thanks or money, either. But it would be nice to get some respect."

"I'm not alone in saying that I hate being patronized."

"Give an inch, they’ll take a mile" is what some of them think about us."

"The rhetoric a lot of them use sounds like the same crap bigots give when trying to “justify” why women and minorities shouldn’t have equal rights."

"Just once, I’d like to feel like an equal, a partner in all this."

"Ever think about how hard things would be without us?"

"I see by your scowl that doesn’t satisfy you."

"Think of it as normal family responsibilities, magnified a thousand times."

"It’s practically medieval!"

"I mean, it looks like such fun to turn into a wolf."

"There are connections like you wouldn’t believe. Completely outside the law, these people can get dirt on the opposition, perform b&e without leaving a trace and provide muscle no other boss can beat. All they ask is some capital, some boltholes and a little legal cover. Sweetest deal in the world!"

"What do I think about it? Imagine what it’d be like for someone to call you and say you’d missed out on a million dollars because you got one wrong number on the lottery ticket."

"Some are too caught up in the things of humans —chasing after money to have what advertisers insist they can’t do without, living their soap-opera lives and not seeing what the world is really all about. I pity them."

"There is sweeter revenge than death."

"I laugh with joy thinking how your heart will burst should you ever have to face him in battle."

"It’s a great honor to be who I am, who we are. But it’s scary, too."

"Families can quarrel, snarl and cut one another to the quick, but in times of trouble, they’ll stick together."

"God, Allah, Gaia, the Great Spirit or whoever gave us this job, so we have to do the best we can with it."

"Blood also fetters our lives in hatred as well as love, I’m afraid to say."

"I’m not saying this is a fact, but if she was abused, it might explain some things."

"I’m sorry, I can’t quite imagine a moment of sensual passion with someone I don’t love, much less hardly know!"

"In other words, it’s the connections that’re vital, not the money or the mileage."

"Many have wealth, but not all; lineage, not money, is most important."

"That’s a heavy price to pay in a harsh world."

"Self-sacrifice is also important."

"Sacrifice comes in terms of emotional costs, too."

"It’d be pretty stupid for me to become a gun-toting mercenary, for example."

"To put a positive spin on all this, I guess I’d say it’s nice to be needed."

"I admit I don’t really understand what it is or when it’ll be, but many’s the Irish tale where a small oversight wreaked terrible disaster."

"So I got online and made a few phone calls and tried to get the “truth” in as many forms as I could."

"The word “family” has come to mean a lot more things than the 1950s concept of mommy, daddy and two perfect children."

"Raising children is no bed of roses, either."

"Kids love to test their parents and see just how far they can push and still get away with it."

"There’s no way this could be easy."

"Some days, I have to bite my tongue, and that does get old."

"I was just too stupid and blind to see it."

"I always felt like I was split, alone, part of something I couldn’t name."

"Listen, you have no idea what it’s like to watch someone you love slowly lose her mind."

"There are some, well, bimbos."

"You know, the ones that like to control CEOs and topple careers."

"Here, try a piece of this chicken gizzard. I get ’em real cheap down at the butcher shop. No one else seems to want these extra parts. I grill ’em with a little barbecue sauce and honey mustard. Delicious! Thanksgiving’s always the best time, though. Then there’s turkey necks for the takin’!"

"Our families are pretty big, and we figure even the most distant cousin or friend of a friend’s part of the group."

"I’m sure you know, working with people all the time, how far thanks and a friendly smile go when you’re dead on your feet. It’s like the sun’s come out on a cloudy day."

"I mean, some of that stuff is long outdated!"

"It’s more a matter of belief and pureness of spirit, if you ask me."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"We’re steadfast and steady, yet vibrant and alive, warriors, artists, writers, musicians beyond compare."

"I don’t know if we can save them, but we won’t give up."

"To be tested and accepted by the greatest warriors in the world — no greater honor can we ask for."

"Think of us as the tiny little parts that hold a machine together. Maybe it could function without us, but not without a lot of wear and tear on the system. You get my drift."

