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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Amoreena | Chapter sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Amoreena meets Jo, Jo shares her experience with the foster homes (tw self-harm and child abuse), and Spencer shares his shitty childhood with her. They bond, he loves her more than he thought possible, his dreams of a big happy family are coming true.

word count: 4.8k

from the beginning <3

His phone is ringing at 7:50 and all he does is groan, forgetting Y/N’s agreement with Amoreena. His wife reached over his face and towards the phone, picking up with an overly cheerful tone for a pregnant woman who was up until 3 am.

“Hello sweet girl, how was your sleep?”

“Ugh,” she makes a weird face as the morning nausea kicks in and she tries to swallow it down. “Yeah? Oh, I’m so glad, dad and I are just waking up. We have another big surprise for you today… I know honey there’s always a lot going on, but this one is a good one I promise!”

“Can I go talk to her?” Spencer asks, “alone?”

“Dad’s going to come and see you while mommy has a shower, okay? I love you too, bye,” she smiles as she hangs up and passes the phone back to him.

They kiss quickly before separating, Spencer throws on the same clothes from the beach last night before heading down the hall towards Amoreena’s room. He knocks quietly before entering, seeing her sitting in a queen bed with 2 cats.

“Taylor let Olivia and Benjamin stay in here last night, she said they usually sleep in here anyway!” She was whispering, but it was still loud for her this early.

He sat on the edge of her bed and gave her a big hug, “how was your night?”

“Really amazing, Dad, Taylor is my best friend now,” she’s completely serious, “I hope mom’s not too upset about that, I guess we could share her…”

“That’s a nice thought, are you good at sharing?”

“I think so,” she nods with a serious face.

“Good, because there’s a new person who’s coming to live with us. She’s going to be kind of sad for a while and I’ll be spending a lot of time with her too,” he watches her face as she listens, confused but fine with it.

“Who is she?”

“Did your mom tell you how she made you?”

She nods, “she said sometimes people with penises donate sperm to help people have babies, and you were the one who donated for me,” she gives him a run down so seriously that it makes him laugh like the 7-year-old.

“Yeah, exactly, well I also helped 2 other families make babies,” he says softly, petting her hair as she understands what that means.

“So I have more siblings?”

“Yep, 2 sisters and a brother,” he smiles as she starts to bounce with excitement. “Josephine is 12, almost 13, and she’s coming to live with us.”

“Where is her mom?” She asks, he knew she would.

“Her mom and dad were in an accident, they died and she looked for me because she didn’t want to be alone anymore,” he knows it’s a hard topic, and that she understands death after losing her gg, but it’s still hard.

“Oh, that’s sad,” she frowns, moving in to hug him again, she keeps her head pressed to his shoulder. “I hope she’s okay, is she here now too?”

“She is, but I’m not sure if she’s awake yet, she’s a teenager and they sometimes sleep in longer than you would, like when Henry was over and slept until noon,” he has all his kids profiled in his minds and it’s actually more helpful than a hindrance.

“Does she like Taylor?”

He knew that one was coming too, “she’s a huge fan, she cried meeting her just like mom.”

“Is she going to call my mom her mom now?”

“I don’t think so, would that upset you?” He’s worried for the answer, he had the same jealous tendencies growing up. Hell, he still has them.

“No, she needs a mom, I would be very sad without mine, I know she needs one too,” she looked at him like it was a stupid question because of course, all kids need a mom and her mom happened to be the best.

“That’s really nice of you, she knows all about you and she’s really excited to move in with us, maybe you can help her decorate her room?” He isn’t sure what Jo will think, but he knows it would be good for bonding.

“Can we see if she’s awake? Wait, she’s a she right? Miss Kennedy said sometimes people look like girls but they don’t like to feel like girls, so we use they,” Amoreena was so worried about being a good sister he didn’t know why he worried so much.

“Well, I’m not sure, Jo hasn’t told me but you can ask?”

She shot right out of bed, still in her dress from last night as she ran to the door, “come on, what room is it?”

“Right there, knock nicely,” he says as he joins her in the hall, pointing to the room across from her.

She knocked 3 times, hearing a small ‘yeah?’ From the other side before opening it, “good morning!” Amoreena cheered.

“Amoreena!” Jo smiled as she got out of bed and ran over to her. She dropped to her knees so they’d be the same height and wrapped her up in her arms.

They hugged like this was a reunion and not an introduction, they held on to one another so tightly they both squeezed their eyes shut and held their breath. He knew that kind of hug, that was a hug you gave when you deeply loved the person you were hugging.

It made him want to cry, again.

Jo pulled back from her and Amoreena immediately held her face in her hands, observing her. “Yep, you’re my sister,” she smiled as she saw her nose.

That same perfect little button that was slightly angled towards the sky, she booped it lightly. Jo booped her right back.

“I am, it’s pretty cool getting to share a dad with you cause now I get to meet Taylor Swift, how the heck did we get so lucky?” Jo talks to her like she’s used to being around kids, finding the wonder in every word and saying the whole sentence with enthusiasm.

She turns to him, both his girls making the same face as they looked at him in the doorway, “how did you meet Taylor, dad?”

“You remember Uncle Dave? He came over for the barbecue and talked to poppy bob about winemaking all night?”

“Yeah, he’s Italian,” Amoreena remembered his funny accent and how she called him Mario.

“His daughter is Taylor’s friend, so Taylor sent me an email asking to meet you,” he couldn’t help but smile as she did.

“So you guys really are knights at the FBI, huh?”

“Yeah, but my armour got too rusty so now I’m going to guard the princess only, no more battles for me,” he was happy to make it magical, to turn the terribleness of it all into something she could be proud of.

He feels cold hands reaching under the back of his shirt then as he jumps, Y/N is wrapping her arms around him and pressing her cheek to his back, “your armour is fine, it just needs some polish.”

“They’re kinda gross, you’ll have to get used to that,” Amoreena says, pressing her lips together awkwardly as she looks at Jo.

“It’s nice though, it makes you feel like love is real,” Jo smiled back, “not many kids have happy families.”

“You do now, okay?” Amoreena took her cheeks in her hands again, something she must have learned from Y/N. “My family is your family and we are the best family, you’re going to have so much fun with us, can I help you decorate your room?”

Jo cried, laughing lightly as she nodded, “that would be cool, maybe we can get bunk beds for random sleepovers?”

Amoreena shot her eyes to her mom, “can we?”

“That would be cool,” Y/N agreed, “we’ll go to Ikea on Friday when I’m not working, okay?”

“And this weekend we can buy some paint for your room?” Spencer added, “you guys can plan all week together.”

“Yes!” Amoreena cheered, hugging Jo again.

Jo held her gently, resting her cheek against the top of Amoreena’s head with a small smile. She looked genuinely happy, peaceful like she belonged somewhere again.

Right then Amoreena’s eyes are darting right to him, “It’s fathers day!” She screams, way too loud for 8 am in someone else’s home. Thank god Taylor was on the other side of the mansion.

“Oh my god,” Amoreena smacked her forehead with her little hand, “I was so carried away with the wedding I didn’t pack your present, dad! I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve got you covered little miss,” Y/N smiled at her, “It’s in my purse!”

Amoreena pushed past them in the doorway and ran to their room in search of said purse. Probably emptying it out on the bed and making a huge mess, but it was fine.

Y/N took a moment to kiss his cheek, “good morning, happy father’s day.”

“Thank you,” he blushed, turning to face her and hold her close, “I can feel you staring Jo, come here.”

She comes skipping right over, wrapping her arms around them both and resting her head on Spencer’s side. For a 12-year-old she was tall, a lot taller than Henry was, that’s for sure.

“Hey!” Amoreena butts in, “let me in,” she pushed into the middle of the hug to steal all the warmth, “happy father’s day, dad.”

“Happy father’s day,” Jo added with a soft smile, “thank you for everything.��

“Yeah, you’re the best dad in the world, Jo you should see how he reads with his mind, he doesn’t even need to look at the books at bedtime,” Amoreena bragged, pulling back from all of them then.

Spencer wiped the tears from his face and pretended he wasn’t crying, overwhelmed by love just like he told Jo to expect. “I love you guys, I’m so glad I helped make you both, you’re the best kids a dad could ask for.”

“Here,” Amoreena hands him a wrapped present.

It’s a handmade book, blue construction paper bound with green ribbon in little loops and covered in a thin layer of tissue paper from the present he got her last week. He carefully removes the tissue and hands it back to her, “do you still want it for dresses?”

“Sure,” she takes it with a smile, “I wrote this for you after a dream I had, Miss Kennedy helped me write it all and reword it a bit. But it’s all from my brain.”

“Spencer’s little women,” he reads and then his heartbeat almost stops when he sees the bottom, “by Amoreena Reid.”

“We can go sit in the living room while you read it to us?” Y/N offered, taking the girl's hands and leading them all down the hallway.

Taylor’s house was full of floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing them to watch the sunrise over the ocean as they cuddled up on the couch as a family. Him and his little women.

“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom ruled by a beautiful princess who had a broken heart. She promised to hide away from the townspeople until she gathered all the pieces again,” Spencer read the first sentence and knew he wouldn’t be able to make it through the whole book.

“You know, I think it would be better if you read this to me Amoreena,” he asks her gently, “I want to know it from your voice first.”

“Okay,” she bounces up from where she cuddled into her mother to take the book from his hand, sitting straight as she got ready to read.

“Slowly, but surely, the pieces came back to her one by one as the people felt the need to search for her, they missed seeing her smile as she ruled alongside her parents, the king and queen until her heart was fixed.

A little girl, Lady Amoreena, arrived like a gift. A fairy godmother handing a small child to the princess to raise and love forever and ever, they were best friends more than anything.

But the princess’s baby girl made it her mission to fix the rest of her heart as she grew up seeing her mom frown, questing for princes and kings, even another princess to come and fill that last missing spot of her heart. To make their family love grew as the cracks from where they separated were healed.

She set off on her daily adventure, running off past the gates on the way to the willow tree, excited to see what wonders the pond of youth brought to her this time. Surprised to find a knight, his broken and rusty armour fallen on the ground, he was wrapped in weeds, he had been trapped for too long to remember.

Amoreena cut the vines off him with her sword, “you’re free now, sir knight.”

“How can I ever repay you?” The kind man with the same nose as her asked.

“Meet the princess, tell her about your battles, make her laugh and you can stay with us,” she gives him one final quest. His last ever duty.

The princess smiles as soon as they meet. He wins her over without even trying, he completes their family and makes all the cracks in her heart fuse back together. Gold light shines from her as she’s healed, completed by the love of a family she never knew she needed.

The love didn’t end there… the knight and the princess knew lady Amoreena would be like her mom when she grew up. The possibility of a sad and broken heart as she got older, so they made her 8 more siblings, her group of sisters to keep her company during the happily ever after part.

“Sir Spencer, where are all your little women?” The king of the land asked, seeing the knight and the princess all alone on the path, old and slow as they walked.

“Down by the pond, it’s story day!”

He knew that’s where they’d always be, at their pond with a book, braiding each other's hair, weaving flower crowns and chasing each other through the wildflowers that replaced the vines that once held him down.

Free, healed and happy. Spencer and his little women healed the princess, allowing her to take the role as Queen, like her grandma always wanted for her.”

“There isn’t a 'the end'?” Y/N’s voice questions lightly as Spencer cries too hard to even respond.

She was the most amazing child in the whole world and he didn’t know what he did to deserve her. He wrapped her up in his arms and held her so tight she was smacking his arm to let her go with a laugh, “I want to add more to it when I’m older, like GG’s book.”

“You can write one for all your sisters,” Y/N smiles at her softly, “you know, gg only wrote Amoreena because you came to her in a dream?”

She nodded, “that’s why I started writing this book for dad because I had a dream about him reading to all of us, he was so old it was funny.”

“How old?” He asks, remembering his reflection from his own dream.

“Like poppy, you had a white beard!”

“What did we talk about?” He doesn’t know why he wants to know so badly but he’s desperate to know if their dream was the same.

“It was story day, you and mom were late, but you said, ‘I’d never miss a Saturday with my little women,’” she smiles, “I’m so glad you’re my dad.”

She holds him back just as tight this time, snuggling into his chest as he breathes her in. His first little baby, even if she was the middle kid now, she was his baby, he couldn’t even imagine holding someone even smaller than her soon.

—

They take a quick trip to target in the morning, needing to get some things for Jo and Y/N really, really wanted chocolate-covered cranberries, making sure he knew that she would kill him if he didn’t bring them back to her. Finally having those pregnancy mood swings he was expecting.

Jo is quick to pick out some summer clothes and a bathing suit for the day as well as toiletries and anything else she wanted because Spencer said so. He was going to spoil her because he didn’t know what else to do. This is what he wanted from his dad, someone to see something, think of him and just get it to make him smile.

She saw some purple bedding that she liked, so it ended up in the cart. And then she needed some new pillow, and some fitted sheets… oh and those curtains are nice… and before they knew it they had $300 worth of things for her bedroom in the back of Y/N’s car.

Jo pressed her lips together awkwardly as they sat in the front seats of the car, he looked over at her and smiled, making her laugh, “this is the best father’s day.”

“I’m supposed to be getting you gifts today!”

“You are a gift, Jo,” he doesn’t mean to get sappy, but he can’t help the love he feels for her already.

“Drive before I cry, dude,” she turns to look out the window. “Are we going to have a 'ground rules and behaviour' speech like all the foster parents do? I have a feeling you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He starts the car then, pulling out of the lot and starting the 40-minute car ride back with her, “how do they normally set the rules in the foster homes?”

“They pay for my phone bill with the money provided for me each month and they sometimes get me the groceries I want for lunches and stuff but they mostly kept the money for themselves. I’m only allowed on the internet for an hour a day, homework has to be done in front of their eyes at the kitchen table, no food after 7 pm, lights off and no walking around by 9,” she gave the rundown and it made Spencer’s stomach turn.

“I will pay for your phone bill, you don't need to worry about that. We can even get you a new one when we get home. Y/N has great internet and every streaming service available, you don’t have a time limit here. Just promise me you’ll go outside sometimes?” He reaches a hand out to hold her’s while driving, letting her know he means what is coming next.

“I trust you have a way of life you’re used to, and I’m not going to change that on you, if you want to share things with me and be open and honest, I’m always here and I will never judge you. I don’t want you to ever feel like you need to hide things from me. And that being said, I trust you enough to use the internet safely, and not hack anything without good reason anymore?”

Derek was right, it’s surprisingly easy to be a dad. All you have to do is love them and be there for them.

“Okay, then I think you should know,” she takes a deep breath and a pause. “I’m pretty sure I like girls too, I never got to tell my mom that but I’m sure she knew, and I’m kind of scared to put my bathing suit on when I get home.”

“First of all, I’m proud of you,” he squeezes her hand 3 times, and she does it right back with a smile. “Secondly, why? Did you not get one you liked? I was fine buying any of them for you.”

“I have a lot of scars on my legs, and I don’t want to scare Amoreena,” she’s really ashamed of herself and Spencer understands it.

He rolls his sleeve up and extends his arm for her to see his very faded track marks, “I was drugged on a case once, I had an addiction after. The scars fade over time, but I also haven’t shown Amoreena my bare arms yet.”

“Mine are pretty faded now too, it’s been a few months, they look more like stretch marks,” she smiled at his honesty, feeling safer with him.

“If she asks, you can say it was from a cat at the foster home. She’ll think about Cinderella and the evil stepmother's cat, and then completely forget why she asked,” he assures her, knowing Amoreena like the back of his hand now.

“Lucifer,” Jo smiles, “I was like her as a kid too, always making up stories and finding new movies to be obsessed with. I have ADHD, by the way, but I’m un-medicated cause my last foster home didn’t listen to the school’s diagnosis,” she says it like it’s not a big deal.

His blood starts to boil at the thought of someone not taking care of her, “excuse me?”

“Yeah, and when I asked for a therapist they said no to that too, I was ‘fine’ apparently and they settled for a dead parents support group so that Colin could have a coffee while I sat there,” she’s oblivious to how terrible it is.

“Make me a list of all the things you want, I mean everything down to the most niche interest or therapy technique that you’ve researched and I will help you with whatever it is,” Spencer is furious at the conditioning she’s experienced to think this is okay.

“You don’t have to, dad, I’m okay now,” she lies and he can tell.

“You don’t have to be, believe me, I cry almost every night to Y/N about things I thought I had recovered from. If you want to talk to someone because you think it will help, or if you want medicine because you feel like it’ll help you focus better or just be happier, I’m here to help you get that.”

She goes quiet, staring at their hands where he’s still squeezing her palm. She rubs her thumb along the skin softly, “did your mom ever hurt you?”

“Only when she wasn’t really there in her own mind,” he presses his lips together right after, he’s never told anyone about it.

“Did your dad?”

“Emotionally, but he wasn’t there long enough to lay a hand on me.”

She nods at the response, “my dad was evil, I think he killed my mom in that ‘accident’, but on purpose.”

“I thought my dad was a murderer once too, but it was actually my dad’s friend,” he isn’t sure why he’s telling her everything, but she deserved to know.

“There was a pedophile in our town who killed this boy, Riley, and my mom told him about a man who was watching me like I was next. And Riley’s dad killed him, but I was so young my mind tried to think it was my dad who did it all.”

“Your old job must have really messed you up inside too, huh?” She tries to laugh it off, scared of his past but intrigued at the same time, he just nods at her observation.

“I have a friend, her name is Penelope, her parents died when she was a little bit older than you. She snuck out and they went to look for her, and they were in a car crash,” he makes sure she’s comfortable, her hand is still in his and her thumb is still moving over his skin.

“Like you, she got into hacking, the FBI had to hire her because she was so good she became a threat, you’d really like her,” he says, turning to look at her quickly, he loves the smile on her face.

“I’d love to meet her,” she smiled, “thank you, I wish you could have always been my dad.”

It breaks his heart a little, “well, you have me forever now.”

—

“Two questions,” Y/N’s voice approaches as she walks towards the trunk of her car.

Jo and Spencer are digging through all the shopping bags trying to find all the things that she needs for the afternoon, leaving the rest for the ride home.

“Here,” Spencer hands her the chocolate-covered cranberries, “king-sized bag.”

“I love you,” she smiles as she takes it, “the second question, how are the suitcases going to fit in there now? We have two kids to bring home, they’re going to be squished.”

“I don’t mind,” Jo smiles, “one time they didn’t have room for me in a car so I sat in the trunk for 15 minutes.”

Spencer wrapped her up in his arms, “every time you tell me a story about what has happened to you, I want to kill someone.”

She laughs, holding him back gently, “believe me, I was an asshole to them, they got what they deserved.”

“What did you do?” Y/N worries about what she’s capable of, Spencer can tell.

“I called the tax people and said they have been claiming foster kids as dependents and now they might have tax fraud charges coming their way,” she seemed very proud of herself. “I would never hurt someone, but I have no problem getting them in trouble.”

Y/N extended her fist, bumping it off Jo’s with a smile, “as you should! Now, come on, let’s go get ready for the beach.”

Jo skipped inside with Y/N, their arms linked as they did so. Spencer couldn’t believe this was his life now. He closed the trunk with a slam, picking up the bag of things he set aside before joining them inside.

“Surprise!!!!” Amoreena screamed as soon as he walked through the door.

There was a hand-drawn Happy Father’s Day banner hanging from the staircase and purple balloons all over the place.

“Happy father’s day!!!” They all cheered for him, even Taylor’s mom was there now, smiling at the display of affection.

Amoreena and Jo came running up to him, wrapping their arms around him and holding him close, nothing felt real. “Can you pinch me?” He asked them with a small smile.

He didn’t think they’d do it, but even Y/N walked over and started pinching him all over. Amoreena pinched his leg, Jo pinched his belly button and Y/N, she pinched his cute little butt as she pressed a kiss to his blushing cheek. “You’re very real, so are we.”

“I love you guys,” Spencer reminds them, holding them all as close as he can for just a moment, “okay, enough sappiness, let’s go to the beach!”

Amoreena and Y/N are already in their swimsuits under their sundresses, Jo, on the other hand, picked out some trunks and a tank-style swim top, hiding her scares just enough that she felt comfortable getting in the sand and building a castle with Amoreena.

Y/N laid on the towel beside Spencer in the shade, Taylor and her mom were playing scrabble on the picnic table, her dad was cooking up burgers on the grill. It was serene, it was perfect, they were a little family and it made absolutely no sense to him how it all worked out so well, but he wouldn’t change any of it.

“Look how big it is after lunch,” Y/N grabbed his attention, sticking her belly out as far as it could go, “I’m going to get so huge again, at least this time I’ll be the biggest when it’s cold out.”

“Are you comfortable? Do you need more sunscreen or water?” Spencer worried, making her smile as she pushed her sunglasses up and turned to him.

“I am fantastic, thank you, cutie.”

He leans in to kiss her gently, but she wraps her arms around him and pulls him down on top of her. Kissing him like she just rescued him from the sea and hasn’t seen him for years.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t go far. Just sitting up as he brushes her hair off her face, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she reminds him with another soft smile.

“I missed mother’s day with you by only a few days, but you should know you’re the best mother in the whole world,” he whispered, wanting to share his day with her because, without her, he wouldn’t be a father.

She pulls him into another kiss, hands resting on his cheeks as she breathes in deeply through her nose. It’s like she’s taking the soul out of his body, he's a part of her now forever and always. He never wants to be anywhere else.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years

Text

saturdays

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,467

summary: Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

warnings: Some swearing

a/n: This was my March 2020 one shot for my Patreon that they received early access to. Let me know what y’all think!

Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

Sundays are for sleeping in before eventually making his way to Brooklyn, where he picks up three bouquets and an egg, bacon, and cheese breakfast sandwich from Sal’s bodega before going to the cemetery. He sits against his sister’s tombstone—his parents’ to his right—and eats his late breakfast. He sits and talks for a few hours before leaving the flowers on their graves. He always has to have peonies, since those were Becca’s favorites.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are for training. He wakes up at five in the morning to go running with Sam, something he thought would end when Steve went back to be with Peggy Carter. But he wasn’t bitter. No.

But which thing he wasn’t bitter about, he’d never tell.

Along with the run, he spends most of the day sparring and battling simulations in the gym. He has short breaks for meals, but he pretty much is on go until after dinner, when he goes straight to bed.

But Fridays are his favorite. Because he gets to sleep in until nine-thirty in the morning, which is a luxury he’s not used to. Then Sam and him grab a late breakfast together before Bucky goes into the city for his therapy session.

And Bucky likes his therapist! Which he was really, really surprised about! But Marlene is good. Marlene is good because she doesn’t placate him. She calls him out on his shit, and pushes him forward. Because if it had been up to him, he would’ve stopped seeing her after their third meeting, when she had him drawing with fucking crayons that snapped in his hand way too easily. But it’s been over a year since he started seeing her, and even though he still has his bad days, his bad days now would’ve been his best days before.

“So, you think you’re finally ready to go through Rebecca’s things?” Marlene asks, looking at him with a peaceful expression.

“I don’t think so, I am,” he says firmly, feeling a rush of triumph as a smile spreads across her lips. “It’s time, you know?”

She nods in understanding, humming. “Do you have someone going with you?”

Usually, Sam would go with him for things like this, and just in general. They were attached at the hip, especially after the whole Steve leaving thing.

Yeah, they were both hit pretty hard with that.

“Yes, but I…” He sighs, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “I think this is something I need to do alone. At least, the going through her stuff part… But he is going with me to move the stuff to the Tower.”

“Good, good,” she says, her brows slightly furrowed. “And how are you feeling today about Steve leaving?”

Bucky lets out a huff of air, taking a moment to think about it. “To be completely honest with you… I’m kind of over it today. I have other things to do and yeah, I would’ve liked him to be here for it, but that’s not how it is. And him leaving is more about him than it is about me.” He shrugs, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Just because he decided to go back doesn’t mean he wanted to leave me.”

Marlene sets her clipboard to the side, a warm smile on her face. “Well, Bucky, I think we’ll end today on that thought.” She stands up, offering her hand for him to shake as she does everyday. “You’ve done well today. You should be proud of yourself.”

He leaves with a wave and a “See you next week!” as he always does.

He hadn’t known about the storage unit full of his sister’s stuff until about eight months ago, when he asked Maria Hill if there was anything left of hers. He knew that SHIELD had been the ones to take control of her assets when she had no children, since she was the sister of a Howling Commando and the best friend of Captain America.

Becca had died in December of 2013. He’d missed her by less than six months.

It was heartbreaking when he first found out, and still is, if he was being honest. But at least he has her stuff to go through, even though he has no idea what all is going to be in the storage unit. Stevie hadn’t had anything other than what the Smithsonian had snatched up.

The car ride to the storage facility is quiet, Sam at the wheel. Bucky still hasn’t gotten his license, since he doesn’t see a point. Why should he when there’s the subway and Uber and even just good old fashioned walking? “You’ve gotta save the Earth, Sam,” he says when he really feels like irritating the other man.

“You sure you’re ready for this, man?” Sam asks as they stand in front of storage unit 429.

“Yeah,” Buck says, punching in the key code and lifting up the door. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He flips the light switch on the wall, and is shocked by just how much stuff there is. There’s boxes upon boxes upon boxes.

Sam’s hands go to his hips as he looks at it, whistling. “Alright. Let’s get it loaded.”

It takes several hours and three trips to get everything from the storage unit to the Tower, and by the end of it, the both of them just collapse on the couch with a couple of beers and a pizza to share between them.

