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yelena-bellova · 3 years

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Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter One

Chapter One: The Other Wilson Sister - chapter two

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n grew up with Sam and Sarah Wilson in the bayou of Delacroix. During the Blip she stayed with Sarah to help run the family business. With Sam back and trying to save the day, Y/n’s perfect opportunity to confess her long-kept secret to her best friend presents itself.

Warnings: tfatws ep.1 spoilers, language, suicide mention, undertones of racism, lots of Wilson sibling arguments, tragic backstory

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: As I wrote this first chapter out I realized it’s most definitely also a Sam Wilson x platonic fic. Bucky doesn’t come in till next chapter but rest assured, it’s gonna be a wild ride...Also I didn’t know till now how difficult it is to plan out a series in its entirety when the show isn’t completed lol. Hope you enjoy! (I may or may not change the title depending on how I feel about it later today lol)

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Delacroix, LA 2024

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One of the only things I was certain of in life was that blood didn’t make a family.

I had no official tie to Wilson family, I wasn’t a daughter or some distant cousin sent to live with them. We shared no DNA and they had no reason to love me as much as they did. But throughout my life I had known no kinder people than them and I doubted that would change. As I stood on the family boat helping to unload the catch of the day, I thought of how our corner of the Louisiana bayou felt more like home than any place I’d ever been.

“Hey,” Sarah said from the dock, “Head out of the clouds and down here helping me.” “Sorry,” I shook myself out of my thoughts and hopped off the boat, “Not a bad catch if you ask me.”

Sarah sighed as she bent over a large bucket of fish, “It could’ve been better.” I came to stand in front of her and held my hands out for a bucket, “Take the wins where you can get ‘em, Sar. Lord knows we don’t get enough of them.” Sarah Wilson was the only superhero I’d ever aspire to be like. She was a widow who had raised two kids and run a business all by herself with no family for support. The past five years had been challenging with so many people gone and while I had moved in with her to help however I could, I could take no credit. She was one of the strongest women I’d ever known.

“You had that look on your face again,” she said as we worked.

“What look?”

“That look that lets me know you were thinking real hard about something,” Sarah imitated the expression in question by thinning her eyes slightly and furrowing her brows, “Like this.” I laughed heartily at her impression, “So what was it?” I gazed out at the bayou waters before turning to the boat and finally Sarah, “Family.”

She nudged me with her hip, something we’d done when we were young and an affectionate gesture we’d carried into adulthood. A half hour went by with us and the boys unloading and sorting the fish we’d caught. I was too wrapped up in the task to notice the sound of a vehicle approaching until AJ and Cass announced the arrival.

“Blue for the snapper, orange for the whitefish.”

“Uncle Sam!”

My head shot up upon hearing his name, as did Sarah’s. I used my hand as a visor against to sun to spot the familiar rusted truck parked a few hundred feet away, with my best friend standing outside it hugging his nephews.

“That’s right, Uncle Sam,” Sarah called, “You’re back early.”

I grinned as I shucked my gloves off and made a beeline for him, slamming my body into his for a tight embrace. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen him, having spent the only weekend he was off away, and I’d naturally been worried sick about him. My best friend and un-biological brother may have been an Avenger for years, but after losing him in the Blip I didn’t think I’d ever stop worrying about him.

“Every time I come home, you act like I’ve been gone for five years,” he joked over my shoulder, resulting in me pulling away and slapping his bicep.

“Not even a little funny,” I pointed a finger in his smug face, he slung an arm around my neck as we walked over to Sarah.

“What’s goin’ on? You got Mom’s sneaky look on your face.” “How you gonna try to read me when you know I’m the one that reads you?” Sam smiled, passing by and greeting a long time customer of ours. “That look is permanently glued to his face, Sar,” I chuckled, “I learned that in grade school.” Sam shook his head at me and laughed before making his way up the dock to the Wilson family boat. “You gotta marvel at it, baby’s being held together by duct tape and prayers.” I leaned into Sarah, “Are you telling him or am I?” She took the initiative, “It just needs to float long enough for me to sell it.” “I thought we were gonna discuss if we were selling it,” Sam replied as he helped unload another bucket of fish. “We did, and then you were off fighting Doctor Space Cape or whatever while we,” Sarah gestured between us, “Were holdin’ it together for five long years. Now that the world is going back to normal, this thing’s gotta go.”

Sam looked to me with a look of displeasure, “Were you in on this?” “Don’t drag me into this,” I waved my hands as if wiping my involvement away, “This is a Wilson sibling discussion.” “Uh-uh,” Sam called me out, wagging his finger, “Don’t do that. Dad said every chance he got that you were one of his own, you’ve got a say in this too. What is it?” I scrunched my face up, dreading the argument that was knocking on our door, “It’s dead weight, Sam. The money we could get for it would be enough to keep us comfortable for a little longer without having to worry.” “We grew up on this thing. It’s not just Mom and Dad’s name on it. This thing is a part of our family.”

I sighed as Sarah stepped forward, “You know the situation we’re in. This is why I prefer not to dwell on it in front of everybody.” “Well what if we don’t need to sell it?” Sam said. “Can we talk about this in private?” I suggested, tiring of having to convince Sam that we were in the right when he hadn’t been around to witness our struggles. A long time friend of ours called out to Sam and he willingly took the distraction, opting out of having the inevitable difficult conversation. Sarah and I trudged back, totes of fish in hand and tried to get through the rest of the work day without worrying if we were approaching our last.

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During golden hour, when the clock had struck five and we’d started packing it up for the day was the only time to get Sam to actually listen. I knew how much the boat meant to him, it meant something to us all, but he wasn’t living in the reality that Sarah and I were.

“Sam, the boat’s gotta go,” Sarah finally said, breaking the silence we were working in on the vessel. “Wait-“ “No, let me finish,” she said, “Y/n and I are doin’ everything I can to keep this business afloat and every day we’re making $5 and spending $10.” Sam looked between the two of us, “So why won’t you let me help?”

“Sam, don’t…” I winced, knowing Sarah’s reaction would be strong.

“No, don’t start with that. We made a deal before Daddy died,” Sarah carried a few buckets to the center of the deck, “You’re out there, I do things my way here. Y/n agreed to it too when she went off to school.” “Right, but you tangled the house into this when you took those loans,” Sam finished tying off one of the ropes, turning around and giving Sarah the perfect opportunity to punch his chest, “Forgot how hard you hit.” I sighed as I passed him by to follow Sarah, “Low blow, you deserved it.”

“Sarah, Y/n, c’mon,” he chased after us, “Look, and don’t hit me again…What if you had money to fix it up? Make it nice so you can charter it when you’re not out working the waters?” “Sam, do you think this was an easy decision for us?” I faced him, leaning against the doorway next to him, “I tried every tactic I learned in business school and got nowhere. Anything I thought up, we needed more money to do. This is our only option.” As he always did with the things he cared about, he fought. “We can take a loan and consolidate everything, it’ll take down your monthly,” he looked confused as he watched Sarah laugh, “What?” “You think I didn’t try the banks? They’re in with all that big business now.” I followed them like the little sister I’d always been as they moved their fight towards the cockpit of the boat. Sam blocked another doorway, “Yeah, but now you have me.”

“Don’t, Sam,” Sarah shook her head, “I just got good with this.”

“All right…”

“Maybe it is time for us to move on,” Sarah sighed. “Either way, just let me help,” Sam offered, “I’ll set the appointment. Look, I won’t let you guys down. We can turn this shit around. Trust me.” I peered over at Sarah, wishing I could see the calculations going on in her brain. It seemed pointless, but any shot at changing our luck was an avenue worth pursuing.

“It can’t hurt to try,” I shrugged.

Sarah finally relented, “To the rescue, huh?”

“Always,” Sam smiled, “Now, let’s get some dinner. I’m hungry.” ————

Sarah was taking AJ and Cass back home while Sam and I took his truck to go pick up food.

“So how was Tunisia?” I asked, sticking my hand out the window and letting it rise and fall with the wind.

“Hot, but the mission went well,” he answered, looking out of the corner of his eyes at me, “And that’s all you need to know.”

I snickered, “C’mon, it’s our thing. I ask you detailed questions about your confidential missions, you tell me you can’t reveal anything, I keep asking…You’ve gotta honor tradition.” “I flew, I fought, I rescued. Boom, mission explained.” “Ugh, you’re impossible, Wilson,” I waved him off, “How was the museum dedication?” The atmosphere changed as the subject of conversation changed from easy to complicated. “It was nice to see Steve’s accomplishments celebrated. Got to see Rhodes which was nice…” “You’re avoiding a red white and blue topic,” I said, trying to coax his true feelings out of their shells, “Seriously, are you really okay with this? Giving up the shield?” Sam inhaled deeply and exhaled, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t think it was ever meant to end up in my hands. I did the right thing, it belongs with Steve and the museum is the closest to Steve I can get.” I respected my friend’s choice but I knew there was so much more to his decision and I wished he would just say it. He had an enormous amount of respect for Steve Rogers and what the shield represented, but Steve Rogers never had to face the issues that Sam Wilson did. Steve Rogers could follow a government and be respected in return with no problems whatsoever. Sam Wilson couldn’t, not always. There was an elephant in the room and if neither of us wanted to talk about it, I wouldn’t push it.

“You’d have looked good in that uniform though,” I smiled as we turned into the take out place’s parking lot.

“Damn right,” Sam waggled his eyebrows and unbuckled his seatbelt. Laughter rang out in the truck sending me on waves of nostalgia. The memories that me and him had in this truck still were infamous between us. As proud as I was of the Falcon’s heroics, I was prouder to call Sam Wilson my best friend.

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Just as he’d promised, Sam made the appointment with the banker. He and Sarah were already on their way as I made the hour long drive in the opposite direction to New Orleans. I’d told them I’d be back in the evening to discuss how it went, but I had my own appointment to keep.

Sam and I had met back when we were just a couple of first graders. I’d always struggled with making friends as a kid, but Sam never had an issue when it came to connecting with others. It was one of his strongest qualities. And so he used his gift on his desk neighbor, the loneliest kid in class, and pulled her out of herself. We were inseparable until college and adulthood forced us apart, but we’d never lost our bond. Even when he was a pararescue, he wrote to me as often as his work allowed him.

All the Wilsons had taken a liking to me after Sam brought me home one day after school to watch cartoons. Darlene had told me I was welcome to come over any time I wanted, an offer Sam and I accepted till I became a permanent fixture in their house. Paul and his wife had frequently tried to get the rest of my family over for a crawfish boil or a barbecue. They’d send me every few weeks with a verbal invitation to my parents and the next day I’d always come back with a polite decline and excuse as to why we couldn’t make it. Mom was busy with spring cleaning, Melanie had a recital, Dad was feeling under the weather…

The only one that had ever been true was about my dad not feeling well. He was never well. But as a child, how do you explain that your father is a ghost around his own home who drinks himself to sleep and wakes up each night screaming from nightmares? There was no polite way to phrase circumstances that dark. Sometimes I felt like my dad had never returned from the military and though there hadn’t been a war at the time of his service, he still came back with his share of trauma. Mom did everything she could to try and help him. She found support groups for veterans, she took him to the best psychiatrists, she created a safe space for him within our home to retreat to. There was no amount of help that could kill my father’s demons and that was proven the night he’d said we were out of milk and he was going to the store. A few hours later, with my sister and I fast asleep upstairs, my worried mother answered the door and was informed by the police that my father had crashed his car and was dead. After speaking to Mom about what his mood had been like before he’d left and if he suffered from any mental illnesses, it was ruled as an undoubtable suicide.

My mother didn’t get much time to mourn after the funeral, she had two children to provide for. She took three jobs just to earn enough to move us from our house in New Orleans to a dingy apartment in Delacroix by the bayou. When the Wilsons heard that Mom needed to scrape enough money in the budget to hire a baby-sitter for me and Melanie, they put a stop to her efforts immediately. The insisted that Mel and I would be happier spending the time my mom was working with them and their kids rather than a stranger. That was how the Wilsons and the Y/l/ns had ended up so tightly knit. While Sarah and Melanie had bonded as the older sisters and were often off doing their own thing, Sam and I caused havoc of our own in classic younger sibling fashion. By the time we were in high school, both parents called the other’s children their own.

When Paul and Darlene passed away, it was incredibly hard on all of us and it was equal when Mom had a fall and the doctors suggested she move into a facility. Sam, Sarah and I had worked hard to get her into one of the best nursing homes in the city and she hadn’t stopped raving about how much she loved it. Pulling into the parking lot was like muscle memory now, I never missed a weekend visit with her. This one was special because Melanie, her husband and brood of children had come too. I grabbed my visitor’s sticker at the front desk and made my way down the familiar hallways. The sound of laughter and cooing echoed out of my mom’s room, bringing a smile to my face.

I knocked on the door and heads turned, my nieces and nephews being the quickest. “Aunt Y/n!” I embraced Sophia and Max tightly, “The twin tornados! I missed you guys,” separating from them was difficult as they clung to me but I made it to Stephan, giving him a kiss on the cheek and doing the same to Mel, “You look hot, mama.” “I certainly don’t feel it,” she remarked as she cradled their newest addition, baby Alexandra, close to her chest, “I spend more hours of the day covered in glitter glue and spit up than you could imagine.” “You wear it all well,” I patted her shoulder before coming to my mother’s bedside and hugging her, “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” she kissed both of my cheeks and looked to the door, “Sarah and Sam couldn’t come?” “No, but they send their love. They had an appointment at the bank,” I set down my purse and pulled up a chair, “We’re trying to get approved for a small business loan.”

Glen took Alexandra from Mel so she could tend to the twins, “I wish we could help out, Y/n. I’ve looked at the budget over and-“ It warmed my heart that my brother-in-law cared so much about a problem that wasn’t his to bear. “Glen,” I held up a hand, “You guys are stretched thin enough. This isn’t me asking for charity, it’s our problem and Sam’s confidant we’ll find a fix.” “How does he have enough time to be a member of the Air Force, an Avenger and save the family business?” Mel asked.

“Well, the Avengers are kind of off doing their own thing right now from what I understand and he’s home for a little while from the Air Force,” I explained, “So his main job at the moment is to get us our funding and annoy the snot out of me while doing it.” After earning some giggles from Sophia and Max at the expression, Glen announced that they were going to go and grab lunch for everybody. My mom took my hand once it was just the two of us and I settled into my seat, “How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hanging in there,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair, “Tired, stressed, I smell like fish most of the time…We need this loan or else we’re going to have to sell the boat. You should’ve seen Sam’s face when Sarah told him…”

“I’m sorry, I know how much that boat means to you kids. I could’ve offered you the moon and stars and it still wouldn’t have been enough to get you off it.” I smiled at the memories of summer nights spent laying on the deck stargazing, dance parties on the stern and early mornings spent with Mr. Wilson teaching us how to fish. A childhood with so much sadness had also contained so many joys. To part with a tangible one killed me more than I’d let on to Sam.

Sensing that the topic was making me emotional, my mother was kind enough to change it. “How are things otherwise? Have you been getting out there?” I dropped my head back dramatically and groaned, “Mom…” “I’m just saying,” she dropped my hand and held up hers in surrender, “You should get out there, meet someone. There’s no shame in trying those online dating services. What’s the one…the…Tinder?” “Oh my gosh, Mom,” I buried my face in my hands and moved my fingers so she could only see my eyes, “Please stop talking.” “You know who I ran into the other day? Jack’s mom, from high school. She lives just down the next hallway, she says that he’s still single. You could get in touch with him.” “Y’know, for a woman who advocated for her daughters to lead such independent lives, you’re sure quick to try and marry us off,” I chuckled, “The second Mel started dating Glen you were practically booking the church.” “And I’m very proud of both my girls for being such strong young women,” she smiled proudly, “But finding love doesn’t mean losing your independence so long as you’re with the right man. I love that you’ve been helping out Sarah these last few years but honey…I see how lonely you are. In those big y/e/c eyes you think I still can’t read after all these years.” The y/e/c eyes in question started to fill with sadness at hearing my pain verbalized. It was true, I was lonely. More so than I would ever let on to anybody. I was a shy enough kid who only withdrew further after Dad passed away, that kind of introversion wasn’t one that you outgrew. But I’d given up the idea of finding someone to spend my life with a long time ago for a bevy of reasons.

“Sometimes it’s better to be alone, Mama,” I nodded as if to force myself to agree with my statement, “No chances of getting hurt…or hurting somebody.” “You couldn’t hurt somebody even if you tried,” my mom argued sweetly, “You couldn’t even kill spiders when you were a kid.” “And now there’s a Spiderman out there so I’m glad I didn’t,” I shot back with a laugh.