"If leader seems weak, I test him. He shows strength, I stop."

"They’re the ones who are causing all the problems by rebelling against the people in charge. They need to settle down and just be content with what they’ve got, if you want my opinion."

"Why should I worry? It’s a clear day. Traffic’s light, but walking’s fine. You get to see where you’re going. I’ll hit a little town ’fore dark and trade a song or story for some food and a piece of floor."

"Revolutions are intolerable and inexcusable."

"The aristocracy attained their positions for a reason, for only the most worthy were chosen to lead, after all. If the

lower classes overthrow the aristocrats, anarchy is the sure result. One need only look at history; Can the Russians truly say their lot improved after they murdered the Romanovs?"

"History has always been a beloved subject to me."

"I pity those souls, displaced by fortune, who are ignorant of their heritage. How can one know who he is without knowing where he comes from? A man — or woman — is the sum of all who came before."

"Money is not the issue; many great families lost their fortunes, yet retain their nobility."

"It’s a poor teacher who doesn’t learn from her student; in this way, the knowledge of both increases."

"Dreams, of course, are the pathways of our souls; here rest our secret desires, fears and hopes."

"You doubt me. You don’t speak against me, but I can see your heart is dubious."

"There’s no greater glory than to serve the destiny of the universe."

"The lacerations looked exactly like the work of sharp teeth, deep into his flesh."

"I won’t go s’far as to say there’s undying loyalty, but we do have a lot of respect for each other."

"Were I as capable as my ancestors, I’d kill you now and never spare a second thought."

"No atonement can replace those lost children."

"Thus far, we have been lucky, but it’s just a matter of time before someone we don’t want sneaks in. It’s not that I want to close ranks by any means; I just wish we paid a little closer attention to who came in from the cold."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you think we’re a dime a dozen. I’d like to believe we’re a little more special than most."

"We’ve built too much for a rotten apple to spoil it all."

"I don’t believe this guy; it seems almost too perfect to be true!"

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #Werewolf the Apocalypse #wta #World Of Darkness #owod #kinfolk

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janetbrown711 · 3 years

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"you've always been strong for me. let me return the favor." Angelina 2 to William 🥺

To say William woke up feeling refreshed would be the most obvious lie of all time.

His first thought in his painfully groggy head of his was of his location. From what he could sense, it wasn’t familiar. The beds felt cheap, nothing like the royal silk sheets he had gotten used to at the palace.

His second thought was of Lena. He couldn’t feel her presence, which caused him to snap his eyes open and look for her.

This third thought was remembering what had happened.

Freeing Wakko. Hurting his arm. The attack.

He tried sitting up but a wave of pain shot through his whole body and he was forced to sit back down. However, he looked across the room and saw her.

Lena was in a bed across the room from him, and it hurt his neck to look at her, but he couldn’t look away. He had never seen her with so many bruises and bandages around her in his life. It broke his heart.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” The familiar voice of his childhood best friend, Helloise Nerz, spoke softly. “How are you feeling?”

How was he feeling? Almost every inch of his body ached and hurt, his wife somehow appearing worse than him, and he was miles and miles away from his children, who he already missed terribly.

“Right... poor question,” She apologized. “How much do you remember?”

He thought a moment.

“Last thing I remember is passing out on your doorstep,” He said. She nodded.

“Good, because that was the last thing that happened,” She said.

“So... what’s wrong with me, doc?” He joked a little. Helloise chuckled.

“Nurse. Scratchy is the real doc, I’m just the assistant,” She remarked.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Helloise. I’m sure you could run this place if you had to,” He said. She snorted.

“You’ve got a terribly sprained arm that I noticed was already bandaged, but you’ve made much worse, I presume from carrying her highness. You also have a torn ligament in your right ankle, minor frostbite, and numerous pulled muscles throughout your legs,” she read off of a chart.

“And Lena?” He asked.

“Broken rib, a minor concussion from what we can tell, fractured fibula, severe bruising on the face, minor frostbite, and blood loss from a severe wound in the right shoulder we cleaned and stitched up.”