But Saturday morning comes bright and early, and even though it’s his only day out of the week where he has absolutely nothing to do, Bucky knows he has to start going through her things.

The first four boxes are just clothes. Clothes upon clothes upon clothes. He finds a baby blue dress that she used to wear for church, starched to perfection, and he holds it to his chest for a long time. He cries then.

And he knows that the fact that she’s hoarded so many clothes has a lot to do from growing up during the Depression. He still finds himself falling into old habits of checking the price of food, despite the fact that he never has to worry about money again with his Avengers salary and the backpay from being a POW.

He finds his parents’ wedding rings, and the string of pearls his ma wore for special occasions.

And then he finds an old shoe box, and when he opens it up, he finds letters. Letters upon letters upon letters. They’re in bundles, tied together with fraying ribbon. The paper is yellowed and soft from being folded and unfolded so many times, and he can see the looping black letters that covered the pages.

He takes the ones that look the oldest and unties them, he takes the top one from the stack and sets the rest to the side, before carefully unfolding it.

“Ruthie,” he says quietly as he reads the name at the bottom, not even bothering to read it yet. “Ruthie…” His eyes pop open as he suddenly remembers, remembers receiving letters everyday from a girl in the Bronx. They were never romantic, but it was nice being able to write to someone and not having to hide how bad it was, like he had to with his ma and Becca. She even sent her picture once, so he could know who he was writing to. “Ruthie!”

He spends the rest of the day reading the letters, and passes out sometime around four in the morning with his face on a letter. He takes the letters with him to his family’s graves the next day, reading to them after he replaces the flowers.

It takes him two more days to finish reading all the letters, in between breaks while training and staying up until he absolutely can’t.

He cries a lot while he reads it. He’s not afraid to admit that. But it’s nice to remember that he had a friend to listen to him during one of the worst times of his life.

Bucky’s almost afraid to look her up, to find out if she was still alive, and if he could go see her, to thank her. They wrote back and forth until the day he fell off the train, and he knows that had to be pretty jarring for her.

But then Sam finds out about the letters—it would be hard for him not to, considering that he was walking around with his nose in the letters for days—and it’s all over.

Turns out, she’s alive. She’s alive, and she’s still in Queens.

He goes the next Saturday, taking his bike all the way to the other borough. He looks a little intimidating and extremely different from how he looked back then, but he hopes she recognizes him. He really, really hopes she recognizes him, because otherwise this’ll be real awkward.

He stands in front of the door for a long time, taking his hands in and out of his pockets about eight times before he finally reaches up and knocks.

And then the door opens, and there’s Ruthie.

Well, not Ruthie, though at first glance, you’re the perfect picture of her. You’ve got her hair and her eyes, and the curve of her lips. But the nose is different.

“Can I help you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him. You’re wiping your hand on a hand towel, peering at him like you recognize him from somewhere but you don’t know where.

“Hi, uh,” he says slowly. His throat is suddenly so dry that he can barely talk. “I’m Bucky. Bucky Barnes. I was pen pals with—”

He’s cut off by Ruthie herself appearing in the doorway. She’s much older—she is ninety-nine, after all—but it’s definitely her. “Did you say Bucky Barnes?” The little old lady’s eyes widened as she saw him, her hand over her heart. “Oh, my stars, it’s really you. I heard about what happened to you, and I…” She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “Why, it almost gave me a heart attack, you know.”

“Little Ruthie Pratt from Queens,” he says, reaching in his pocket and holding up the letters. “I found these while, uh, going through my sister’s stuff.”

“I still have mine!” Ruthie says, pulling him inside.

It’s nice and homey and everything that Bucky had thought it would be. The front foyer is covered in photos, and there’s quite a few of you. You’re clearly one of Ruthie’s pride and joys, if the sheer amount of them has anything to do about it.

“I used to read these to my grandbaby here,” Ruthie says as she comes back with an old oak jewelry box in hand. “Anytime she stayed the night—her parents worked a lot when she was growing up—she always asked me to read her one of my ‘Bucky letters.’”

“Grandmama,” you say, cheeks flushing as you avoid his eyes.

“It was so cute! She used to recite them word for word along with me!” Ruthie teases as they go to the living room.

It’s quaint, with soft pastel colors dominating the room. He sits on a floral sofa that’s got a circle with dark hair on it, the marking of a furry friend’s favorite spot. He watches as you move to the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of what looks like tea and a few glasses.

You sit beside her with the ease of knowing that you belong here, pouring yourself a glass. “Grandmama, do you want some tea?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she opens the box and looks for the oldest one. “You keep that monstrosity away from me,” she says. Seemingly remembering Bucky’s presence, she says, “My daughter’s husband is from Louisiana. Ridiculous man got both her and my grandbaby addicted to that absolute sludge.”

The secret smile you give him as the two of you listen to her tirade about sweet tea makes him feel at ease, and sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

Things go on as normal, or as normal as they can.

And Marlene happens to think that all of this is absolutely fantastic for him. She loves that he’s now spending time with Ruthie and you, reconnecting with his past while understanding that he doesn’t have to be the person he was in the letters.

He’s different. He’s not the Bucky that Ruthie knew back then.

It’s an unusually warm day in November four months later when he takes you out for a coffee, just the two of you. And it isn’t a date—really, it isn’t—but he finds himself wanting it to be about halfway through his second coffee.

And that’s why he starts talking about dating to Marlene, who had, quite frankly, been waiting for him to realize his feelings for a while.

“I think I’m in love with her,” he says as he storms into his therapy session, eyes wild and hair a disarray. He’s clearly been worrying real hard about it.

Marlene looks up at him, peering over the silver rim of her glasses. “Oh, really?” She says nonchalantly, as though she doesn’t have you in her notes about him. “And why is that?”

Bucky can’t help the frown on his face as he realizes that she didn’t even ask who he was talking about, because she knew. “I… I don’t know,” he says, slumping into his usual chair. “She makes me happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. And she always makes me laugh, even at the most inappropriate of times.” His gaze softens the more he thinks about you. “And she isn’t scared of me. She doesn’t judge me. She’s read about everything I did in the war, even before HYDRA, and she doesn’t care.” His hands are sweating as he rubs them together. “Actually, it’s not that she doesn’t care—she does care—but she cares because she… she loves me.”

You love him. And sure, he knows that. You’ve said that you love him multiple times, even if you only mean it as a friend way.

But the thought that he has someone who loves him that doesn’t have to is… groundbreaking.

“She loves me, and she wants me to be okay,” he says, looking up at Marlene then.

His therapist has a pleased look in her eyes, even if she won’t let it show with a smile. “I think she’s good for you,” she says simply, her pen held loosely in her hand. “Are you seeing her again soon?”

“I’m seeing her tomorrow night,” he says, his heart growing light. “We’re grabbing a few drinks to celebrate her finally graduating from cosmetology school.”

It’s a big deal for you, completely something. You’re smart, there’s no denying that, but when it comes to schooling… You’d done well in high school, but college proved to be the bane of your existence.

You’d dropped out in the middle of your junior year, and that had been it. You’d moved to Queens to live with Ruthie after, working various low level jobs and trying to find something that fit.

But you’d fit in at cosmetology school. Hell, you excelled. And you enjoyed it! You enjoyed waking up in the morning and going to your classes!

You cried when you got your certificate, and it was now framed in Ruthie’s house until you start your first salon job in two weeks.

“Are you going to tell her about your feelings?” Marlene asks curiously.

Now that makes him pause.

“... Should I?” Bucky asks, feeling a wave of anxiety coming over him. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way? And she sees me as just a friend?”

“If she’s really your friend, she won’t abandon you just because you tell her you have romantic feelings for her.”

“You sure about that?”

Marlene fixes him with a look, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

He runs his tongue over his teeth. “Fine. You’re sure,” he says, slumping a little in his chair. “Doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

She snorts, making a note on her pad. “I never said it was going to be easy, Bucky. Doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

The next night, he spends an hour and a half trying to decide what to wear. “It shouldn’t be this hard,” he grumbles as he switches shirts for the forty-ninth time. “It’s just drinks.”

Sam, however, is having a great time watching his new best friend freak out over seeing a girl for the first time. “I mean, she already agreed to going out with your ugly mug, man. It’s not gonna matter what you wear.”

And in some way, that helps. A little.

But he does have to threaten Sam with bodily harm if he spies on his date that’s not really a date.

He almost boxes him the ear when he insists for the fourth time that it’s a date.

He shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers from Sal’s bodega, the buttons of his dark blue henley left open, exposing a smattering of chest hair.

When you open the door, the air is knocked from his lungs. You look absolutely radiant. The light from the sinking sun is giving you a halo-like glow, and he’s sure, not for the first time, that you’re an actual angel.

“Hi,” you say, a flush on your cheeks as you see the flowers. “Are those… Are those for me?”

He nods dumbly, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. “Y-Yes,” he says, pushing them into your arms. “As a congrats. For, you know, graduating. And stuff.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take them, handing them to Ruthie.

She’s standing just inside the door, a giddy look on her face as she holds the flowers, watching you take the motorcycle helmet from his hands. “Have her back by twelve!”

“Grandmama!”

“Fine! Twelve-thirty!”

You’re clearly embarrassed by her antics as he helps you on behind him, guiding your arms around his waist.

“You ready?” He asks, his voice breathy.

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he starts the bike, taking off.

“She doesn’t actually mean that,” you say as he leads you into the tiny, out of the way bar. You’re fixing your hair, trying your best to appear presentable. “I’m grown, you know. I don’t… I don’t have a curfew.”

A slow smile spreads over his lips as he listens to you ramble. “I know,” he says finally, figuring he should put you out of your misery. “Ruthie does like to tease those she loves.”

The bar is quaint, clearly a local place that tourists haven’t invaded. He leads you to a high table, calling out your order to the lone bartender.

“So, I—”

“I like you,” Bucky says, unintentionally cutting you off with a wince. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I really, really like you, and I really, really want this to be a date, but if you don’t feel the same way then I completely understand and we can just forget that I ever said anything and everything can just go back to normal and that might be the best thing because, quite frankly, I haven’t dated since the forties and I have no idea how dating is supposed to work nowadays, but I’d really like to try it with you but only if you—”

His rambling is cut off as you place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers. “Okay,” you say, like it’s the easiest thing ever. “It’s a date.”

He stares at you for an embarrassingly long time, his mouth dry. “Uh… What?” He says quietly. His heart is pounding at an unnaturally fast pace, and he honestly thinks he might be on the verge of a heart attack.

“I like you, too,” you say, smiling at the bartender as he brings you over your drinks. You look so beautiful, your eyes the brightest thing in the dim lighting of the bar. “So this is a date.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, a wave of relief washing over him. “It’s a date.”

He’s a little starstruck as you continue on with what you were going to say before, a pink blush dusting his cheeks. Your hand stays in his for the rest of the night, occasionally giving a little squeeze as though you’re reminding him that you’re still there and you’re not going to disappear.

And it feels good.

And okay, Marlene may have been right.

And yeah, Fridays might be good. But as he sits there with you until the late hours of the night, he’s sure: Saturdays are his new favorite day. Because Saturdays brought him a new beginning when he wasn’t expecting it.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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lilmisswhyso · 2 years

Note

farewell wanderlust 1, fair 8, battle cries 4

What was your first impression of this song (and has it changed)?

omg this was literally the first TAD song I ever heard and I strongly stand by it as the perfect entryway into listening to them. I remember looping it so much that first night, and eventually getting to the point where I was like yeah... I need to hear More™ dsfdfsdf. Though here's a really funny thing I've never mentioned to anyone: when Farewell Wanderlust was first linked on Discord and I listened to the 30 second preview, I didn't fully realize (despite the album cover) that there were two vocalists, since we had just been talking about Joey's involvement. So here I am listening to Madeleine going tf off, and I'm just thinking "oh wow Joey sounds so cool here." And this was before I watched TWN, so I didn't even have Toss A Coin to compare it to sdfdsfsdf

Apparently this is one of the songs I listen to the least on this album now?? Wtf 😔 I still adore it though, I think I just wind up gravitating towards songs like Marbles and WBY more sdfdfsd

4. What’s your favorite lyrical part of the song?

okok I feel like I've definitely mentioned this in so many placed before, so you probably already know, but! I'm obsessed with the way Joey and Madeleine's distinct verses in both Battle Cries and Pruning Shears still often rhyme with each other when they meet on the beat. My absolute favorite instance of this is "you lack the conviction to look at me straight and say yes" on top of "some fictions we took to mean fate, believe me I know." Both for the rhyming overlay of conviction/fictions, look/took, and straight/fate, but also the overlap of Madeleine's "yes" with Joey's "know" to give the impression that they're saying "yes/no" on top of each other. It's brilliant writing, and I adore it to no end.

8. Do you visualize any colors, images, or scenes when listening to this song?

tbh I think I just visualize the scenes outlined in the song? The watching TV with yoghurt, the dancing on the roof, the lying in bed together and running hands through hair. Also that part of A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman where the two of them are running across the rooftop through all the clotheslines lol. And actually, now that I'm thinking about it.... this couple lives in the same apartment complex or the general vicinity of the couple in NYTS.

I associate a lot of THATW with night or late afternoon, and Fair definitely falls in the night realm for me, so this song is like... a midnight blue backdrop, light orange flickering from the TV screen or a fireplace. Also not a visual, but this song feels like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. 💙

#tysm for the asks!!!#ask #farewell wanderlust #battle cries #fair

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

In the Bleak Midwinter {10}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: pretty sure shit’s about to go down...we’ve reached the middle of this 20 chapter fic! thank you all for reading, reblogging, liking, etc. I thrive on your comments and excitement. x

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me

The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Aelin sat by Vaughan’s side, nearly nonstop, for two days. He was still breathing steadily, and the doctor said he should wake up, but it would be when he was ready, and he hadn’t yet, which only increased Aelin’s anxiety, and she could hardly take any more anxiety.

It was nearly nightfall on Saturday evening, and Aelin knew she should join the others for dinner, but she had no appetite. The others cared for Vaughan, too, of course, but Aelin was the one who felt responsible for what had happened, even though everyone had told her not to think such things.

She couldn’t help it, though.

Instead of joining the others for dinner, Aelin opened up the morning paper and began reading it aloud. Although Vaughan didn’t stir, she liked to think that he was listening and knew he liked to stay informed. Once she’d gotten through the paper, she set it on the nightstand and gave him the news from the house, too.

“Lysandra has been taking care of Aedion, and he seems to be healing quickly,” Aelin began, sitting back in her chair with her feet propped on the side of the mattress. “I think it’s because Lys is giving him extra attention, but she denies that theory.”

Vaughan’s chest slowly rose and fell.

“Speaking of lovers, Gav has been trying to avoid Natalia as much as possible, but she’s been seeking him out, I swear,” Aelin said, and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yesterday, she passed behind him and pinched his ass, and I have never seen Gavriel’s cheeks get so red.”

It was hilarious. Aelin had left Vaughan’s side to go get a glass of water before bed, and she passed by them the second it happened. Despite everything that was going on, Aelin nearly cried she was laughing so hard.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, though, so that’s shit,” Aelin went on, her smile fading. “I’m worried about them, especially since you won’t be there.” She shook her head, looking away from Vaughan to the open window and the sun sinking down beyond the distant hills. “But Ro is adamant that they must make their move, and as much as I hate it, I understand it. The quicker Maeve is defeated, the better.”

Aelin couldn’t bear losing anyone else. Elide’s death had been tragic, and although she kept telling herself that Vaughan would wake up, if this shit with Maeve continued on, they would only lose another one of their family, and that was not okay.

Aelin wished she knew where Maeve was hiding so she could put a bullet into the bitch’s head herself.

Unfortunately, though, that was impossible, because Rowan kept her completely out of the loop, and every time she tried to talk to him about it, she was only ignored.

She loved her husband, knew he was trying to protect her and their baby, but he was being a complete dick.

With a sigh, she looked back at Vaughan, picked up the book of poetry on his nightstand, and began reading, once more.

~~~~

Lorcan kissed Lucy’s head and laid her in the crib before walking to his adjoining room. He had rocked her to sleep, like Elide used to, and was surprised when she was snoring soundly five minutes later. He gave her one last look over his shoulder before he closed the door behind him.

The second he stepped into his room, he froze.

Natalia sat on the edge of his bed, reading a book.

He lifted a brow. “Get bored of Gavriel and want to fuck me, instead?”

Natalia’s eyes narrowed as she snapped her book shut. “No. You disgust me.”

“Damn, let me down easy, okay,” he muttered, plopping down in a wooden chair. As he untied his shoes, he asked, “What’s going on with you and Gav, anyways?”

She shrugged a shoulder as she said, “He is afraid to be with me, I am too much of a woman for him to handle.”

Lorcan laughed - a true, genuine laugh. “I could see that. You need a strong man, Natalia.”

Natalia hummed her agreement before asking, “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Lorcan took a moment to think about his answer. No, he wasn’t, because if he died, he’d be taken away from Lucy, leaving her orphaned. And yet, he was, because if he died, he’d be able to find his wife in the afterlife and kiss her, once again.

At last, he shrugged. “Is anyone ever really ready to walk into battle?”

Natalia’s lips thinned as she nodded. “I suppose that is a valid question.”

Lorcan nodded, taking a bottle of half-drunk whiskey from the table beside him and popping the top. “What do you think about America?”

Natalia froze, the question catching her off guard. “America?”

“Yeah,” Lorcan said. “I’ve been thinking that after this shit with Maeve is done, we could go there.”

Natalia hesitated. “To live there?”

Lorcan shrugged, taking a massive chug from the bottle. “Why not?”

“Because your life is here,” Natalia said, quietly. “Because your family is here.”

Lorcan set the glass bottle back on the table, a little too hard. “Elide is my family. Lucy is my family. One of them is dead, the other goes with me wherever I go.”

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Natalia’s eyes softened. “You want to run away.”

He wanted to snap, wanted to tell her that she was wrong, but she wasn’t, and she knew it, as did he. So, he shook his head, slowly, inspecting a loose floorboard a few feet away from his bare toes. “Everywhere I look, I see her. It doesn’t matter where I am, or who I’m with, everywhere I go in this fucking city, I see her.”

Natalia shifted on the edge of the bed before asking, “And that pains you?”

His eyes snapped to hers as his jaw hardened. “What the fuck do you mean? Of course it pains me! I lost my fucking wife, Natalia!”

If Natalia was surprised at his outburst, she didn’t show it. She simply said, “And I lost a friend, and Lucy lost a mother. I know that Elide was the love of your life, Lorcan, which is why it surprises me that you wish to leave this city behind, for it is one of the few things you have left of her.”

A moment of silence passed before Lorcan reached to grab the bottle, once again. As he put the cool glass to his lips, Natalia spat, “That’s right, numb your emotions with alcohol. That’ll help.”

He slowly took the bottle from his lips as he met Natalia’s cold stare. “Fuck you.”

Natalia’s shoulders tensed as she stood up, abruptly, and began to leave the room.

“Fuck,” Lorcan breathed, almost tempted to let her go, but he didn’t. “I’m sorry, okay? I just...I didn’t mean that.”

Natalia froze, but she didn’t turn around.

“I don’t know how to handle this,” Lorcan said, his voice growing quiet. “Yeah, I drink to numb it all, because the emotions are too much to handle, you know? No, I don’t know how to keep seeing her everywhere I look and realize that she’s not actually here, that she never will be again. And yes, sometimes that makes me want to run away and start over.”

For a moment, no one spoke, no one moved, but then Natalia slowly turned around to look at Lorcan. Her jaw was still rigid, her shoulders stiff, but her eyes were no longer cold.

In a quiet voice, she said, “Elide would not want you to run, Lorcan. She would want you to be near your family, those you love, those she loved...and she would want you to be happy.”

Lorcan quickly looked away so that she wouldn’t see how his eyes grew misty.

“It will take time,” Natalia said, turning her back to him, once more. “But, there is no shame in mourning, Lorcan.”

She was nearly out of his room when he called, “Natalia.”

She stopped, looking over her shoulder, waiting.

“You are my family, too,” he said, just in case she wasn’t aware.

She chuckled, but her eyes held a certain fondness as she said, “As you are mine.”

~~~~~

Lysandra kissed a sleeping Aedion on the forehead as she crept out of his bedroom and headed down to the kitchen. She couldn’t sleep, but figured a shot or two of whiskey would have her out in no time.

She was just around the corner when she heard a sudden clatter and froze. It was nearing midnight, and with everything going on, Lysandra’s mind immediately went to the worst case scenario. If it wasn’t for the f-fuck! that followed, Lysandra would have hauled ass the other direction.

She rounded the corner and found Rowan, eyelids drooped and his shirt half unbuttoned, sitting on the floor, his back leaned up against the cabinets with a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Although he was less than ten feet away, he raised his hand high in the air and waved.

Lysandra just shook her head and crossed her arms. “What the hell are you doing, Ro?”

He blinked, then raised the nearly-empty bottle. “Drinking.”

“I see that,” Lysandra said, with a sigh. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs in bed with your wife?”

Rowan snorted. “Fuck no, she doesn’t want to be around me.”

His words were slurred, his cheeks flushed. Lysandra rubbed her temples as she said, “You’re even stupider when you’re drunk, you know that? All she wants is to be around you.”

“No, she wants to know what’s going on,” Rowan corrected, his long finger pointed in Lysandra’s direction. “She wants to be a part of this fucking war, and that’s not going to happen.”

“She feels like you’re keeping information-.”

“Obviously I’m keep-keeping information,” he said, blinking before he took another swig from the bottle. “The more information she knows, Lys, the more dangerous it is.”

“Aelin is tough-.”

“She’s carrying my fucking child.” The words came out hurried, quiet, and when Lysandra tried to meet his gaze, he quickly looked away. “Stay out of my marriage, Lys, and I won’t ask you about Ashryver, alright? Just...Just…”

“Just,” Lysandra repeated, voice full of sarcasm and venom, then kicked his boot. “Get up.”

“No,” he said, and downed the rest of the liquid from the bottle. “I’m content where I am.”

“Fuck, you’re pathetic,” Lysandra breathed, and reached down to tug on his arm. “Come on, you idiot, tomorrow is important and you need rest.”

He sighed, loudly and dramatically. “I can’t rest, Lys, I can’t fucking sleep!”

Lysandra froze and dropped his arm as his tone rang through the quiet kitchen. “Fine. Stay here, ignore your wife, be a dick.”

Lysandra went to take a step away, but then Rowan said, quietly, “I’m not a fucking dick, I’m trying to keep you all fucking safe. Pardon me if I need a fucking drink.”

With a defeated sigh, Lysandra slowly turned back around. He was a mess, dark circles beneath his eyes, his hair sticking up wildly, his close wrinkled. “What’s going on, Ro? You’ve been in plenty of shitty situations, and you’ve always kept yourself put together. You’re a fucking mess.”

“We’re all going to die,” he said, tossing his hands into the air. “Elide….now Vaughan is unconscious, and my wife blames herself, and nothing I say fucking helps. My wife, Lys, my pregnant wife came into the house two days ago covered in fucking blood, having just shot a man, because I wasn’t there to protect her. I have tried so damn hard to protect her, and all she does is get pissed at me for it.”

“Ro-.”

“Remember when we were kids?” Rowan asked, staring up at the ceiling. “When we were just two fucking kids, and the world wasn’t on my shoulders? When the most interesting thing to happen to us was you and me, sneaking around behind Clarisse’s back? Fuck.”

“It was never easy, Ro,” Lysandra whispered. “Our lives have never been easy.”

“No,” he agreed, “but everyone’s fate didn’t rest in my hands, either.”

Lysandra watched him for a moment. She could see the pain, the hurt, the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was because of that look, that heartbreak, that Lysandra reached out her hands and said, as gently as possible, “Come on, Ro. Let me walk you upstairs.”

For a second, he looked like he would protest, but then he took her hands and allowed her to help him up.

Gods, he was massive. Not only did he tower over her, but as drunk as he was, a lot of his weight fell into Lysandra, who barely stayed on her own two feet.

But his arms were around her, clearly leaning on her for support. After a few failed attempts, and a few stumbles where Rowan ended up on the ground, they finally found their groove and walked through the silent house. The stairs took the longest to conquer, but once they reached the second floor, his bedroom was only a short distance.

When they got to the door of the master bedroom, Rowan froze.

Lysandra saw the internal war going on within him, as she had a hundred times before.

“Just go lay with her, Ro,” she whispered. “Let her know that you love her.”