“I’m serious, honey,” she took my hand once again, “Don’t let your heart’s wounds keep you from finding someone who could help soothe them.”

I was convinced my mother was both a poet and a therapist at some point in her life, she gave advice in the most beautifully phrased way. And while I’d loved to have taken her words to heart, tell Mel to fix me up with one of Glen’s friends and put an end to my loneliness, I feared that I was just too broken to give love to someone.

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I arrived back home late, shedding my boots and bag at the doors. I’d expected to hear a triumphant chorus of Sam shouting ‘WHO DA MAN?’ as he typically would when heroically proving me and Sarah wrong, but there was only silence. When I walked into the kitchen and saw their glum faces, it wasn’t hard to guess the outcome of the meeting. “You’re kidding me…” “Said that things had tightened up,” Sam said, leaning against one side of the island and taking a swig of his beer, “Had the balls to ask me for a picture afterwards.” I groaned and grabbed the beer bottle Sarah had extended to me, “Okay, we’re out of options. It’s time to move forward-“ “Don’t say it…” Sam tiredly warned.

“Someone has to, Sam. We can’t keep searching for solutions when the right one is sitting out on our dock,” I gestured to the window that looked out on the road we took each day to work.

Sarah set her beer down and held her hands up in surrender, “I’m not having this argument again tonight, I’m going to bed. If you’re gonna kill each other, do it quietly.” She left as me and Sam silently stared each other down, waiting for the other to speak. I was too frustrated to play the game, “What’s this really about?” “It’s about the damn boat and that you and Sarah are throwing in the towel too-“ “What,” I elongated the single syllable word, “Is this really about?” Sam set his drink down and rubbed his hands over his head before looking back up at me helplessly, “You guys were on your own for five years and you’ve done an amazing job. But now nothing’s working and I just…I just want to help because I couldn’t for so long.” It all clicked as to why Sam was being so insistent on trying to eliminate the whole matter. He was used to saving the day and finally meeting one that he couldn’t save was a wall he thought he could still find a way to run through. He’d been like that ever since we were kids, always trying to help the people he loved even when it was impossible. He had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever met.

“I love you,” I set down my bottle and crossed the island to come next to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, “But this may be one problem that the Falcon can’t swoop in and fix. The Avengers work hard, but a business graduate helping to run a struggling seafood business works harder,” I succeeded in getting him to crack a smile, “Believe me, I’ve run all the numbers and consulted with anyone who would listen. The boat’s gotta go.”

“Yeah, well, humor me and give me a little while longer.”

“Fine, a couple more days,” I grabbed my beer once again and clinked it against his, “But it’s not my fault if Sarah smacks you again.” Sam laughed, slung an arm around my neck and kissed my temple. “You coming up soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in a few minutes,” I answered, watching as he finished his drink before leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs. Once I’d heard his bedroom door open and close, I exited out to the back porch. I took in the late night sounds of the bayou, the crickets chirping and the wind rustling trees had always soothed me. I wished they could touch what I was feeling right now, but the noise didn’t do a thing to drown out my worry. For the business I feared we may lose, for Sam as he ran himself ragged trying to help and for myself and what him and Sarah would think of me once I confessed the secret I’d kept from them for so long.

I held out my hand and watched as the blue energy flowed from my fingertips. Would Sam ever forgive me for not telling him I had powers? They had manifested when I was young, my parents said. I couldn’t remember a day where my body hadn’t produced a magical energy that when harnessed incorrectly could be destructive. It had been a sad day for my mother’s garden when I’d discovered that bit…According to her, she’d wanted to take me to a school for people like me run by a man named Charles Xavier but my father had said no immediately. He’d been so insistent on keeping my powers a secret that my mother said she’d only seen that type of fear in his eyes when he had a war flashback. So I was instructed to never show my powers to anyone under any circumstances and I’d done just that. I’d thought about revealing them in 2012 after the Battle of New York, but my dad’s fear rang in my ears. Three years later when Sam became an Avenger was when I began to feel guilty that I was keeping a secret from him. I’d wanted to join him and find somewhere where I didn’t feel so out of place, but I’d decided against it again. Now with their team so broken and Sam off with the Air Force, I’d finally gathered the courage to confide in him and Sarah. I should have done it six months ago, but I’d chickened out too many times. Tomorrow, I decided. Tomorrow was the day. But would they still see me the same way once I showed them? ————

The next morning, after dressing and running over what I wanted to say three times, I hesitantly headed downstairs to face the music. With there being nobody in the kitchen, I followed the sounds of the television to find Sarah and Sam staring at the screen intently. I stood to the side of the room and watched a suited man give a speech out front of a government building. “We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.”

My jaw slackened as a man marched out in front of the gathered press, dressed in a variation of Steve Rogers’ patriotic uniform and carrying the iconic shield. The shield that had only weeks ago sat upstairs in Sam’s bedroom in a case. I dragged my gaze away from the screen to look at my best friend, hunched over in his seat with his eyes shut in sorrow. Sarah looked just as distraught, her eyes trained on her brother as well. We waited in silence until the breaking news broadcast switch back to regularly scheduled programming before Sarah switched the box off.

“I thought you said it was going to stay in the museum,” I finally spoke, my voice choked with emotion.

“It was supposed to,” Sam ground out, his grip on his own hands tightening. Without any warning, he rose from his seat and left the room. My instinct was to follow him and try to comfort him, but there was nothing I could say to ease the deep pain he was feeling. I wasn’t even sure I could form words that weren’t doused in raw shock. The two things I was sure of were that a) the government had fucked up royally and b) now was definitely not the time to tell Sam about my powers.

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It was a few days later and Sam still hadn’t spoken much to Sarah and I about the situation. It was unnatural for Sam to suffer in silence especially around us, but we both gave him the space he needed.

I was taking laundry to AJ and Cass’ room and had to pass by Sam’s, surprised to see him packing a bag. “Thought you were sticking around.” “Something big came up,” he replied as he set a stack of t-shirts in his duffle bag, “I need to go check it out.” I leaned against his doorway, “Air Force big or Avengers big?” “The second one.” “And you’re going by yourself?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

Sam looked over his shoulder at me finally, “Don’t have anybody to else to call. Besides, I can handle myself.” I hummed in response before setting down the stack of laundry, an idea forming in my head that could solve both of our problems. I folded my hands together and dug my feet into the carpet, “What if you didn’t have to go by yourself?” He looked confused, “What are you talking about?” My folded hands began to make circles in the air as I struggled for the right words, “What if I came with you?” “What, like take your family to work day something?” Sam scoffed, “That’d be fun.” “I’m serious.” “Are you crazy? Of course you can’t come.” “Hear me out,” I looked to his bag and the pair of jeans he had next to fold, “Actually watch.” He folded his arms and waited for my demonstration. I took a deep breath and extended my hand, forcing my energy outwards to levitate the jeans. “Whoa!” Sam exclaimed as he watched me maneuver the clothing inside his duffle, “W-w-what…What was that?” I shrugged and pulled my hand back to my side, “The reason why you should take me.”

“How long have you been able to do that?” “Since I was a kid,” I moved out of the doorway and closed the door, the last thing I needed was AJ and Cass knowing their aunt could move things with her mind, “My parents told me never to tell anybody. I’ve thought about telling you for years since you’re used to this kind of thing but I was scared…Then you were gone and when you came back, life was moving non-stop and I lost my courage. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Sam stood with his jaw hung for a few seconds before shaking his head back into reality, “Why are you apologizing? You never had to tell me, but I’m glad you did,” he pointed a finger towards me, “But you’re still not going.” “What are you talking about? I’d be an asset to whatever it is you’re fighting! And I love you but c’mon bird boy, you may be able to fly but I can do it without any tech.” “Oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” Sam gestured between the two of us, “You think insulting me is the way to get me to let you come?” “Come on,” I moved to sit on his bed, “Tell me what the problem is and I’ll prove that I can help.” “Alright, alright,” Sam took a stance in front of me, “You wanted to hear the tea on my missions, I’ll spill it. There’s an online group called the Flag Smashers, their MO is to get the world back to the way it was during the last five years. My military contact, Torres, went undercover in Switzerland when they robbed a bank. Knocked him unconscious when he tried to fight back.” I balanced my elbows on my knees and tapped a finger against my lip, “So kind of a Robin Hood deal, right? Stealing things from the rich and giving it to the poor. In this case, the poor being those who never disappeared.” “Exactly, except the guy that knocked Torres out was strong. Too strong. I’m thinking they could be a part of-“ “The big three.” Sam’s neck snapped back, “How do you know about the big three?” I shrugged nonchalantly, “The little you do tell me about your avenging always ties back to either androids, aliens or wizards. Though I think you’re being a little dramatic with the term ‘wizard.’”

“Are you seriously gonna correct the guy who’s actually there doing the fighting?” “Are you seriously gonna deny yourself valuable help against either an alien or an android?”

Sam sighed, I was successfully backing him into a corner. “Can you even fight?”

Extending one hand, I levitated Sam and gently slammed his back into the ceiling before reversing course and lowering him onto the carpet. He moaned as he rolled over to face me, “Could’ve given me a concussion.” “Maybe that would knock some sense into your head,” I stood and gave him my hand to pull him up, “Sam, I know that I don’t have any experience but I am more than capable of defending myself. I want to actually do something with these powers instead of sitting on my ass. I’d rather do it with you than on my own. Please?” I watched the cogs in his mind turn through his eyes, I knew he was only fighting this hard because he wanted to keep me safe. But he was in way over his head if he thought it wasn’t worth taking me with. He accepted my hand and stood to his full height, “Pack a bag, we’re leaving for the air base in an hour.” I smiled and threw my arms around him, “Thank you, you won’t regret this.” “I’d better not,” he warned, his arms stayed straightened in displeasure of my enthusiasm, “If you take some stupid risk and put yourself in jeopardy, I’m putting your ass on a plane home.” Quick footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway until the door opened to reveal Sarah, “What was all that noise? It sounded like you were throwing each other into walls.” “Busy,” I quickly dismissed her, using my energy to shut the door in Sarah’s face from a distance.

“Um,” her muffled voice rang through, “What the hell was that?!”

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson imagine #marvel imagine

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asexual-abomination · 3 years

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Plat!Yan!Chrollo x Autistic!Reader x Plat!Yan!PT - Soulmate AU Part 5

The final part is finally here! It did manage to delete itself a couple of times, but I was finally able to recover it! I really hope you can enjoy this end to the series!

As always, this idea was inspired by the lovely @kiame-sama! I have no traditional education in writing, so any and all advice is appreciated!

Requests will be opening shortly after this goes up, I'm just writing up some final rules!

Hope you enjoy reading!

-----

Night had fallen over the city by the time you were left alone.

You could feel your heart pounding through your body, scared beyond reason by the insane situation you found yourself in.

It seemed to have become a theme in the past few days, carefully setting forth a plan only to be thrown into some absolute catastrophe.

Over the course of the day, you had been dragged around to many random people, security workers and police officers all asking you questions and getting irate when you couldn't tell them everything. Some of them had tried to be kinder to you, speaking in lower tones and going slower, but they were all showed that they were upset when you refused certain details.

You couldn't tell them now, but all you wanted was to keep them safe, hoping that your soulmate would take mercy on them if you were found now. Marnie had been kind enough to keep you company through the entire day, though she wasn't the nicest either, and she had been the last one you saw when she dropped you off at this meagre hotel.

It was a large, cement high rise building on a dimly-lit street, with cheap furniture that probably didn't even get washed between visitors. When you first considered trying to sleep, you found that the blankets were made of scratchy, harsh material that made your whole body cringe away in disgust. That wasn't even to note that they were too light and thin to provide you with any comforting weight.

Anyone would think that you had no more tears to spare today, but as you finally sat on the worn-down chair, you began to choke up with stress. You had heard many counselors and friends say that anxiety could be much like droplets in a bucket, slowly building up in the mind until it could burst into tears, but you had never thought that you would feel stress as immense as this.

There was no need to move right now, you could just cry and choke on your breath, and there was almost something comforting about the all of the emotion of the moment.

That peace that you were trying to enjoy as you sobbed was quickly broken by a new voice in the room.

"(Y/N). I'm sorry."

With a sharp gasp, you looked up to find the intruder, only to see Jo leaned against the far wall of your room. They were looking at you, apologetically staring with sadness in their expression.

"I didn't - I didn't predict that there would be an issue with the airship. Now they've found you." They continue to speak with almost ominous tone, voicing their concern with a tired sigh.

They've found you? Your soulmate? Already? Who were these people, and why were they so obsessed with finding you?

As if you hadn't been overwhelmed enough, Jo had truly decided to drop a bombshell on you at this moment. In utter confusion, you looked towards your friend for any explanation.

Jo sighed again, looking away with despair, "They're minutes away as we speak. We can't run or fight." They paused again, contemplating as they look at you with a soft expression, "I - I don't know what to do."

-----

"Alright! This is where (Y/N)'s being held!" Shalnark's cheery voice rang out through the dark street, cutting through the tense atmosphere surrounding the other Troupe members.

"Would you like one of us to accompany you inside?" Pakunoda asked Chrollo, who stood closest to the building's doors.

The Troupe leader sighed as he turned towards his friend, his expression dropping at her question. He could understand the obsession that the rest of his subordinates had for his soulmate, but he knew that he had to be the first one to see his (Y/N) in person.

They had all seen your little friend sneak in through the window of your room, and Chrollo knew that he wanted the joy of getting rid of them himself. Pakunoda watched his expression carefully, and quickly stepped back, as if to give up on her own question, knowing better than to irritate her boss further.

The remaining members on the scene all took a step back, allowing Chrollo the freedom to enter the building, with a silent promise that no one would be leaving or entering while they stood guard.

-----

To both Chrollo and Jo, there was a deafening silence in this moment. Chrollo stood in the doorway of the small hotel room, not even glancing at his rival, as his eyes were immediately fixated on his soulmate, now finally sat before him.

To you, still sat between these two, there was not quite a silence, as you could hear the soft hum of old electrics hidden in the walls of this dingy place, almost comforting in the face of such intimidating auras.

"(Y/N)!" Chrollo's voice cut through the room, overflowing with joy as he stared at you. He had known that he would be happy in this moment when he could finally lay his own eyes on you, but he could have never predicted the way his heart would twist and flip with bliss in your mere presence.

That bliss was quickly cut off by Jo stepping in front of you, though their breath was shaky with fear at the prospect of fighting in your presence. The second that they had stepped out, Chrollo's expression darkened, as he immediately allowed his aura to flash out, quickly met by Jo's in an equal amount.

Not wanting to hesitate for a moment, Chrollo drew his knife and summoned his book, ready to kill at a moment's notice.

"I let you run once, I think you should be grateful for that, you little pest." His voice had a threatening tone, and though he wouldn't admit it, he almost hoped that Jo would run scared, so that he wouldn't have to kill them.

Against his hopes, your valiant guardian stood firm, though they were shaking just slightly. It was no secret that Chrollo would win this fight, Jo was heavily out of practice and stressed from days without sleep, and Chrollo would stop at nothing to reach his treasured soulmate.

"Wait." Your voice was hushed in the tense atmosphere.

-----

The Troupe had begun to worry when there was no sign of their boss for nearly 15 minutes, especially given that there hadn't been any sign of violence from within your room.

"Do you think that the boss got ambushed?" Shizuku wondered aloud, not expressing any real anxiety just yet.

"I do not think boss would get ambush that easy." Feitan was more suspicious of the silence, knowing that Chrollo had been very cautious when entering the hotel.

They continued to wait outside of the building, patiently watching every possible exit. Only a few members of the Troupe were here to see the new soulmate, with the rest searching the city for a decent place to keep you temporarily.

"Oh, look!"

Their heads quickly swiveled to the doorway, watching with a level of shock as Chrollo stepped out of the hotel, holding a new figure very close to his side. This new person was hunched, as if on the verge of pulling away from his touch, and was anxiously tugging at something in their hands.

Most of the members present recognized the sweet face of the sought after soulmate, and those who hadn't seen them before promptly caught on. However, that didn't clear up any confusion among the members.

"What happened to their friend? Did you kill them?" Shizuku was once again the first to break the silence, making you flinch at the bold and brash question.

Chrollo was swift in shutting down further questions, pulling you towards the getaway car, before suddenly telling everyone else to leave.

"Everything has been sorted, I'll tell you the details later. Where are we staying?" Chrollo was incredibly brief, a sharp tone to his voice that most Troupe members only heard after they almost botched a mission.

"There's a hotel in the city center that works for the mafia, we've booked you a couple of rooms!" Shalnark tried to walk over towards the car, wanting answers to this whole situation like the others. However, the quick spike in his boss' aura put him off immediately from that idea.