William looked at his wife again.

“How long have we been asleep?” He asked.

“Three days,” She said. William blinked.

“Th-three days?” he asked.

She sighed. “William...” she sat on the edge of his bed.

“The whole kingdom thinks you two are dead, and honestly, you two are lucky to be alive.”

“What? Why? How? What about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they alright?” He tried sitting up, but the wave of pain reminded him not to.

“Well, her majesty the queen threw a funeral two days ago. They said attackers stormed the castle in the night and killed the two of you,” She explained.

“But what about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they okay?” He asked.

“I haven’t heard any news of the three of them, so they should be alright with the queen.”

“If you could consider being with the queen alright,” he muttered.

“Right... She wasn’t the best mother, right?” She remembered. He shook his head, sighing. Just then, a low grumble came from across the room, and Lena began to stir.

“What... where... Will..?” she mumbled as her eyes slowly opened and she took in her surroundings. William wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, but the numerous injuries Helloise had informed him about kept him where he was. Instead, the good nurse went over and started evaluating and explaining the situation to her.

“D-dead..?” Her face went pale as a ghost. “That means... They’re with... we have to go. Now,” She looked at William, and started climbing out of her bed, nearly collapsing immediately if it hadn’t been for Helloise catching her.

“Your highness, you can’t. You need to recover,” She said, laying her back down.

“I can’t leave them with her- I can’t,” She shook her head.

“Lena...” He said softly. She looked at him for a moment, before lying back down and looking away, her expression mostly unreadable. Just then, the doctor came in.

“Oh goodie, you two are awake,” He said, but he quickly read the room.

“Er... how are you two feeling?” He asked. William shrugged, while Lena remained silently looking away.

He then pulled the nurse back outside to talk for a moment, promising it wouldn’t be long. William nodded and let them go, and his eyes went to Lena.

She wouldn’t look at him, even when he said her name. Something was deeply, deeply wrong. William wished he could read her mind, though he did have a few guesses. For one, the kids.

William knew they were resourceful and clever, but he honestly had no idea what Angelina was going to do to them now that they were out of the picture- especially if she thought they were dead.

It sent a shiver down his spine just thinking about it...

“So... your highnesses... what can you tell us about the attack?” The doctor reentered and asked.

“Oh god... where to start?” he chuckled nervously.

“If you aren’t ready, it’s totally fine,” Helloise sat on the edge of his bed. “We just... well... the people are curious. You are supposed to be dead after all.”

“Of course,” William said, before taking in a deep breath and beginning.

.o0o.

Some of Angelina’s lessons were extremely difficult to try and undo.

At least Wakko was trying to be optimistic about things. After he had broken him out of the tower, Wakko was spending a lot more time with them as a family, suddenly talking to them a lot more than he used to, which William took as a good sign, seeing as he desperately wanted something to look on the bright side about.

Dot was happy too, of course, as she was just glad to have Wakko back too. She could hardly tell everyone else was anxious, she was only four after all.

When the first window broke, William had been up in a flash, and despite his injury, he grabbed his sword anyway.

“William? What’s the matter?” Lena had asked.

“Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll handle this,” he kissed her head, leaving their bedroom.

He walked through the halls, surprised at just how silent everything was. Still, he kept his guard up, not allowing himself to relax for even a second.

“...this castle is huge! Even with the map she gave us,” a disgruntled, not-too-far off voice said. William ducked behind a curtain for cover.

“It’s a quick mission though: grab the king, grab the queen, and grab the kid if there’s time to spare,” A lower voice shrugged, and William felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. Immediately, he burst out and attacked one of the men, and they quickly began a sword fight.

Unfortunately, William found himself evenly matched by his opponent and realized he was surrounded by allies, some that were even taller than him.

He was kinda screwed.

“Remember, queenie said no blood on her carpets or tapestries,” The tallest reminded his attacker, who was now pointing his sword at his face. “Tie him up. With the strongest removed, we can work on getting that queen and the middle boy,” He ordered, before taking a few and leaving.