He nodded, nearly ready to fall over again, but then he let go of Lysandra and let himself inside. She was left alone in the hall, hurting for her best friend and for the boy that was now a man, the boy who was tossed into a world that he didn’t choose, a world that was eating him alive, slowly, day by day, hour by hour.

~~~~~

Maeve sat in the den of her little home on the outskirts of town, a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She had discarded her heels, but her stockings and day clothes remained. She longed to be in something more comfortable, but with Cairn there, that would be horribly inappropriate.

Although late, he had come to give her his daily report, as her second.

“And is there news on Vaughan?” she asked. It had been nearly all she’d thought about in two days, after her men returned saying that the quiet one had been injured. Her man, however, had been shot by Aelin Galathynius - Maeve had been keeping her out of it, because she was pregnant, but maybe she shouldn’t have been. If Rowan’s wife was dangerous, she should be added to the list, too.

“He still lives, as far as I know,” Cairn replied, sitting in the large armchair across from her, near the blazing fire.

Maeve hummed, unable to decide if that was a good thing or not. She had always been fond of Vaughan. Gavriel, too. “Very well. And how are things going for tomorrow?”

“Whitethorn wants to meet in a field beyond the city limits,” Cairn said. “As far as I know, we still have more men than they do, but we have to be weary of their gun supply. We’ve been trying to get a hold of new weapons, but in this city, that’s not easy, and having anything shipped in will take too long.”

Maeve sighed, running a hand through her dark, cropped hair. “They stole them from Arobynn, you can’t steal them back?”

“You make it sound like an easy task,” Cairn crooned.

“If I wanted easy shit done, I would do it myself,” Maeve snapped, bringing the cigarette to her lips. “If they have the guns, we need to have something over them, something in our favor aside from a few extra men.”

She stilled then, the idea popping into her mind with such clarity that she couldn’t help but laugh, softly, forcing Cairn to look at his leader as if she’d gone mad.

“I’ve got it,” she breathed. “Oh, I’ve fucking got it.”

Carin blinked. “Mind sharing or should I take a guess?”

“All in good time, my love,” she said, her grin wide, wicked as she leaned back into her chair and continued to indulge herself. “You and the boys take care of tomorrow, and I will make a plan for what comes after that.”

A cruel, wicked plan for her boys.

After all, it was what they deserved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mariamuses @garnet-29 @writer-reader-traveller @rowaelin-cressworth @space-buns-arsinoe @negativenesta @empress-ofbloodshed @the-regal-warrior @starseternalnighttriumphant @westofmoon @sammyjojaaaa @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @carbconnoisseur @acer6437 @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cool-ish-nerd @mynewdreamwasyou @mourning-razorlust @thespiritualrider @rowaelinforeverworld @didsomeonesayviolin @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @queen-of-glass @the-dark-swan @http-itsrebecca @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17 @mollycateoc @chemicha @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls @shyvioletcat @hermajestyanna @a97girl @stardustsroses @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012 @awkward-avocado-s @faerie-queen-fireheart @cwheart @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294 @nerdperson524 @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red @acourtofmoonlight @rowaelinforeverworld @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean @thewayshedreamed @wind-drinker @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @starseternalnighttriumphant @hurema @http-itsrebecca @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears @iliketoasterstrudels @lightitup-bryce @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books @keshavomit @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204 @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @thegayerpotato @abraxos-is-toothless @keshavomit @musicdreamer003 @superspiritfestival @sailorsassley @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123 @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame @shyvioletcat @maastrash @the-third-me @rinad307

#tacmc ITBMW #the cadre #tog #fanfic #fanfiction #pb au #1920s au

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theroyalmile · 3 years

Text

Body by Chemo

Last weekend I went for a 9-mile bike ride to downtown Boston and back. I was admittedly nervous and skeptical about this ride beforehand for a couple of reasons. First, it has been years since I rode a bike, and I know there’s that whole expression “It’s like riding a bike” but I’m not sure that expression is all that accurate. Second, I have never ridden a bike in Boston. Third, I get winded these days going up and down my stairs, so I was not sure I quite “had it in me.” But, my whole household was going, it was a beautiful day, and I had been promising myself I would make an effort to be more active. So off we went. Oh, and there was a promise of breakfast sandwiches and coffee and donuts once we made it downtown- nobody could say no to that.

The beginning of the ride was rocky. The original bike I borrowed was just a little too tall for me, and because of that I felt incredibly unsteady. I traded bikes with one of my roommates and that bike ended up being a better fit for me- a few loops around a parking lot and I thought, “Hey, it really is like riding a bike.” With my confidence reasserted, we hit the bike path.

The bike ride was, overall, beautiful. I did find myself getting winded and had to stop a couple of times. My roommates had been prepared to take it easy with me, and were very supportive. Eventually we made it the 4.5 miles downtown and I felt so incredibly proud for conquering my first time back on a bike and first time biking downtown, all while dealing with the fatigue, shortness of breath and other goodies that come with my chemo treatment. I felt empowered and heartened, which made me feel optimistic about the ride back home.

That optimism was short lived; almost immediately after we took off it became apparent that my body simply could not handle it. I told myself we just had to get out of downtown and back on the bike trail and then I would ask to stop. We made it and I signaled everyone for a quick break. I thought maybe if I caught my breath and had some water it would be okay. One of our bike squad members offered for me to try their bike to see if that made a difference. I hopped on bikes a block or so, and then hopped off almost immediately- it just wasn’t going to work. As I hopped off, right after we had crossed an intersection, I heard two men yelling from a car about some girl having a fat ass, or something to that effect. Regardless of whether they were talking about me or someone else who had crossed the street with us, that was the final kick for me. Any experienced fat girl understands that you will always think those comments are about you, even when they are not. (Disclaimer: I do not mean “fat” as something negative, and I am definitely not looking for people to tell me I’m not fat, I’m simply stating a fact about my body). Anyways, it was at this point I felt the tears of frustration welling up and knew my ride was done. I told the crew I couldn’t go any further and would walk while they biked on.

There is a certain trauma that comes with being fat and exercising. It’s almost like you never want someone to see you fail at any kind of physical activity because it feels like you're reinforcing the stereotype, like, oh of course the fat girl can’t finish the bike ride. My roommate had offered, very kindly, to come back and pick me up in the car. That was an indignancy I couldn’t bear- it was one thing to fail to finish the ride; it was another to have to be driven home. No, I said stubbornly, I would walk my bike home. Caleb of course insisted on walking his bike with me.

As we walked our bikes I became more and more upset. Part of it was the embarrassment of being a fat girl walking a bike home. I almost want to scream at passers by “It’s not because I’m fat- I have cancer!” But another, bigger part of it was the reality of admitting to myself that chemo had changed my body, and it simply wasn’t up to the tasks it might normally have been. Eventually I became upset enough that I had to stop and let myself have a small breakdown. Caleb hugged me while I cried and tried to keep me in perspective. “You’re going through chemo” he reminded me, and tried to help me realize that having made it as far as I had was a feat in itself. He walked across the street to grab me tissues and a gatorade so I could cry, rehydrate, cry, and rehydrate some more.

****

Here’s the thing about chemo- it has made me feel incredibly betrayed by my body. I have always been overweight, since my teenage years or even earlier. Different versions of overweight, but overweight. That was just the way it was, and I had reached a certain level of acceptance of that. But I had always prided myself on how active I could be. Pre-pandemic I could run 4-5 miles no problem. I would hit the gym three times a week, I would get the steps in. I was still fat, I was active, and I felt good about myself.

Because of chemo, I am now fat, inactive, and feel terrible all the time. I get winded walking up stairs, I am exhausted by my five minute walk from the T to my office downtown, and I find a short walk will tire me out for an afternoon. And it’s not just my stamina. It is absolutely everything.

The skin around my mouth had begun peeling and reddening. My cuticles are dry and peeling and hurt. My hands and feet are dry and cracked. My arms are bruised up and down from frequent IVs. I oftentimes cannot open my medicine bottles or jars without help. My hair, of course, is completely gone, not just on my head, but my nostrils too, leaving me with an almost constant runny nose. My eyebrows are thinning, along with my eyelashes, and I pray to whoever is listening to please not take those away from me too. My hands shake, and have turned dark brown from the cytoxan (which thankfully I am done with). My memory is terrible. I am breaking out like I’m back and middle school. My joints hurt, my muscles ache, despite me doing nothing all day. AND I get hot flashes now! Oh and I am hungry all the time. Honestly ALL THE TIME.

Here’s the thing- my body and I have been in a constant battle since I was 12 years old. It took me 10-15 years to learn to love my body for what it was, with the understanding I was never going to have the same body as my friends, was never going to fit their clothes, and was never going to be the traditional idea of “in shape.” But we had come to truce, my body and I. I had found acceptance, and even joy in my body. I had even got to a point where I wore a bikini for the first time since I was a child the summer before the pandemic and it felt amazing, liberating. I followed plus size models like Ashley Graham and Tess Holiday on Instagram and thought heck yeah, if they can do it so can I.

My cancer treatment has taken the pride I had in my body and the control I had over my activity levels and appearance and destroyed every last piece of it. When I was having my worst struggles with my body in college, therapists used to ask me to list my favorite things about my appearance. My top two on that list were always the same: 1) My hair and 2) My boobs. Well, cancer has taken one of those things from me already and will have taken the other by the end of this summer. Like I said, my body has betrayed me now in more ways that I can count. And that betrayal is likely not going to end for a long time. Honestly not until there is no cancer in my body any more. Because let’s be real- that’s the biggest betrayal of all.

Whenever I catch myself in the mirror these days it has the potential to ruin my whole day. There are few outfits that make me feel comfortable and attractive. My face feels round, rounder without hair to frame it. I try not to look too long, lest I find more things to hate. I am terrified of upcoming social gatherings, and wonder how on earth will I be able to feel remotely happy about my appearance for them.

Chemo has reshaped my body in so many ways, some that I am only starting to realize. It is hard, fitting into this new body and becoming accustomed to it. It is even harder learning to love it. Indescribably hard. I think I can get there but sometimes it’s difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Moments like the complete few minutes of despair I felt during our bike ride sometimes make that light seem even further. But it’s important to remember those moments are often fleeting, and can change with a little perspective.

****

After I cried it out on the bike path, I checked the time and realized we really needed to start heading home. Caleb had a vaccine appointment to make and I was an hour away from committing murder of some poor bystander out of sheer frustration. I looked on Google maps and found the walk home would be 48 minutes, probably more pushing a bike and with my sad little chemo lungs. The bike ride home? 12 minutes. So back on the bike I went, and it took every muscle in my body to pedal that 12 minutes home. Fueled by my anger and embarrassment, and the residual tears, we eventually made it all the way home.

I originally found little pride and satisfaction in our trip. All I could think about was how I couldn’t bike the whole thing, and about how those guys in the car had yelled, and how much I hated my biking outfit, and how defeated and mortified I was feeling.

Sometimes perspective takes time, but eventually I found some. I owe a lot of the perspective to Caleb’s support and encouragement both during and after the bike ride, and to my parents pride and excitement as I was telling them about my biking adventure. I also owe a lot of it to a nap, a much needed shower, and a new day. With perspective I rediscovered some of that pride I had lost. Nine miles there and back? I did that shit. And yeah, maybe I didn’t bike the whole thing, but I sure as hell did the whole thing, and did the whole thing while in the midst of chemotherapy treatment. While in the midst of poisoning my body beyond recognition. I am a freaking badass.

And what did I do that evening? Ate my body weight in sushi because I wanted to.

I know there are going to be a lot more ups and downs like this. That bike ride was filled with some very high highs and some very low lows. This is going to happen. And while I don’t know exactly what to expect from my body in the months to come, I do know that whatever happens I’ll see y’all at the beach in July- I’ll be the fat girl with the bald head in a bikini eating an ice cream cone.

#chemo #chemotherapy #chemosucks #breast cancer #body image

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 16

TITLE: Love and War

Warnings: profanity, mental illness

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty

“You know, I’m really fucking sick of your cheating,” Tyler snarls.

“I am NOT cheating! “ Esme cries, and refuses to make eye contact with the man sitting beside her; aware of the temper that’s slowly boiling. He’s agitated; eyes narrowed, shoulders tense, jaw tightly clenched. She’s seen and heard it all before; the bitterness and the irritation and the rash jump to conclusions. “You’re imagining things!”

“Bullshit I’m imagining it. I have eyes you know. I CAN see. And what I’m seeing? You’re cheating.”

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but there’s no cheating happening. You’re just pissed.”

“Damn right I’m pissed. I know what you’re up to. I can’t fucking believe you think you can get away with it. I know YOU. I know when something’s up. And something is up.”

She rolls her eyes. “The only thing that is ‘up’ is your temper. Take it down a notch, Australian. Or I’ll take YOU down a notch.”

“I’d love to see you try,” he scoffs. “What other tricks do you have up your sleeve? What other shady shit are you going to pull?”

“There you go with your paranoia again. There’s nothing going on. No shady shit. Can’t you just accept that you’re losing?”

“I’m losing my mind is what I’m losing.”

A derisive snort. “Not much left to lose.”

He scowls. “I have had just about enough of your lip.”

“What are you going to do? Stab me? Shoot me? Throw a grenade at me?”

“I’m going to beat your ass is what I’m going to do. Go all fucking HAM on you.”

“You’re going to start now? Have you been napping for the last hour?”

“Is that a shot at my age? I’m pretty sure that was a shot at my age.”

“It was a shot at your poor skills and your lapses of judgement. You’re slowing down. No wonder you’re suffering so badly.”

“I’m going to make you suffer in a second.”

“Bring it. There’s nothing you got that I can’t handle.”

It’s been sixty minutes of this. The snarling and the scowling and bickering back and forth; nasty exchanges fuelled by his hurt feelings and damaged ego and her refusal to back down or admit any wrongdoing. It’s a battle of both wills and personalities; two strong and resilient yet extremely stubborn people, neither giving the other an ounce of sympathy or allowing any breathing room. And it comes to a head; a growled ‘fuck!’ on his behalf followed by the xBox controller being tossed onto the cluttered coffee table in pure frustration. Letting loose a groan of both defeat and annoyance, he leans back against the couch and rakes both hands through his hair and then runs his palms over his face.

“Cry some more!” Esme shouts, and gleefully bounces up and down on the cushion beside him. “Unleash your inner bitch baby! Because you just got knocked the fuck out. AGAIN.”

“I really, really, REALLY do not like you right now.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t handle defeat." She reaches for the open bag of red licorice that sits on the arm of the sofa; yanking a strand out and pointing it at him before taking an aggressive bite from it. “That you’re way too competitive even with the stupidest of shit.”

“This!” He wildly gestures towards the flat screen television across the room. “Is NOT stupid shit!”

“It’s a goddamn video game, Tyler. Stop taking this so seriously.”

“It isn’t just a video game,” he argues. “It’s my fucking pride! My manhood!”

“I highly doubt your manhood is in any danger because your wife beats you at Call of Duty. You need to simmer down, son. I can’t help it that I’m THAT good.”

“Is this what you do all day back home? When I’m not around? You hone your video game skills?”

“No. I just happen to have the magic touch. I can’t help it that I’m a natural. I even beat TJ AND Millie and you know how good those two are.”

He places his hands behind his head and laces his fingers together. Sighing heavily and then turning his gaze towards the ceiling. “They’re amateurs compared to me.”

“Well you’re the one who has been looking like the amateur, so…”

He shoots an annoyed glare in his direction.

“Look, in real life you may be the king when it comes to this shit; shooting people and beating the shit out of them. But in video game land? I’m the fucking master. And you WILL accept defeat and bow down to me.”

“Like fuck I will.”

“You know the rules. You’re the one who wanted to play with these kinds of stakes. Now get to it. Pay your dues to the true Queen.”

Sighing heavily, he reluctantly gets to his feet, fingers pausing on his belt buckle.

“Do it,” Esme orders. “All is fair in love and war.”

“You know, this isn’t over yet. Even without these on, I won’t be totally naked. Which means you haven’t won a damn thing.”

“I’ve won five out of seven games. You have way less clothes on than me. Now suck it up and take them off.”

“Fine,” he huffs, and angrily yanks the leather from its clasp and rips the belt from the loops on his jeans; glaring at her as he tosses the item aside. “Happy?”

“Pants too.”

“Pants and belts are two separate things. I only need to take one off.”

“Pants and belts go together. They count as ONE item.”

He frowns. “Says who?”

“Says the rules.”

“Whose rules?”

“Listen, I don’t make them, I just enforce them. A belt isn’t a piece of clothing. It’s an accessory. So it is counted WITH the pants. Stop being such a baby and play by the rules!”

“Your imaginary rules you mean. I didn’t make you take your underwear off when you lost YOUR pants. Aren’t those an accessory? Shouldn't they have come off too?”

“Underwear can be worn alone.”

“You can’t go out with just underwear on, Me. Give me a break.”

“You can walk around the house in just underwear. But you don’t walk around in just a belt now, do you? Stop whining, suck it up, and drop your drawers.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he grumbles, and finally relents; popping open the button and reaching for the zipper.

“Yeah baby!” she hollers, and scrambles up onto her knees; whistling noisily and once more excitedly bouncing up and down. “That’s what I’m talking about! Take ‘em off! Let me see that sexy ass of yours! This is way better than any peeler bar!!”

“If you’re going to objectify me, shouldn’t you be tucking money into my underwear?”

“You don’t wear any. Where am I supposed to tuck it? In your ass crack? Does it work like a debit machine? I just slide my card in? Is that how it works? I have to slip something up your butt?”

“You come anywhere near my ass with the intention of slipping something into it…”

“Like you’ve never enjoyed a little ass play. Don’t act so innocent. You damn well know you don’t mind a finger up there every now and then. Don’t act like you’ve never allowed it to happen.”

“I was drunk.”

“Each time? Something like a dozen? You were drunk EACH time? Listen, there’s nothing wrong with admitting it. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having that kind of kink. It’s only when I’m going down on you and you’ve been extra….well...EXTRA.”

“Enough! Why do we have to talk about it? Isn’t it enough to just to do it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Does it make you uncomfortable? Discussing butt stuff? Well now you know how it feels. Not literally, because your dick is way bigger than my finger. So you DON’T know how it feels. Now shut up and do what I say. Drop your pants!”

Sighing, he slides the zipper all the way down and allows the denim to slide off his hips and ass; letting it pool at his ankles before kicking them off.

“Wait a second…” her eyes narrow and she points the remains of her licorice strip in his direction. “What the fuck are those?”

A grin plays at the corners of his mouth. “What’s what?”

“Those.” She gestures at the extra layer of clothing. “What the hell, Tyler James…”

“It’s a pair of those UnderArmour things you bought me. You said I should start wearing them. That they’ve been sitting in the drawer since we bought this place. I’m finally wearing them.”

“You’re supposed to wear them outside! To keep you warm! You don’t wear them in the house!”

“Says who? I can wear them where the fuck I want.”

“You…” she snarls, and glares at him. “...you did this intentionally. As soon as you declared this strip Call of Duty, you went upstairs and put those on. You weren’t wearing them earlier. I KNOW what you wore out. And I saw you take those clothes off when we got home from picking up the food and you were NOT wearing those underneath. You sneaky bastard.”

“Don’t hate the player,” he says, and drops down onto the couch and reaches for the controller. “Hate the game.”

“You absolute dick. I can’t believe you did that. Now THAT’S cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. It was purely a strategic move. And you call me an amateur.”

“You went calculating mercenary on me. You pulled out THAT card. You shit!”

“You may be kicking my ass at the game, but I outsmarted you. I’ve always been able to. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

“Oh, it’s on,” she declares, and snatches up her own controller and plops down beside him. Scowling and moving away when he attempts to slide closer to her. “Don’t even think about it. We’re enemies right now. Mortal enemies. Your treachery will not go unpunished.”

“And you say I’M taking this too seriously?”

“You totally upped the ante. You crossed a line, mister. Accusing me of cheating and all along it was you that was up to no good. I see how it is.”

“Does it make it any better if I tell you that I love you?”

“Save your ass kissing. Because when I win, I’m going to make you get on your knees and pucker up. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

“I’m not scared of you. Much.”

“Be afraid. Be very afraid. I will destroy you.”

Grinning, he reaches over and presses the start button on her controller. “Bring it, short stuff.”

*****

She emerges victorious. Easily handing him a crushing defeat that leaves her still clad in an oversized plain shirt and wool socks and him relegated to stripping off the last layer of clothing. And his smirk is one of both annoyance and amusement as he watches her, standing on the couch with a foot on either side of his thighs and partaking in her victory celebration; a mixture of wildly tossing her hair -or what’s left of it -around and suggestively bumping and grinding her hips while repeatedly chanting: “I did it, I did! I beat you, I did!”. She’s had a little too much to drink; enjoying nearly three quarters of a bottle of wine and then indulging in two hot chocolates infused with Kahlua. And between her somewhat inebriated state causing poor coordination and her penchant for being clumsy on even her best and most sober of days, he keeps a firm, protective hold on the back of her calves. The last thing he needs is a trip to the ER and an awkward explanation of just how she fell and busted her head open. In Telluride she’d once slipped on loose stone in the driveway and went down hard; catching the back of her head on one of the truck’s running boards and creating a hell of a gash in her scalp. And for someone that had spent years in the military and on the job and who’d inflicted gnarly injuries and gruesome deaths on others, he’d been the one close to panicking; convinced he’d seen he’d never seen so much blood in his entire life and nearly hyperventilating at the mere thought of her being hurt. She’d been the calm one; trying to talk him down on the way to the hospital while he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a blood soaked towel to the back of her head.

But it had been what had happened once he’d gotten her help that caused the most trauma. For both of them. The nurse in charge of administering the first line of care had taken one look at the sheer size of him and the amount of scars and tattoos covering the visible parts of body and had gotten her guard up. His behaviour had been the nail in the coffin. His PTSD (undiagnosed at the time) triggered by hospitals and all of the sounds and the sights and the smells that accompany them. He’d been irritable and short tempered and unable to sit still; alternating between vigorously bouncing or shaking his legs or aggressively pacing the floor. He had sent off a number of red flags, and no sooner did they make it back to an exam room, a handful of cops showed up. Explaining the nurse's worries and how their arrival at the ER and Esme’s injury was being treated as a possible ‘domestic abuse situation’. That had only made his mood even worse; being accused of the one damn thing he’d always vowed never to let happen. No matter how dark and dire a situation got, no matter how bad their problems or volatile their arguments, he’d sworn he’d never hurt her; promising to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger if he ever ‘blacked out’ and physically hurt her. To this day he’s still amazed that he never caught an assault charge. Shoving one of the officers that had attempted to escort him to a different room and grabbing the throat of the other; triggered the second they made physical contact with him.

Six hours later they’d been sent home with five stitches in her head, a prescription for pain meds and a half assed apology. The next day, Child Protective Services showed up on their doorstep; receiving the hospital report and hearing about how he’d assaulted two cops and wanting to further investigate. Nothing had ever come of it; their case file quickly closed when it became apparent that the children were well taken care of and there were absolutely no signs of abuse in the house. But it had done a lot of damage; worsening his PTSD and helping his distrust in the general public grow to epic levels.

“Are you done?” he asks now, when the celebration finally comes to an end. Her hair messy and wild, cheeks flushed from a mixture of her erratic movements and the alcohol she’d consumed, chest heaving from exertion. “Got it all out of your system? Or are you going to gloat some more?”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s all in good fun. Everything I do and say, is done with love.”

He smirks. “Sure it is. You good? You finished? Or do I have to boot you to the couch tonight?”

“I’m good. I’m done. It’s over. I won’t gloat anymore and further hurt your delicate sensibilities.”

Smirking, he runs his hands around to the front of her calves and slides them upwards. Briefly lingering on her thighs before snagging the bottom of her shirt and yanking her downwards. She gives a startled yelp when she initially loses her balance and then begins to giggle when he easily and effortlessly gathers her into his arms; knees on either side of his hips as he pulls her tightly against him.

“I know I got a little out of hand,” he says. “Over the whole video game thing. I get a little...intense.”

“You think? Intense is putting it lightly. You’re a little competitive.”

“Yeah, just a tad.”

“And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you’re a sore loser.”

“Excuse you,” he chuckles, and she laughs and squirms against him when his fingers dig into the sensitive areas below her rib cage. “I was trying to be nice. I was trying to apologize. In my own way.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know what you’re like, Tyler. I know how you are. You’re insanely competitive. I’ve seen you while playing xBox with the kids. And I’ve seen you after when Millie’s kicked your ass.”

“First, she doesn’t really kick my ass. It’s a small margin of victory. Second, it doesn’t happen often.”

“You keep telling yourself that, babe. Regardless, I know you. I know how worked up and intense you get. I don’t take anything you say seriously when you’re like that. Especially when you ARE losing. It’s all in good fun. You don’t say shit to be mean. Same way I don’t. It’s just who we are. We shit talk each other. I think that’s pretty cool, actually. That we ARE like that. That we’re not just husband and wife and two people raising a family together. We’re friends too. I know you’re my BFF. No doubt about it.”