"Good. Send me the details, and I'll contact one of you tomorrow sometime." Once again, the Troupe leader sounded just slightly angered, a great change from his usual demeanor.

Chrollo quickly stepped into the car, breaking his anger for just a moment to glance at you with a soft smile.

"Don't worry about a thing, dear. Thank you so much for working with me here." He quickly began driving, shooting towards the new hotel and away from your friend's solemn gaze in the window.

"We've got our whole lives ahead of us now. Don't think about them too much."

-----

"Wait." Your voice was hushed in the tense atmosphere.

No amount of breathing exercises could have kept you calm in that moment, but you knew that there was no other option in this situation.

"I'll - I'll go with you. Chrollo." You surrendered yourself with fear, wanting to be careful with how you worded every part of this.

As both of their gazes fell on you, every nerve in your body felt as if it froze up, not wanting to speak another word, but knowing you had to.

"If I can prevent one of you from dying, I'd rather end this situation without a fight."

These two were supposed to be the closest people to your heart in the whole world. Jo, your oldest friend who had always protected you from what you couldn't understand in this world, and Chrollo, your destined soulmate, the one that the universe itself claimed would be the greatest friend that you could ever have.

You had understood since you were young that you wouldn't often be able to truly affect the world around you, always to slow to catch on or say something, but in this moment you could save someone you love, so you had to do something.

"(Y/N), no! Don't be stupid for me!" Jo was quick to interject, evidently trying to drag you back to your senses.

"I think it's their choice to make." Chrollo's deeper voice rang out through the room, reverberating through what felt like your whole body, a soft smirk appearing on his features.

"Look. I..." You trailed off, almost not ready to be so bold in what you were going to say next, "I want to keep both of you safe, and, well, from where I stand, the best way to do that is to end this... peacefully."

"Well then, come here." With his small smirk growing into a wide grin, Chrollo opened his arms just slightly, welcoming you in.

You felt almost to weak to stand, and as you did many times when you felt weak in the past, you looked to Jo.

"I won't stop you, I mean, I can't." They spoke after a brief pause, "But this is the wrong decision."

Although your heart was pained by their words, you knew that you had to take this next step on your own, for their own safety.

So, with shaky strides as Jo stepped to the side, you moved towards Chrollo, right into his waiting arms. As soon as you were close enough, he pulled you in tight to his chest, not letting you see the evil grin he sent Jo's way.

"Let's go, dear, everyone's waiting."

With all that had happened, you felt a lot less need to hold back your tears.

-----

Thanks for reading!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere hxh #chrollo #yandere chrollo #phantom troupe #yandere phantom troupe #shizuku #pakunoda #shalnark #feitan #autistic reader #x reader #original character #hxh x reader #gender neutral reader

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

Red Roses

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: I wrote this a few weeks ago and gave up on it because I thought it was too messy and too repetitive. But I re-read it yesterday and was surprisingly pleased with it and with its messiness. So here you go.

Credits to Stevie Nicks for some of the words in one paragraph at the end.

Summary: this is my take on the “reader introduces new gf to her family” story, except I decided it should not be cute but angsty

Warnings: homophobia, internalised homophobia, racism

Word count: ~ 5 400

“Are you ready ?” Wilhemina asked.

You made a face and gave her hand a squeeze. “No? But I don’t think I’ll ever be so let’s just do this.”

“Permission to cane them if they get mean?”

You breathed out a laugh. “Mina, no.”

She gave you a small wicked smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Too bad,” she said in that deep voice that meant someone was in trouble.

“They’re old,” you smiled. “You would break their bones.”

She hummed thoughtfully. You stared down at your linked hands on your lap as you absentmindedly stroked her knuckles. Wilhemina waited a few more seconds, then opened the door of the car and got out.

Well, here goes. You followed her immediately, as she knew you would.

Outside the air was cold and crisp and smelt of the ocean. Every year your family would gather at your grandparents’ house to celebrate Christmas. It was a tradition you dared not break, no matter the toll it took on you. This year, it would just be you, your parents and grandparents.

You stepped closer to Wilhemina as your grandparents appeared at the front door and waved. “Come on in, come on in, it’s so cold!”

“I can smell the ocean from here,” you smiled.

“Yes, but come on in!”

When they closed the door behind you, it felt as if you had just been thrown in jail. They beamed at you, happy and content, as they helped you and Wilhemina take off your coats.

“Welcome! How was the drive? We’re so glad to see you, it’s been too long!”

“I made your favorite cake,” your grandma said with a wink.

“And welcome to you, Y/N’s friend!” your granddad said, opening his arms to Wilhemina.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said. Her voice was cold, but not cold enough to set off their reproaches.

Your grandparents gave her polite smiles as they ran their eyes up and down her body, gazes lingering on her cane for a second too long. Automatically you reached out and brushed her wrist, a small gesture of comfort just in case she needed it.

“Are mum and dad here?” you asked, taking a peek inside the living-room.

“Not yet.”

Your parents had always supported you and knew you and Wilhemina were a couple. They had met her three or four times already, had offered her kind smiles that had grown kinder when they’d noticed the fond look that would soften her eyes every time she’d look at you. But your grandparents – that was quite a different story.

You loved them. You really did. They were kind and affectionate and generous. You hated them. They made you feel so small and dirty.

Here was the thing. Your grandparents had their own definition of what was right and what was wrong, and nothing would change their minds. Their convictions were engraved in marble. They pointed a finger at everyone who dared put a toe out of the norms, and laughed at them and jeered and hated. How they hated. It was a terrible monster, that hatred of them. It was too big and too strong and too dark. It stifled you, clawed at your skin, bullied your heart. And how they adored you. You were the perfect grandchild, polite and kind, educated, always respectful, always so proper. If only they knew – they didn’t know you. They only saw what you had allowed them to see, a masquerade, a very pretty picture in a golden frame.

You had wanted to keep Wilhemina safe from your grandparents’ toxicity, but the alternative was her spending Christmas on her own. Again. While all around her the world celebrated. You wouldn’t have that – it wasn’t even an option. She had been so alone for so long, and it had hurt her so deeply, so viciously, until loneliness had become so familiar she had mistaken it for home. You had been trying to teach her, one gentle touch at a time, what home really felt like. So this Christmas, she would be loved and cherished.

You carried your and Wilhemina’s bags upstairs to the spare room you would sleep in. Wilhemina rolled her eyes at the twin beds. You shot her a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

She shook her head. “No need to apologize.”

“We can put the beds closer after I tell them about us.”

You wouldn’t get to sleep in that room, part of you knew that. Your grandparents would kick you out like the reminder of a shameful memory as soon as they learnt about Wilhemina and you.

You picked up one of the pillows, so soft and comfortable, expensive pillows that had been carefully chosen for the comfort of loved ones, and stroked it absentmindedly. Your eyes veiled over.

You had been so happy in this house. There had been so much love and joy, so much sunshine. But you had never really been yourself in this house.

Wilhemina slipped one arm around your waist and pressed your back against her chest. A soft kiss on the nape of your neck. You leaned back into her, eyes fluttering closed, gathering strength from her warmth. She gave you so much of it, every day.

“Are you okay, little one?”

You hummed, turned in her arms to look at her. You poked her cheek. “Never better.”

Your parents arrived half an hour later, and your grandma immediately ushered you all in the kitchen for lunch. Cooking was how she expressed her affection. Her meals were always abundant and delicious. Because she loved you all, so dearly.

“Your house is very lovely,” Wilhemina said as your dad poured the wine.

Your granddad flashed her a smile. “We fled big cities two years ago. Too many freaks, too much filth. We couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your grandma piled food on your plate, her eyes soft and kind, for she loved you so dearly. Your hands were shaking.

“We are being invaded,” your granddad was saying. “In two years my neighbours will be a couple of fags or a family of black people. And the government is doing nothing to stop it. When I look around, I cannot recognize my own country.”

You fidgeted with your fork, unable to eat, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. Several times before, you had heard Wilhemina complain about how “worthless” part of the world population was. You had seen her look down on people and snarl at them for merely existing.

You stole a glance at her. And what – your throat closed up – what if she took your grandparents’ side? What if she agreed with them? What if she pulled her chair closer to them, and nodded to what they said, and shared a few laughs with them, and when next she would look at you it would be with scorn and disdain? What if, listening to what they had to say, her eyes finally opened, and she saw you the way you sometimes saw yourself? Freakish, unlovable.

What then?

You shook your head, suddenly angry with yourself. You knew her. You trusted her. She would never think of you like that.

But what if she did?

Your dad laughed loudly, startling you from your thoughts. You met your granddad’s eyes – kind, soft – and offered him a weak smile.

“And how’s your love life, Y/N?” he asked.

Tell them. You had promised it to yourself. You had promised it to Mina. But what if – Lord – what if they were right? What if they had been right all along? What if Wilhemina finally opened her eyes –

“Did you see how the neighbours pruned their apple tree?” your grandma was saying. “It looks hideous now.”

You cleared your throat.

“Uh, guys, I have something to tell you.”

Your heart was beating so fast you were pretty sure it was going to burst any minute now. You couldn’t look at Wilhemina. You had never been more aware of her presence ever since you had met her, her body radiating burning heat that almost threatened to destroy you.

Your grandparents looked up at you expectantly.

Who’s the lucky man? your granddad’s happy eyes asked. Great-grandchildren! your grandmother’s smile beamed. So proud, so satisfied.

You had become ice. Ice that was melting in the fire that was Wilhemina. Your hands were shaking. You wanted to run away so badly.

“Um, so, Wilhemina and I are dating,” you heard yourself say – from very, very far away. The voice wasn’t yours. It echoed in your ears.

Your grandparents didn’t understand.

“We’re dating,” the voice said, “as in we’re together. We’re in love. I love her.” The voice was almost proud. It surprised you.

Your grandparents understood.

This was terrible. This was the worst. The disappointment on their faces, as if you had failed them, as if you had failed to honour your side of the contract. What would they say to their neighbours and friends now? How would they boast about you? When would they get to greet your nice, respectful husband? When would they bounce their great-grandchildren on their knees? Where were the respectability and the pride and the freaking normal?

You lowered your eyes so you didn’t have to watch as disappointment and pain settled on their faces. You were vaguely aware of the stinging in your eyes and the trembling of your chin. This would not do. You were freezing, ice crystallizing around your heart, to choke it or to protect it you didn’t know. You would break under your grandparents’ gazes and nothing would be left of you. You had failed them.

Warmth. Wilhemina’s hand found yours under the table. She gave it a gentle squeeze, laced her fingers with yours. Warmth, and softness and love.

Your parents weren’t saying a thing. Your dad was staring at his plate, your mum at the ceiling. It broke your heart, their silence. It was like an agreement with what your grandparents’ faces were expressing.

You couldn’t talk either, so you waited, for Wilhemina’s hand to let go of yours as she realized just how pathetic you were, how disgusting, you were disgusting and your love was disgusting and –

“Why are you doing this to us?” your granddad asked. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Wilhemina wince. “Uh? What did we ever do to you to deserve this?”

How sad he looked. How so terribly broken.

There was the sound of a chair scraping on the floor, and then Wilhemina stood up, slowly and threateningly, eyes half-closed, teeth half-bared. You looked up at her, saw the anger on her face, and mechanically you reached out to stop her. She shouldn’t snap at them. They were right. Couldn’t she see that, see how sad they were, how badly you had hurt them?

Wilhemina looked down at you in surprise. For a second she seemed to be at a loss for what to do. Her mouth opened, but you shook your head, jumped on your feet, and flew out of the room.

It was so very cold outside. You had left without your coat. But the cold felt good. You dived into it.

You couldn’t see very well because of the tears in your eyes, but the sky was white, the earth was wet, and the sand was a faded yellow that was almost grey when your feet sank into it. You hadn’t even realized you had run to the beach.

The tide was low, the ocean quiet, barely any waves, which was funny really because your heart was a storm. You had expected the ocean to be raging.

You sat down on the sand and wrapped your arms around your knees. The chilly wind bit your cheeks. You let the cold sweep through you, let it slip its fingers under your clothes. You took a few deep breaths of the salty air.

Warmth. A gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You left without your coat, little one,” said Wilhemina, her voice firm but laced with tenderness. “It’s too cold. Here, put it on.”

You didn’t move, so Wilhemina draped your coat over your shoulders. She sat down beside you and you hated the tenderness and the love that clutched your heart for it felt wrong – her love felt wrong. You deserved a slap in the face and a few bitter insults.

You sank into her nonetheless. You couldn’t help it. You had always been drawn to her like a magnet, and she was always craving your touch.

She wrapped one arm around your shoulders to press you close against her. She was staring fiercely at the ocean, eyes black and angry. You saw her blink several times, her jaw working as if she were gritting her teeth to hold back words. She wasn’t good with words. Communication had always been her weak point. But she always tried, for you.

“Maybe they’re right,” you heard yourself whisper after a while – or maybe it was just the wind, carrying the words from your heart to her ears. “Maybe I am a freak. Maybe I am disgusting and there’s something wrong with me.”

Wilhemina’s face hardened. She held you tighter. “Well then,” she said, very low and very slow, “we are meant to be together. I’m a freak, too.”

“You’re not!” you exclaimed. “Don’t say that about yourself. You’re not a freak, Mina!”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “Funny you should say that. It’s what I think of you, too. See, maybe we can help each other.”

She turned her head to look at you. Her eyes were big and so painfully honest and loving you felt like dissolving into tears. You bit the inside of your cheek as your face crumpled.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wilhemina cooed. Her brow pushed up in concern, her hand coming up to hold your chin. She gazed at you, searching your eyes, then leaned in to kiss you.

You couldn’t kiss her right now. It didn’t feel proper – if your lips met, the gods in the sky would roar in wrath and smite you. And what if one of your grandparents’ neighbours or friends saw you? Your family would be so ashamed. You had already hurt them so badly. So you put a hand on Wilhemina’s chest to hold her back, and you saw the pain and the fear flash in her eyes before she blinked them away.

“No, Mina, I –“

She leaned slightly away, blinking, nodding. You told yourself it was the cold wind that made the tears pool in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to Wilhemina. You watched her out of the corner of your eye and reached for her hand.

“It’s okay,” she nodded, smiling through her fear.

You gave her hand a squeeze. “I love you,” you whispered, low and anxious, as if it were a shameful secret. As if it should never be uttered loudly. But the ocean captured the words and sent them back to you and her with a loud groan and spray as a wave almost lapped up your feet.

“I love you,” you repeated, louder. You leaned in and planted a peck on her cheek. Nuzzled her skin, breathed her in. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love. I understand.”

Of course she did. You had seen the harshness in her gaze when she inspected herself in the mirror in the morning. There were days she would not even dare meet her own eyes.

But she was right. You could help each other. For you both knew what the other was worth, and you both were willing to apply love like a balm on the other’s wounds.

It seemed to you the ocean was whispering. What was it? A secret. Come closer. Don’t be afraid. Closer still.

You sagged against Wilhemina. I’d rather stay here on the beach with her, you told the ocean. Where it’s warm and dry and safe. Keep your secret. I don’t want it.

Tentatively, Wilhemina dropped a kiss on your temple. You hummed, to let her know it was okay. You felt her relax slightly against you, and then she whispered in your ear the secret you had refused to hear from the ocean. You didn’t fail them. They failed you.

Without warning you put one hand on the small of her back and your other hand on her shoulder, and gently pushed her so that she was lying on the sand. She met your eyes in surprise, mouth opening in protest but you kissed her silent. You felt her smile into the kiss.

Her lips were cold, but her mouth was warm and so very sweet. One of her hands tangled in your hair and gently stroke the nape of your neck. Your whole body was tingling. There was no way, you thought, no way this could be wrong.

When you pulled away, Wilhemina’s eyes were shining, and she bit down on a smile. “You’re getting sand in my hair,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Tough shit,” you teased. You brushed your mouth against hers, marveling at the warmth and softness of her; your tongue darted out to taste her lower lip, then plunged into her mouth and gently licked her teeth.

Wilhemina held your hand all the way back to your grandparents’ house. You mother was waiting for you by the door. She gave Wilhemina a grateful smile when she saw you were safe and sound.

“Y/N that was quite an over-reaction,” your mum gently scolded.

“Thank you for your input,” Wilhemina snapped. With a hand on your back she guided you inside. “And thank you for speaking up for your daughter earlier,” she spat over her shoulder. You couldn’t hold back the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“Y/N?” came your granddad’s voice from the living-room.

He appeared in the doorway.