Wakko.

However, the numbers were too large, and before William knew it, his wrists were tied and he was captured.

“Alright, move it, princey,” one of the men kicked him. William gnashed his teeth, but they planned for that, as two of the men held him down, and a third quickly put a muzzle around him.

“There, now that should get you to behave,” He grinned, pulling William up, and the three men forced him out of the castle, and into the back of a carriage, where he was locked in and left.

He tried kicking the door open, but it must’ve been solid wood because he got nowhere, and all he ended up doing was exhausting himself.

He was supposed to be able to protect his family.

After a long moment of silence and stillness, the door opened and Lena was thrown in next to him, and William caught a glimpse of the outside and noticed it was snowing lightly.

He didn’t dwell on that, his eyes falling onto Lena, who looked horrible. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked at him, slowly and painfully crawling her way over and lying against his chest. William did his best to hug her with his hands tied.

Neither of them could say a word, but both knew exactly what the other was feeling, and they did their best to embrace and comfort each other.

Then, the carriage began to move.

They didn’t capture Wakko.

Despite everything, William sighed a breath of relief.

Silently, the couple rode for hours, not knowing where they were being taken or why or who was behind any of this, though they had a few guesses.

William was just glad he still had her... even if it wouldn’t be for much longer.

He loved her with his entire being, nothing would ever change that, not an evil queen, and not even death.

However, his mind quickly went to his kids.

Wakko was alive- at least, he hoped. The attackers said they couldn’t get blood anywhere, hopefully, that meant they just ran out of time to find him and he was okay.

But if they were killed, William had no idea what Angelina would do to them. They would have no protection from her now. They could be hurt, or worse...

William hugged Lena a little tighter.

After an hour or two of riding, the temperature inside the carriage got notably colder, the snow outside picking up.

William prayed for a miracle.

William winced at the sound, closing his eyes but when he opened, he saw it-

The doors were busted open.

Quickly, William scooted out, gesturing for Lena to follow, but she was closing her eyes and cringing in pain, and William realized she had injured her leg in the fall. Knowing they didn’t have much time to run, he carefully got her out, having her arms go around him with the tie, and having her hold herself up best she could with her remaining upper body strength as they ran into the woods, as far away as they could manage, also while looking for something they could use to untie their hands- and also a hiding place for when the attackers began to search.

Luckily, William was well trained in tracking so he did his best to make sure his footprints in the snow made zero sense and were misleading at best, praying they wouldn’t be able to follow, but he didn’t know who or what they were, so it was hard to be certain.

Eventually, William and Lena made it to a cave and they hid in there for a while, With William finding a particularly sharp rock he used to untie his hands, remove his muzzle, then untie Lena, and remove her muzzle.

“William,” she said with teary eyes.

“Lena,’ he replied, becoming overwhelmed with the desire to hug her, but noting her injured state, he instead just pressed his forehead against hers, and she did the same, placing her soft hand against his face as she cried softly.

“We can’t stay here for long- a bear probably lives here,” she said.

“Just for a moment, we need to rest- figure out where we are, and what our next move is,” He said.

“We’re so far from home... how are we going to get out of this?” She asked.

“I... I don’t know, Lena,” He admitted. “But we will, I promise.”

They stayed hidden for quite some time, having only one close call when one of the tracker’s voices was close enough for them to hear, but William was ready with the sharp rock in case he got too close, but he never did, so they were alright.

Well- alright, considering everything that just happened.

Eventually, the sun started to rise in the woods, and it slowly dawned on William that the coast was clear, and they were free to go.

But... free to go where? They had no idea where they were- were they even in Warnerstock? They could be in foreign lands for all they know- a place where they didn’t even speak the language and they could be killed for sneaking in and-

Wait. Lena was the Princess, and knew all the languages of the neighboring kingdoms, and would likely be given aid. William was panicking over nothing.

However... Lena was looking rather weak. She lost a lot of blood, and her injuries were only pilling up.