“You’re definitely mine. But let’s be realistic; how many BFF’s sit on your lap with no underwear on?”

“I lost them an hour ago. One of the three games you actually won. And speaking of which…” she glances down between them. “...technically, things aren't over yet. There’s one thing that remains. That you still have to do.”

“I admitted defeat. I watched your stupid little victory dance. I let you rub it in my face. Isn’t that enough?”

“Nope.”

“What more do you want from me? My right kidney?”

“I want you to do what you’re supposed to. The rules were made very clear at the very at the beginning. And YOU’RE the one that made them. So…”

“I thought maybe you’d go easy on me. Cut me a break. Have some sympathy.”

“You’d have zero sympathy for me and you’d totally enforce the rules. So, you have no choice in the matter.”

“Me, come on, you already hurt my pride. You want to decimate it entirely? Take pity on me.”

“Sorry. I have none to give. You know what you have to do.”

“You know, I was thinking maybe you’d do it for me. Give you that last piece of victory. Give you that feeling of power.”

“Mmm...hmmm. You know what I think? I think that you were hoping getting me down there would weaken me. That I’d do a little something for you.”

“Well I DO need comforting,” Tyler reasons. “You did beat me pretty bad.”

“I totally kicked your ass. But comfort? I don’t know…”

“Be nice to me. You already humiliated me. What more do you want?”

“Don’t turn this around. This isn’t about what I want. This is totally about what YOU want. Because you know if I give in, it puts you at your twice a day. You just can’t handle change. Even when it comes to THAT.”

“I’m a creature of habit. I need my routine. I can’t help it. You know how my OCD acts up when my routine gets fucked up.”

“I love how you just so casually play that card to get what you want. Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous tonight. And a little drunk.”

“Just a little?”

“Maybe a lot drunk. Or at the threshold between still being able to make conscious and wise decisions but not drunk enough to pass out and have you carry me upstairs. But, seeing as I’m in a generous and giving mood and you HAVE been on your best behaviour lately, maybe I could give you a little something.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Yeah? A little something, huh? This is where I’m going to miss the hair the most…” he uses gentle fingers to push wayward strands out of her hair; looping dark tresses behind each ear. “...when you’re getting to business. I always knew just how much effort you were going to put into it when you’d put her hair in a ponytail.”

“I thought you liked it. My hair. I thought you didn’t mind it like this.”

“I do like it. I love it. It suits you; shows off your cute, tiny little face. I’m just used to it being long, that’s all. You know, being able to grab it and shit.”

“There’s still some length to it. Enough for you to get even your humongous hands on. And as for the whole ponytail thing, I promise I’ll find another way to let you know when I mean business. When I’m all in.”

“I’m not too worried. Even when you haven’t put your hair back, you’ve never put in a bad performance. Let’s just say, it’s not just Call of Duty you’re a master at.”

“I figure I must not be too bad. I must be doing something right. I haven’t heard one complaint in twelve and half years.”

“Baby, you’re doing everything right. You will never hear a complaint from me. Ever.”

“Have you ever thought maybe I’m not actually that talented? That maybe you’re just very easy to please?”

“Me, no one has ever gotten as quick of reaction out of me as you have. Right from day one. So I don’t know what hoodoo voodoo black magic you’ve got through those veins of yours, but all those other women? None of them even come close to you.”

“Not a single one? Not even the stripper in Thailand you once told me about?”

“Not even her. I actually had to concentrate really hard to get it up. With you? You just look at me a certain way and that’s it. You’ve got some power that I can’t even come close to explaining.”

“Maybe it’s the fact it’s lust AND love?”

“That’ll do it.”

“Speaking of lust, I really do want you to see you with your pants off. I know what a tremendously beautiful sight that is. And I’m actually feeling very generous and giving right now.” She pushes her fingers through his hair; tightly gripping the longer top strands as she leans in to kiss him. Nothing soft or slow about it; lips demanding and her tongue insistently pushing against his teeth. Even after twelve and a half years, it’s rare for her to be the aggressor; preferring him to take charge and enjoying being dominated and ‘man handled’. And it took him a while to get used to letting her have even the slightest bit of control; liking his usual role of being the one fully in charge.

His hands briefly rest on her shoulders and then slide down her arms, pausing at her hips before reaching around to slip up the bottom of her shirt and grab her ass. Fingers pressing into the soft flesh; pulling her even tighter against him and bringing her bare crotch in direct contact with the beginnings of his erection. Twelve and half years later and he still wants and needs her just as much as he did that first time in Dhaka. Maybe even more so. There’s nothing mundane about it; he enjoys the changes in her form and the familiarity that comes with their love making. Their bodies know each other so well; always eagerly responding to one another and knowing exactly how to both torture and please.. And he can’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else; completely content and satisfied knowing that what they have extends far beyond passion and sexual gratification.

She’s cradling his face in her palms when she slowly pulls out of the kiss, and he winces when her teeth capture his bottom lip between them; hard enough to draw tiny beads of blood. It’s her way of letting him know just what she’s in the mood for; the slight hint of aggression and the darkness in her eyes betraying the combination of primal want and need. Even after twelve and a half years she never actually verbalizes it; the self conscious side always leery about being that honest and open and fearing rejection. So he’s become a master at reading her signs; the assertive and domineering way in which she’ll kiss him, the way her hands hungrily and needily paw and grab, the darkness that appears in her eyes and the little smirk upon her lips.

That smirk is there now. Tugging at the corners of her mouth and she slides off his lap; her dark hair slipping through his fingers and his legs parting when she places her hands upon his knees. Something changes when she settles herself between his thighs; the softness returning to her features, the smirk transforming into a delicate smile. In that moment she seems so delicate pure; that smooth, porcelain skin accentuated by the dark hair that frames her face, those enormous eyes sparkling in the glow given off by the fireplace. There’s so much trust and faith and love evident in her eyes that it almost takes his breath away, and he reaches out to lay a hand on her cheek; fingers splayed over her ear and his thumb brushing over her lips. And she turns her face into his palm; gaze never leaving his as she presses a kiss to the calloused skin. And suddenly, despite the earlier bantering and sexual innuendos, the time doesn’t seem quite right; the comfortable silence between them, the softness of her hands resting upon his knees, the dainty curve to her lips and the innocence in her eyes. And he slides his hand to the back of her head and tangles his fingers in her hair as he gently draws her forward. Her arms circling his neck as he pulls her into him; the kiss long and deep and passionate, leaving them both breathless.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says, forehead resting against hers. “Do this right.”

“I think you’re going to have to carry me. My toes are tingly.”

“I think I can manage. How should we do this? Do you feel like caveman style of Rhett Butler in Gone With The Wind?”

“Caveman style. Makes your muscles bulge more. And gives me a chance to stare at your butt.” She gives a small shriek when an arm wraps around her waist and effortlessly hoists her up onto his shoulder; yelping when a hand clamps down on her ass he pushes himself into a stand. “My big, strong man,” she giggles. “My knight in slightly tarnished armour.”

“Just slightly?”

“Your armour is perfect as is. It’s beautiful and it’s sexy and man, does your ass look extra good from this angle.”

“Speaking of asses…” he brings his palm down on one of her cheeks in a ringing slap. “....this one? This ass? It’s all mine.”

“All yours,” she agrees, tightly grabbing hold of the waist of the UnderArmour pants he still sports as he begins the journey up the stairs. “Don’t drop me! Don’t let me fall!”

“I’d never let you fall, Me,” he vows. “Ever.”

****

The confines of his arms are the most secure and comfortable place on earth; strong and muscular, even the lightest of embraces always possessing intense power and protection. Affection -both receiving and giving- had once been foreign to him; deprived of a loving parent when his mother passed away and left with one that was cold and menacing and did nothing but inflict torture and abuse. His first wife hadn’t been one for the more quiet and relaxing moments following sex, and his life after his divorce had consisted of no strings attached hook ups; out the door as fast as he could flush the condom. So it had been a learning process; a slow yet steady journey of travelling outside of known behaviour and comfort zones. Now he’s a master of it; the aftercare and the snuggling and the long, sleepy conversations as they lay in midst of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs. And he readily seeks and offers physical contact in all aspects of his life; quick with the hugs and the taking of a hand or little random kisses when you’re not expecting them.

She lays tightly tucked into his side. Head resting on his shoulder and her arm draped across his midsection; fingertips lazily following the lines of his ribs and drawing feathery patterns on smooth, warm skin. She knows every inch of his body; able to blindly find each scar and trace the outline of every tattoo. His body is hard and strong; tall and broad shouldered, athletically built. It’s reminiscent of how he’d looked when they first met; lean and muscular, impossibly strong without any extra bulk. She’s seen him every shape and size. Rail thin and sickly looking when he’d finally gotten out of the hospital; an almost staggering loss of both weight and muscle. And the 'lumberjack' stage; thick and powerful; his build phenomenal, extra weight gathering at his stomach and just above his hips. She’s loved him each and every way; during the best days of his life and the worst. Her heart breaking at his struggles with his thin and weaker body during his convalescence five years ago; the days he hated what he saw in the mirror and would fly into rages directed at Nathan and how he’d managed to break him both physically and mentally. And she’d supported him through nearly two years of physiotherapy. The weeks filled with gruelling and painful appointments; comforting him the best she could when it all became too much to bear and he’d cry tears of both frustration and agony. Trying not to break down herself when he claimed that it would have been easier had he died. That he felt useless to both her and the kids. Lamenting that he wasn’t even half the man he was when they’d first met. But she’d gotten him through it; gently leading him out of the dark place in his head and doing whatever she could to encourage him to keep going.

Five years later and he’s come a hell of a long way. There will always be issues; long lasting effects both physically and mentally. The damage Nathan had done causing permanent and life altering problems; vision loss in the right eye, post concussion syndrome, nerve damage in the small of his back and into his right hip, a leg limp that becomes even more pronounced when the cold weather sets in and irritates the arthritis that thrives in his knee and femur. Yet he never complains; down playing the pain and refusing to let it control his life. He’ll need another operation when he hits sixty, if not before. The knee not healing and bouncing back as well as it should; the surgically repaired ligaments and tendons far weaker than they had hoped they’d be. But he doesn’t let it slow him down; even on the days he can barely move and she has to help him get out of bed or in and out of the shower. It’s a bitter pill for him to try and swallow; occasionally needing assistance when it comes to even the smallest of everyday things. She sees how it both annoys and embarrasses him; someone his size and possessing his skills and capabilities needing help from someone as tiny as her. Holding onto that one shred of toxic masculinity that tells him the roles should be reversed; he’s the one that should be taking care of her and doing whatever it takes to make sure she’s safe and healthy and protected. And she handles it the best way she knows how; quietly and efficiently. Never calling attention to his struggles and keeping his mind from travelling down a dark and dangerous rabbit hole by encouraging random chit chat; keeping things light and happy and her hands soft and loving. And in the future, never bringing up what he’d needed or what she’d had to do.

She presses a kiss to the scar that mars his left shoulder. “You awake?”

“I am.”

“You okay?”

His fingers continue to comb through her hair; slow and soothing movements. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re extra quiet tonight. I mean, you’re always quiet. But you’re even more so.”

“I’m just lying here enjoying it. The post orgasmic bliss.”

She lifts her head to look at him, admiring the line of his jaw and the beard that’s beginning to fill out and thicken and those impossible long and dark eyelashes that rest upon smooth skin. “Hey, that’s MY line.”

“Not tonight it’s not. I beat you to it.” As the fingers of one hand continue to move through her hair, the others drift along her upper arm; calloused tips occasionally pausing to trace slow and lazy patterns. “You alright?”

Nodding, she slides further up the bed. Nose pressed against the sensitive spot right below his ear and her hand reaching up to rest on the top of his head; thumb repeatedly brushing against his brow. “I’m good. VERY good, actually.”

“You were fucking amazing,” he praises, and turns his face into hers and places a kiss on the bridge of her nose. “You always are. But that? That was…”

“Extra?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Very extra.”

“I don’t want to ever hear that you’re complaining about me ever again. Because you are extremely spoiled and there are many men who would envy your sex life.”

His eyes flicker open and a frown tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t complain about you.”

“Like hell you don’t. All couples complain about each other. I admit that I complain about you. About some of the shit you do that drives me insane. Doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

“There’s not really anything to complain about when it comes to you.”

“Right…” she laughs. “...don’t go sparing my feelings, babe. I know what I’m like. I know what kind of bullshit I bring to the table. And yet you’re still here. You still keep hanging around.”

“It’s not that bad; dealing with your bullshit. Besides, I kinda like you.”

“Kinda, huh?”

“Just a bit.”

“I kind of like you too. And I wouldn’t mind if you hung out around here for the next...I don’t know...fifty years.”

“Good. Because I think I’ll stick around. I’m kinda comfortable. I can think of worse lives. I’ve LIVED worse lives.”

“Well now you’re spoiled. Insanely. You’re like that mangy little kitten someone finds in a gutter and nurses back to health and they get all fat and happy and get to sleep all over the furniture.”

He grins. “Did you seriously just compare me to a stray animal?”

“Hey, you needed some work when we first met. You were a little...feral. You were living in a shack with a chicken as a roommate.”

“Roommate? That’s my child you’re talking about.”

“You were pretty rough around the edges. You needed some big time TLC. And I was more than willing to give you that. You had potential. I saw it. You weren’t as scary as you liked to think you were.”

“Maybe not to you. I wasn’t like that with you. I was trying NOT to be.”

“Until you had your meltdown over having the feels and you tried to choke me out.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” Tyler admits. “But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to scare you. Because I didn’t want you getting all caught up in something and then have me fuck it up and disappoint you. I was trying to protect you.”

“From you?”

He nods.

“I wasn’t afraid of you. I didn’t think you’d hurt me. I could tell you weren’t that type; to put your hands on a woman. No matter how angry you got.”

“It wasn’t about hurting you THAT way. It was about us taking things too far and feeling things for each other and trying to make something of nothing. I wanted that to happen, but I was scared that it would. Doesn’t make much sense, I know.”

“I think you were trying to protect yourself more than you were trying to protect me.”

“Maybe. I guess I worried I was feeling too much, too soon. That you’d find out who I really was and you’d run. I didn’t want to get attached and have you take off because you couldn’t deal with my shit. In the same way I didn’t want you getting attached and finding out I was too much of a mess and regretting what happened between us.”

“That was NEVER going to happen. I knew you were different. I SAW you, Tyler. Who you really were. Behind those walls you built up. Behind that whole hardened and emotionally vacant mercenary act you put on. I saw it the second we met. It was all in your eyes. That you weren’t like everyone else.”

“I think you give me way too much credit.”

“And you don’t give yourself enough.” Her thumb moves to the scar on the left side of his forehead; thin yet jagged, running vertically. “I was thinking about that first night. In Dhaka. After we...you know.”

“Fucked? Four times?”

“Normally I’d tell you not to be so crude and that it was a little more softer and meaningful than that, but…”

“There was nothing soft or meaningful about ANY of those four times. It was fucking. Let’s not sugar coat it.”

“Whatever it was, it was amazing. YOU were amazing. But do you remember afterwards? When I cuddled up to you? And you wondered what the fuck was going on? You didn’t know how to react; you sort of froze up and didn’t even budge. Were you angry or…?”

“Why would I have been angry? There was nothing to be angry about. I’d just gotten through having the most incredible sex of my life. FOUR times. I had a beautiful, amazing woman in my bed. Still naked. I definitely was not angry.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Surprised. I wasn’t used to that. The whole afterglow thing. I was used to just getting shit done and getting the fuck out. And my ex wasn’t into that kind of shit. She was a roll over and go to sleep kind of girl.”

“You poor, neglected man. Never getting to enjoy the aftermath. You made up for it though. With me.”

“That I did. I was just surprised when you did it. Cuddled up to me like you did. But I definitely wasn’t angry. Or uncomfortable. It was just different. YOU were different. Doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. It felt good. It felt right. And I figured if something feels that right? There’s no way anything could be bad about it.”

“I love this side of you,” she declares, and presses a kiss to his temple. “This softer, sweet side. I mean, I love all sides of you. But this? This is always a breath of fresh air. And it did; feel right. What was going on with us. And it kind of scared me too. I wasn’t used to that. Feeling things so quickly for someone. Trusting them the way I trusted you.”

“It was a little unnerving. I was a little spooked. But all’s well that ends well, yeah? I mean, here we are. Twelve and a half years under our belts, Me. Seven kids. I think it’s safe to say that we weren’t wrong about what we were feeling. Even if it did seem too soon. I kinda knew I was in trouble pretty early on.”

“When? When you saw me on your porch?”

“I had a feeling you’d be a handful,” he grins, and turns his face into hers; placing a kiss on her brow before resting the side of his nose against hers. “It was the second night though. When I told you about Austin. It had been years since I talked about him to anyone. And I just let it out. Something told me I could. But it did scare me.”

“What were you scared of?”

He shrugs. “Being that honest about things. So soon. I was worried I’d tell you what happened...what I did...and everything would change. I thought you’d be disgusted. That you’d look at me like I was a huge piece of shit. And I would have deserved it. If you did.”

“You made a mistake. We all do. You’re not perfect, Tyler. None of us are.”

“It wasn’t just a simple mistake. It was a horrible fucked up one. I took off. My kid had cancer. And I couldn’t handle it and I ran. Like I always do when shit gets too hard. I wasn’t even there. When he died. I left him and he spent the last of his days wondering where the fuck I was and asking what he did wrong that made me hate him enough to leave.”

“You were a different person back then. You couldn’t handle it. A lot of people wouldn’t be able to. And you had a lapse of judgement. Unfortunately, it ended up being way worse than you thought it would be.”

“I was worried once I told you about all of that, you’d hate me. That it would make you sick to even look at me.”

“I have never once hated you. Not even back then. I didn’t feel disgust. You know what I felt? I felt sad. For Austin. For you. That either of you had to go through that. My heart hurt for YOU. That your child got sick and you had to watch him suffer and that it was so painful to see that you made a bad decision. I was sad for you. Like I still am. But hate you? I could NEVER hate you. You have enough hate for yourself. To last a lifetime.”

“Yeah…” Tyler’s voice quivers with emotion. “...I guess I do.”

Smilingly softly, she combs her fingers through his hair. “You’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, haven’t you.”

He nods.

“I know it gets extra difficult around this time of year. At Christmas. I know how hard it is for you. Trying to be happy and enjoy things while it feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest.”

“It’s not normally this bad. I mean, it’s bad. But THIS?” He swallows heavily around the rock of emotion sitting in his throat. “Never like THIS. I don’t know what it is. Why it’s hit me this hard this year. I don’t know if it’s ‘cause I see how much Millie and TJ are growing up. Or I see so much of Austin in both of them. It’s normally not like this. This bad.”

“It’s okay, you know. To feel this. You don’t have to hide that from anyone. Especially me.”

“I don’t want the kids seeing me like this. I don’t want them thinking they can’t be happy. It’s Christmas. They deserve to be happy and excited and to have the time of their lives. I don’t want them thinking they have to walk on eggshells because of me. Or that I’m not happy being with them. Because I am. Happy. With them. With you.”

“I know you are. You don’t have to convince me of that. I know how much you love us. How happy you are. I never doubt that.”

“I guess sometimes I feel guilty. That I am as happy as I am. That I did move on and have other kids. That I didn’t do it right by him but I turned around and made more kids I could screw things up with.”

“You are NOT screwing anything up. You are a great dad. An amazing dad. And your kids love you so much. They idolize you. You’re their daddy. There’s no one they love the way they love you.”

“He loved me. Idolized me. And look what I did. Look how I betrayed that. How I betrayed HIM.”

“It was a mistake.” Gentle fingertips brush away the tears that glisten on his cheeks and the sides of his nose. “You made a bad decision. But that doesn’t make you a monster, Tyler. It just makes you a man who screwed up. And you know what? Austin would want you to be happy. He’d want you to have a life. To have other kids. Because he’d know how much love you have and he’d want you to give that to other people. He would never deprive you of that; having other kids.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean it makes it any easier. The fact he died. Alone.”

“I know it’s of little consolation, but he wasn’t alone. His mom was with him. And I’m sure she told him how much you loved him. That she probably told him you had to go. Not that you chose to.”

“You give her a lot of credit. I can assure you that she DIDN’T say any of that. That he died knowing I abandoned him. That he died hating me.”

“A mother will do anything to protect their child from getting hurt. And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what she did. He was vulnerable and he was sick and I highly doubt she’d make that worse by shit talking you. I know I wouldn’t. That I’d never let any of my kids hear any of that. That if it had been me? I would have made sure he knew how much you wanted to be there and couldn’t. I would have told him how much you loved him. And would always love him.”

“You’re a different person, Me. She’s nothing like you. Not even in the slightest of ways.”

“I know at one time she loved you. And you loved her. That it wasn’t always bad. That there were some good memories too.”

“I did love her. But not the way that I love you. Not even close. What I have? With you? What I feel? That’s the real deal. Her? I don’t know what that was.”

“She was your highschool sweetheart. You thought you were destined to be together. It just didn’t work out.”

“Which is a good thing. Or I wouldn’t have what I have now. Which is why I’d never go back and change things. Even if I could. Because I change one thing, it changes everything. And I wouldn’t give you or my kids up for anything in this world. Which makes me feel like shit. That I wouldn’t bring back my first kid.”

“Tyler, don’t let your mind go there. That’s a very dark place and that is not where you need to be. I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry Austin got sick and died. That you had to go through that. But comparing what you had then to what you have now? That will lead to nowhere good. Stop tormenting yourself like this. You have a good life. One that you’re more than deserving of. You have people that love you. Don’t overlook that because you’re so busy looking back at things. You’re not betraying Austin because you had other kids. Because you found love and are loved. And I can guarantee you that he would not want you doing this to yourself.”

“It’s not that easy.” He frantically swipes at the tears that freely roll down his face. “I wish it was. I wish I could turn this all off. That I’d never feel a damn thing again.”

“And that’s not good EITHER. It’s okay to feel. You’re a human being. But dwelling on what you did? You’ll never really enjoy what you have if you keep doing that. And one day the kids WILL notice it. They’ll see the difference in you. And they’ll wonder why they weren’t enough. Why you didn’t love them the same way you loved him. And I know you don’t want that.”

“I do love them. They’re my kids. You have no idea how much I love them.”

“Then you need to let it go. Not Austin himself. But what happened. The decision you made. Because it WILL destroy what you have. It’ll destroy you. And you’ve come way too damn far to let that happen. I won’t LET it happen.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to keep going through this. I just want it over. I don’t want it to hurt so much. And I don’t know why it does. Why it’s so hard this time around. I don’t have an explanation, Me. I don’t why I’m like this. But trust me, I don’t want to be this way.”

“Come here…” she encourages, as her one hand finds the nape of his neck and the fingers of the other tangle in his hair. And she pulls him down into her; both of his arms wrapping tightly around her torso and his face nestled against her collarbone. “...it’s okay, Tyler. These times are going to come up. We were told this would happen. That you’d feel this way from time to time. You’ve had a great five years. You’ve avoided these kinds of moments. It was bound to creep up; sooner or later. Christmas is always a hard time for you. I get it. I know you can’t help it.”

“I don’t want to be this way,” he sobs against her. “I just want it to stop. How bad it hurts sometimes. I just want it to stop.”

“You’re going to be alright.” Her voice is soft and soothing; fingertips lightly massaging his scalp. “It’ll pass. You’ll get through this. Same way you’ve gotten through so many things. So many bad, BAD things. You’re a tough cookie, Tyler Rake.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do this if you weren’t here. If you didn’t keep giving me chances. Putting up with all this shit. I wouldn’t even be here. Alive.”

“I love you. More than you could ever know. I love you more and more every day. And I’m not going anywhere. You know how you always say ‘I got you’? Well I’VE got YOU.”

“I love you. So much. I wish there was a way of telling you HOW much.”

“You don’t need to say it." She drops a kiss on the top of his head. “I know. You make it perfectly clear. In your own way.”

“Thank you. For this. For everything.”

“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him, and runs her fingers through his hair. “I won’t let you fall either.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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let-me-take-your-soul · 4 years

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Could I get some hcs where a student of Stein's teams up with him against a baddie of your choosing, and Stein asks his student if she trusts him and she says of course professor, and he's genuinely surprised by how quickly she answered?

Oh my gosh I am so sorry for how long this took!! Thank you for staying patient with me! 💕💕

On with the story:

-The fight at hand shouldn't have been super serious. (Y/n) had been on her way to Stein's lab to drop off a late assignment. She didn't bother bringing her weapon with her because there was no reason anything should have happened.

-Unfortunately, she was caught off guard when she felt the presence of a kishin egg nearby. She didn't even have much time before it was in front of her.