And just like that you were freezing again. For he looked so sad, so very broken – his anger would’ve been alright, you could stand up to anger, but this look, this terrible look on his face that suggested his whole world had just come apart – you froze. Instinctively you leaned away from Wilhemina, hating yourself for doing so.

Your granddad took a tentative step towards you. “Can we talk this over? Surely if we talk this over, you’ll change your mind.”

Wilhemina’s hand on your back felt like molten metal. You had to force yourself not to squirm away from her touch. It wasn’t right, your granddad’s expression told you. It wasn’t natural for her to love you like that.

Your body leaned towards him and further away from Wilhemina. Did she notice? Please don’t let her notice. But she did, and you saw her square her shoulders to look taller like an animal sensing a threat.

“Come on, love,” she said, giving your back a gentle push.

Your granddad’s eyes fell on her. “Where are you going?”

“We’re leaving,” Wilhemina answered in a cold but calm voice. “Our destination is none of your business.”

“And you think Y/N’s gonna come with you?” A laugh, of genuine surprise.”We’ve spent every Christmas since she was born together. We’re family.”

Wilhemina’s fingers on your back stuttered. Her eyes widened, oh, just a bit, just the slightest bit, imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know her as well as you did.

“Christmas,” your granddad went on, his face growing more and more animated, “is for family and love. What do you have to offer her, apart from depravity and deceit? Did you really think,” here he laughed again – genuine surprise again, so much worse than hatred, “that she meant it when she said she could love someone like you?”, with a glance at her cane, incredulous, pitifying, almost amused.

He was good, you had to give him that. He knew exactly where to scratch so it would hurt the most. But he had also made a mistake. He could abuse you all he wanted, but Wilhemina was off limits. She was sacred ground, never to be sullied by anyone.

“She’s family,” you groaned, raising your chin defiantly, “and I love her.”

Your granddad scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Please, you’ve seen her – or maybe you haven’t, and that’d explain why you agreed to date her. Come on, come sit with us, let us talk, let us help you –“

“Just, stop talking.” You closed your eyes and gritted your teeth, trying to curb the anger that was rising inside you – hot, red, like lava. “Stop talking, and leave me alone.”

Only now did you realize that Wilhemina hadn’t said a word for too long. No snide comebacks, no insults. You glanced at her. Her face was hard and blank, but her eyes were veiled, and you knew that look. There was the glaze she always hid herself behind when she was afraid and hurting. Like that Sunday morning at the farmer’s market, when she and you had been browsing a flower stall, bright pink orchids, red and yellow tulips, green buds, and that old woman behind you in the line had made a disparaging remark about “cripples”, loud enough for Wilhemina to hear.

You reached for her hand on your back and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Mina, let’s go.”

Your granddad called after you as you stomped up the stairs, Wilhemina’s hand still in yours, but you ignored him. Your body was tingling with a strange mix of anger, fear and relief. You walked into the spare room, picked up your bag and Wilhemina’s – there had been no time to unpack – and turned towards the door. Wilhemina was staring at you, her left arm crossed over her stomach in a hug, her brow slightly pulled down in thought.

“If you’d rather stay here with them –“she started.

“I don’t,” you cut her off firmly.

“I don’t want to get between you and the people you love.”

You heard the pain in her voice, so you dropped your bag on the floor, walked up to her and cupped her face. “Don’t let his words get to you,” you said, tilting her head to make her meet your eyes.”They were lies. You know that. I love you.”

Her eyes locked with yours, wide and begging for reassurance.

Please, you know better than that. You’re so smart, did you really think that she meant it when she said she could love someone like you?

Footsteps on the stairs, your grandma’s voice – how much she loved you. How very much she wanted to be proud of you.

Wilhemina’s eyes reflected the hesitation she saw in yours, and it spread and spread and spread until it threatened to darken the whole room like the falling of night.

“I love you,” you repeated, voice strangled, fingers trembling on her skin.

Oh please – they’re family.

And it was the same fear, the very same fear that was pulsing in both your veins – freakish, unlovable. Your lips curled in a soft smile at the exact moment your grandma entered the room.

With your free hand in Wilhemina’s, her pulse and your pulse drumming between your palms, you walked past your grandma, down the stairs and down the hall, towards the front door, and when you opened it you could have sworn you heard the call of the ocean, singing “come away”.

Wilhemina was half crying, half laughing nervously as she fumbled in her bag for the car keys, hands shaking, so you cupped her face again, kissed her, her mouth, her cheeks, kissed her tears until she could breathe easier. And you heard someone behind you gasp, and someone else curse in the same voice the old woman had used that day at the farmer’s market, when Wilhemina’s fingers had stuttered over the flowers.

A sob pushed out of her throat, a jingle of keys as they fell to the floor; Wilhemina bent down to pick them up, but she couldn’t see well enough through her tears. You picked up the keys for her and opened the car.

Before you got in, you turned and faced your family. When you spoke your voice was firm and hard, a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. “I will sit with you, and we will talk, when you’re ready to apologise,” you growled, staring into your granddad’s eyes, then your grandma’s. You slammed the door of the car, just to make a point.

You drove. A little bit above the speed limit, on winding narrow roads that crossed small, sleepy villages. You had driven almost twenty miles when you realized you had no idea where you were going.

You glanced at Wilhemina. She was staring out the window, her face blank, but at least that veil had lifted from her eyes. When you focused on the road again, you spotted a sign that read a familiar name.

“Let’s go there,” you said. Wilhemina didn’t react. “You’ll like the place.”

The place in question was a small fishermen village surrounded by fields, with a narrow pier and a wide beach that stretched for more than half a mile before it abruptly ended on an expanse of rocks covered with seaweeds. You had come here countless times with your family as a child, to sit on the pier with your feet dangling above the water and ice cream dripping between your fingers.

Today the water was as grey as the sky. You reached for Wilhemina’s hand and led her down the coastal path that weaved among the dunes.

“I have so many happy memories linked to this place,” you whispered, barely louder than the wind. “Now I want to make one with you.”

Wilhemina let out a small, pejorative laugh.

You shot her a sideways look. “What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, then straightened your shoulders and pointed at something in front of you. “Look.”

There, half-hidden behind a swell of the dunes, rose the ruins of what must have been a manor house, but was now a clustered mess of broken walls from which four seagulls flew out with angry cries. A small stream spurted out from between two stones and flowed lazily across the beach to be soaked up by the sand right before it met the ocean.

Wilhemina stopped in her tracks and let out a surprised puff of air.

“I told you you’d like it,” you smiled. “Doesn’t it look so very Victorian?”

With a clumsy curtsey you extended one arm towards the ruins. “Would Miss Wilhemina accompany me on a tour of Netherfield Hall?”

Wilhemina’s face lit up with a smirk.

The place was rather tricky for her to navigate with her cane, but she didn’t complain. You and her stepped over the bits of wood and the stones that littered the sand, falling into a comfortable and slightly awed silence. There was something so solemn, and a bit impressive, about those ruins, like walking in a silent church.

Wilhemina stopped in a doorway that led into a small, square room. “What is this room?” she asked in a haughty voice.

You assumed a proud expression. “The library. See all my books? Folks come from all across the country to admire them. I have the largest collection.”

“All I can see is you have very bad taste,” Wilhemina quipped as she turned on her heel and walked away. You laughed and followed her into the next room, of which only one wall remained. It opened on the ocean.

“Careful!” you screamed, pointing at a brown seaweed on the sand. “There’s a banana skin on the mahogany floor!”

Wilhemina snorted, then assumed a scornful expression. “Call a servant. Somebody get us rid of it. I will not tolerate the state of this kitchen.”

With a grin you pulled her to you and kissed her, slow and sweet. She hummed into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, fingers barely brushing your skin as if it were made of something indescribably precious. When you pulled away, her smile was genuinely happy.

“Hello,” you giggled, giddy and fond.

She bit her lip, ran her thumb over your mouth.

“Hi.”

You took her hand again, and together you made your way through an archway into yet another room.

“This, I believe, must be the master bedroom,” you sang. You shot Wilhemina a suggestive look, which she pretended not to notice.

“I see a bed, but where is your husband?” Wilhemina asked.

A sad smile. When you spoke, your voice had a quaver to it. “Alas, Miss Wilhemina, there is no husband.”

She hummed. Pressed her cane against her stomach. “So who’s to share this big bed with you?” she asked after a while. She was avoiding your gaze, her eyes fixed on a tuft of grass that had managed to grow in the sand. “It must get so cold in the winter. Any suitor waiting by the door?”

She was no longer teasing you. Her voice was serious, her face had become unreadable again. You looked at her, and felt that familiar pain that wasn’t just pain but also sadness, and yearning for an easier, kinder life, clutch at your heart.

“A hundred, probably,” you whispered. You stroked your thumb over one of her knuckles, back and forth. “I don’t know. I didn’t check. I keep the doors closed.” You tugged her arm to make her turn and face you. Gave her a soft, sad smile, cupped her cheek with your free hand and caught the lonely tear that dropped from her eye. “I already have my sweetheart here with me inside,” you murmured, gazing into her eyes.

There was so much fear in your heart. So much fear you could have thrown up on the sand in the middle of those ruins that had once been a manor house, where people dressed in pretty clothes had met to share an evening of dancing and revelries. Love had bloomed among those walls before, love that had been so bright it had lit up the whole room and love that had been kept secret behind closed doors. The walls and the ocean were still singing the long-dead lovers’ songs.

You would sing it, too, grab the hand of the nearest dancer and join the farandole.

So you gave Wilhemina’s hand a squeeze that was almost too tight, just like that day at the farmer’s market when, with rage thundering in your chest and your eyes shooting daggers, you had towered over the old woman and shouted profanities at her until all the colour had drained from her face. And you had bought Wilhemina a ridiculously big bouquet of roses she had carried down the aisle, her cheeks flushed with gratitude and happiness and almost as bright and red as the flowers, for the whole world to see how beloved she was.

You pulled her close and smirked when her eyes flicked hungrily to your lips.

“What is that sweetheart of yours like?” she whispered.

“Most of the time she’s an ass.” Wilhemina gave you a look that made you laugh. “But when I do this – “you leaned in and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth, “I find my home and family.”

Wilhemina’s eyes had fluttered closed; she didn’t open them for a long moment after you pulled away. That was new: she always made sure her eyes were opened when somebody stood that close to her, so that she would see danger come, so that she would not be taken by surprise when her lover suddenly sneered and mocked and laughed. But today she let herself sink into intimacy and trusted it would not hurt her, and you felt yourself melt with gratitude and love.

When she eventually opened her eyes again, she gazed at you with wonderment, as if she were seeing you for the very first time and you were the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on; and then she blinked, and wonderment gave way to adoration and something that was so pure and so genuinely happy.

#ahs #ahs imagine #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #fics

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siswritesyanderes · 3 years

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Wow we just love to put Sadie through it don’t we? Which Doctor would you pair her with? Or a Torchwood person, if you think they’d fit her better.

Oh boy, it would be so interesting for all of them. And obviously, we're assuming this happens slightly later in her life; she's a teenager in Rule One because it's Twilight, but for a Doctor Who story she'd be in her twenties. Also, jury's out on whether it's platonic or romantic yanderes.

(For clarity, we're still working with the premise, as expressed in earlier posts, that all versions of the Doctor eventually get to kidnapping, so in most of these scenarios, she's already at full-time companion status. For Twelve, though, let's say it takes a bit longer for her to get there. If it doesn't squick you out, we could say she meets him the same way Bill does; at a college in which he's teaching. Either way, she'd have more Earth-bound interactions with Twelve than anyone else.)

Nine would probably be the most coherent and straightforward, for her. (Well, it's a tie between him and Thirteen.) He'd be frank about everything he's thinking and feeling, with regards to her, and he would be easy to talk to about it. Kinder and more reasonable than his edgy attire might suggest. Even when he doesn't bend on the whole kidnapping thing, he'd be easy to have a discussion with. Sadie tries probing about why he feels that he needs to keep her close, but he's resistant to telling her anything about his past. Admittedly, it makes her very curious. He's an alien, physiologically and mentally and emotionally distinct from humanity, and he's secretive, and he won't let her leave. The mystery of it all is very engaging. Obviously, she'd still rather not be kidnapped, but since that hadn't been made an option, she would like to learn everything.

Ten would be so complicated, because Sadie knows that the dynamic between them isn't healthy, but she also really doesn't like hurting people's feelings. She would try to help him talk through his problems and his trauma and his crimes, and that would only make him more obsessed and dependent. After all, who would help him to pick through all these painful memories, without her? It's like the pain of each old shame, each loss, is dulled just by discussing them with her; like she's left fingerprints of salve through his mind, and if anything were to happen to her, all of the salve would disappear at once. That's all in addition to the love he already felt for her. Sadie can see this increasing neediness developing, but he would just break down again if she stopped now (He wants to tell her everything, soothe more memories, wrap her more thoroughly around his emotional wellbeing.), and anyway, hopefully if they keep digging, they'll come out on the other side of this. Right?

Eleven would be hilarious just because Sadie would keep trying to manage a coherent, meaningful conversation about the parameters of the relationship, and he just keeps jumping from topic to topic and talking around her protestations and not addressing things as deeply as she wants to. His restlessness and Sadie's tendency to dwell and think things through would take some reconciling. She would try to adapt to his personality; she learns that asking him one question or making one request doesn't work as well as giving him a list. If she only says one thing, even if she repeats it, it can get lost in the deluge of his constant activity, but if she says, "Doctor. Four things. One: I need to eat. Two: Can I at least stop by my house to pick up some of my own clothes? Three: If so, can I bring my dog?...(etc.)", he'll likely remember and address each point. For the record, he would let her bring Brillig onto the TARDIS. He would start calling him "our dog". And he can speak dog, so he really treats Brillig more like their shared son. If Sadie wants to seriously discuss something, Eleven will whistle and tell Brillig something like, "Off you go; your mother wants to chat with me alone." And Brillig would go because, again, the Doctor speaks dog. Brillig is a good outlet for his energy, which makes it easier for Sadie to actually talk with him without him bouncing off the walls.

Twelve would be interesting because, like I've said in previous posts, he'd have a bit of tsundere energy, and Sadie would take that largely at face value at first, so he'd be acting all surly and she's just like, "Well, if you don't like me, then we don't have to interact, right?" Eventually, this train of thought would lead to her surmising that Twelve is more invested in her than he initially shows (since he keeps actively seeking her out), but she'd still be pretty blindsided by how much so. When it gets to the point that he does kidnap her, she would be scared stiff; she misread his feelings for her so many times, she has no idea what to expect anymore, so she just goes silent. He would initially try to reassure her that she's safe in a prickly, dismissive way, but when that doesn't help, he softens up and speaks honestly with her about his feelings. It still takes a while for her to relax. Twelve becomes really sweet, in his treatment of her, to make up for having confused and frightened her.

Thirteen would be frank and communicative, like Nine. More forgetful, though; she often has to say things like "Have I already said that?" or "Have I told you that yet? I meant to..." But she's trying to be communicative, and Sadie learns to periodically ask, "Now, Doctor, is there anything you think you should tell me but aren't sure you have?" Like I've said before, Thirteen is more of a slow burn, boil the frog yandere than most of the others, so as far as Sadie is concerned, she's just a companion at first. Enjoying the universe, and all of the alien cultures she gets to see. There's time for Sadie to develop camaraderie and fondness for Thirteen, before Thirteen's possessiveness becomes obvious, so Sadie talks her through it as a friend more than as a matter of survival or anything else. Thirteen is her quirky alien friend who sometimes has a bit of a dark side; it's fine. When Thirteen suddenly suggests that they're dating, Sadie goes with the flow. But eventually, she's going to ask to go home, and Thirteen will keep finding reasons not to, and they'll have their first argument. It isn't their last; Sadie and her time lord BFF go back and forth about this all the time.

I never watched Torchwood, but I do know Captain Jack from Doctor Who, and it blows my mind that I hadn't thought about him as a yandere before now. Hot, flirtatious, can't die, apparently armed with a gun even when he's naked. Thinking of him flirting with Sadie is delightful. I think he'd be closer to a jovial stalker than a kidnapper.

Aah, thank you for this question!