“Where do we go?” Lena asked as he was looking at her.

“Well... I don’t think we can go home... as something tells me your mother was behind this...” He stroked his chin.

“You’re telling me,” she huffed, before wincing in pain.

William snapped. “I know a place where they can’t refuse us,” he grinned.

Lena blinked. “William... Acme falls is in the middle of nowhere and perhaps one of the first places they’d go looking for us if we were missing,” she frowned.

“Well- not unless your mother wants us to be dead. Then she wouldn’t have to or want to look anywhere,” he said. “It’d be just like it was when we had just gotten married.”

“When we just married...” Lena trailed off into the memory, a look of sad nostalgia written on her face.

“Look... I’m going to go and try to figure out where we are, so we can head to Acme. Will you be okay if you stay here?” he asked.

“I don’t think I have a choice,” she tried to joke, but William knew she hated it. He kissed her forehead.

“I love you,” He said. “I won’t be long.”

“I love you too, Wiliam,” she replied, and William ran out of the cave.

It took about an hour, but eventually, William discovered that yes, they were still in Warnerstock, and found the direction they were to go to if they wanted to go to Acme Falls. It would be quite the trek, especially if this snow continued to fall, but he had determination on his side.

He was not going to die here, nor was he going to let Lena. He would carry her in his arms if he had to, simple as that.

.o0o.

“So... yeah. We hiked for hours to reach here, the strains and pulled muscles and frostbite are from trekking through the snow, and that’s how we got here,” William finished his tale.

“Oh William... that’s terrible,” Helloise looked at him sadly.

“That does explain a lot... you two should really be getting rest now, yah?” Scratchnsniff remarked, reading over their charts one more time.

“Rest, yeah...” he nodded slowly, though sleep was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to go back to the palace asap, and kill Angelina, and get his kids back. He was confident Lena felt the same.

Though... they wouldn’t be able to do much good in this state... especially without a plan.

“We’ll leave the two of you alone... you’ve been through a lot,” Helloise said.

“Thanks,” he gave a weak smile, which she returned.

His eyes then went to his wife, who still wasn’t looking at him, staring intently at the ground and wall.

“Lena, my love, what’s the matter?” He asked. Lena snorted.

“That’s your first question?” She snarked.

Okay, that was on him. That was a pretty dumb question.

“What are you thinking about?” he tried again. Lena crossed her arms.

“It isn’t fair...” she said. William sighed.

“I know it’s not fair that-”

“I’m not talking about my mother o-or the attack- I-i’m talking about you,” she snapped. William paused.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Lena sighed, wincing at the pain.

“Damned broken ribs...” she muttered.

“I meant... It’s not fair. Time after time after time I end up hurt or crying or abused- it isn’t fair. You’re always so strong William, it pains me. When is it my turn to be strong for you?” she said, wiping away tears and trying her best not to cry.

“Lena...” William reached out to her as much as he could, his arm nearly touching her pillow. Lena continued to look away.

“I’m serious. No matter what happens, you’re always so strong and so brave and comforting. I just- I feel so inadequate,” she whispered.

“Lena, you aren’t inadequate,” He said softly. “You’re just...”

“Damaged?” she said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t pretend it isn’t true- I know what my mother has done.”

“Lena, I don’t care. I love you,” He said.

“And I love you- but... I just... you’ve always been so strong for me William. I want to return the favor, just once...” She looked at him.

“Lena, we’ve both lost so much... this shouldn’t be something we measure or keep track of,” He said, and Lena placed her head where his hand is on her pillow.

“I miss them, William,” she whispered.

“I miss them too, my love,” he whispered back. Lena kissed his hand.

“We’ll get them back, Lena. I promise,” he said. Lena nodded, kissing his hand again and closing her eyes.

“I promise too. No matter what it takes, we are going to get our babies back.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

#my fics #angelina 1 lives au #queen angelina ii #william warner #angelina warner #hello nurse #dr scratchnsniff #tw blood #tw kidnapping #tw muzzles #angst #feels #long post

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