-With no way to really defend herself, she did what she could to maneuver around it and bolt towards Stein's lab. That was the only place now where she'd be able to get help.

-When she ran through the gates of the cemetery, she saw that familiar tall figure. He stood there with a grin on his face as he spun the screw in his head.

-"I see you brought a friend with you, (y/n)." He said jokingly as she dashed towards him and hid behind him.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it." He tells her.

-As he fights it out with the kishin egg, (y/n) tries to distance herself from the battle. The monster isn't about to let her go though, and even with Stein's help, this battle was proving very difficult. (Y/n) mentally slaps herself for not having her weapon come with her as she finds herself climbing up a nearby tree to get away.

-The fight soon comes to a standstill, with Stein and the kishin egg staring each other down.

"(Y/n), I have a plan, and it might seem crazy, but I know it'll work. When I say so, I'm going to need you to jump from the end of the limb you're on." Stein calls up to her.

"You want me to what?? I'm at least up 15 feet!" She calls back.

"You'll be okay. Do you trust me?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I trust you, professor!" She answers.

The lack of hesitation throws Stein for a loop and he finds himself even more desperate to protect (y/n). He wasn't used to his students trusting him so fully. They tended to listen to him out of fear and authority more than anything, but not because they really trusted him.

He stared down the kishin and then made his move- darting left and right through the cemetery, landing hits on this thing when he could. He got ahead of it just enough and saw (y/n) readying herself to jump.

He stopped then, waiting for the kishin to get just a little closer and-

"(Y/n)! Jump now!" He called out.

She ran, jumping out of the tree and tackling the kishin so it became stunned. Stein took this opportunity and grabbed it's head, soul-blasting it until it was gone.

Everything went quiet and Stein finally looked up at (y/n) to see she was still a bit shaken up.

-"Thank you for trusting me. You did good, (y/n)." He tells her.

"Y-yeah. Thanks. Thanks for not letting me land somewhere that would hurt me." She replies.

It's quiet for a moment as (y/n) stands up and straightens herself up.

"Why don't you come in for a bit? I'll figure out how to make you some tea before you go." He says.

"That'd be great right now."

-The two of them start to walk inside.

"Sorry for dragging you into this. I didn't expect something like that to happen tonight." (Y/n) tells Stein.

"No worries. Was there something else you needed from me? Or were you just trying to keep me on my toes?" He asks jokingly.

(Y/n) stops- she begins to frantically look around and then cries out in frustration as she pulls a torn and muddy piece of paper off the ground.

"Dammit! Are you kidding me?? I wanted to give you the homework I finished today! That damn thing ruined it!" She cried.

Stein barks out a laugh and pats her on the shoulder. He feels almost like a dad right now, and he couldn't help that feeling of warmth that he felt when she had also said that she trusted him.

"Don't worry about it. I think you've earned a passing grade for it after all that." Stein says.

"Okay… thank you." She says, still stressed from the fight.

-They made their way inside and (y/n) say down on the couch while Stein tried to brew her some tea. He came back with a mug (thanks to Marie, no doubt) and handed it to her.

She took a sip of it and flinched. It tasted awful. He must have burnt the tea and then over-sweetened it. Despite the abhorrent taste, (y/n) drank it all anyway.

#soul eater imagine #soul eater #stein #franken stein #request #secretlypansexualmango

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hiccanna-tidbits · 3 years

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Hiccanna--100 OTP Questions, Part 2

So I said I would finish this OTP question meme someday--and I decided, entirely on random impulse, that “someday” is today!!! My Hiccanna-centered account has not been producing enough Hiccanna content lately, and this simply WILL not do.

QUESTION SOURCE: https://the-moon-dust-writings.tumblr.com/post/159857601812/100-otp-questions

LINK TO PART 1: https://hiccanna-tidbits.tumblr.com/post/635744326176129024/hiccanna-100-otp-questions-meme-part-1 51. Does either of them know how to fight? I mean...canonically yeah, they both do??? Lol I mean Hiccup has his fire sword and obviously would know how to fight with the weapons he makes/invents, and Anna literally just instinctively grabs a sword to protect her buddies in Frozen 2 and I mean we all really love Sword Anna anyways and also she PUNCHES A MAN OFF OF A BOAT so long story short yes they can both fight 52. What do they do for Valentines Day? Anna rents a rom-com and pulls Hiccup down onto their couch to watch it with her, and he kinda internally groans because he figures it’ll be something super sappy and cheesy and Anna will just be squealing with delight the whole time. Legit as soon as the first scene begins, Anna begins brutally roasting the main couple. Turns out it’s a really terrible rom-com and Anna rented it solely to make fun of it. Hiccup is like “aight this definitely wasn’t what I was expecting but I’m on board” Also Hiccup gets Anna like 3 boxes of fancy chocolate because...do I really need to explain? Anna gets Hiccup a particularly aesthetic floral arrangement for their kitchen table, something she knows damn well he secretly likes but would never admit XD 53. Who swears more? Anna, for sure. This tends to surprise people, but Anna is actually a notorious pottymouth when she gets comfortable XD Hiccup has a pretty big and borderline pretentious vocabulary, and so he tends to express his frustration in more...articulate ways when things don’t go his way. Like he’d stub his toe and just say “wow, I’d literally rather saw off my other leg than have to deal with this right now” while Anna, in the same situation, would let loose every curse word known to man XD 54. Who has the better comebacks? Hiccup, absolutely. His smart-ass comments to every conceivable situation on earth go absolutely unmatched. Anna can’t help but envy how he can almost instinctually pull out a near-perfect snide remark within seconds, whilst she, at best, thinks of the ideal comeback in the shower 3 days later. 55. Who would start a fight with another parent at a bake sale? I feel like Anna would seek out the most passive-aggressive, bitchy, entitled Karen and just wait with barely-concealed anticipation for her to say something super awful so Anna can just nail her in the face right in front of all the other moms Hiccup and their kids, meanwhile, can’t help but be awed at their wife/mother’s impressive Right Hook 56. Who reads buzzfeed? Anna. Hiccup keeps being like “you know half the stuff on there is total bullshit, right?” and Anna just shrugs like “who cares? It’s entertaining!” 57. Who is the hopeless romantic? Anna, good god, ANNA. After the whole Hans debacle I imagine she’s a bit more subdued about so openly showing this part of her personality, but at heart she just can’t stop being a romantic. Once Hiccup catches wind of this, he naturally makes a point of frequently surprising her with Grand Romantic Gestures and such, which makes Anna’s entire face go bright fuckin red as she cries out “NO STOP WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS YOU’RE TOO NICE” 58. Do either of them know how to do a handstand? Nope! They’d both fall on their faces and it would be hilarious. 59. Who can rap better? I love the idea of them both being looped into a rap battle somehow and Anna just dreading it immensely because she figures they both really suck and then when it’s their turn Hiccup comes out and busts out the BEST, MOST SAVAGE RHYMES Anna has ever heard COMPLETELY ad lib and the poor girl just goes completely catatonic with shock for like 10 minutes. 60. Do either of them want to go sky diving? See initially I was gonna say Hiccup definitely would not because it would give the poor boy an anxiety attack, but then I remembered he basically skydives in canon??? And Anna strikes me as a bit of adrenaline junkie too, so fuck it--yeah, I think they’d both enjoy it. 61. What do they usually text about? They talk a lot about movies, games, books, and shows they both like, I imagine--Hiccup especially likes to overanalyze them to ridiculous extents and Anna thinks this is adorable. The rest of the time, they send each other dumb memes and talk about random animal fun facts. Anna likes to brag that her boyfriend knows more lizard trivia than anyone else on the planet, and how many lizard facts does YOUR boyfriend know? Probably little to none, you big loser. 62. Who is the dramatic one? Anna is INCREDIBLY dramatic. Although Hiccup certainly does have a “dramatic flair,” as he puts it, I still think Anna can out-dramatic him, at the end of the day XD Although perhaps admittedly not by much. 63. Is either one confrontational? Anna certainly can be. She’s usually pretty friendly, but if she ever feels like she’s being challenged, demeaned, mocked, or generally not taken seriously, she’s ready to go to WAR. She certainly not as soft as she might look! I imagine there’s situations where someone is being a dick to either Anna or someone else and Hiccup has to physically hold her back to keep her from just decking them XD 64. What is their favourite cuddle position? Probably just good old-fashioned spooning. Hiccup actually really loves being the little spoon (because Anna just makes him feel so damn safe), but he is loathe to admit it. They also have one I like to call the “Needy Cat,” where Anna just goes and completely drapes herself over Hiccup when he’s sitting on the couch. He’s usually in the middle of doing something else, and is forced to find ways to play video games/read his book/watch his show around Anna XD 65. Who are their favourite musical artist(s)? Hiccup has exactly 3 music moods--pretentious classical stuff (to listen to while working on inventions), obscure underground 90s hipster bands no one’s heard of (to play air guitar to when no one else is home), and some more well-known emo/alt rock stuff (to sing along to in the car dramatically). I can see him liking Panic! at the Disco, The Killers, Fall Out Boy, Linkin Park, that kinda stuff. Anna, meanwhile, likes the trashiest, most generic-sounding pop music and refuses to apologize for dancing to it in the car XD She is most DEFINITELY a Swiftie, no question. She also likes some “edgier” bands like Paramore and Hey Monday. She went through a hardcore Avril Lavigne phase in middle school and she still totally listens to her but is embarrassed to say it. Also I feel like Anna would be into 90s/early 2000s boy bands??? She relates to the boys’ endless pining and just flips the genders in her head so the songs are about Hiccup (before they start dating obs) XD I AM DEFINITELY NOT SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE HERE, NO SIR 66. What are their parenting styles? Anna would probably be like...kind of stern, when she needs to be, but intensely nurturing as well, if her relationship with Elsa is anything to go by. Hiccup would be a pretty laid-back, chill dad who would probably try too hard to be cool and make no end of absolutely horrible dad jokes XD They both lowkey seem like the kind of parents who would end up letting their kids get away with a lot though lmao 67. Who would be the more laid back one? Hiccup probably. I mean, he IS the pacifist/diplomat guy, besides have you MET Anna??? Girl absolutely has NO chill. 68. Who listens to more vulgar music? Anna, surprisingly! Hiccup just kinda enjoys what he enjoys and doesn’t really feel the need to “prove” anything by listening to songs that swear a lot. Anna purposely listens to vulgar music to feed her hidden rebellious side and because it makes her feel badass XD She honestly kinda hates being written off as 100% wholesome and innocent all the time and will readily pull out the “I’M NOT A SWEET LITTLE FLOWER I SANG ALONG TO THAT SONG THAT JUST SAID FUCK SEE” line whenever given even the slightest chance XD 69. Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn’t know? Kind of depends on when in both their timelines they meet. If they meet in the middle of HTTYD 1 or Frozen 1, they probably wouldn’t tell the other right away that they have a dragon and an ice-powered supersister, respectively XD I definitely think they would as they came to trust each other, though. Also I read a headcanon that Hiccup has burn scars from the Red Death incident where he lost his leg, and that’s why he wears so much armor and generally long sleeves--and I kind of love that. So maybe Hiccup would be cagey with Anna about how he lost his leg and that whole incident for a while before he finally opens up to her about it. Other than that I feel like they’d be pretty honest with one another, other than maybe trying to hide the more embarrassing parts of themselves to impress the other person XD 70. Who is their go to couple for a double date? Jackunzel, obviously! They’d probably all go to an arcade or an amusement park or something else pretty fun and high-energy. 71. Do they tip the waiter/waitress on their date? I mean yes, they’re not huge assholes????? 72. How do they work out a fight? I imagine Anna tends to get more worked up and yelley and loud, while Hiccup doesn’t raise his voice much at all but can say some damn cutting things if he wants to. Since Anna probably gets angrier, I imagine she apologizes first, whether or not the fight was actually on her or not--it’s just kinda this girl’s default to apologize for everything XD She’d probably say sorry for yelling and probably overreacting, while Hiccup would also be EXTREMELY apologetic if he realized he crossed a line with one of his jabs at her. I imagine a lot of what they fight about is Anna doing some impulsive Dumb Shit^TM and Hiccup just being like “oh god DAMMIT that’s DANGEROUS you can’t just go WORRYING me like that!!!” and Anna getting offended because she kinda views this as him being a little overprotective and not trusting her to make her own decisions. Ironically, Anna occasionally also gets mad at HICCUP for doing Impulsive Dumb Shit, so he’s not always nearly as much the Voice of Reason as he thinks XD Hiccup also sometimes gets mad at Anna for not taking better care of herself (take it from a fellow ADHDer--we tend to Wallow in Despair sometimes, or straight-up forget to do basic care things like eat lunch XD)--I have an IRL friend who reminds me a lot of Hiccup and he’s ALWAYS getting on my case about not eating enough, not drinking enough water, constantly berating myself, stuff like that. I imagine Hiccup sometimes slips into Mom Mode with Anna when she gets in a bad spot, which she appreciates after the fact but kind of annoys her at the time because she wants really badly to be independent and all that. Basically TL;DR most of Anna and Hiccup’s fights can be resolved by Anna and Hiccup agreeing to next time Use A Brain Cell before they do a thing, or Anna agreeing to take better care of herself XD 73. Who brings home an illegal pet? In literally every AU possible I like to think that Hiccup brings home some variation of illegal pet XD I mean, it’s probably just a dragon (”just a dragon” is never a string of words I imagined myself using in that order like what do you mean JUST a dragon lmao) in a standard crossover timeline, which he basically does in canon, but I do love the idea of a modern AU Hiccup showing up to their apartment with some kind of weird exotic monitor lizard from Bali and being like “I found him in an alley, he’s gonna live with us now” and Anna is like “D: Is someone gonna arrest you???” And Hiccup is like “Nah, no cops followed me home” and Anna’s like “Okay!!! :D” and then goes to PetSmart to buy a big fluffy bed for her new scaled friend XD 74. What side of the bed do each of them sleep on? I honestly don’t think either would care much, and they usually sleep in a tangled-up mess anyways so by morning you can’t really tell who started on which side XD 75. What is their favorite photo of them two together? One from before they got together: I’m just imagining a big group photo with the Entire Squad (Rapunzel, Jack, Merida, Moana, etc.), and Anna has her arms laced around Hiccup’s neck and her chin on his shoulder and a GIANT smirk on her face. Meanwhile Hiccup is laughing and trying to push her off, but his cheeks are BRIGHT fucking red and he’s trying really unsuccessfully to hide it because he’s a pale boi. Anna loves it because you can so CLEARLY see Hiccup’s blush, and she loves to tease him about how flustered he got around her. Hiccup loves it because it reminds him of what was probably the first time Anna was THAT openly cuddly with him, and how exhilarated and giddy he felt the first time he had her that close to him. 76. Who takes longer in the bathroom? Probably Hiccup, if only because I HC him as a bit of a germophobe who is a tiny bit obsessive about washing his hands sufficiently. 77. Who has more songs on their ipod? Anna, mainly because literally every time she hears a song she likes she’s like “!!!!! Gotta download it!!!!” LITERALLY EVERY TIME. And she wonders why her ipod is always running out of space XD 78. What movie did they first see together? As of the Modern AU Hiccanna one-shot I wrote ages ago, Revenge of the Ancient Dragon Masters! XD If we’re talking movies that actually exist, I imagine it would be a Marvel movie, a Star Wars movie, or some super-fancy-CGI high fantasy epic. 79. What do they like to see each other in? You mean like...which of the other’s outfits would they find the sexiest??? Aight, I’ll take a stab at this. Anna gets literally SO fuckin thirsty every time Hiccup wears his dragon rider outfit (the one from HTTYD 2), like it shows off his cute skinny body in the most perfect possible way whilst making him look like a badass and oh how Anna DREAMS of feeling him up in that! (One day, she finally gets to! XD) She’s also very into the scale armor from HTTYD 3 when she’s in...a very different kind of mood XD As for Hiccup, his favorite outfits of Anna’s are probably her coronation dress and her queen dress, mainly because he loves how she looks in green. He also really likes her travel outfit from Frozen 2, mainly because it’s sexy AND practical and damn, he’s gotta admit, that’s a nice shade of purple and she absolutely SLAYS in it XD 80. Who makes jokes during inappropriate times? Honestly both of them??? Like neither are great at picking up social cues, and Anna canonically DOES do this in Frozen! (Remember her comment about ice-selling being “a rough business to be in right now”???) I can see both of them attempting to lighten a tense mood by making an ill-timed joke, hoping to make things less uncomfortable, and they end up making everything MORE uncomfortable XD Honestly sue me, I love the idea of these two idiots bonding over how terrible they are with social cues in general 81. At what age do they discuss the possibility of children? I imagine not til like...their early 30s, if ever. Like I mentioned in the first part of the questionaire, I actually am not sure if they would even want to have kids at all, but if they DID decide to, it definitely wouldn’t be until they’re older and have settled down a bit, and have (somewhat) gotten both of their lives together. 82. What do they love about each other the most? Hiccup loves Anna’s energy and optimism, and how she’ll basically cheer him on and believe in him with all her being no matter how high the odds are stacked against him. And oh boy does he LOVE how hard she can kick ass when push comes to shove, and how goddamn overprotective she is of him. The sword skills and the general willingness to punch problematic people in the face are definitely up there as well. She’s like the perfect blend of fun and badass, and there’s never a dull moment with her for him. Anna adores Hiccup’s connection with animals and general animal skills, especially with the more less-loved and “scary” of the world’s creatures (i.e. dragons lol). She also loves and admires the shit out of his intelligence and inventiveness, and wishes she could make contraptions half as cool as what he turns out. And, of course, she loves that he’s a pretty humble dude who's actually pretty insecure about his accomplishments, and isn’t some cocky guy wanting to shove them in everyone’s face. And, of course, she loves his sarcasm and his dry sense of humor, and few people can make her laugh as hard as Hiccup can. Before she met him, she had no idea pessimism could be this entertaining XD 83. Who is the one that sees the big picture, while the other focus’s on the small details? Hiccup is very detail-oriented--he has to be, in order to make any of his contraptions work! Anna is very much focused on the big picture and gets stressed and exasperated trying to keep track of details--she figures she’ll either sort through the details as she goes, or Hiccup will help do it for her XD 84. What would they write on their partner’s social media’s for their anniversary? One of my IRL friends wrote “Happy anniversary bro, you’re pretty great” on his girlfriend’s instagram for their anniversary, and she wrote back “Happy anniversary, you’re a good buddy, I love you” and I just XD That’s the EXACT kind of weird dorky nonsense I can see Hiccup and Anna doing for their anniversary tbh 85. Who is bad at math? Anna, bless her soul, needs a calculator for literally EVERYTHING. Hiccup kinda trained himself to be decent at doing math in his head, since he often has to calculate measurements for his inventions and whatnot, but Anna is absolutely atrocious at it and generally would like overly-complicated numbers to not be anywhere near her. 86. Who googles everything? Probably Anna, mainly because she’s pretty forgetful and doesn’t trust her own memory half the time so she feels the need to verify everything on the internet XD 87. Who does stuff on impulse? Anna 100% canonically does, although Hiccup has some shades of this too more than he would ever admit, in fact, for someone claiming to be the Voice of Reason 88. How do they comfort each other when they are helpless to do anything about the situation? Hiccup’s approach is probably just to try and distract Anna and take her mind off of it, which he’ll do by either trying to make her laugh, telling her a story, or explaining one of his inventions to her (which she never gets bored with btw, because everything that boy gushes about is fascinating to her <3). Basically he figures if he entertains her enough, it’ll take her mind off of whatever is freaking her out and she won’t fixate on it as much. Anna’s approach is more to accentuate the positives in a bad situation (although like I mentioned in Part 1, not really in a condescending “count your blessings, it could be worse!” kind of way, but more in a “I hope he’ll feel better if he focuses on happy things” kind of way, if that makes any sense?) and also focus on when Hiccup DID do great and utterly kick ass and tell him he’s always better than he thinks he is. 89. What is an inside joke they have? If anything, him calling her “Tiger” as a pet name (which I think I mentioned briefly in Part 1??? Can’t remember) is this, because in my mind it developed because whenever Anna is about to do some Dumb Shit, or punch someone she really shouldn’t in the face, Hiccup has to physically hold her back like “Whoa, slow down there, Tiger!” This happens so frequently that eventually it just gets shortened to him nicknaming her “Tiger” and all their friends are kind of baffled as to why XD 90. Who makes the other smile with almost no effort at all? Hiccup barely even needs to start talking in funny accents or imitating his dad before Anna is just DYING laughing. She thinks he’s the funniest damn person on earth. He honestly gets a kick out of her impressions too--she can do some pretty amusing ones, if that deleted coronation dress-up scene from Frozen 1 is anything to go by. So the feeling is mutual!!! They’re super good at making each other smile and laugh with little to no effort!!! 91. What is their favourite holiday? I feel like Anna especially would get REALLY into Christmas/Yule, mainly because of how much Elsa can spice it up with her powers. And judging by the OFA short, Arendelle gets very hyped for the holidays in general, so it’s probably hard NOT to have a good time. Anna probably also like Mayday a lot because the dancing, the spring cheeriness, and the flower-related festivities are definitely to her taste. Hiccup just likes the energy and general vibes, and would rather sit back and relax and watch Anna dance around and have fun XD Also dun best believe they BOTH get hella into Halloween, because they’re dramatic motherfuckers who loves to dress up, and it gives Anna an excuse to buy a shitton of chocolate and eat all the leftovers XD 92. Who is the one that is calm and collected while the other is angry and destructive? Lmao Anna is definitely the “berserker” of the two of them. She DOES tend to get destructive when she’s angry, if being ready to fight a giant-ass snowman and smacking a wolf in the face with a lute is anything to go by. Hiccup is definitely the calm and collected one, and very rarely gets genuinely angry. 93. What is their favourite board game to play? Does Dungeons and Dragons count??? I can totally imagine Hiccup being hyped up over that or some other super nerdy RPG game and being so enthused to show it to Anna, who just falls even more in love with him after seeing how EXCITED he gets about it. Of course he’s super eager to teach her, and TBH Anna has a really hard time getting it at first because DAMN these rules are COMPLICATED, but after she finally gets the hang of it, she realizes she absolutely LOVES DnD and RPG games in general (I mean...have you SEEN OFA??? Girl gets just a little TOO into reminiscing about her old play-pretend toys XD) and she and Hiccup constantly geek out about it together. 94. Who accidental sets something on fire? Anna, 100% also this is an ever funnier question if applied to Hiccanna in my Fire!Anna AU 95. Who has the car ready while the other is robbing the store? Anna is waiting while Hiccup robs the store, if for no other reason than that Hiccup is much better at Stealth Mode than Anna is XD Anna’s uncoordinated ass would probably knock over like 5 shelves’ worth of merchandise before reaching what they were actually trying to rob XD 96. What artist/group did they go to for their first concert? I M A G I N E D R A G O N S lmao Look what can I say Anna likes the Imagine and Hiccup likes the Dragons 97. Who sleep talks? Hiccup. He mumbles about dragons a lot. Sometimes he jolts awake randomly and just yells out “THE DRAGONS ARE IN TROUBLE!” and Anna has to calm him down after she dutifully manages to not burst into laughter at this. Doubly funny if this takes place in a Modern AU. 98. Who is the more social one? Anna! Hiccup generally prefers to either keep to himself or hang out with animals. 99. What are their karaoke songs? For some reason I feel like anything by P!nk??? Idk why, but I can see them like rocking out and singing along to p!nk songs together and getting really into it. Also basically anything by The Killers and, at Anna’s request, The Chainsmokers (Hiccup thinks this is very basic music indeed but goes along with it for her sake XD). AND “Whatever It Takes” by Imagine Dragons. And they sing it LOUD. 100. Who would get up on stage and make a fool of themselves just to make the other laugh? Highkey both of them??? I kinda feel like Hiccup moreso though, if his little comedy routine imitating his dad in HTTYD2 is anything to go off of. He definitely wouldn’t be averse to making an idiot of himself to amuse Anna, especially since she’s so damn cute when she laughs. Anna, for her part, loves returning the favor, and is all about trying to do all sorts of Goofy Antics to amuse her boyfriend. And she’s overdramatic af, so she gets WAY too into it XD

#hiccanna #hiccup x anna #anna x hiccup #hiccup #anna #otp questions #hiccupxanna #annaxhiccup #rotbtd #rotbtfd #httyd #frozen #crossover #hiccup haddock #princess anna #queen anna

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lovesdarkness · 5 years

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Hard Mode

Summary - Phoenix just wanted to relax and play a video game on her day off...but a certain sexy God of Thunder had other plans

Pairing - Thor x OC

Warnings - Smut, NSFW, oral sex (female receiving)

Word count - 2418

It was an oddly quiet day in the tower, which was strange to Phoenix. Usually there was always some sort of hustle and bustle going about but for some reason today it was quiet. Tony was off taking care of some company business with Pepper while Steve and the rest were away on a mission. Thor was off world taking care of business in some other realm, which one she had no clue. Phoenix looked forward to hearing about his exploits when he finally returned, which she hoped would be soon. He had been gone for a number of months and she was desperately starting to miss him. Her daily workouts certainly weren’t the same.

Grateful that she had some time off Phoenix decided to take full advantage of the peace and quiet. It was nice to not have Steve barking orders at her, he seemed to forget that she was just on loan from SHIELD and not an actual Avenger. Having just finished a nice long bubble bath (which may or may not have included a glass of Tony’s expensive wine) she walked out into her room, hair still damp, and pulled on a tank top and a pair of underwear. It had been a while since she’d had the chance to unwind and do some gaming, in fact she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d touched her controllers, there had been so many missions and reports and paperwork. The last thing she had played was the new God of War game, did she even remember where she left off?

“Eh, I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” She muttered to herself as she propped up some pillows on her bed to lean against and flopped back, legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. Turning on the console Phoenix loaded up the game and fiddled around the area till she remembered where she had left off.

“Ugh that bloody Niflheim world.” she muttered, letting out an annoyed groan as she rolled her eyes. The level was the most annoying she’d ever had to experience, having to run around in a toxic mist fighting monsters and collecting items then trying to find a place to get some fresh air before the mist ate up all her health. Problem was the place was loaded with traps and they always ended up killing her, meaning if she died she had to start the level over from the beginning.