#sadie lily gilder #rule one sadie #yandere nine #yandere ninth doctor #yandere ten #yandere tenth doctor #yandere eleven #yandere eleventh doctor #yandere twelve #yandere twelfth doctor #yandere thirteen #yandere thirteenth doctor #yandere captain jack harkness #male yandere #female yandere #possessive #obsession #yandere doctor who

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lesyah · 3 years

Text

moshang childhood friends to lovers au - final

Hello! here is a fic that was posted to my twitter. it has songs to go along with it from my twitter. If you’d like to look at the songs for each part, or just check out my twitter (where I have threadfics and other twitter fics not posted here), feel free to do so!

final [age 22]

Out of all the things Shang Qinghua had gone through over the past three and a half years, this was somehow the worst. He wasn’t sure why this was the one thing that had him on the verge of a breakdown. It seemed somewhat inconsequential compared to the other moments throughout his college career. Other moments like when he was truly on the verge of dropping out, or when he felt so lonely he thought he’d snap in half. He was able to cope with those things. But for some reason, this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He stared at the program in front of him, gaze faraway and his mind even farther away. All the sounds around him seemed to muffle. He had only picked up the itinerary to double check the time to tell his mom. He realized, in a split second, that Mobei Jun was also graduating. He knew this, in theory, but he never really thought about it.

A painful feeling bloomed in his chest. Mobei Jun was graduating. He was graduating university. He was graduating and Shang Qinghua wouldn’t be there. Shang Qinghua was graduating and Mobei Jun wasn’t going to be there. He blinked a few times, the realization settling in, grabbing his heart like a vice, and squeezing until his eyes pooled with tears.

This was the first milestone they wouldn’t be a part of for one another. They’d done all of the rest together. Mobei Jun had been there for all of it, and Shang Qinghua had been there for him in turn. He had expected this to go on for the rest of their lives. He didn’t necessarily think they’d share the same milestones (though he wished), but he at least thought he’d be there for them.

He had always imagined Mobei Jun being on the other side of the room, a silent support, when he inevitably felt anxious about this huge change in his life. Now, he was going to have to walk across a stage, receive congratulations, hug his mom, hug Shen Yuan, smile in photos with his friends, and Mobei Jun wouldn’t be there. Even worse, Mobei Jun would walk across a stage, receive congratulations, stand with his father and uncle who wouldn’t hug him, and he’d hover with his friends, and Shang Qinghua wouldn’t be there for it. He wouldn’t get to hug him in lieu of his family. He wouldn’t be able to support him when he inevitably looked at the door, hoping his mother would walk in.

Shang Qinghua set his program down, pressed his face into his hands and wept.

[“The person you are trying to reach is not available. Please leave a message.”

“Hi Mobei, it’s Qinghua. Um… You’re probably busy getting ready, so don’t mind this. It’s nothing important. It sucks we graduate on the same day, so I can’t go to yours. I wish that I could. Even though I can’t come, I just wanted to at least call you and let you know that I’m really proud of you. Don’t let your dad or your uncle bully you today, okay? I hope you have a good day. I, um…I miss you. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Hi! It’s Shang Qinghua. I can’t take your call right now, but please leave a message and I’d love to call you back!”]

“Have you thought any more about that job?” Shen Yuan asked, lightly pushing Luo Binghe’s hand away, where he was trying to dump more food into his bowl. “Binghe, stop. That’s yours.”

Shang Qinghua leaned back against the seat, letting his own food cool down as he thought of how to answer. It was just the three of them, thankfully, otherwise it would have been impossible to be honest. In fact, he was a little thankful that Luo Binghe was there. Luo Binghe would be kinder about it than Shen Yuan. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

Shen Yuan looked up at him. “What do you mean you don’t know? It’s an amazing opportunity.”

“Yeah, and it’s also really far from home.”

Shen Yuan looked at him. Luo Binghe was also looking at him, but more in interest than criticism.

“Isn’t it exactly what you want to do?” Luo Binghe asked, taking a small bite of his food. “It’d be worth it to move far away, right?”

Shen Yuan looked back at his food, eating a huge bite of noodles in frustration. “He doesn’t want to move because of Mobei Jun,” he said, annoyed.

Shang Qinghua didn’t meet either of their gazes.

Luo Binghe was the one to speak next. “But…Do you know if he’s coming back?”

Shang Qinghua’s chest twinged. “No, I don’t know. That’s why I don’t know if I’m taking the job yet.”

“You’re really gonna determine whether or not you take your dream job based on whether or not Mobei Jun moves back?” Shen Yuan snapped. “Can you honestly tell me that you’re not setting yourself up for failure? Why did you switch schools? Because you made the mistake of following him to his school in the first place.”

Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but wince. He looked down at his food and picked at it. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to prioritize yourself for once!”

Shang Qinghua didn’t respond. He took a bite.

Luo Binghe was quiet. “I don’t know, gege, I kind of understand what he means.”

Shen Yuan looked over at him. “What? You’re saying you would give up your future for me?”

“No,” he defended, also not meeting Shen Yuan’s gaze. “It’s not like that. It’s not that simple.”

“How do you think that makes me feel, Binghe? That I’d be stopping you from doing what you want?”

Luo Binghe sighed and put his chin in his hand. He swirled his chopsticks in the broth in front of him. “But you’re what I want. What’s the point in having a job that I like just to be miserable in every other way?”

Shen Yuan looked at him for a moment, a complicated expression on his face. He looked like he was not about to let that conversation go, but was going to save it for just their own ears. He looked back at Shang Qinghua. “Are you really miserable?”

Shang Qinghua took a bite of some rice. “What gave me away?”

Shen Yuan said nothing. He looked down at his own food and began to eat. The rest of their celebratory meal was eaten in silence.

His mother was being a little overbearing. She was trying to hold onto him now that he was finally slipping away. She hadn’t tried to hold onto him his entire life, but now that he was finally going, she was ready to try. A part of Shang Qinghua thought it was a pretense. That in order to make herself feel better, she should cry and hug and reminisce about how much she loved him and how much of a good child he’d been. It only felt suffocating.

When she finally went to bed, Shang Qinghua went to his old room and looked at the boxes on his floor. He packed away a few more things he’d be taking with him when he fully moved out. He didn’t have a place yet, and he still didn’t even know where he was going, but it would be easier for both him and his mom to have his things packed up. That way it wouldn’t be a surprise when the time finally came.

Shang Qinghua sat on the floor in front of one of those boxes. It was full of haphazardly thrown in memorabilia, all without a category that could go into its rightful box. It was full of random things he’d kept through the years, random photos, random toys he didn’t want to part with.

He pushed himself away from the box. It was a box full of Mobei Jun, and Shang Qinghua was more and more averse to thinking of him at all.

He left his home, only bringing a light jacket. The summer air was just warm enough to not need anything heavier. The street he walked down was quiet, but he could hear the sound of the electrical wires crackling overhead. It was soft enough to not be distracting, and loud enough to help drown out some of the loudness in his heart.

He arrived at the park in what felt like a few moments, for this was a worn path, and a known journey. At the end was a familiar sight, with an intimate familiarity with the way the shadows from the moon would bend around each park bench, around each dark lamppost. Even more familiar, even more known, was the figure lying in the small patch of grass at the end.

Shang Qinghua’s heart lurched as he neared. Mobei Jun did not move when he approached. His eyes were somewhat blank as they stared up at the sky. Shang Qinghua laid down beside him and pillowed his head on his arms. The moon was right overhead, and cascaded them in white light.

“You’re here,” Shang Qinghua murmured, voice warm and desolate all at the same time.

“I thought maybe you’d come,” Mobei Jun said back, a similar cadence.

“How’d you know?”

“Because I wanted to come, too.”

Shang Qinghua smiled a little. He removed one arm from beneath his head and set his elbow on the grass between them. He kept his hand raised in the air and waited. Mobei Jun reached out and grabbed it. He lowered their hands to the cool grass, and the blades tickled along Shang Qinghua’s hand.

“What’s next for you?” Shang Qinghua asked. His eyes tracked the movements of the clouds—a practiced habit. Much of his life was habitual, and he was discovering that anything beyond those learned habits was immensely painful.

“Not sure,” he said honestly. “I’m open to anything, to going anywhere. I just…want to want it. Whatever it is.”

Shang Qinghua nodded. He understood that. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing next?” He asked. He turned his head to look at him.

With his gaze, Shang Qinghua felt like another moon entirely stared down at him, lighting him up from the inside out and revealing all of his secrets. An unnamed desperate feeling welled up with the question. He felt afraid. He was afraid of knowing what his options were and not knowing at all what to do with them. “No,” he whispered, voice weak. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

Mobei Jun squeezed his hand. “It’s ok. You will.”

“I don’t feel like I will.” He could already feel the hysterics welling up. “I…don’t know what to do. About anything.”

Mobei Jun’s thumb brushed along his soothingly. “Qinghua,” he said. “Qinghua, it’s ok. You don’t have to know right now.”

Shang Qinghua squeezed his hand back, like he was trying to keep him from running away. It was all very loud, and he was very out of practice. He hadn’t had Mobei Jun to help him come down when he got like this for a very long time. It even felt like he had forgotten how to listen to Mobei Jun’s soothing voice and his calm demeanor. That scared him even more. He felt untethered, like a balloon full of helium, with nothing to keep him down.

Mobei Jun released his hand and rolled onto his side to prop himself up on his elbow and look down at Shang Qinghua. The loss of his hand made him feel like he was about to float away forever. But Mobei Jun reached down with his other hand and grabbed onto Shang Qinghua’s again. He brought Shang Qinghua’s hand to his own chest. “Qinghua, breathe. It’s ok.”

Shang Qinghua looked over at him. “Is it? It doesn’t feel like it.”

Mobei Jun looked down at him, face even, heartbeat slow. His hand tightened on Shang Qinghua’s, and pushed it more firmly to his chest. He said nothing.

Looking at his face, Shang Qinghua counted the heartbeats, and tried to think of nothing else. Instead of calming down, however, the desperation in his chest only morphed into another kind of panic. “Mobei,” he said, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt. “Mobei, I missed you.”

His hand flexed around Shang Qinghua’s. “I missed you, too.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” he whispered, almost frantic. “I never knew what to do.”

Mobei Jun began to look sad. “Me neither.”

Shang Qinghua began to cry. He rolled onto his side the same time Mobei Jun shifted, and they pulled each other into their arms. Shang Qinghua pushed his face into his chest and clutched into the fabric of his jacket. It was such a relieving feeling, almost painful in the way it pulsed through him.

He only felt more afraid. Letting go would be so much harder, so much worse, now that there was no guarantee there would be another time for this. In that moment, he realized one thing: whatever happened, it would have to be final. Either he held onto Mobei Jun forever, or he let him go and never held him ever again.

Shang Qinghua felt a cold dread fill his gut. “Mobei, I need to tell you something.”

Mobei Jun’s arms tightened. When he spoke, he sounded afraid, like he was thinking of the last time Shang Qinghua had said those words. “What is it?”

Shang Qinghua shifted slightly, holding onto him tighter. He allowed himself one moment to savor it, just in case. He felt the way Mobei Jun’s breath expanded in his chest, the way his heartbeat could be felt from how close they were, the way his hair was long enough to fall down his back and tangle in Shang Qinghua’s fingers. He savored the way Mobei Jun held onto him like he would protect him from the world, and the way every embrace had only brought respite.

“Qinghua,” he said, somewhat fraught. “What is it?”

Shang Qinghua shut his eyes, drifted a hand up to brush through the knots in his hair. “I love you.” He let the sound of it settle into the air around them for a moment, and though he hadn’t noticed before, he suddenly became aware of the sound of grasshoppers chirping, and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. “I love you in every way I possibly could.”

Mobei Jun was silent and still for several moments.

“I love you in the way that I want to be with you forever, never too far away and always close.”

Mobei Jun pushed forward slightly and rolled Shang Qinghua onto his back. He lifted, propped up over him on one elbow, his other hand pillowing Shang Qinghua’s head. Shang Qinghua looked at his face once, but couldn’t take it. He looked away. “Qinghua,” he breathed.

He blinked a few times, face flushed. “I mean it. Don’t ask me if I’m being serious.”

His hand shifted to caress the side of his face. He brushed his thumb along his cheek. “Qinghua,” he said again. “Look at me.”

Shang Qinghua really didn’t want to. He met his gaze and it was almost painful with how embarrassed he felt. He only felt more embarrassed when Mobei Jun did nothing but stare down at him. “What do you want me to look at you for? I’m so embarrassed.”

Mobei Jun dipped and pressed his lips to his cheek, soft and cool from the night air. “Why embarrassed?” He asked quietly, lips brushing against his skin. He pressed another kiss further down his cheek. Shang Qinghua’s face was on fire, and the grip he still had on Mobei Jun’s jacket only tightened. “What’s embarrassing?” He kissed further down, inward, towards Shang Qinghua’s mouth.

“Because you’re my best friend,” he whispered. “And you’ve been my best friend since I was a child. And—And I’m in love with you.”

Mobei Jun lifted slightly and hovered over him, only an inch away. “Still don’t understand what’s embarrassing.” He lowered, so their lips brushed when he spoke next. “You’re in good company, Qinghua. I love you, too.”

He kissed him, gentle and calming, the same way he was about everything else. Shang Qinghua’s eyes stayed open for a moment as his brain tried to catch up. But then he found himself clutching onto him tighter, eyes slipping shut, as his hand caught in Mobei Jun’s hair with the grip. Mobei Jun winced slightly, then let out a soft laugh against his lips.

Shang Qinghua loosened his grip to not pull on his hair, but only moved to cradle his face closer to his own. Mobei Jun tilted his head to the side, pushing further in to kiss him open. Shang Qinghua pulled back to breathe when he realized he had forgotten to do so ever since Mobei Jun kissed his cheek the first time. He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to wake up if this was a dream. He was breathing heavily, hands still on Mobei Jun’s face.

Mobei Jun was undeterred and pressed a light kiss to his open mouth, then to his bottom lip, then his chin, and down his jaw. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispered, breath washing down his neck. He kissed beneath his ear. “For so long that it seems odd that I’ve never told you. Why haven’t I?”

Shang Qinghua opened his eyes and the moon stared back at him, like it had seen everything. “I don’t know. I wish you would have. But it’s not like I told you either.” He swallowed, eyes scrunching shut when Mobei Jun kissed back up his jaw. “You meant too much to me to lose. That was why I didn’t tell you.”

Mobei Jun pulled back to look down at him. “You wouldn’t have. Even if I didn’t feel the same way. You mean too much to me to lose, too. There’s nothing you could do or say to change that.”

Shang Qinghua’s eyes filled with tears and he tugged him back down. Mobei Jun went pliantly, pressing their lips together again. He shifted over him, so his knees were on either side of his waist. He held Shang Qinghua’s face, kissing him so gently that it felt like kissing a cloud. Despite the gentleness, he still managed to coax Shang Qinghua open with it, and as soon as he opened up, Mobei Jun swept inside, head tilting to the side for a better angle.

Making an embarrassingly small sound in the back of his throat, Shang Qinghua wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down. Mobei Jun went, shifting onto his elbows to hover over him. He pulled back for a moment, a quiet, wet sound hanging between them. Shang Qinghua looked up at him, felt his heart lurch, and pushed himself up to kiss him again. Mobei Jun’s lips turned up as he indulged for a few moments longer.

He pulled back and held his face again. His thumb came up to softly brush against Shang Qinghua’s bottom lip. He pulled down on it slightly, looking a little entranced at his red, kiss-bruised mouth. “I love you.”

Shang Qinghua let out a breath, like it was forced out of him. He reached up to grab onto his shoulders. “I love you,” he whispered, as if he was trying to convince him.

Mobei Jun smiled.

“You asked me what my plans were,” Shang Qinghua said, swallowing as he stared at the hollow of Mobei Jun’s throat. “And I really don’t know. I don’t know what I want or what I’ll do, but I do know that I’ll only be happy if you’re there with me.”

Mobei Jun bent to press their foreheads together. His voice was quiet, so quiet it felt like a feat that Shang Qinghua could hear him at all. “I’ve never really known what I wanted to do. The only plan I’ve ever had has been you.”

Shang Qinghua felt his insides collapse a little. He tugged him down and pressed his face into his neck. Mobei Jun hugged him back just as tightly. They stayed that way for a long time.

#moshang #Shang qinghua #mobei jun #svsss #myfic #mypost #moshang fic

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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years

Text

let’s save the world

season two, episode five

five hargreeves x reader

summary: gathering the family together never ends well, but at least you can relax with a few of the siblings.

trigger warnings: cursing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: it took me literal years to find a gif for this one. not even kidding. i ended up settling. i am also sorry about how long this took to come out, i was very busy with school and some other health stuffs😂 anywho i hope you enjoy it

you all watch as reginald’s car gets farther away, and you sigh softly. it’s the eyeball all over again. time to chase after it before it bursts into flames before your eyes.

“you know, i’m starting to get the impression that dad’s avoiding us.” you look to five, away from all the people that filed out of the consulate.