Phoenix was so engrossed in the game trying to beat this blasted world that she didn’t even notice the clap of thunder that sounded outside signalling the arrival of a certain thunder god. She was deep in battle with a Valkyrie and had almost depleted her health when the blasted thing moved a little too quickly for Phoenix to respond and Kratos fell to the ground dead on screen.

“Oh bloody fecking hell! Feck you, you stupid piece of shite whore!” she cursed at the screen, tossing the controlled onto the bed beside her and reaching up to rub her face.

“Those Valkyrie are quite difficult.” came an amused tone from behind her, causing Phoenix to jump and let out a gasp of surprise. Whirling around she saw none other than the god of Thunder standing there, hands on his hips and a smirk on his lips as he watched her, blue eyes full of mirth.

A huge grin cracked across Phoenix’s face when she saw him standing there and sat up. “Hey you’re back.” she cried as she jumped up, completely ignoring her lack of clothes as she ran over to hug him. He smelled of sweat, and earth, and metal, and lightning and she had no idea how much she had missed it till now as she felt his giant arms encircle her and she melted into his embrace. "I missed you!" She murmured into his broad chest.

“Yes, I have returned.” came Thor’s voice, soft in her ear making electric shivers go up her spine. “And I am sorry for being away for so long. Discord had broken out in the realm of Vanaheim and fixing matters was not an easy task. I will tell you about that later though. It seems you’ve been dealing with some discord of your own.” he said as he pulled away and cast his eyes over to the TV where the world had reset.

“Yeah, this feckin' area is being a giant pain in my arse.” Phoenix said as the two of them walked over and sat on her bed where she picked up the controller and left the spot where the Valkyrie lived, deciding to try and level up some more before taking her on again. “Are Valkyrie normally this annoying?” she muttered as she resumed her previous position, leaning back against the pillows with her legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

“Verily…” Thor murmured as he watched her, eyeing her up and down. “They are Asgard’s fiercest warriors, one does not go into battle with them lightly. Even in a virtual world.” Her lack of clothing was distracting but appealing to him, especially since it had been months since he had shared the pleasures of the flesh with her. He needed her, bad.

“Well they can suck my dick.” Phoenix muttered in response as she went back to searching for treasures and fighting monsters, just narrowly avoiding getting sliced in half by some giant whirling blades.

She was once again completely engrossed in her task, flicking the directional buttons around as she controlled the character on the screen, and it was starting to annoy Thor. They had been separated for months, normally when one of them was away for an extended period of time when they returned they immediately were consumed with need and fell into bed to partake in every carnal desire they could think of. So why wasn’t she pawing at him with need now? How was she so consumed with this virtual world when he was sitting right next to her?

Phoenix was completely oblivious to Thor’s pouting as she made her way around all the traps in the area. She was starting to notice a pattern to when they would appear, and was getting giddy at the thought of being able to finally finish this world. She hadn’t even noticed Thor move till suddenly he was kneeling in front of her spreading her legs. “Huh? Wait...what...what are you doing?” she said, eyes going wide and confusion written on her face as he reached up to loop his fingers around the fabric of her panties and a moment later the sound of fabric ripping was heard as he pulled the offending fabric from her body and tossed it aside.

The look Thor gave her then made her mouth go dry and her pulse quicken as she suddenly realized what was going on.

“I’m hungry…” he said, his voice a low growl making Phoenix shiver. He smirked at her as she sat there looking at him with wide eyes, her hands shaking as she looked between the controller and him as if trying to decide what she wanted to do more. He could smell her sudden arousal, knowing that the choice wasn’t going to be a hard one.

“Let’s make a game of it.” he continued, his thumbs trailing circles along the soft skin of her thighs as his hands slid up to grasp her by the hips, pulling her down till her ass hung just off the edge of the mattress. “You keep playing your game, and while you’re doing that I’m going to devour this sweet pussy of yours like I’m a man that has been starved for weeks.” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh as he reached to slide a single finger into her wetness. He curled his finger against that spot he knew drove her mad and stroked her for a brief moment before pulling out again. Smirking as she let out a soft whimper he reached up to lick her wetness from his finger, letting out a pleased hum.

Leaning in till his face was right in hers, lips barely brushing as his breath teased her he continued. “But here’s the rules. I will use my tongue to bring you the delicious sweetness of release as you play. But if you die, I’m going to stop.” He pulled away slightly as she tried to kiss him, letting out a loud laugh at her whine.

“No faiiiiiir.” she whimpered, looking at him with a pout. She glared at him as he laughed, raising an eyebrow at her. “You think I’ve never had someone go down on me while I try and focus on a game before?” she asked. “I call that playing on Hard Mode. Bring it on.”

Thor let out a hearty laugh at her determination as she unpaused the game. Taking that as his sign to begin he quickly buried his face between her legs, sliding his tongue up through her slick folds. Gods she tasted amazing.

Phoenix gasped as she felt the heat of his tongue slip through her most sensitive spot, sending a shiver through her. She shuddered and swallowed, doing her best to focus on the game as she listened to him grunt his approval as his mouth devoured her.

There were a few times where he’d almost got her. His tongue had pressed against her clit which sent a jolt through her, and she moaned as the character she controlled just barely missed getting squished by a wall that had suddenly sprung out. Biting her lip she leaned back more, panting as her hips started rocking up and down with the movements of his tongue. She looked down when he let out a warning grunt, casting his eyes up to her as his hands gripped her hips and held her down.

A group of monsters popped up suddenly as she felt his tongue probe at her entrance and she couldn’t help but cry out. “Dammit Thor…” Phoenix gasped, biting her lip as she forced herself to focus on the battle, but it was hard. The things he made her feel were exquisite, but it was hard to enjoy while she was forced to pay close attention to the task at hand. She had only just barely managed to get out of this battle, she had hardly any health left but was lucky that some of the monsters had dropped a number of green health crystals. If she had died and he stopped before she was able to cum it would have been the end of him. She’d have killed him with that damned controller.

The tension forming in her belly as his mouth continued to work it’s magic made it hard for her to concentrate, and the next thing Phoenix knew she was back at the area with the Valkyrie. And it was attacking something fierce, much like how his mouth was fiercely attacking her core. “Oh god dammit...Thor…” she whined, mashing the buttons with her thumbs as he mashed her clit with his tongue, and he chuckled at the frustrated growl she let out. He was enjoying this far too much, the sounds she was letting out and the smell of her aroused him to the point that it took everything he had not to pin her down to the bed and have his way with her.

Her thighs were starting to tremble and her eyes went out of focus and she couldn’t take it anymore. She paused the game, tossing the controller aside as her hands went down and laced through the strands of Thor’s hair as her head fell back and she whined his name. “Thor...please…” she panted, biting her lip as he brought her closer to the edge.

Despite the fact that she had given up on the game, Thor couldn’t bring himself to stop. She smelled and tasted so damn good and he wanted so bad to bring her to release. The way she moaned his name aroused him in ways he could never explain and he needed to be buried within her more than anything. He knew she was close, so damned close. He wanted to stop and strip off his pants and bury his cock in her, desperate to be engulfed by her heat. To feel her throb around him as she came. But that would come soon enough, he would bring her to release multiple times tonight before taking her for his own.

“Come, my dove,” Thor murmured as he looked up at her, her eyes glossy as she was lost in bliss. “Come for me…”

Feeling his tongue slide through her once more sent a jolt through Phoenix, and she threw her head back and cried out as she came with a vengeance. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her as she screamed his name, gasping for breath, hips bucking against his mouth. Thor’s tongue continued working her through it till the waves ebbed away and she was left panting, a pleasant tingling starting at her core and spreading through her arms and legs.

“Mmmm yes baby…” Phoenix breathed, her eyes closed, body listless with a sated smile on her face. “You always make me feel good.”

Thor let out a chuckle as he pulled away, wiping her juices from his beard he climbed to his feet and enjoyed the sight of her splayed before him. “I’m glad you enjoyed that.” he said as he slowly undid his pants, pushing them down as they had become uncomfortably tight. “You failed in concentrating on the game though.” he said as he climbed onto the bed, looking down at her face as he hovered over her.

Phoenix let out a weak laugh, opening her eyes to look up at him and smiled. “Well...it’s called Hard Mode for a reason.” she murmured, reaching up to cup his face in her hands as he leaned down to press his lips to hers. She moaned into the kiss, letting out a content sigh. “I love you…”

“That’s what I was hoping to hear.” Thor murmured against her lips as his hands moved down to grasp her hips, lifting them up he slowly sank his cock into her, groaning at the wet heat that enveloped him. “Now I'm really going to make you feel good.” he murmured, determined to make her cum many more times before he was finished. He was just getting started.

#thor fanfiction #thor x oc #Thor x oc fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor smut #thor fluff #Thor Odinson

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mango-forest · 5 years

Text

i see your name everyday

Marinette knows that she should love her soulmate mark. And she does! It’s just that she doesn’t want to show it off, or have anybody looking, or knowing. So that means if something doesn’t go to her mid calf, she has to wear leggings or high socks.

She tried wearing synthetic skin over her mark but there was just something. . . wrong about it. So she makes do. It’s not like she’s the only one with the problem. Lots of people have negative feelings about soulmates in general. Marinette just feels like her soulmate mark is something private.

When Marinette is seven, she tried looking up the name. Damian Wayne. All she finds are articles about Bruce Wayne. No Damian in sight.

Over the years she sees her classmates find their soulmates. Rose finds Juleka, and later Ali. Nathaniel is one of the few that don’t have any markings and he stays quiet until Marinette introduces him to Marc and the two boys, they later announce, decide to be queer platonic partners.

When she becomes Ladybug, there’s the problem of Chat Noir. Who is . . . fine. Or at least, he was until a few months in when he decides to say that they’re soulmates. He claims that the name Ladybug is on his forearm.

Marinette knows that’s not how it works.

But there are no other partners she can work with and despite what she thinks, she knows she can’t do the akuma battles alone. And Chat Noir seems to know it too. So when he amps up the flirting and unwanted attention and claims, Ladybug endures. She endures even when it’s revealed she can give out other miraculi.

Until one day she snaps. Chat has been arriving late more and more often and a civilian nearly gets killed when he decides that he can flirt whenever he wants to. Ladybug casts the cure and faces him on a rooftop. “Chat, you can’t keep doing this,” she says quietly.

“M’Lady—“ he starts casually.

“No, Chat!” she snaps. “You can’t keep doing this!”

“What I can’t flirt with my soulmate?” he taunts.

“No, you can’t,” Ladybug says forcefully. “Because I’m not your soulmate!”

“Yes, you are!” he insists. “I’ve told you; Ladybug is right across my wrist!”

Ladybug wants to scream. Because no matter how many times she explains, he never listens. He’s always the same every fight, always trying to play the victim, always being a liability. And she’s sick and tired about it! “A civilian almost died, Chat Noir!”

“So what?” he yells back. “The miraculous cure would have brought them back!”

“That's not the point!” she screams. A flicker of surprise crosses Chat Noir’s face. “What if that won't happen? What if they had died for good?”

He scoffs. “You're crazy if you think no one has died from akuma attacks before. And they've all been brought back! You're worrying for nothing!”

“I'm not worrying for nothing, Chat. But they wouldn't have died from the akuma, they would've died from you,” she forces out. “If you hadn’t flirted then I wouldn't have been distracted by keeping you safe. And then you could've gotten her out of the way instead of me doing a clumsy pull with my yoyo.”

“Ladybug, c’mon. Think about what your doing, you're yelling at your soulmate, for God's sake,” Chat tries to say.

“Urgh! I just--you don't get it, Chat Noir. I'm leaving. Goodbye.” She leaves before he can get a word in otherwise.

When she detransforms in her room, Marinette looks at Tikki helplessly. "What am I gonna do, Tikki? I can't get rid of him."

"Why can't you?" Tikki asks.

"Because he's my partner. Because if he's not here then I don't have any backup! The people in my class don't really deserve it, the people who do have such busy schedules, Luka is planning on going on tour in a week or two, and Kagami's leaving for a trip a few days from now," Marinette cries.

She collapses on her bed and throws an arm over her face. Tikki rests gently in her stomach. "Us kwamis are thinking about replacing the black cat. The only problem is that you're the one that needs to collect it."

Marinette freezes. "That means. . . that means I'll know who Chat Noir is."

"It's the only way," Tikki says gently. "The black cat hasn't been acting the way he should be. Just collect it in his sleep."

Marinette tries not to think about a morning when she'll wake up and not have the earrings on.

When she goes the next night, Tikki whispers his name in her ears. Ladybug doesn't want to think about how stupid she was a few years ago. She thinks how glad she is she got rid of her celebrity crush.

When she opens the wind and drops down, neon green eyes watch her silently. She tries to express her regret on her face as she lifts the model's hand. Plagg only nods once before she slips the ring off and he disappears. She places Adrien's hand down and tries not to think about how negatively he can react. Ladybug closes the window and sets off, with Adrien never even stirring.

Marinette wears it as a necklace. A way to make sure she doesn't lose it. Lila asks, sickly sweet, "Aw, Adrien, what happened to your ring?"

"I must have lost it," Adrien replies with a blank smile. Lila hums and hugs his arm closer.

Marinette only places a hand over her chest, above where the ring rests under her shirt.

Marinette guesses because of all that happened, she sort of forgot about her soulmate mark. Until one day she wakes up and it's burning. She stifles a scream and grabs her laptop. Sure her mark has throbbed before, or gone numb. But now it feels like it's on fire.

All the search results say that she should be calling the hospital for her soulmate and Marinette feels a spike of dread. She doesn't know where her soulmate is. In an act of desperation, she does something she hasn't done since she was seven. She types Damian Wayne into the search bar and presses Enter.

This time, there are search results. Much more than last time. She scans the recent articles, but none of them say anything about why her mark is burning like it's drenched in lava. Marinette distantly wonders if she'll be able to use her leg in the future at all.

All of the articles say the same thing. Damian, from what they say, is a cold, emotionless boy, who many speculate is markless. Marinette knows that's not true. And she hopes, through the pain, that he's okay.

She loses track of time and when she looks at the lower hand clock, she swears. She gets dressed in a hurry, shoving on a T-shirt, skirt, and nearly tripping on the stairs as she pulls up her knee high socks. Thankfully the burning sensation has lowered to a throbbing level of pain but Marinette still yells in her head as she runs towards the school.

The noirnette is right next to the classroom door when the bell rings and she bursts into the classroom. Marinette takes deep breaths as she smiles at the teacher. "Hello," she greets.

Ms. Bustier levels a look at her. "That's the third time this week, Marinette." The class snickers.

"I know," Marinette admits, starting to walk to the back of the classroom. "I'll just, uh, take my seat."

When she's situated, Ms. Bustier gives a satisfied nod and says to the class, "Well. I'm happy to announce that we are going to take a field trip to Gotham as a foreign language program."

Of course, when she leaves, Lila says, "Oh, I'm so happy we'll be able to go there! My soulmate lives there, did you all know?"

The girls gush over Lila. Marinette doesn't pay any attention, sketching some new designs on spare paper. It's only when a name gets mentioned that her head shoots up. "Yeah, Damian will love to see me! He probably won't meet any of you though, he doesn't like being public, you know because of paparazzi. He is a Wayne after all." All the girls squeal and the guys look with smiles.

Damian Wayne? Marinette spends the rest of the class with a sense of sick satisfaction. No matter how much Lila lies, she'll never have Damian Wayne as a soulmate. At least that's one thing Lila won't ever get.

The initial anticipation and excitement for the trip leaves Marinette as she sits on the steps of the hotel. Tikki presses against her in the purse and Marinette runs a hand through her loose hair. She hears steps walking towards her and keeps staring at the ground in front of her shoes, not wanting to socialise. "Hey," the person says, "what are you doing out here?"

Marinette shrugs and glances at him. And she freezes. Because the face staring at her is a face she's seen in many articles. "My class left me behind," she says faintly. "We're supposed to be touring Wayne Enterprises."

"Well, I can take you there," Damian Wayne offers. Marinette observes past the haze in her mind that he holds himself stiffly, favoring his right side.

"Sure," she says, maybe a bit too quickly. She stands up and offers a hand. "My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette can see him freeze. He shakes her hand with a smile on his face. "Damian Wayne. And you're my soulmate."

She laughs and since she's wearing a pink dress with leggings, she lets go of his hand and pulls up the dark fabric to reveal his name, running down the side of her calf. "I know," she says, and she pulls the leggings down.

"Maybe we can skip going to WE and grab a coffee, Marinette?" her soulmate proposes, offering his arm.

Marinette grins at him and loops their arms together. "I'd love that, Damian."

#series: we're destined for each other #daminette #soulmate au #maridami

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thelioncourts · 5 years

Note

I need all the thoughts on horror and wild! Favorite song, lines, things, all of it

Oh, I don’t think anyone is ready for me to talk about this. I don’t at all. It’s been all-consuming, it’s been a constant ache at the back of my head when it’s not on, it’s been everything I never knew I needed – a modern Keatsian explosion of words full of pastoral elegance, ever-present darkness, and odes to beauty and life and death and all the things in between.

Now, every song is beautiful. I had put a review on Bandcamp that said it seemed horribly unfair to have to choose a favorite when each one has been on a loop nonstop since they’ve graced the public. But! I will tell you the ones I find myself gravitating toward more and more with each listen; there are four and in no particular order they are:

The Horror and the Wild

Welly Boots

Farewell Wanderlust

Fair

Favorite Lines:

1. The Rockrose and the Thistle –

A single thread hangs limply downAnd I breathe not now, not nowAnd I find you all unwovenTrying desperately to sew

2. The Horror and the Wild –

Welcome to the storm, I am thunder,Welcome to my table bring your hunger

3. Wild Blue Yonder –

Flirting(Wasn’t flirting) At the back of a bookshop

4. Welly Boots –

Get drunk for meSing louder than you’ve sung for meGrow young each time that thunder in your lungs begins to rumble at the world

5. Farewell Wanderlust –

Goodbye to all my darkness, there’s nothing here but lightAdieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at nightThis here isn’t make up, it’s a porcelain tombThis here is not singing, I’m just screaming in tune because –

6. Fair –

How unfair, how unfair they’ll sing as they dance across the darling rooftop wreckHe’ll trip and she’ll pretend not to have seen,Burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment, ‘where have you been?’She’ll whisper ‘I’ve waited oh so long for you to come’And as the stars above them hum and hear them he’ll turn to her and say ‘that’s what she said’

or, alternatively, the entire fucking song

7. The Unwanted Animal –

Cos if we join our hands in prayer enoughTo God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause.

8. Marbles –

Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weepBut a place for crows to rest their feet

9. Battle Cries –

And now at the end, at the end of all things,I’m not going to scream, beat my chest at the wind,I’m doing fine.

Favorite Things:

when Madeleine’s voice comes in on the second verse of “The Rockrose and the Thistle” barely audible over the winds

the way Joey’s voice gets quieter on the word “thistle” in “The Rockrose and the Thistle”

how Madeleine’s voice is significantly louder than Joey’s at the end of “The Rockrose” but it’s barely above a whisper

feeling like I’m on an adventure in an elven forest as soon as “The Horror and the Wild” starts!

every single word in “The Horror” that Joey sings that comes out with a growl

Madeleine’s high harmonies in the chorus of “The Horror” during the lines “they’ll sing of every time you passed your fingers through my hair”

the repetition of “remember me” and the way it builds significantly only to completely drop all the instruments

the ending guitar and drums and violin and the suddenness that the singing stops!!!

the contrast of Madeleine’s “I surrender what was, what could have been” to Joey’s “Don’t you ever wonder what could have been?” in “Wild Blue Yonder”

ROBOT VAMPIRE, I DON’T KNOW

(me using context to assume a welly boot is a rainboot but googling so I don’t turn out to be a complete idiot)

the entire story told in “Welly Boots” and the sense of aching and the sense of longing it invokes

“’How could you leave me here’ you’ll scream”

literally everything about “Farewell Wanderlust”

like? Madeleine was out to murder me specifically with the vocals

the piano

the slide she does from “say” to “You don’t know it yet” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“But like rubbing wine stains into rugs it’s my curse

To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse”

the theatrical and bluesy quality of every single line and every note of each instrument

how Joey’s first lines are so ~low~

honestly everything after “The child you just didn’t have time to conceive”

“This here is not singing, I’m just screaming in tune” let me tell you! My breath catches in my lungs each time I hear this line!

the difference in the way Madeleine and Joey sing the chorus (this entire album is filled with so much contrast and dichotomy and it is. magnificent)

growling

every single thing Madeleine does from 4:45 to 5:00

Joey’s “Oh, he’s lost”

the entirety of “Fair” because my heart has literally not beat properly since I first heard it

to be perfectly honest, this song leaves me incoherent so, like, don’t expect any actual anything from me

“It’s not fair, because you make me laugh when I’m really fucking cross at you for something” literally the w o r s t thing someone can do, 100/10 will make me angrier

‘Oh howOh how unreasonableHow unreasonably in love I am with everything you doI’ll spend my days so close to you’

“I am more reasonable this morning. The morning is the only proper time for me to write to a beautiful Girl whom I love so much: for at night, when the lonely day has closed…then believe me my passion gets entirely the sway…”– John Keats to Fanny BrawneJuly 3, 1819

“Christ, you’ll be the death of me”

soft intimacy, let me tell you……yeah, I don’t actually have anything other than saying soft intimacy

when he sings “unreasonable” and there’s that voice break and honest to god my heart goes akimbo and I have found out why it’s not beat properly since I first heard this song

“How unfair, how unfair they’ll sing as they dance across the darling rooftop wreck/He’ll trip and she’ll pretend not to have seen,/Burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment, ‘where have you been?’/She’ll whisper ‘I’ve waited oh so long for you to come’/And as the stars above them hum and hear them he’ll turn to her and say ‘that’s what she said’” – !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the whispered line of “You try so loud to love me” in “That Unwanted Animal”

1:34!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Cos if we join our hands in prayer enoughTo God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause.” followed by a laugh, oh god

the scream at the end – all the screaming – every single bit of it

the harmonies in “Marbles” during the chorus are so soaring-with-the-clouds beautiful

“You’re not flawed darling, you’re just a little under-rehearsed.”

my parents painted the family room of their first house lime green and my mom hated my dad for it and still brings it up 💚

“The minute I met you the colors of my life began to pour.”“I’m scared of the dark.”

how it’s only Joey’s voice at the last “I will wait and hope” ;;;

the almost The Last Five Years feel of “Battle Cries”

“Come on love, please don’t startSing your notes, play your partThen we’ll leave. We were gods”“With you I could summon the gods and the starsWatch them dance out the plays that we wrote from the heartAnd we’d laugh at the ghosts of our fears. We were kids.”

“This isn’t a breakup, dear heart, it’s a season finale”

#the amazing devil #the horror and the wild #madeleine hyland #joey batey #there is probably - no most definitely - so much more #but have my rambling #my tears #it's all given freely and will take up a good part of your dash in its existence <3

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ms-maj · 5 years

Text

Teenage Wasteland

With so, so, so, so many thanks to @theheavycrown. For this header, for betaing, for existing. The. Best. Also, this really got away from me so it’s a skosh on the long side.

Day five: A song that needs to be played loud- Baba O’Riley-The Who

The exodus is here

The happy ones are near

Let's get together, before we get much older

Teenage wasteland

It's only teenage wasteland

Baba O’Riley- The Who

Jughead Jones watches as the sun rises over the Sunnyside Trailer park. It’s obnoxiously loud for six am, but considering what the day is to hold, he can hardly blame its inhabitants for their excitement. The smoke from his cigarette rises above his head and sticks, haloing him in the early morning haze. It looks like it’s going to be another miserably humid day, the lack of clouds in the morning sky seems to be an unfortunate indication that the heat is going to be unbearable as well. He sighs heavily, snuffing his cigarette butt out on the deck before flicking it into the empty coffee can. Pulling his knees to his chest, he folds his arms around his legs and watches the hubbub of activity flit through the park.

Today is “The Roll”, Riverdale’s newly minted bike rally; the town council and mayor’s attempt at unifying the North and South Sides. Supposedly people were coming from all over to ride in today’s opening parade, some thousand bikes he thought he’d overheard. He knew, without a doubt, that the majority of Riverdale proper was, at the very least displeased by the joint venture. However, the prominence of biker culture in the Southside made even the toughest of Serpents giddy at the thought of rolling though Riverdale Square, invited, and embraced by like-minded people. Jughead had heard his father, FP, and his pseudo-uncles Mack and Terry practically squealing when they announced that the “Roll on Riverdale” was a go this year, and now they were all out, polishing their bikes in preparation for the parade.

There’s a part of Jughead that’s excited too. His bike is finally operational. The years of blood, sweat and copious amounts of hard-earned cash saw his grandfather’s 1950 Vincent Black Lightning roar to life. He’s man enough, in the confines of his own mind, to admit that he may have cried when he’d put the final cap on his fully restored beauty and the engine purred to life under his touch. He’s damn proud of his bike, and he is damn proud to ride her today. A smile pulls at the corner of his lips as he hears laughter bubble up across the park, men hooting and hollering as their wives bring out trays of breakfast foods. Jughead likens it to a pre-war feast. The majority of the Serpents, and their of age children, will be riding in the parade—right into the very heart of the community that condemns them.

Before he gets too lost in the social mores that threaten to loop around his head, the front door swings open to reveal his sister, JB, already dressed for the ride.

“Juuuuggg, come on! We’ve only got four hours before this thing starts!”

“Only four?” His head shakes as he laughs, patting the space next to him for her to come and sit. “Have you ever seen it like this, Jelly?”

Her eyes narrow at him and he can’t help the smirk that forms. “Nope. Well, it’s kind of like Christmas, minus the cold.”

“It’s better than Christmas,” Jughead mumbles under his breath. He knows the circumstances that most of the families endure to give their children any semblance of Christmas, and this, well it carries none of that weight or shame. This is jubilation. Riverdale is finally putting itself in a position to see all that comes out of the Southside; even if they only ever still see it as bad, Jughead hopes that maybe if all things go really well than their communities can actually come together. Rather than just seeing blight and criminals, maybe the North can recognize the humanity that lies on the other side of the tracks.

“I’m going to record it all! Ms. Hammill gave me her GoPro; I’m gonna tape it to my helmet so I can film everything as we’re riding.”

“Oh, so you’ve finally decided to listen to me and wear a helmet?”

“You told me I had to or I couldn’t ride with you!”

He chuckles. “That is absolutely right, Jellybean. You’re not going anywhere near a bike, ever, without a helmet. Capiche?”

“Yeah, sure, until I’m seventeen and way too cool like you. I don’t see why dad’s not on your ass about it.”

“I always wear my helmet, kid. Except for today. Considering we can’t go over twenty on the route,” he picks his head up and looks in the direction of the now fully risen sun. “Besides, it’s going to be nine-hundred degrees today. My leather jacket plus that ridiculous helmet Uncle Mack gave me is a recipe for heatstroke, which I would much rather not suffer at all, thanks. So, helmetless, at the advice of our father and other seasoned riders, but only for today.” He wags his finger in her face emphatically.

Jughead watches his sister roll her eyes before playfully punching him in the shoulder. “I’m gonna go get some food from Aunt Bea, you want?”

Before the sarcastic response can form on his tongue she’s up, muttering, “Of course you want food, what a silly question, JB…” before dashing off across the yards.

He sighs again. The humidity is definitely growing, and while it hangs heavy it doesn’t necessarily feel oppressive. And for some reason, that’s as strange an omen as Jughead Jones can imagine. He stands from the deck, cracks his neck, and walks back through the door.

Something will definitely change in Riverdale today. If you would have asked Jughead at that moment, or any of the ones that preceded it, if he thought he’d come out of today the most changed he’d have laughed in your face. The fates, however, seem to have something else in store for him.

(Finish under the cut or check it out on AO3)

Jughead is unnerved. Something about the too-bright sun juxtaposed on a cloudless, cerulean sky. Or that the breeze always seems to come exactly when he is feeling just a tad uncomfortable. There are no perfect days, not on the Southside, not anywhere. And yet this day seems picturesque. He asked his dad to take Jellybean to the parade route, told him he’d meet them there and rode off astride his Lightning toward the open road.

Only the road isn’t open. Bikes litter every establishment's parking lot and clog the streets, forcing Jughead out toward the lesser-traveled backroads that his Vincent doesn’t always handle well on.

But there are no nerves. Just the power of the bike and the confidence in his ministrations, and his path stays true. He shakes his head quickly, trying to disseminate what exactly is making him feel so…

In reality, he knows exactly what’s eating away at him. Instead of letting it occupy his mind he puts his foot on the gas, letting the wind whip through his hair, beanie tucked securely in his breast pocket. The roads amble further and further from the Southside, trees coming to line the roadside rather than telephone poles and streetlights. As he makes his way toward Sweetwater River, the grayscale of the dour life he’s lived is traded for the verdant, lush green that he has never really appreciated before now.

The nearer he gets to the rally point the more his anxiety rises. It’s all just too strange, too surreal, with the streets outside of the ever-peppy and pristine Riverdale convoluted with motorcycles of all makes and models. Still, he manages to spot FP and Gladys right away. A large huff of air heaves past his lips as he sidles up next to his father. There’s still an hour or so before the parade should technically start, for which he’s extremely grateful, as he wrestles to get his mind under control. He watches Jellybean running around trying to get as much of it on film before they start; he envies her enthusiasm.

Riverdale has never cared for them, for him. They never worried about the schools’ funding on the Southside, or whether the roads warranted repair (which they all did), or if selling the drive-in to the highest bidder would be the nail in the coffin. And clearly it wasn’t to his neighbors, but to Jughead Jones it was everything. They’d severed the last tie to his childhood, stolen from him the very notion of hope and with that, he’d written them out of his narrative.

Yet, here he sits. His father and mother to his left, Mack and Terry behind them, Serpent emblems littering the stretch. Jughead straddles his bike somewhere in the middle of the pack, hundreds of bikes stretched out before and behind him. Though he feels like they’ve been there for hours already, the bikes kept ambling in, filling the road that runs parallel to the river. The parade is meant to follow Sweetwater’s meandering path before veering off onto the bunting-lined streets that lead into the very heart of Riverdale.

“You nervous, kid?” His father’s voice carries over the bikes as Jughead sweeps his eyes back from the vista before him.

“Should I be? It’s not like I’ve never ridden before.”

FP huffs a laugh and shakes his head slowly. “It’s just a big step for us.”

“What? Rolling into Riverdale?” Jughead scoffs.

His father’s lip turns up slightly, settling into a softer smile than Jughead expects. “I know it’s not that big a deal to you, but to us old-timers…being invited—hell, celebrated, by this town—well, it’s a day I never thought I’d see.” Jughead nods. He knows the divide between the two halves of the town threatens to swallow them whole. And not just in some off-hand ‘grand-scheme-of-things’ way, but in the very literal his family was on a precipice kind of way, and he can’t help the resentment that toils inside him.

His father has been home less and less. Jobs varying in nature and pay-scale take priority over actually spending time with his family. Legitimate work on the Southside is almost non-existent, most of the gainful employment going to the younger generations in a never-ending battle against the wheel that pins them down.

On the Southside, and in Riverdale alike, you are a pawn. Be it above-board or not, your employ depends on one of two men and whatever stratagem they decide to launch against the other that week. The Northsiders don’t see it like that, of course. It’s business. Jughead grew up knowing that on the Southside they’ve always been seen as less…less clean; less important; less human. He’s managed to avoid Riverdale proper, lest he get sucked into its idealized Americana suburban bullshit, and tries to thrive in its periphery. The Serpent logo emblazoned on his back was a not-so-subtle constant reminder of where he’s supposed to belong, the other was the 998cc V-twin engine between his thighs.

His bike, the physical embodiment of his work, has garnered more attention than he was ready for. Jughead’s enough of an enthusiast to understand there’d be interest in his bike, but he’s fended off more than a few ludicrous offers and the rally hasn’t even officially started. There were few bikes as old as his, but none that could compare to the detail he’d refurbished his with.

Aside from his name, which he is loathe to admit, it’s the only tangible bit of the legacy left to him by his grandfather. Forsythe the First was one of the founding members of a Motorcycle Club that ended up being absorbed by the Serpents. It’s one of the reasons he’s always felt so obligated to stay with them, even if he’s always had so much more that he wants to do with his life.

“Jug! Jug!” His eyes flick to his breathless sister who is climbing onto the back of his bike before he can register the garbled words coming from her mouth. But with the revving of engines and plumes of exhaust kicking up in front of him, he knows. It’s time.

FP waggles his brows excitedly as he takes off, Gladys whooping behind him as her bike roars to life. Jellybean giggles in his ear, her grip tightening on his waist as they begin their ride toward town.

The streets are lined with adulating townsfolk, waving their flags and cheering as the bikes descend on them. Families, Jughead notes, are out in droves, all smiles and welcome posturing. He fights the urge to roll his eyes on more than one occasion at the suburbanites’ inability to cope with the noise of the parade. He can’t help if his engine revs when he recognizes the discomforted looks of the parade-goers. His father, still at his side, gives him a hard look when he catches on, but Jughead notices the twinkle in his eye and the way his mouth curls into a smirk. Jughead can feel his doing the same as they get closer to Riverdale.

“Uh oh,” he hears Jelly huff as he slows down. The parade bottlenecks just short of Picken’s Park.

They’re so close. Ride through the square, exalt, and go home. Jughead’s feet hit the ground as they come to a stop, his head lolling back for a second before he finds focus.

On his left he sees a flash, something glinting in the sun catches his eye. A golden halo hidden behind the long lens of an older model Canon. The camera dips, revealing the most luminescent eyes he’s ever seen. He can feel his breath hitch.

When their eyes meet he feels it at his very core. She looks ethereal, backlit by the mid-day sun, breeze blowing the ends of her ponytail away from her lithe frame as the camera held between her slender fingers moves further down her form. His jaw drops as he watches her lower lip slide between her teeth.

“Jug, let’s go!” He snaps forward as Jellybean hits his shoulder, urging him back into the crowd. Shaken from his reverie, he dares another glance back toward the blonde beauty but he’s lost her in the crowd. Huffing disappointedly, he lets go of the throttle and catches up with his dad and neighbors, a true smile forms on his face for the first time that day.

Suddenly, Jughead feels far more interested to see what else Riverdale has in store for him.

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

The sun roasts Pickens Park, just as Jughead predicted it would, but it surprises him that he doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would. That doesn’t mean it’s in every way good, but, as he moseys through the vendor tents, filling himself with various fried delights, he can’t help but be on the lookout for that flash of blonde hair again. He thinks maybe he’d seen the same golden hue by one of the tents but when he got closer, it was gone, swallowed into an unlikely sea of seersucker and leather.

The crowd is denser than he expected. H hadn’t anticipated the Northsiders being interested in wandering too far into the depths of the bike fest; again, he’s proven wrong. The throngs of onlookers that lined the parade route have made their way to Picken’s Park. Crisply dressed families holding perfectly manicured hands descend from suburbia as Southsiders flow in with the rank and file to the center of Riverdale.

On top of everything else, everyone seems to be getting along. It’s pleasantly surprising.

After parking his bike with the other Serpents, he backs out of watching the stunt bikes with Joaquin and Sweet Pea, opting to chase Jellybean around as she continues to capture the day’s events for posterity. His father had been talking to an older gentleman when he walked away, something about restorations, though it could have very well been restitution.

Today, he doesn’t have the heart for it. He watches Jellybean weave through the crowd, running straight for her friends, effectively forgetting he is even there.

Sighing, Jughead takes the slightly crushed pack of Marlboro’s from his breast pocket, along with his beanie, holding them for a long moment before stuffing a cigarette in his mouth and the beanie on his head before skulking off. He catches sight of few more junior serpents, but manages to stay in their periphery and melt back into the masses.

It’s not that he doesn’t like them. They’ve all grown up together and were currently in high school, but that’s pretty much where the similarities ended. While the Northside kids were presumably spoon-fed limitless ambition and encouragement from infancy, Southside kids didn’t always fare so well. It wasn’t that parents on the Southside loved their kids less, or had less grandiose aspirations for them, it’s just that sometimes things like food and heat outweighed singing lessons or money for the book fair.

And that’s where the Serpents came in. Short on rent? Give us a hand with this thing and we’ll help you out, stay if you’re afraid it’ll happen again. They all stayed; they never left. Then the cycle would start all over. Their kids need jobs to help the family get by or ward off disciplinary action from some business owner that the bored, latch-key kids may, or may not have egged.

By fourteen, most Southside kids were employed by legitimate Serpent owned businesses before they decided whether or not they wanted to transition into the gang as a fully-fledged member.

That’s the limbo Jughead Jones finds himself in. At seventeen, he’s already been too long a man. He wants the camaraderie of the Serpents, the brotherhood of men who uplift one another and hold themselves to a higher standard, not the backsliding, hoodlumesque gang-banging he saw so prevalent at school the previous year. His entire existence hinged on this dichotomy: a quasi-normal home life, much more stable and happy than he’d had for most of his formative years and the knowledge that when his father wasn’t home, he was actually leading a gang through their less than savory endeavors.

Eighteen means making a decision. Does he stay with the gang? The one who afforded him the opportunity, the skills, the means to repair his bike. The gang who insured food was on the table when their dad was in the skids. The gang who still made sure his dad didn’t fall off the wagon, or if he did, picked him up and set him back on his feet.

Or does he follow HIS dreams? Go to college, or hell, just get out of Riverdale. (Preferably without attachment to a regiment.) He’s never wanted to stay. He dreams of winding coastlines and leatherbound journals; of leaves on trees he’s never seen in person and stars in skies that look like his but are worlds away.

He’s felt this weight (guilt, shame, fear, hope) building for longer now than he’d like to admit. He’s never had any intention of staying, no plan to fall deeper into a pit he can’t get out of.

Jughead doesn’t realize that he’s walked the entirety of Picken’s Park already until he’s faced, again, with those he’d been trying to avoid.

“Jones!” As much as he’d rather turn back into the crowd, he’s been spotted. With a grimace, he makes his way over to where they, who were once his friends, are sitting.

“Toni. Fangs. Harbingers of Doom,” he greets dourly. Fangs rolls his eyes as Toni’s narrow on him, their lackeys looking ready to say something more before he holds up a halting hand.

“Jugs,” comes Toni’s clipped voice. “Wasn’t sure you’d be riding with the pack today, considering you don’t actually want to be one of us.”

Jughead stretches his neck slowly before he speaks, rubbing a wary hand across the back. “No, Toni, I don’t want to be one of you.”

“C’mon, Jug,” Fangs tries. He would give him that, Fangs always tried. “We all used to be so close, but with Joaquin going to school in Ohio in a few weeks, and you and Pea deciding you’re too good for us…”

“No. Pea decided, for himself, that he wasn’t cut out for this life. I am, as of yet, undecided.”

Scoffing, Toni flings long pink hair over her shoulder before fixing an appraising eye on Jughead. “Undecided? My ass you’re undecided, Jonesy. You made your choice loud and clear last year when you decided to skip the after prom festivities…”

“Is that what this is about?” Jughead nearly chokes on his laugh. “Sorry Tones, you just don’t do it for me, and I know I lack certain anatomical features to do it for you. So, sorry not sorry if I ruined whatever ‘well-laid’ plans you two had in the works.”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself, Jones. We only wanted you to ride with us for your clout; we more than make up for our size and age with our ability to get shit done.”

Toni and Fangs smile at their new protege, Trula, while Jughead is the one whose eyes roll this time. “Oh. Okay. That’s why you’re still blowing me up after I turned you down, more than once. You too, Tone, it’s kind of sad,” he throws a smirk their way and turns back towards the still gathering crowd. Pausing, before they have a second to gather their wits, he twists back with a slick smile on his face. “And for the record, no one thinks you ‘get shit done’, you’re just effective fodder that keeps coming back for more. Enjoy your day kids, who knows: the next time you’re thrown to the wolves may be your last. Only cats have nine lives, not snakes.”

It’s not like walking away from friends he’s had since diapers is his idea of a good time. He just knows his commitment to the Serpents will never run as deep as that of the small group who are undoubtedly boring holes into the back of his jacket. Which, he starts to realize, may not be as hard to give up than he once thought.

It’s strange. Only a few hours have passed since he warily started this trek into Riverdale, no expectations for the day aside from possible heat stroke and a stomach ache. Instead, he’s had too much time to think in between the stark juxtaposition of doctors and their wives wearing brand-new, bedazzled Harley Davidson gear and the worn leathers of the Southside riders.

But no one is fighting. There’s laughter that rings over the peals of the bikes; a Skid Row cover band is playing in the gazebo and the entire crowd, from true-blue biker to the toddling twins dancing in the back, is into it. It’s not Northside versus Southside; it’s not rich versus poor; it’s simply people with shared interests having a good time.

If he really thinks about it, that’s all he wants. He doesn’t want Damocles’ sword hanging above his head with words like “birthright” and “king”; he wants to make his own name for himself instead of being a literal continuation of his father. He wants a chance to enjoy things in life without conditions.

Fuck it, he mutters to no one and with intent, sets off to find the owner of the elusive, blonde ponytail.

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

It is much too hot. After walking around for close to four hours, Jughead decides that today might not be his day after all. He’s seen exactly one blonde ponytail, and it was not attached to the same girl he’d seen on the ride in.

Defeated, he pulls the beanie from his head and runs long fingers through his dark chestnut hair, breaking up the curls that cling to his sweaty brow.

There’s always tomorrow, he thinks morosely. He’d said one day. He’d come for one day, and now, because he and some girl shared a moment—through the lens of her camera no less—he was planning on returning in the morning.

A fresh Marlboro between his fingers and beanie placed firmly back on his head, he turns toward his bike and home.

“Hey!” He hears a voice shouting. “Yo! Dude!”

Jughead turns and finds himself face to face with a redhead in a Bulldogs varsity jacket.

“Can I help you?” Jughead asks, his voiced colored with a hint of annoyance as he slowly takes a drag off his cigarette.

“Maybe,” the jock replies looking him up and down. “Can you tell me who rides a...uh…” he pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket, “...a 1950 Victor that looks like it’s been restored by God’s own hand?”

Jughead tries, and fails, to bite back a smirk. “I could.”

“Listen man, I’m asking for a friend. They’re writing an article about the best bikes and I got tasked with finding this one. Can you help me or not?”

“Your friend wants to write an article about my bike?” Jughead can’t help the incredulity that seeps into his question.

“Your bike?! Sweet! Listen...” the ginger pulls his phone out. “Shit, it’s too late now. Can you stop back in the morning, around nine? Pop’s Mobile Shake Shack. Tell ‘em Archie sent you,” the redhead was already calling back over his shoulder as he ran through the crowd.

Weird.

Weirder still...he plans on being there. If nothing else, well, how can anyone argue with breakfast milkshakes?

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

It’s five minutes after nine. The sun, though not yet sweltering, still feels hot for it being this early. He’s surprised by how many people are already up and roaming the grounds, enjoying the out of town food trucks as he is.

He’s currently in the middle of a delightful cajun style breakfast burrito complemented by one of Pop’s coffee milkshakes. Jughead’s always been the type to eat his feelings (and his metabolism seems to allow him to do so, so why kick a gift horse in the mouth. Do what you love and all that) and that’s pretty much all he’s done since meeting the red-haired boy. One text was enough to bring that slight high he was feeling right back down to impending doom. Apparently, his run-in with Toni and Fangs had made it back to the senior members. And they were not happy.

According to them, Jughead’s hemming and hawing hadn’t gone unnoticed by the upper echelon, but—as FPs son—he was given a wider berth in regards to how he handled this decision. When you’re the Serpent heir, it’s expected that you’ll not only join but assert yourself leader ipso facto. The idea that he was even considering walking away entirely rubbed a lot of them the wrong way.

“Birthrights are birthrights for a reason, boy. You were made for this; only this,” is what one pseudo uncle told him only an hour ago. A man who has known him the entirety of his life. A lifer himself with no higher aspirations, no desires greater than that of the gang. He thinks that all Jughead is good for in life is leading the pursuits of these people, this gang he still hasn’t truly taken an active role in. He’s an enforcer, a menacing intimidation, on occasion he’s procured a package or two. Having had the luxury of time after the encounter with his father he realized his largest foray into the illegal was working with car parts of questionable origin. But. He didn’t actually think of that whilst being berated and belittled.

While it was increasingly on his mind, he plans on walking that ever-shortening tightrope for as long as he possibly can. It isn’t that he hates the prospect of staying in the Serpents, he could be a lifer too if he thought anything would ever change. But the fact that the gang life, and life on the Southside, in general, seems to stagnate after eighteen, well, that’s just not him.

Jughead has always seen himself as capable of something more, at least he wants to be. He doesn’t want his future self, or his future spouse, to have to tell their children—with a fake, painted smile— that there aren’t going to be any birthday parties this year, or that they have to be out of their home in thirty days.

Groaning to himself, Jughead indulges in another deep drag of his milkshake. The coffee is deep and rich on his tongue before his brain registers the cold. The shake hits the ground as his hands came up to massage his temples, a fool's attempt at alleviating his brain freeze.

“Hey Pop,” he hears, eyes pinched tight as the last of the pain subsides. “Did Archie happen to send anyone by?”

Jughead’s eyes shoot up, trying to focus on the figure moving toward him. She’s jogging, mere feet away, awash in the golden glow of morning, unmistakable honey-hued ponytail bouncing behind her. He takes in her features, clearly, for the first time. She’s in cut-off overalls that seem to be tailored just for her, coupled with what—gods help him—looks like a crop top, but the bandana tied off in the front draws his gaze to her face. Her eyes remind him of the Earth, blues and greens and golds melting together as if an endlessly deep pool; he could drown in them and die happily. “It’s you,” his voice is a hoarse whisper he barely recognizes as his own.

She stops, releasing her lower lip from between her teeth, a soft smile blooming on her face instead. “I can’t believe Archie found you! I’m Betty.” Her hand extends forward and hovers in the air before him for just a second before he catches it with his.

“Jughead Jones,” he knows he’s grinning idiotically but he can’t find it in himself to care. He instantly misses the warmth of her hand as it falls from his grasp. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Betty’s head shakes, nose crinkling as she questions, “What’s me?”

“The writer. Right? That Archie guy said something about an article…”

She nods as a soundless laugh pushes past her lips. “Yes—the article—that’s why I wanted to find you!” Her head falls to the side, ponytail brushing across the strap of her overalls, “That’s a pretty spectacular bike you’ve got there, Jughead.”

He really likes hearing his name come out of her mouth. “I do recall hearing something to the effect of ‘restored by God's own hand’. I liked that.”

Betty groans. “He actually said those words?”

“Actually pulled out a piece of paper and read it. That’s some dedication to the cause. He your boyfriend?” Jughead bends down to pick up the milkshake he’s knocked over and tosses it in the garbage before striding toward her with as much casual affectation as he can muster.

“Oh, no. Archie’s...he’s not my boyfriend. Just a friend...who’s a boy, but not, like...”

Jughead cannot, nor does he really want to, fight the smile that takes over his face. “Good to know.”

He isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light that causes her skin to deepen to that shade of pink, or if it was his words, but he makes it his mission to see if he can get her skin that shade without the aid of natural sunlight.

“So…” Betty effectively interrupts his thoughts from slipping into the lascivious, causing his cheeks to burn in the slightest. “I know this is presumptuous, but I was really hoping I’d be able to interview you for the Riverdale Register. I’d really like to get some stationary shots of your bike as well as ask you a few hundred questions.”

“That is beyond presumptuous,” he jokingly intones. There’s a sharp inhale as his abused, maroon Doc Martens stop just shy of her powder blue Keds. Jughead cocks his head as he pretends to mull over whether or not he’ll be a part of her story. Of course he will. But watching her nervously chew her bottom lip and clasp her hands in front of her in a silent plea to win him over, well, he thinks he could get used to being at the mercy of that particular gaze.

“Pleaaase?” She all but squeaks out and he’s absolute putty.

He shifts closer, his boot lightly scuffing against the toe of her pristine sneakers.

“Fine, but don’t think for a second I’m doing this for free. Tit for tat, Betty,” his voice drawls in a husky timbre. He knows it’s risky, going this hard this early but he’s utterly bewitched. She, the physical embodiment of all his fantasies, is literally standing before him. As much as he knows he’ll do anything she asks of him, she doesn’t just yet. But by the way her eyes darken as she appraises him, he’s not too worried about how long that will take to find out. “I'm going to need another one of those milkshakes.”

“Is that all? You want a milkshake?” she coos demurely.

Jughead nudges her shoe again. “I didn’t say that was all I wanted. There are funnel cakes and corn dogs and candy apples; to quote Templeton: it is a veritable smorgasbord.”

Her laughter, and proximity, sends a shiver up his spine. “I’m kind of disappointed you didn’t sing that. You have earned yourself brownie points for casually throwing some ‘Charlotte’s Web’ into the conversation though.”

He pulls a hand up to his chin and crosses the other over his chest as if considering, “I suppose brownies are acceptable, too.” The way her laughter seems to float around him, blocking the noise of the growing crowd and shrouding him in warmth, is the very last thing he expected when he begrudgingly attended the Roll on Riverdale.

In his mind, the sweltering days of summer play out before him: she’s laughing at his corny jokes and pressing up against him as they ride his bike right out of Riverdale. This is very decidedly not him. He doesn’t crush. He’s not what you would call a ladies man by any stretch of the imagination, and he’s definitely not into fuck around games, but he’s been around a time or two. And it’s never been like this. Nothing has. This instantaneous draw; the inability to turn away coupled with a desperate desire to know how she tastes.

“But maybe,” he pauses, taking everything in, how she smells (impossibly soft in the midst of hundreds of bikes), the way her tongue darts out to wet already glossed lips. “Maybe I’d like to get to know the girl who knew the make and model of my bike after seeing it for all of a minute. Especially since she wasn’t really even looking at it.”

“Oh,” she all but breathes out. This time the color that tints Betty’s cheeks was undoubtedly his doing. Obviously flustered, she swallows, tightens her ponytail, and tries again. “If you have time today, we can get this out of the way and you can get back to…”

“I’m all yours, Betty.”

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

“So, what’s this article for?”

She picks at the soft pretzel she’s been holding for the duration of their walk, bringing the small bite to her mouth before carefully saying. “The Register.”

“The what now?” Jughead stops, adjusts the beanie on his head and runs an exaggerated hand down his face. “Look, Betty…Cooper! Fuck! You’re a Cooper!? How did I miss that?” (it might have had something to do with the fact that she had a crop top on under her overalls and his neanderthal brain latched onto that for a second longer than was healthy), “...maybe this isn’t the best idea.”

She looks almost crestfallen before her eyes drop. “I didn’t say I was a Cooper. For this very reason. I know what my parents are like, and what they write, but I’m not! I’d be writing this for the Blue and Gold if school were in session. I’ll probably re-run it in that if it’s any consolation. The Register isn’t the ideal choice for me either, but it’s a hell of a lot more exposure than the highschool newspaper.”