“what gave you that idea?” you chuckle quietly, shaking your head as you look down at the dress you wore, and hated. you couldn’t wait to get it off, but you frown as you notice the missing piece. “i lost my bow to choke that guy, and it didn’t even work.”

scratching the back of her neck, lila glances to the three of you. “i hate to be the boring one, guys, but we need to get the hell out of here.”

as she moves to leave, you getting ready to follow, five steps in front of you to look at the woman with narrowed eyes. “when you mean ‘we’, who exactly are you referring to?”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you look at the boy, and lila seems just as confused, shifting her gaze to the side for a moment. “not a lot of ambiguity in that sentence.”

five doesn’t back down- by now you’re used to that. “listen, i don’t know who you are or where you came from, but i’d advise you return posthaste.”

diego leans towards him, “five, she’s right, we have to get out of here.”

“i just saved your life, you kinder shit!” lila spits out, “if i hadn’t stepped in, all that would be left of you is a blazer and some bloody socks.”

looking to the side as you chew on your lip, you felt quite ready to leave right about now. the dress was starting to feel a little too tight, enhancing the pain you felt from the hits you had taken.

“that’s the problem.” five points out, “you’re too good, you ask too many questions. you know too much. and you fight like you know what you’re doing.”

looking back to the small group, you think about what he had said, and it was starting to make sense. “he’s got a point.” you mutter, looking at the girl with a raised eyebrow, almost asking for an explanation.

“so i know how to handle myself, and that makes me the bad guy?”

you wanted to believe she was a good person, the ‘crazy lady’ who you had met in the car who just seemed to be tagging along- but she was starting to seem more suspicious the more you hung around her.

“whoever you are, you’re in my way.” five tells her, “if i see you again, i will kill you.”

he starts to walk away, and for a moment, you’re planted in your spot, staring at his retreating form. quickly shaking your head, you leave the other two behind, catching up to him.

when you got back to elliott’s, you had crashed on the couch after changing back out of the dress, and as you did, you had seen that one of the punches you took left quite a gash in your side, and you assumed the only reason you hadn’t noticed it before then was because of the blood that had clotted and dried around it, or maybe the adrenaline from such a fight.

either way, it didn’t matter. you were use to getting injured by now, it was a part of working for the commission and now, apparently, it’s a part of saving the world. you simply cleaned it, put some bandaging over it, and called it a day.

now, you sat on the same rolling chair that you always claimed in the door frame to the kitchen, leaning your head against the wall as you watch luther- who had finally decided he was ready to help, apparently- made some scrambled eggs. the mug that you held, filled as much as possible with coffee, was still scalding hot, but that didn’t stop you from taking the smallest sips every so often.

diego paced the kitchen floor, “no, no, no. i don’t understand. they keep following me.”

luther doesn’t even look up from the pan, which was basically overflowing with the eggs. “who?” he questions, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“those dutch sociopaths!”

“they’re swedish, you idiot.” five corrects him, leaning against the wall across from you, “hired guns paid to eradicate us before we can do any more damage to this timeline.”

“yeah, but why now?” diego raises an eyebrow at the boy, “i mean, i’m-” he snaps his fingers, “-fine. for three months until you showed up.”

luther nods slightly, “yeah.” he finally looks away from the eggs, “i was here for a year and no one messed with me.”

looking back to you two, diego holds his arms out, looking for an explanation. rolling your eyes, you stand up, kicking the chair away from you and into the living room. “so you’re saying it’s our fault, hm?” you raise an eyebrow at them, “even if it was, and it’s not, it doesn’t change the fact that we only have six days left before the end of the world.”

nodding, five glances at you for a second. “the closest anyone’s gotten to dad was that driveway, at the consulate.”

as his stirring slows, luther looks up. “well, that’s not exactly true.”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you watch as five steps closer to him. “what do you mean?”

“i saw him.”

you listen as he recounts the time he landed in the alley, when he got on a bus and went straight home- to the umbrella academy. when he arrived, there was some sort of house party going on, as people filled the building, all chatting and drinking champagne.

reginald stood with a circle of people- coincidentally talking about the end of the world and the uncertainties with time. when he walked away to get another glass was when luther stepped in, and was brushed off and humiliated in front of all the guests.

“that’s pathetic.” you all watch as the man scarfs down the eggs he had made, diego being the first to speak when he finished his story.

luther looks to him as he shovels more eggs onto his fork, “yeah, well, at least he didn’t shank my ass.”

“no, bro.” diego leans forward slightly, “he shanked your heart.”

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you at the comment, and five looks between the two of them as luther hums in acknowledgement.

elliott enters the kitchen, looking to the large man. “is that my bath robe?”

luther looks to him, his mouth full and his eyes wide as if someone caught him sticking his hand in the cookie jar. “no.”

“look, who cares what he shanked?” five finally speaks from beside you, moving to the more important business. “he knows something about time travel.”

raising his hand slightly, elliott looks to him, “uh, why don’t you just do your thing and, uh, time travel us out.”

with a sigh, five stands up to refill his mug, and you quickly hold out your own in a silent request. “anyone care to explain?” he questions as he takes the cup, walking over to the counter and grabbing the coffee pot.

“first time he tried, he got lost in the apocalypse.” luther states.

diego is next, “second time, he ended up without hair on his balls.”

chuckling quietly, you finish, “this time he scattered us all across the timeline here- in dallas, texas, also possibly triggering a doomsday.”

five turns as he finishes refilling the mugs, looking to the man. “any more questions, elliott?”

he quickly shakes his head, and diego starts to speak again. “guys, you’re all missing the big picture here. dad is the ringleader of a sinister cabal that’s planning to kill the president.”

you take your mug back with a quiet thank you as five hands it over, and luther looks to luther with confusion written all over his face. “a cabal?”

“ignore him.” five tells him, leaning against the counter, “look, the way i see it, we only have one option.”

without looking away from his eggs, luther raises the question everyone has. “oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“it’s time to get the umbrella academy back together.”

oh god

you’re not sure if you can handle them all at once again.

diego looks at the ground for a second. “hell yeah. family meeting.”

“okay, then can one of you guys get allison?” you look to luther as he stares down at his plate, suddenly incredibly invested in his eggs.

raising an eyebrow, you take a sip of your coffee. “are you two still... uh, canoodling?”

the man doesn’t answer, only tilting his head to the side a bit. diego slowly leans towards him, “do we need to talk?”

“no, she’s married.” luther speaks through his mouth full of eggs, and you scrunch your nose up slightly.

diego nods slightly, “dude, that’s rough.” he leans back into the back of his chair.

luther forces a chuckle, “i can handle it.” the expression on his face only a second later, as you honestly think he’s close to crying his eyes out.

“i’ll get her.” five sets his mug down, and you watch as he walks towards the archway into the living space. “do you think you can get vanya without, uh, squeezing her to death?”

luther looks at him with a deadpan expression from the comment. “i’ll try.”

“good.” he looks to you, “you should go with. just to, you know, supervise.” you nod with a light laugh, though luther doesn’t look nearly as amused as you are from the light jab at him. a second later, five is gone with a flash of blue.

you down the rest of your coffee as elliott stutters for a moment. “uh, what should i do?”

with a small smirk on his face, diego looks towards him. “prepare for company.”

“y’all know, jell-o used to be a delicacy.”

you sit in the living room of the apartment after you had managed to get vanya, along with her, luther, and diego, as elliott goes on about the disgusting concoction in front of him.

“in order to make it, you have to boil down a whole mess of hooves... you know, horses, cows, pigs, it doesn’t matter.” fire begins to dance across your fingertips as you stare at it in boredom, your lips pressed into a thin line. “but not everybody has a bunch of hooves lyin’ around. it wasn’t until, uh, a couple of sassy new yorkers figured out how to dry it out for the rest of us to use to... enjoy this ambrosia.”

diego looks to him after sticking all his knives in a little sheath, clearly as bored and annoyed as the rest of you. “if we have some, will you shut up?”

your nose scrunches up at the thought of having to eat that... sludge, and the fire immediately dies out. “maybe.” he quickly grabs one of the bowls around the table, beginning to distribute the thing he called food.

“i’m good.” you mumble, waving your hand as he looks to you, clearly disappointed from your refusal, but you could handle that. there was no way you were going to eat whatever that was.

luther’s face is scrunched up as he watches the man scoop up the ambrosia, deciding to look away and to vanya instead. “how are you feeling?”

the woman, who was slouched into the couch with her hands resting on her stomach, glances towards him. “pretty shitty, to be honest.”

flipping one of his knives in his hand, diego looks to her. “how would you say you are on a scale from one to... ending all life on this planet?”

sighing heavily, you lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees, ignoring the searing pain in your side. “seriously? put the knife away, idiot, she’s fine.”

his gaze doesn’t move from her. “the last time i saw this one, she had me suspended midair, sucking the life out of me with energy tentacles.” he stops flipping the knife to point it towards you, “i think i’m allowed a little time to process.”

“i would love to see an energy tentacle.” elliott looks up from his creation, looking between the three of you.

shaking your head, you sigh. “no you don’t.”

vanya sits up, looking to the man. “i don’t remember what i did, but i’m sorry.” she shrugs slightly, “if that means anything.”

he looks to her for a moment before he finally stops pointing the knife around, instead holding it at his side on the armrest. “it does.” that surprised you, but at least you wouldn��t have to stand around for another family argument. “just going through a lot right now.”

beginning to speak about ‘a girl he likes’, you roll your eyes. before he’s able to speak too much, the bell on the door downstairs jingles and you can hear laughter- allison and klaus.

“anyone here?” she calls out, and you stand from your seat, as does everyone else, going to stand at the railing of the balcony.

you can tell that the two of them are at least a little drunk from the amount of giggling from the two of them. they stop to look up at the five of you, and klaus takes his glasses off. “i know this is impossible, but did we all get... sexier?”

rolling your eyes, you watch as everybody else goes down to have a heartwarming family reunion, allison and vanya hugging before klaus joins in.

“alright, let’s get down to business.” five turns and goes up the stairs, everyone else following. as they come up, you take your seat once again, all of them taking their own places around the room.

standing in front of all of you, five sticks his hands in his pockets. “first thing i want to say is i’m sorry. i know i really screwed the pooch on this whole going back in time and getting stuck thing.” diego nods slightly, and you prop your feet up on the coffee table, nudging the empty bowl out of the way. “but the real kick in the pants here is, we brought the end of the world back here with us.”

“oh my god, again?” everyone looks to klaus in silence. “all of you knew? why am i always the last to find out about the end of the- oh my god, my cult is going to be so pissed, five! i told them we had until twenty-nineteen!” he whines.

you sigh softly as you run a hand down your face, “well, better inform them it’s coming sooner than that. we have six days.”

“is it vanya?” he takes a sip from his drink, and allison scoffs, “what? it’s always vanya.”

deciding to ignore it, vanya looks to five and you turn back in your seat, shaking your head. “do you have any leads, five?” the woman questions, and diego is already handing him the file that holds the picture of their father in the knoll.

“yeah, we have one.” five tells them, passing the folder over to allison, who doesn’t waste time in opening it up.

“holy shit, is that dad?” she looks at it in disbelief, and vanya quickly leans toward her to examine the photo as well.

after a moment, five continues to explain. “we’ve been trying to talk to him about what exactly this means, so far we’ve got nothing.”

“not nothing,” diego quickly adds, “we know that he’s planning to kill kennedy.”

“possibly,” you make your entrance into the conversation, “but we don’t know who or what sets doomsday in motion.” you remove your legs from the table, leaning forward slightly, “could be kennedy, could be something that doesn’t have anything to do with him.”

five nods, “but, if we know something changes the timeline, we have to make it right.”

her eyebrows furrowing, allison cuts in. “yeah, but how are we supposed to do that if we don’t know what to fix?”

“oh, come on, do the math.” diego tells her in irritation, “we know dad’s having shady ass meetings with shady ass people. we know he’s on the grassy knoll in three days to kill the president. so i think we all know what we have to do.”

“kill dad.”

“find dad.”

the two have very different ideas, apparently, and five turns his head to look at him with furrowed eyebrows, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing at the incredulous look.

it’s quiet for a moment before vanya speaks. “none of us are supposed to be here, right? i mean, what if it’s us?” she looks around, “has anyone here done anything to screw up the timeline?”

another bout of silence surrounds you as looks are exchanged between everyone, before luther takes a deep breath to start a circle of accusations.

“diego has been stalking lee harvey oswald.”

pointing a finger at the big man, his voice raises immediately, “and you’re working for jack ruby!”

“allison has been very involved with local politics.” klaus pipes up from his seat beside you.

“okay, and you started a cult.” she points at him, giving a mocking smile.

while klaus hissed as if he were a cat, vanya sat up in her seat slightly. “i’m- i’m just a nanny on a farm, i don’t have anything to do with all of that.”

allison looks at her, “well, maybe you do, we just don’t know it yet.”

a loud whistle catches everyone’s attention, looking towards diego. “look at yourselves. everything in our new lives is connected to kennedy. that can’t be a coincidence. luther works for ruby, allison is protesting against the government, dad’s on the grassy knoll, klaus-” he pauses for a moment, looking at the man, “is doing something weird and pervy, but it’s probably connected in some way. clearly we were sent here for one special reason. save john fitzgerald kennedy.”

rolling your eyes as everyone starts to argue, you stand from your seat, feeling a headache coming on from being around this incredibly dysfunctional family, unable to not think about how peaceful it was when you were normal for once, just working in a diner.

“guys, you all die.” you look back at five as he speaks, cutting through all of the clashing voices. “i was there. i saw it. i wish i could forget it, but i can’t. i saw russian nukes vaporize the world with all of you in it, in a war that never happened until we brought it here. hazel gave his life to save us so you may need to shut up and just listen to me.”

you frown slightly at the confession, feeling bad that he had to see his family die yet again. you couldn’t imagine seeing your family buried in the rubble of your home, or actually watching the blazing fire that wipes them out from a nuke that takes out the city.

“i don’t know if the things we all experienced here are connected. i don’t know if there’s a reason for everything. but dad will.” he looks around at his family and to you, “we need to him before everyone and everything we know is dead.”

you’re about to voice your agreement, but luther is the one to speak first. “okay. i’m out.”

with furrowed eyebrows, you watch as he stands from where he sits, already heading towards the stairs. “were you even listening, luther?” you question in disbelief.

he looks to you. “yeah. yeah, i was. i heard a fifty-eight year old man who still wants his daddy to come and fix everything.” he gives a derisive grin, “and you can count me out. it’s time we all grew the hell up.”

everyone begins to call him back, and you can’t believe what you had just heard, quickly running around the chairs and being able to step in front of him before he starts making his way down the stairs, you walking backwards with each step he takes. “you’re kidding, right?”

five appears next to you with a blue flash, and luther finally stops as he stares up at him. “no one leaves until we figure this out.”

he looks between the both of you for a second, before suddenly he’s grabbing your arm and tossing you over the railing of the stairs as if you’re as light as a feather. you yelp from the surprise, and five is gone before you can grab onto him, landing on the tile floor with a groan as you curl in on yourself.

“asshole!” you call out to him as he leaves the building, diego following after him for who knows what reason.

standing from the ground, you hiss in pain as you feel the gash in your side sting like hell. you lift your shirt slightly and peel the bandage back a bit to see that the scab that was starting to form had teared apart, and you press your lips together as you let the bandage and your shirt fall back into place.

“let’s go!” you hear klaus call out, and you see the remaining three siblings start to make their way down the stairs. “oh, y/n!” he calls when he sees you standing at the bottom, smiling slightly, “would you like to get some tacos with us?”

looking to the side for a moment, you sigh, before looking back to him. five was gone and you didn’t know when he was coming back, so why not? “tacos sound amazing right now.”

music played from the radio resting in front of the mirror on the table matching the rest lined along the wall in the hair salon, and allison ranted about her husband, comb in hand as she messes with klaus’ hair.

with a groan of annoyance, she continues. “the nerve of that man.” she chuckles bitterly, shaking her head, “i mean, one thing goes wrong, and he’s on a warpath! i mean, doesn’t know who i am?” she looks into the mirror in front of him, pointing the comb, “no, no. no ray, you know exactly who i am. you just can’t handle it. i’m protecting him.”

you take a sip from the bottle of champagne on the table next to you, already feeling the alcohol taking effect as you smile slightly, watching the two of them as you hum along to the music. “protecting him from what?” klaus questions, his cigarette between his lips as he raises an eyebrow at her.

“the end of the world, for one.” she responds, the irritation clear in her voice.

vanya speaks from her seat across the room, her feet propped up on top of the table. “hey, is the world really going to end in six days?”

it’s quiet for a moment, and you take another drink from the bottle. “it did last time. i saw the aftermath.” you shrug, “sure, i didn’t see this one, but five wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

klaus gets up from the salon chair, and allison puts the comb she was using to the side. “hey, wouldn’t it be weird if five grew up all hot?” he asks, moving to stand in the middle of the room, grabbing one of the extra bottles to fill up his flask. allison expresses her disgust. “oh, ew! ew! please, miss ‘luther was my lover.’“

holding her hand up, the woman started defending herself. “we have never even kissed.”

“yeah, but you guys were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other, all through puberty and breakfasts and all that.” he argues, motioning wildly with his hands.

turning her seat around so she can look towards all of you, vanya voices her confusion. “aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or?”

klaus snorts at the question, and you look to allison as she sits in klaus’ previous chair. “well, technically, it-”

“technically?” you cut her off, sitting up in your seat with a chuckle as you look to her, “if you have to use the word technically, you’re already in trouble.”

klaus giggles from where he stands, looking to vanya for a moment, “okay, can- can we focus?” allison dismisses the conversation, “i mean, clearly, we’re not saving the world tonight, but maybe, maybe, we can at least try to save my marriage!”

“no!” klaus cries out, and you grin, “no, because that’s- that’s like asking a nun how to hump someones leg. i mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships, huh? this one-” he points at vanya, “in secret love with some... farm frau,”

“her name’s sissy.” the woman whines.

“which is an improvement from her last lover, the serial killer.” he laughs, and vanya looks very confused from that comment, her eyebrows furrowing. “meanwhile i’m carrying a torch, for a soldier i haven’t technically met yet, luther is... in love with his sister. and you!” he spins around to point at you now, and you’re surprised by his sudden call out, “y/n, you don’t even realize that you’re ridiculously in love with five!”

you gape at the declaration, not even able to comprehend the accusation, but it doesn’t matter, because he keeps on. “face it, the only healthy long-term relationship in this family, was when five was banging that mannequin.” allison crosses her eyes, falling back into her seat, “the only thing the umbrella academy knows about love,” he holds his flask up into the air, “is how to screw it up.”

the two women mutter their agreements, and you take a long drink from the bottle, sighing as you let your head fall against the back of your chair, the champagne resting on your leg.

“how do you guys deal with this?” vanya questions, and you lift your head slightly to raise your eyebrows in question, and she continues. “all of it. the time travel, seeing the dead, the end of the world...”

“well i get really high,” klaus tells her, plopping into the chair behind him, “allison, allison... lies to herself.” the woman kicks a rolling stool towards him in irritation, causing him to flinch, “y/n works herself to death helping five, and you suppress all your emotions, deep, deep down, until you... you blow shit up.”

rolling your eyes, you decide to ignore his comments, looking to vanya. “yeah, i’d like to not do that anymore.” she looks to the floor.

“well,” you stand up, stumbling slightly, “you have six days.” you look at the nearly empty bottle of champagne, and you scrunch your nose up. did you really do that?

“what are we supposed to do with six days?” allison scoffs.

klaus mutters an ‘i don’t know’ and vanya seems like she has an ah-hah moment as she sits up in her chair. “i’m going to tell sissy i love her.” she announces, and klaus looks at her with raised eyebrows, his hands up in the air at his sides, “i don’t want any secrets.” she shrugs her shoulders.

“yeah-” allison grabs her bottle and stands up from her seat, “yeah, you’re right! ‘cause if everything’s going to go tits up, the least i can do is be honest with my husband!”

klaus rests his elbows on his knees, “oh... does that mean i’m going to have to face my cult?” he sighs, “i just hate group breakups- it’s why i stopped dating twins.”

vanya throws her hands out to the side, her eyebrows furrowed. “this family is amazing.”

the other two chuckle, and you shake your head with a grin on your face. yeah, their family is incredibly dysfunctional, but at least they were connected on some level. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” allison giggles, and klaus stands to hug her, both of them struggling to stand upright on their feet.

they motion for you and vanya to join, and when the woman hops over to engage in the group hug, you sigh and join in, having to lean against them all to keep yourself up.

taglists:

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty

let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @ purblerain @megasimpleplan4ever @whenyouregrungeaff @dumdumsun

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #number five #five #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five x reader #lstw #let's save the world

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palaceofpassion · 2 years

Text

Friends?

Something that was a bit of a brain worm.

Eventual possible white knight if I continue this.

She was nervous, though she outwardly tried not to show it, but she was in fact very nervous. Today was going to be the day that Weiss lost her virginity, Yang and Blake’s taunts having finally gotten the best of her, her own nerves finally giving in, all of it combined together leading her asking Neptune. He was the only boy she’d ever had any form of relationship with to… to perform relations.

However, in her nervous steps, she hadn’t realized someone else was approaching her.

To her surprise, it was Jaune, the young man still in his combat gear. Something that hadn’t come as a surprise to her, it was the worst kept secret that he would sometimes train at night. And… It worried all of them.

“Why not Jaune?”

A little thought in her head asked, though she quickly pushed it aside. She’d seen the lack of interest in her, the way his eyes didn’t even consider her an option anymore… though perhaps it wasn’t just her.

THere was no shine in his eyes, as if he’d lost a part of himself, and for all intents and purposes he had. When Pyrrha died, she knew that a part of him died with it. So he wasn’t the boy she remembered, even if perhaps she tried to remember him as. And perhaps that was the biggest reason she never considered him.

She still remembered Jaune from then…

“Hey.”

His voice was full of surprise, and a bit of guilt. They hadn’t had a chance to talk since the incident, now that she thought about it.

“Hello.”

She turned her attention away from him, not wanting to let the dusty red rose on her cheeks show.

“You alright Weiss?”

“Yes I’m perfectly fine.”

He wasn’t buying it.

“Uh huh… your legs fidget and your right foot taps when you’re nervous Weiss.”

She stopped her foot, only then realizing that he was right.

“Yes well… if you must know, I have a date.”

Perhaps this would get him jealous? She truly didn’t mean it to, but there was still part of her that felt venomous towards who he used to be. Not that she was much better.

“Oooh! Neat!”

Not what she was expecting.

“Yes, with Neptune.”

“Wait Neptune? Didn’t he-”

He chose to silence himself, she knew what he was going to say. Though he apparently had enough tact to stop himself.

“I hope you have a good time.”

His tone shifted to a softer kinder expression, something she was not used to hearing, not from him.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I hope you have a good time.”

He was smiling at her, genuinely smiling, that… he really wasn’t the same anymore huh?

“Thank you…” Her foot continued to tap.

“That’s not all is it?”

She bit her bottom lip, and without meaning to, spilled the beans. “Yes well… I plan to take things a bit further, if you will.”

It took him far too long to get the meaning of her words, “Oh! Oh! Well I hope you have a really good time then.”

“Yes well…”

“You’re nervous?”

He finished for her.

“A little.”

She didn’t have the ice cold shield to protect her anymore.

“I think that’s fine isn’t it? Everyone has the right to be nervous about these kinds of things. Just…” Jaune stepped closer, taking a seat on the sofa. “If things become too uncomfortable, just let him know. If you don’t feel like you can go through with it.”

“I see… Jaune?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know, if I’m being honest. I feel as if I’m caught between two worlds. One where, I’ve been taught that acting like this is perhaps… unsightly… and I’m disgusting for entertaining this thought. And the other where I’m expected to do something like this…”

She wasn’t sure why she confessed to Jaune of all people, it wasn’t like the two of them were close or anything. Perhaps that made this much easier to talk about, because they weren’t close.

“There is no shame in backing out Weiss. It’s your decision, and who you want to be with.”

The sudden seriousness in his voice surprised her, “Weiss, you aren’t… you aren’t unsightly. What you do with your body is up to you and only you. Who cares what others think? And you shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s your body, and your decisions. Don’t let others make you feel less than you are, because Weiss, you’re amazing.”

“Haha, of course I’m not really an expert on these kinds of things, so you know, may not want to take my word for it.”

Then he smiled again, and she found herself absolutely breathless. This had not been the response she’d expected from him.

“Thank you Jaune.” She fought back a tear, getting emotional wasn’t what she wanted…

A knock at the door caught her attention. “See you later Jaune.”

“See you later Weiss. Don't forget to use protection though!”

She rolled her eyes, and waved him goodbye.

And so she left the young knight as he turned his attention to his scroll, a soft smile on his face.

When Weiss got back home, the first thing she’d noticed was that Jaune was still there, in the same position she’d left him, still looking at his scroll.

"Weiss?" He'd ask her, a bit groggy as he closed his scroll. "You're back early."

"Yes well... as it turns out it wasn't as long as I thought. Perhaps Yang and Blake like to over exaggerate."

Jaune's eyebrow quickly cocks, his eyes unmoving as they stare into her, "Hey Weiss?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you go out with Neptune anyways?"

"What perchance do you mean?"

"I mean, I know you went to have-"

"Relations."

"Relations. But I thought you'd gotten over him, after you know." He twirled a finger around.

"Ah yes, well he was the only man I could ask."

"Okay, but why such a rush? We're still young aren't we?"

Weiss opened her mouth and shut it, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure."

She took a quick seat next to him, shifting a tiny smidge closer than she should have. "Yang and Blake were going on and on about an experience they had with Sun recently and... perhaps I was feeling jealous, and a smidge lonely. Especially with... you know." She pointed at her abdomen, though she winced as she noticed his mood fall.

"Ah yeah... I'm sorry."

"Jaune... it's not your fault. I was an easy target, and out of aura."

Though he said nothing more, he was obviously not appeased.

"Well... I was thinking about who I could share a moment with, and... well Yang and Blake suggested I try to have se- relations with someone."

Jaune nodded, "Okay. But why Neptune."

"Again he was the man that came to mind."

Jaune gave a thoughtful expression, "What about Sun? Or perhaps Re-... no Nora would kill you." He tried to think for a moment, "Oh! You could have gone to the local brothel, from what I heard, there are plenty of men there as well."

Weiss hummed, "Yes, but I would prefer if it was with someone I had known... though perhaps Neptune wasn't the best choice."

Jaune nodded once more as he turned back to his scroll.

It was only then, while he looked away as he gave her words thought, that she'd forgotten about him. And it wasn't by accident either, he'd grown sure, but she was still stuck on the image of the boy who flirted with her over and over. Yet... wasn't that better than the man who practically cheated on her?

"Ah well... sorry that your first time wasn't special. That actually kind of sucks."

She wasn't sure why, but she felt nervous? Perhaps anxious? Not once did he seem to get jealous, nor did he even bother to offer himself up either.

"Yes well... Neptune has made note of wanting to do it again... however..." She tapped her nails against her leg.

"What... uhm what happened? If you don't mind me asking."

"I... it wasn't satisfying... I suppose. He performed well enough, and I was shocked, it was apparently supposed to feel good and while he was endowed... at least from what i researched. It wasn't exactly..." Weiss wasn't sure what she was looking for? He'd lasted about as much as she'd thought he would, from what she read online. But there was something missing. "It felt less like he was looking to have relations with me, and just... that he was doing it to satisfy himself."

Jaune scratched the back of his head, "Ah... well like I said earlier, not really an expert on these things. But..." He paused as if choosing his words carefully, "Maybe sex really wasn't what you were looking for?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

He scratched under his chin. "I dunno, it just sounds like you were trying to be close to someone, maybe you were overthinking it?"

Weiss thought for a moment and in a moment of clarity realized, "Oh... oh I suppose you were right." She wasn't sure what it was, maybe the tension finally breaking, but a single tear fell down her eye. "Perhaps i've been a bit silly then."

"What!? No no! Everyone wants someone to be close to Weiss, that's perfectly fine."

Weiss thought on his words, and the sudden shift of expression as he turned his attention to his scroll. The temperature falling, and his mood falling as if he remembered something rather sorrowful.

"Jaune?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like company?"

He opened his mouth, quickly closing it, as if he was thinking about something, "Sure, though wouldn't you prefer to rest?"

"Hah... I have quite a bit of energy left." That wasn't a lie, "And don't worry, I took a shower, and used protection. I shouldn't smell."

he chuckled, a good hearty one, something she hadn't realized she'd missed over these last few weeks.

"Sure."

And without realizing it, she shifted closer.

#Weiss Schnee #Jaune Arc #Whiteknight

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

Text

As Lightning to the Children eased Chapter 14

Chapter 14 is out! Read on AO3!

Padmé did not call Anakin out when she found him hiding in her living room, arms tugged beneath his knees, his chin resting on top of them. He didn’t look like he had gotten any sleep lately and she was not about to stop him from getting at least some rest.

Instead, he merely put a cup of tea in his hands and went about her work. Halfway through midday, she got the call she had been waiting for.

“Senator Organa,” she greeted her ally and friend. Bail Organa was a good man, friendly and charming on top, and Padmé wondered what would happen if she were to let him meet Obi-Wan sometime. The two seemed like the kind of people who’d get along like a house on fire. “How are you?”

“Quite well, thank you,” Bail replied. He glanced at Anakin once but didn’t further react to his presence. “And yourself?”

“Exhausted, if I’m honest,” Padmé said. “The war hasn’t even truly started and I already feel as if I’ve aged years, but let’s not linger on that. How is your charge?”

“Adjusting,” Bail said. “I offered to take him home to Breha, but he decided that he wanted to stay on Coruscant. I’m not sure whether it’s the proximity to the Jedi or if it’s because he has to protect me in turn for keeping him safe, but I decided it would be beneficial for his health to remain at my side.”

Padmé smiled at him, honestly and truly happy. “I’m relieved to hear that.”

Finally, some good news during this catastrophe. When the Jedi had taken them all back to Coruscant, nobody had been too sure what to do with little Boba Fett. Technically speaking, his father – no matter how undeserving Padmé thought him of the title – was a deceased criminal and there were enough people who wanted Boba to pay for his father’s crimes. Hi status as a clone also didn’t really improve his situation. Padmé would have taken Boba in himself, as would the Jedi, but neither was quite the right fit, and when Bail Organa had offered to take him in, then that was just good fortune.

“If you ever need someone to babysit, I can jump in last minute,” Padmé joked.

Bail smiled and nodded. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Padmé, but I believe Boba would protest quite heavily against being babysitted.”

“He can be part of my protective detail then,” she amended. “I’m sure he will do excellent work.”

The Council room was dead silent.

“You’re joking, aren’t you?” Qui-Gon asked, allowing disbelief to seep into his voice.

Whereas some of his fellow Masters smiled in tired exhaustion, others only rolled their eyes.

“A new member this Council needs,” Yoda said. “Wise in the Living Force you are and raised a brilliant Padawan you did. A new member of this Council you may be if you accept.”

Qui-Gon wondered what Dooku would say about this. His Master had already departed with his own clone battalion, heading straight to the Outer Rim and into the zones that promised the most gruesome battles. Dooku was a brilliant talker and given his relationship with the Senate, he’d probably be more useful on the Council than Qui-Gon. He had already been on the Council once.

Qui-Gon knew he was stubborn and thick-headed and unlikely to change his mind unless proven wrong. Both Dooku and Obi-Wan had told and shown him so often enough. Qui-Gon wasn’t chosen for delicate and amicable peace talks. He usually went to do the negotiations where they expected things to blow up, and more often than not, they did.

He was not the best option for a War Council, especially when he struggled to wield the Force as he used to.

“Why me?” he finally asked when he didn’t know what other question there was left to voice.

“Love this Order more than anyone else, you do. Had Knight and Padawan Skywalker not found their way here, found your way to them, you would have. Listen well to the world, you do. Not afraid to speak your words, you are. Ready for this, you are.”

Not yet. Speak first. Right a wrong, my dear child, explain your scars—

“I have to talk to Anakin,” Qui-Gon said, his heart hurting at the thought of the youth, yet rejoicing at finally getting a glimpse of the Force again. “I cannot give you an answer before I spoke to him.”

The Masters nodded and Qui-Gon left.

Anakin was easy to find, hiding away in one of the lowest accessible levels of the temple. These days, he was either at Obi-Wan’s sickbed when Obi-Wan was asleep, at his mother’s when she wasn’t telling him to finally go talk to Obi-Wan, hiding away in Padmé’s apartments or down here. Qui-Gon had first thought that Anakin would try to go deeper, search for what lingered beneath the warm marble of their temple, but he never moved from his spot.

“Anakin.”

The Padawan winced when his name was called, then slowly turned his head only to return to staring blankly at his hands. He looked absolutely miserable, tired too. Qui-Gon sighed.

“Do you remember the mission to Naboo? When we accompanied Padmé back to it?”