He knows what that’s like. Trying to reach an ever-shrinking audience through a nearly dead medium, even if the Southside High’s Red and Black did have a pretty good online presence. Thanks to Fangs. It’s the first time he’s thought of the paper this summer, too preoccupied with his ending adolescence and what he always assumed would be his imminent interment with the Serpents. Now both of those things are up in the air. He’s no closer to knowing what he wants to do than yesterday. And somehow, the daughter of the two people who seem to revile the Southside most is standing in front of him with a level of enthusiasm he reserves for only the most ostentatious buffets. She sought him out, knowing what the symbol on his back meant, and thought that his bike was worth it.

“If you don’t want to do the interview, that’s fine. I won’t push you. But I did buy you another milkshake, and I think that entitles me to at least a few more pictures of the Black Lightning.”

His head snaps back up. There’s this pull to her he’s not sure he can, or wants to, fight. Familial allegiance be damned. For the first time in his life, Jughead’s putting himself before the pack and going after exactly what he wants. She’s smart, gorgeous, funny in a way that seems effortless and natural, and just happens to come wrapped up prettily in a blue bandana. “Color me perpetually impressed, Cooper. Alright, let’s go get your pictures. But we’re not staying here for the interview, I’ve had more than enough forced human interaction for one day.”

“I thought you wanted to eat your way through the interview?” He can tell she’s fighting a smile when she stops to throw what’s left of the massacred pretzel in the trash. She looks back a him, painfully pastel and almost shy, but she’s leaning toward him with the most wicked glint in her eyes and he’s done.

“Oh, that hasn’t changed. Just the venue...and maybe the menu.” He winks as he steps away, setting off again for his bike. He hears her exhale sharply before jogging to catch up to him.

They talk shop for the rest of the walk. In the short time he’s known her, he’s become sure of two things: first, she knows what she’s talking about. Her knowledge of combustion engines in damn near encyclopedic, be it classic bikes or classic cars, she’s a greasemonkey through and through. That in itself would have been enough to catch his attention. But the second, and most obvious thing is that she is arguably the prettiest human he’s ever laid eyes on.

Jughead isn’t sure what’s gotten into him. Watching her photograph his bike becomes a silent meditation on masochism, it’s the most exquisite torture he could have ever hoped to experience. She’s thorough, dangerously so, taking pictures from every angle to ensure that all of his meticulous detail is properly represented.

That’s what she says anyway. He’s sure it has something to do with him meeting an early end. Each photo ensures another inch of skin exposed, the bottoms of her overalls having ridden up so much that the peachy flesh taunts and teases him with just how delectable it looks. He wonders how one person can be so unassumingly sexy and adorable at once.

It’s just then that she chooses to look at him, left arm reaching across his bike for the handlebar. Slowly, as if her goal in life is to make him combust, she straddles the machine and rocks herself into a seemingly more comfortable position.

The sun is fully behind her, bursting and glowing as the camera sits at her ample chest which his eyes can’t seem to look away from. She is, beyond words. Beckoning him with a single finger he—a complete lost cause— moves with purposeful strides to stand before her. He leans in close covering the hand closest to him with his own. They both watch as their fingers twine together around the grip, the feel of her skin beneath his own is electric. “Can I take you somewhere?” his voice sounds deeper to his own ears. He’s nervous, but how can one not be when their veritable dream girl has literally got 182 horsepower between her thighs.

She smiles, the tops of her lips straining toward her ears, and he thinks he could live off the buoyancy that look evokes for the rest of his days. “Anywhere.”

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

The ride to the quarry wasn’t nearly long enough. He couldn’t get enough of the way Betty had wrapped her arms around his body, teasing fingers over his stomach and clinging tightly to his chest. Or maybe it was too long. Either way, his fingers itch to touch her as he slows the bike to a stop. She dismounts before he gets the chance, taking a few steps out of his reach to look at their surroundings. He leans against the bike watching her take it all in. It’s usually quiet, but especially so in mid-morning, when the only sounds that break through the forest canopy are the ones that come from within: bird calls, the rustle of the wind through the leaves, and, somewhere off in the distance, the river rapids crashing on the bluffs below their feet.

But all he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears.

Betty looks as caught up in the magic of the quarry as he feels. The smile on her face is soft and delicate as she weaves through the trees and makes her way to the cliff’s edge. Slowly, she turns back to face him, that damn bottom lip worrying between her teeth.

He pushes off the bike and strides toward her. The sun's rays look like spotlights as they filter through the treetops, illuminating his path to her. (As if after seeing her he’ll ever be able to walk any other way than but to her.)

“I gotta give it to you, Jones, this is one hell of a view. Certainly sets a tone. Of course, if you brought me here to try and scare me into convincing my parents to stop trashing the Serpents you should know that one, they don’t listen to me. They don’t listen to anyone for that matter, but least of all me. And two,” she steps into his space, gingerly fingering the leather lapels of his jacket. “I don’t scare easy.”

He suppresses the urge to growl; it feels stuck in his throat when he speaks anyway. “Good to know.”

Her eyes are shining, the kind of luminous he could easily get lost in. Just an inch or two more, hell a stiff breeze would force their lips together and he’s sure when that happens, life as he knows it will end. Jughead wants nothing more than to kiss her. To feel her legs wrap around his waist as he carries her back to his bike, to lay her out on the modified seat and hear that pretty voice scream out his name

Instead, he steps back, letting her hands fall away from where they still toyed with the zipper of his jacket. “Betty,” she looks confused as her eyes find his. “You’re the one who wanted to interview me. If that was a euphemism, I’m sorry. I’m not that kind of boy.”

“Oh no, Jughead. I do want to interview you. I’d really like to take your...get your take on party politics and how they only ever seem to hurt the disenfranchised, rather than help them.” She bats long lashes at him, stepping around where he’s rooted to the spot and heads back into the woods.

He finds her under a large oak tree, resting her back against the trunk as she produces a small moleskin notebook and pen he has no idea where she could have had on her. She motions for him to sit, so he does, finding a tree of his own to get comfortable against.

“Tell me about your bike, Jughead.”

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

They talk for hours, neither really noticing the time passing them by because they’re so caught up in one another. He tells her all about the Vincent, how it came to be his, how much of him he’s put into it, and exactly what that’s cost him.

He doesn’t mince his words or hide the gory details, with Betty, all the thoughts and fears that have been plaguing his mind fall from his lips without hesitation or restraint. How yesterday morning he was sure that riding his motorcycle through Riverdale wouldn’t change a thing, that at the end of the day he would still have to go back home and wonder how long his dad would be gone this time, or his mom; if he’d be parenting Jellybean while trying to juggle school and the garage and whatever misdemeanors the Serpents enlist him for that week.

She listens intently, jotting notes about his bike, his life, things he’s never said out loud to anyone. When she asks what he wants out of his life, he knows right then and there that no matter what path he chooses, he wants her. She doesn’t look through him so much as see him. Not the Serpent heir apparent, not some delinquent from the Southside, but the real and true Jughead Jones. The one that hides beneath the layers of flannel and self-deprecating sarcasm. The one that desperately needed to be seen before he was lost to the relentless tide of MC life.

“You seem academically inclined enough,” she muses after discussing college. “Why don’t you go for the scholarship?”

“That’s pretty vague there: the scholarship. Of course, I’ll go for it,” he sits straighter, pulling his legs up and crossing his them at the ankles, arms slung loosely around akimbo knees. “I’m sure scholarship opportunities are available left and right on the Northside, but not in my world. If you can’t find it on your own, well, you’re fucked. Southside High isn’t known for its excellent staffing.”

Now she looks exceptionally confused. Making her way before him she crouches down so they’re back on the same level. “You know the Roll is a charity event right?”

He nods. “And?”

“Wow, you really wanted nothing to do with the Roll, did you?” Her laugh is mirthless as her hand moves to his knee. “I’m not surprised really. It wasn’t officially announced until the last minute and no one ever seems to pay attention to the small details.”

Jughead clears his throat. “Is this diatribe leading to something or…”

“Jug, the proceeds from the Roll are being set up as a scholarship fund. Some deserving Southside High senior stands to receive state school tuition for at least a few years. But even just talking to you this short time I can tell that no matter what you do, you’ll make it. I know Riverdale seems like sunshine and rainbows north of the tracks, but it’s not. No matter what side you’re on, it’s a teenage wasteland.”

He wonders if she knows that he sees her too.

His hands fall from his knees, one making its way to push a nonexistent strand of hair behind her ear. He just wants to—needs to—touch her. She doesn’t seem to mind, she leans in as his thumb swipes over her cheekbone. They’re so close, her hands moving from his knee to his chest as she fists the leather gathered between them, breath hot on his neck. He slips his other hand around her waist, large palm splayed against the small of her back as his other moves down her body.

Betty’s pupils are near black as he pulls her into his lap, her legs wrapped around him feels better than he imagined they would. When their lips meet for the first time, it’s in a move so gradual, so instinctual, that it feels inevitable. Tentative and soft, he tries to pour every ounce of gratitude and appreciation into her. He thinks briefly about how everyone says that fireworks are the hallmark of a good kiss, but Jughead could not agree less. This isn’t fireworks; this is something that starts so much deeper. There’s definitely fire, but it rises slowly through his body like damp wood catching. He feels warmth building in parts of himself that have laid cold and dormant for so long, it’s glowing ember versus fully-fledged flame. Heat courses through him, molten like lava, as she slides her tongue past his lips. He groans, pulling her even closer, fingers sliding through her ponytail and pulling at the ends. The moan that escapes her brings him back to the present.

He pulls away abruptly. “Do you really think I can do it? Get the scholarship?” She’s dazed, kissed breathless and by the twinge of her brow, confused.

“That’s what you’re thinking about in the middle of our moment?”

He smiles, truly hopeful for the first time in longer than he can remember. “Baby, this is just one of many, many moments I plan on having with you.”

#Bughead #bughead fanfiction #songfic writing challenge 2019

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dragonheart-swtor · 4 years

Text

OC Playlist Meme

Thanks so much to @thehighground for tagging me in this!! You’ve activated my Song Analysis Backlog trap card

I’ll tag @elaphaemourra, @sith-shenanigans, @opalxempress, and @swtorpadawan - and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!

I don’t have a good screenshot of her in-game so y’all get the character select screen

♦️ ERISINE GANNE ♦️

♦️ Their intro theme: Everything Moves by Bronze Radio Return

“Ramble on, chug along, And if the beat stops thumping, man, then something’s wrong. Ignore it son, it's just a song, But I can see your white-knuckled hand from holding on. So lately I, wonder why, we rely, on the sure thing- It's too damn comforting. To stay alive, overdrive, ‘til we find something new To keep the pulse alive in you.”

♦️ Their own favorite song: Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy

When Rome's in ruins, We are the lions, free of the Colosseums. In poison places, we are anti venom, We're the beginning of the end. Tonight, the foxes hunt the hounds, It's all over now, Before it has begun- We've already won.

♦️ Their boss battle theme: False Pretense by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

“All along you know you thought you got the best of me, You were wrong and I'm laughing right in your face. I cannot believe you claimed you were my family, Don't sweat it- Set a false pretense.”

(Song That Might Play When You Fight Sans from Undertale was honestly a very close runnerup. I mostly chose False Pretense instead because of lyrics.)

♦️ Their love song: Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips

“So I will do it for you, for you. Baby, I'm not moving on, I'll love you long after you're gone. For you, for you. You will never sleep alone, I'll love you long after you're gone, And long after you're gone, gone, gone.”

♦️ Their sad times song: iRobot by Jon Bellion

I am a robot, thoughtless and empty. Don't know who sent me, don't know who made me. Electric robot, everything's gray now, Numb to the pain now, I knew what love was - Now when they ask me, I just reply slow And sound like an iPhone: I do not know love, I am a robot.

♦️ A song that fits their aesthetic: Midnight City by M83

“Waiting for a word (Word), Looking at the milky skyline (Skyline), The city is my church (The city is my church), It wraps me in its blinding twilight (Twilight).”

♦️ A song that reminds them of a better time: Oh, What A Life by American Authors

But I tried so hard, but we killed our hearts, In valleys low, I hear the trumpets blow, Yeah, I tried so hard, yet I'm lost and scarred. And I'm filled with regret yet I sing, And we laughed oh, and we cried and thought, Oh, what a life. And we laughed oh, and we cried and thought, Oh, what a life.

♦️ A song that calms them down: In Our Bedroom After the War by Stars

“Lift your head and look out the window, Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go. Listen, the birds sing. Listen, the bells ring. All the living are dead, and the dead are all living. The war is over and we are beginning.”

♦️ A song that gets them hyped up: Born For This by The Score

“We are the warriors who learned to love the pain, We come from different places, but have the same name, 'Cause we were, 'cause we were, 'cause we were, 'Cause we were born for this, we were born for this! We are the broken ones who chose to spark a flame, Watch as our fire rages; our hearts are never tame, 'Cause we were, 'cause we were, 'cause we were, 'Cause we were born for this, we were born for this!”

♦️ Spring: Towards the Sun by Rihanna

“Turn your face towards the sun, Let the shadows fall behind you. Don't look back, just carry on, And the shadows will never find you.”

♦️ Summer: C’mon by Panic! At The Disco

If I should die tonight, May I first just say I'm sorry, for I Never felt like anybody, I am a man of many hats, Although I never mastered anything. When I am ten feet tall, I never felt much smaller. Since the fall, nobody seems to know my name, So don't leave me to sleep all alone, May we stay lost on our way home!

♦️ Autumn: Oh My Dear by Tenth Avenue North

“Oh, my dear, I'll wait for you. Grace tonight will pull us through. Until the tears have left your eyes, Until the fears can sleep at night. Until the demons that you're scared of disappear inside, Until this guilt begins to crack, And the weight falls from your back, Oh, my dear, I'll keep you in my arms tonight.”

♦️ Winter: As Long As You Love Me by Sleeping At Last

“Loneliness has always been a friend of mine, I'm leaving my life in your hands. People say I'm crazy and that I am blind, Risking it all in a glance. And how you got me blind is still a mystery, I can't get you out of my head. I don't care what is written in your history, As long as you're here with me.”

♦️ The song that plays while they’re lying on the ground bleeding out in a Walmart: Take On Me by a-ha

“Take on me (Take on me) Take me on (Take on me) I'll be gone In a day or two”

♦️ The song that would play each morning if they’re stuck in a time loop: Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield

“Feel the rain on your skin, No one else can feel it for you, Only you can let it in. No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips. Drench yourself in words unspoken, Live your life with arms wide open, Today is where your book begins, The rest is still unwritten.”

♦️ The song they’d listen to while robbing a Wendy’s: Mamma Mia by ABBA

“Mamma mia, here I go again, My my, how can I resist you? Mamma mia, does it show again? My my, just how much I've missed you.”

♦️ The song they’d accidentally introduce to people in medieval times if they were a time traveller: Fireflies by Owl City

“I'd like to make myself believe That planet Earth turns slowly. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep, 'Cause everything is never as it seems.”

♦️ The song they’d play in the middle of the night when their neighbors are being too loud: I’ve No More Fucks To Give by Thomas Benjamin Wild Esq., Damian Clark

“I've no more fucks to give, My fucks have runneth dry. I've tried to go fuck shopping but there's no fucks left to buy! I've no more fucks to give, Though more fucks I’ve tried to get. I’m over my fuck budget, and I'm now in fucking debt!”

♦️ The song that plays at their funeral: When The Darkness Comes by Colbie Caillat

“I'll be here waiting, Hoping, praying that This light will guide you home. When you're feeling lost, I'll leave my love, Hidden in the sun, For when the darkness comes. For when the darkness comes.”

♦️ The song that plays when it’s revealed that they faked their death: Army by Zayde Wolf

“The time is now, Going kamikaze, Won't back down. You can bring your army, You can bring your army, You can bring your army, But your army can't bring me down.”

#star wars #swtor #swtor ocs #imperial agent #erisine #my ocs #oc playlist meme #music

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rayj4ck · 6 years

Text

Ghost’s Shadow

Catra gets to meet all of Adora’s friends.

They were in the middle of a strategy meeting when it happened. Glimmer was mid-declaration of joy that her plan had been approved when the guard burst through the door. “Your Majesty! There’s...people here to see you.” “We’re in the middle of something at the moment,” Queen Angella said, gesturing to the holographic battlefield in front of her. “It’s urgent. You had better come and see for yourself, your Majesty.” Narrowing her eyes, the Queen walked around the table and followed the guard to the front gate. Adora, Bow and the princesses weren’t far behind. When they arrived at the gate, Adora’s mouth fell open in shock. It looked like every guard along the front of the wall was there, pointing their spears at- “Entrapta!” Bow cried, rushing through the guards and throwing himself onto her in a moderately awkward hug. “We thought you were dead!” Entrapta, who was slowly shying away from the embrace, lit up. “Of course! That’s why you left!” Her expression became confused. “But I didn’t die.” “I saw the fire eat you alive!” “Oh! Emily shielded me with her fireproof casing.” Entrapta said, looking behind her. Emily waved one of her legs. Adora, while also happy Entrapta was alive, barely heard any of this. There, looking down at the ground like it was about to fall out from under her, was Catra. - Catra sighed and rattled the chains around her wrists for amusement. I guess I shouldn’t really expect a presidential welcome. I did make a lot of attempts to destroy this castle. They had put her in a prison cell, which was better than killing her on sight, which is what she had expected them to do. Which is what the Horde would have done. Locking her in this cell had given Catra ample time to stew in her own thoughts. There was a lot there, the deafening voice of Shadow Weaver asking her if she had lost her mind was a fun new one. But of course, it all circled back to Adora. Catra had made an active effort to avoid looking at her, but she could still feel her eyes on her like spotlights as she was walked across the bridge to the main castle. She hadn’t moved, or said a word. She had just stared. Catra couldn’t tell if that was better or worse than the alternative. The unmistakable sound of magic pulled her out of her thoughts. Sitting across from her in a chair that wasn’t there before was one of Adora’s new friends. The shiny, teleporting one. “Oh please. They sent you to interrogate me?” She asked, leaning as far forward as the chains would allow. “You look like a cupcake. And I’ve seen exactly two in my entire life.” Glimmer growled through her teeth and held up a sparkling hand, fist clenched. Despite her cocky words, Catra kept her eyes on that hand. She still had memories of the girl launching her back fifty feet through the air from one particular fight they had. Glimmer leaned in close and said “Listen to me, Catra. I don’t know what kind of trick this is, but WHEN you hurt Adora,” she left the words hanging, choosing to drop her hand to Catra’s arms. Catra winced as she felt the heat coming from the glow. Well, that’s a new one. Standing from the chair, the princess was about to teleport away when Catra called “Wait!” Glimmer looked back to her, and Catra continued “What happened to Scorpia and Entrapta?” Glimmer held her gaze for a second, before turning away. “Scorpia is in an interrogation cell. Entrapta is...complicated.” Without leaving time to answer, she teleported away. - The other one came down later. Catra would have guessed about an hour, no more than two, before the one who always had his stomach out turned the corner. “Oh great, your turn now?” Catra said, standing up from the floor and focusing on the man. “Here to give me the ‘Hurt my friend and I’ll punch your teeth out’ talk too?” “No!” Bow shouted indignantly. “I...am here to…” Catra waited. “Fine, yes I was here to give you the speech!” Bow let out after a truly painful amount of excuses. “Uh-huh. Look, this isn’t a trick. I’m here. Surrendering.” Catra said, choking out the last word, pushing through years of training. She rattled the chains around her wrists for extra effect. “If you’re not-” “Yeah, yeah. I know. ‘Suffering on me and my family for years to come.” “Well, good!” Bow said, turning and marching back out. - Catra was on the 843rd brick when the next one came along. This time it was the flower lady. “I’m so glad you decided to join us!” She cheered. “Look, I al- wait, what?” “You’re here to join us right?” “Well, sort of. I’m definitely not going back to the Horde.” “Excellent!” Perfuma waved her hand and a flower crown appeared on Catra’s head. “I just, everyone else that’s come down here has given me the Adora protection speech. I wasn’t expecting such a...joyful tone.” “I know it can be gloomy in here, so I was hoping to lighten the mood!” She said, summoning(?) a whole variety of flowers out of thin air. “Besides,” she continued, her eyes getting a faraway look in them, “as you said, you know what happens if you hurt Adora.” Catra looked down and saw that the flowers in her hands had all grown thorns that were dripping some kind of fluid. She also noticed the flower crown on her forehead getting tighter. Much tighter. “Ow ow ow ow ow ow.” She hissed as she tried fruitlessly to tug it off. Perfuma looked up and saw what was happening and gasped. “I’m so sorry!” she said, waving a hand. The flower crown wilted off her head, and Catra released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She rubbed along where the crown was and felt an indentation on the skin that would definitely bruise. When she looked back, Perfuma was gone. - Mermista stared at Catra. Catra stared at Mermista. … “Nope. Don’t want to.” Mermista said out of the blue, turning and walking back down the corridor. “Finally, someone I can agree with.” Catra muttered under her breath. - Adora slowly descended the stairs to the dungeon, trying to sort out her thoughts. She really didn’t think she should be doing this. Not only did Queen Angella order Catra be left alone for six hours while she “Sorted everything out,” but Adora was still not sure where she and Catra stood. But she knew she had to talk to her, so Adora was going to do what Adora did best. Throw herself into it and pray to god she could get back out again. When she got to the final set of stairs,s she was surprised to see all of her friends standing at the bottom, peeking around the corridor. “What’re you all doing?” she asked, startling them all. Whipping around, Glimmer stuttered out “We...uh...we were-” before an enraged shout echoed down the hallway, followed by an unmistakably girly scream. “Oh no,” Adora whispered before rounding the corner. Catra had ripped the loop off the wall her chains were threaded through, and she currently had Sea Hawk by the collar, shaking him back and forth. “NO MORE SINGING!” She screamed in his face. Racing across the hallway, Adora grabbed Catra’s claws and pried them off. “Ok. Ok. Ok. He’s done with the singing.” Turning to Sea Hawk, she started with the obvious. “What the frozen Hell were you doing?” “Well everyone else got a turn.” He replied, and Adora could hear someone (probably Glimmer) smack their own forehead from around the corner. “Oh did they now?” Adora asked, and all of the other Princesses and Bow filed out. “That’s not true,” Frosta said. For a second, Glimmer looked hopeful, before Frosta followed up with “I was going to go after Sea Hawk.” Adora and Catra stared at the group with eerily similar faces of disbelief. “Well,” Adora said, recovering first. “We’re changing the order. Sea Hawk is done, and I’M up now.” Adora said, nudging Sea Hawk toward the group. “And I’m taking it IN PRIVATE.” The rest of the gang shuffled back up the stairs, and Adora tried to ignore the fact that they looked like scolded puppies. Turning to the cell, she saw Catra’s eyes quickly dart away from her. Still not looking, she walked back to the back wall of the cell and sat down on the floor. Adora sighed, steeling herself for the probably rough conversation ahead. Pulling the cell key from her pocket, she unlocked the door, stepped in, locked it behind her, then unsheathed her sword and used it to hang the key across the hall. “Smart.” Catra couldn’t stop herself from commenting, before quickly turning away again. “Thanks.” Adora answered. Walking over, she sat down against the wall with Catra. “I see you’ve been doing your training.” She said, glancing up to the spot on the wall where the chains had been previously anchored. Catra didn’t respond. Sighing once again, she continued with “Alright, not up for small talk today. Fair enough.” Looking back out into the hallway, to the key hanging out of reach, she got right to the point. “What did it? After a solid year of begging to no avail, what changed your mind now?” “What makes you so sure I did?” Catra spat back. “Maybe this is all a trick.” “To what end?” Adora responded. “We separated your team, you gained no extra knowledge on the way here from the front gate, and you have no back-up coming that we haven’t fought and defeated already. The only way this makes sense as a double cross is a suicide mission or the long game. And we both know you would never pick a suicide mission, and the Horde would never have the patience for the long game.” “...Well, you were Force Captain for a reason.” “Heh. Barely.” Adora looked back to Catra. “So again, why?” Catra swallowed, a lump in her throat forming, like a dam keeping all her words in. Just start. Then she won’t let you stop, and you can go from there. Just start. “It was never enough.” “Hm?” “Whenever I did something, it was never enough. When I completed a drill, it was ‘Why didn’t you fight harder?’ and if I came up with a plan, it was ‘Why didn’t you use fewer troops?’ and if I won battles, it was ‘Why didn’t you win it faster?’ And I always knew what they all meant. Sure, it wasn’t in their words, but it was in their voices. ‘Adora could have fought harder. Adora could have used less. Adora could have won faster.” Catra let out a mirthless chuckle. “You had defected to the enemy side, and I was still living under your shadow.” Catra turned her head away. “I figured if I was going to be living in a shadow, I would rather it be your’s than your ghosts’.” Adora gazed at Catra for a few seconds, before sliding along the floor until their sides were touching. Putting an arm around Catra’s shoulders she started to scratch behind one of Catra’s ears, just like she did years ago, whenever they had a long day of training. Or, more often, if Catra had strayed into Shadow Weaver’s warpath once again. She had always done this to sooth the other woman, and she would be damned if Catra didn’t melt right back into it. “You won’t be living under my shadow. Not here. That’s not how it works in the Rebellion.” Catra snorted. “Yeah right.” but she leaned her head against Adora’s shoulder all the same. “No really!” Adora said, leaning her head on Catra’s. “It’s so different from the Horde. It’s so much better. The Horde...they aren’t just evil to the Rebels.” “Yeah well, we’ll see about that.” Catra exhaled, barely awake now. “You will. You might have to spend some time in this cell, and it may take everyone some time to warm up to you, but you’ll see.” Catra didn’t reply, already out cold. Adora grinned down at her slumbering form, and gave her a soft kiss on the temple before slowly extracting her arm. Sliding off her jacket, she left it over Catra’s body for a blanket (and tried not to squeal when Catra wrapped it around herself in her sleep.) before unhooking the key and letting herself out of the cell. She was sure tomorrow would be a long day of actual, official interrogations. So for now, Catra could rest. She’s earned it.

#catradora #catra #adora #she ra #she ra adora #she ra catra #glimmer #bow #perfuma #mermista #sea hawk #frosta

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