Anakin gave no sign that he was listening to Qui-Gon, but he decided to keep talking anyway. “When we entered the ship, you collapsed. Something set you off, something incredibly dark and harmful, and, best I could tell, it flipped a switch for you. Revealed something it shouldn’t have.”

Anakin’s hands curled to fists as Qui-Gon sat down next to him. “Obi-Wan and I didn’t know what to do, so we- no, I decided to do what I thought was best. I blocked those memories, dressed them up in kinder images.”

Even now, so many years later, Qui-Gon remembered it so clearly. The chains wrapped around Anakin’s entire body, the sun burning him, reminding him that he was not supposed to be there.

“And then, when you tried to heal me later on, you needed the knowledge that I had hidden from you to do better.”

“To let you die, you mean,” Anakin said. His voice was hoarse as if he hadn’t spoken in days. “It would have stopped me from resurrecting you.”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon agreed. “I would have died and it would have been alright because it was my time. My actions took away something you should be able to recognize subconsciously and I want to apologize for it.”

Silence followed Qui-Gon’s statement as they let his words linger. It was true. That he realized now. Whatever he had done, it had shifted something within Anakin that wasn’t meant to be shifted sideways.

“I think you made me human,” Anakin replied, wings unfurling as bones cracked. “I don’t think I was meant to be human.”

His eyes were still closed, but Qui-Gon could still fill all of them watching him, waiting for a reaction, a confirmation.

“No, you were not,” Qui-Gon replied. “And I’m sorry I made you something you weren’t supposed to be in my fear of what you might have become in that moment.”

“I want to be human,” Anakin muttered. He stretched out his fingers, sharp claws, golden like his teeth, bleeding as if from scratching his arms raw, trying to dissect himself and sew his flesh back together in the right way, anything less hurtful. “I don’t want to be like this. Everything is so loud and I’m always too much and if I get angry, I break the world apart. It isn’t fair that I can feel so much, but I’m not allowed to embrace it.”

“Oh, Anakin.” All thoughts of logically expressing this to his Grandpadawan were forgotten. “Who told you that you can’t embrace your emotions? You just can’t let them become too much. You can’t let them consume you. You need to find your balance again.”

Qui-Gon knew it was a cruel demand to make when he had been so afraid of what would become of Anakin almost a decade ago now. There was no telling whether Anakin would still exist once he found that balance again or whether he’d return to his silent parent. After all, what parent would abandon their child if not because they knew they weren’t needed anymore?

“I’m scared,” Anakin admitted. “I was afraid my mother would be put back together again wrongly if I healed her so I lashed out and murdered all of them in cold blood and then I was scared to lose Obi-Wan and instead he lost his arm because of me and I’m scared that if I try to fix me, I won’t be me at all. I know I can do it. I’ve been looking, I can see where you used your paint on me, but I just—”

Anakin looked up, bright blue eyes staring at Qui-Gon as he cried and wrapped his arms around him, hiding his face in his robes.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Gently, Qui-Gon held onto Anakin. How strange that a being as bright and strong as him needed an anchor as fragile as Qui-Gon. He ran his fingers through Anakin’s hair, humming a melody under his breath he’d been taught years ago on a small Mid Rim planet.

Minutes passed, hours without either of them moving until Anakin’s shoulders stopped trembling.

“I can’t tell you what the right path is, Anakin. You have to decide that for yourself. The only advice I can give you is this question: do you love the Jedi?”

“What?” Anakin’s confusion was painted across his face in broad brushstrokes.

Qui-Gon smiled. “I asked if you loved the Jedi?”

“Of course! You’re my home, my family! How could I not?”

“Good.” Qui-Gon nodded. “Then you will remind yourself of the fact that you love your family and that your family loves you every day and every action you take will be in this knowledge. Do not act against this love in your heart, Anakin, and may it ease the burden on your mind.”

May it guide you well.

Obi-Wan’s hand trembled. He hardly had any control over his new appendage and it frustrated him to no end. He was a perfectionist at heart, had spent hours training his fine motor control to become a Master of his form. He tried to keep his breathing under control, to focus, and not let the pain overwhelm him. If not for his own sake and to resist the temptation of just throwing his lightsaber halfway across the room, then for Anakin.

His Padawan already felt so guilty for Obi-Wan’s injury, he didn’t want to make him feel worse.

He couldn’t stand the thought of looking at Anakin’s sad eyes.

“Rough night?”

Obi-Wan turned his head around to find Shmi standing at the entrance of the training hall. Her injuries had healed well during her stay with the Healers, only a few faint scars across her face and shoulders revealing what she had been through. She was dressed ready for battle, wearing the new armor the Jedi had been given. Obi-Wan had tried it on once and immediately wished he could message Satine and ask her whether he could borrow one of hers for the war. Mandalorian armor was so much more comfortable.

Not that he thought the Jedi should wear any at all.

“Are you shipping out?” he asked.

“Yes, Dooku asked for backup. Apparently, he’s been dealing with a Sith apprentice – a different one than the one you encountered on Geonosis – and intends to chase her down. Someone must take over his battalion. Since he dragged me back home from Tatooine, I’ll return the favor.”

“Take Anakin with you,” Obi-Wan heard himself say. “He needs to get out of the temple.”

“You haven’t talked yet,” Shmi stated, her tone not allowing for any disagreement.

“No,” Obi-Wan agreed. “And I don’t think Anakin will talk to me as long as he hasn’t gotten a proper break. So, please?”

Shmi studied him for a moment, then she sighed. “Alright, but the moment you’re fit for duty, he’s your Padawan again.”

Obi-Wan managed to crack a smile at that. “Of course, I’d never trade him for another.”

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #shmi skywalker #fanfic

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trash-and-recyle-fics · 4 years

Text

Desperate For Freedom 4

Summary: In a universe where females are not allowed to remain innocent after their 18th birthday Y/N must hide. But when her cover is blown how will the unforgiving government punish her? None other than gifting her to a God from three worlds away. The god of mischief. He is told to keep and do what he wishes with the lying girl. So that is what he will do. Chained to the inside of an air craft she is brought to him on Asgard. Where her fate will be in a liars hands.

Warnings: My usual grammar, punctuation, and spelling mistakes, noncon themes, swearing, slight mentions of rape? PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU MAY BE TRIGGERED.

“Engagement?” The word rattled in your head. Made you feel exposed. Far too exposed. You hadn't stuck to your original plan. You were supposed to get out as soon as you could and now you were marrying a traitorous liar. Then again your parents most likely thought the same of you, as you do Loki. You threw back the silken sheets, the cold air hitting you like a wall.

“We cant be getting married, I don't want to marry you.” slipping into your robe you passed the far wall.

“Oh little Y/N, I thought you were stating to understand. It doesn't matter what you want, it only matters what will make me happy.” As Loki went on about the customs of marriage in the father land you slowly started to get dizzy. Black started to close in and as soon as Loki met your eyes he knew something was wrong.

Waking up in the healing rooms was a culture shock and a half. Although you had been here before for your broken hand it still made you uneasy. The hard platform you laid on was cold and very uncomfortable.

“Lay still.” the voice came from down by your feet, a woman stood with her hands in the air touching and moving energy around.

You sat up ignoring her words she let her hands fall.

“You really don't listen to anyone do you?” Her voice sounded irate but her eyes read respect. What did she respect you for you were unsure of.

“I am my own person I don't need to listen to anyone.” As if on cue Loki walked into the room flanked by Thor and Friga.

“Anyone hm?” Loki eyes were almost amused, almost. You had learned this little looks and glances, this one was not pleasant.

“You heard correct.” Challenging Loki was dangerous, but challenging him with others present was like paying for your passage to Valhalla.

“We will see.” Your eye contact never broke, you refused to let him intimidate you. The healer went on about what had made you faint and how to prevent it again. Thor and Friga went on asking questions, mainly if they had to cancel the ceremony. With everyone conversing it was as if Loki and you were alone.

“I do not wish to marry.” As soon as the sentence left your mouth you knew the punishment was going to be the worse one yet. Loki had managed to break down most of your flippant attitude, but not all.

“ Why not, is it because of the timing?” Meeting Frigas eyes your saw her posture was ridged.

“I wish not to marry because it is not my decision. I wish not to marry because it has nothing to do with love but a way to control my homeland. I wish not to marry because I simply do not want to.” Thor was shocked, Loki angry, and Friga was just as composed as ever.

“My dear child we all do things we do not want to do. This has nothing to do with control over any other realms or even to control you. It does however have everything to do with keeping you alive. If not marriage then death, the courts and Odin himself had made this decision to keep you alive. So there will be a marriage ceremony and there will eventually be love.”

“Death?” Your blood ran colder that the ice realms.

“I assume my son had some things to explain to you, the ceremony will take place tomorrow.” With that Friga Thor and the healer had left the room. Loki hid nothing, his anger could be felt from across the room.

‘Loki I-” In a blink of an eye you were back in his chambers.

“Why hadn't you told me about this before today?” Loki wasn't one to show emotions, although this he couldn’t hide.

“Hush pet.” He stood still looking at you straight on. He began to pace in front of the grand fireplace.

“No. No you don't get to tell me what to do anymore, if death is my only other option I choose death.” As soon as the words passed your lips you saw the anger come to the surface.

“Choosing death instead of a happy life. Tell me pet do you really wish for such an idiotic thing?”

“If it means I can finally be free then yes. If it means I will stop having to be forced to open my legs, then yes I choose death.”

“Forced? Oh my beautiful Y/N, tell me that when I part your legs you do not feel a rush. Or when I pin your arms up do you truly not feel relived that my mouth will be on your core?” Gods. Even his words make you slightly uncomfortable.

“I don’t- I feel-.”

“Do not lie, tell me how when I have my way with you feel nothing.” Loki was now in front of you hands holing your face. Forcing eye contact as he spoke such indecencies.

“I- I can’t” The grin that over took his face was pure sin. Pure Loki.

“Oh I know.” His hand skated down your body and met your core. Your breath started to get heavier, his hands slowly raising your dress.

“Tell me love do you truly not want to marry?” His hands rested on you hips under your dress.

“I-I want to make a decision by myself for once. I fled my home and parents for a single night of freedom. Then I was named a traitor and sent to a completely different realm. I was forced to become property and told only minutes ago that I was to be married off or sentenced to death. I simply want to choose Loki. Is that so hard to understand?” The lust hadn't faded from his eyes but the anger had. Slowly you could see realization cross his features.

“My love I wasn't aware that a something as mundane as a choice had made you feel this way.”

“That's just it Loki, you aren't aware because you have always been able to choose. I am not even allowed to choose death.”

“I promise you after the ceremony tomorrow you can make as many choices as you like. However the marriage is not a choice you get to make. I will not let you be sentenced to an unjust death.” His hands slipped out from under your dress. Every move of his was calculated. He brought them up to cradle your face.

“My love if you do not wish to rest in the same bed as me then I will see to it that you get your own accommodations.” His facial expression was clear and no sign of a lie, not that you would be able to tell anyways.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, I am accustomed to sleeping with another person, it would be to hard to revert back to no one at all.” It all hit you then, you were getting married tomorrow, to a soon to be king. A god of lies and one of the most powerful beings. You never could have fled even if you had help. His hands still held your face as he brought his lips to your forehead.

“I was going to escape Loki.” You felt his lips leave your forehead. “I was going to pretend to fall for you and then once I had your trust I was going to flee.” As tears formed in your eyes he still said nothing. In a rush you continued, this time looking at his beautiful green eyes. “I wanted nothing to do with you or this realm, I was going to hang myself from the neck if it meant freedom, Loki I’m so sorry.” As your tears flowed freely he finally spoke.

“I know my love, I can read expressions and if you are vulnerable enough your thoughts. I also know that now you feel differently. Isn’t that true?” He held you in place, forcing you to come to terms with thing you felt.

“Yes, Loki I love you.” Your heart beat was higher than the stars.

“Let’s make our way to bed then, we have an eventful day coming up.

TIME SKIP

“Y/N it is time to wake up you have to get ready.” Loki’s voice was soothing and sweet. In response you just moved closer to him. The warmth on his skin was soothing but the cold right under the surface felt like home.

“Don't want to get out of bed.” The words left you in a grumbled tone. Hardly audible. In a swift motion you were uncovered and sitting at the small table. It contents were all breakfast food.

“Be good Y/N. I will see you in the great hall in five hours.” In less than 30 seconds he had left. In a blur you were hurried around. Breakfast then a bath, your skin was rubbed raw then waxed. With one servant at your head pulling, brushing and braiding, another was going back and forth between your hands and feet. Making sure the nails were perfection and the skin soft.

“Princess? Are you ok?” The servant at your hands stopped and smiled. Genuine concern on her features.

“I’m scared.” Openly admitting it made the room go still.

“It’s ok to be scared Princess, but you are marrying a good asgaurdian.”

“I’m being forced to marry the God Of Mischief.”

“Even so. If I may be so daring to say that he has been kinder and more understanding with you here.” The gentle smile she wore was comforting.

“Are you married?” The gentle look morphed into sadness.

“No, only the staff that isn’t seen can marry, oh and I suppose the guards can take a wife too.”

“Why can’t you. Shouldn’t you be able to marry whom you please?”

“If we could marry we would.” The sadness left her face and replaced with bittersweet happiness.

“It’s time for the dress.” They both took a hand and lead you to a large mirror in the sitting area. They slipped the dress on over your head and helped button the back. The black dress with emerald green and gold details fit you to a T.

“This is beautiful.”

“I should hope so Your Majesty had picked it out himself.” Until this moment you hadn't thought of your distant family. The marriage will be broadcasted, and shared throughout the realms. How will they feel about you taking the younger prince of the father realm. Your mother was supposed to arrange a marriage and your father was to pay for it. This way you at least got to meet your soon to be husband. Yes, you were forced to meet and have relations with him, but you had come to love him. Did you really love him? Or was it just an illusion he wanted you to see.

“M’ Lady? Are you alright?” Your palms had gotten moist and your breath uneasy. ”My Princess?” The hand maidens were gone the only thing in your vision was the detailed ceiling. Of course it was just as beautifully crafted as everything else. You did not belong here. This palace was not for you. This hand sewn wedding gown should not fit you. You should be back home making a meal for your mate. Sure you would despise it, but at least you would know your role. Unlike your current situation.

“Y/N?” The smoothness of his voice was a balm on your racing and uncontrollable thoughts. You open your eyes to see his concerned ones.

“I’m not fit to stand in the back Loki. I can’t pretend that I want to hold my tongue. If we marry I need to pave a path that I find fit.” Saying this you could already feel the pressure easing off of your chest.

“I expect nothing less my love.” He helps you stand.

“We need to move forward with today, we will speak as soon as we are alone.” The small amount of reassurance he gave you was enough for today. As the maids finished getting you prepped, you begin making plans. How to fix a broken realm and how to move forward as a wife.

TIME SKIP

The vows had been said and the kiss had been just as bruising and binding as you knew it would be. Now in the streets celebrating with the townsfolk even though Odin had thought it to be demeaning to the royal status, Loki and you danced toasted and laughed throughout the night. As Loki spun you once again you heard a whisper in your head. Just as easy and natural as your own conscious.

“I would like to bed you here in front of every soul. However I think you might appreciate what I’m about to do you in private.” You watched Loki as he held you close making sure you really did hear that. His proud smile claimed the action.

“Lets go.” That's all you had to say for him to wrap you tighter in his arms and make green and gold sparkles around you two. When his grip loosened you were in his chambers. The same room you had shared.

“Behave for me tonight like a good pet.” His voice vibrated through your bones.

“What’s the fun in that?” The slight attitude in your tone made the heaviness in the room grow thicker.

“Very well have it your way.” With a flick of his wrist you were undressed and on your knees. The slick between your legs was now noticeable.

“What’s wrong master? You cant control me without magic?” Saying this caused the exact reaction you had wanted. Hauling you to your feet with a handful of hair he spoke with intention and a careful tone.

“My dearest pet you will beg for my gift.” He picked you up and threw you on the mattress quickly turning you over, he lifted your hips and pulled you to the end of the bed. He yanked your head up clasping on a collar that had obvious weight. Not enough to be uncomfortable but definitely noticeable. Next was thick leather handcuffs to keep your hands behind your back. With your face in the bedding and ass in the air Loki spoke.

“Now look how good you are with just a bit of restraints.” You opened you mouth to speak but before you could get any words out once again he flipped you around and had you kneeling on the bed eye level with him.

“Be a good pet and listen to instructions.” Doing as he says his smile only increases. As does the wetness in your sweet spot. Reaching down he barely touches you. Trying to create the friction you so desperately need your hips try and grind down on his digits.

“Use your words pet.” A loan moan exits your body,

“Please master I need it.” He gave a chuckle in return.

“You don't need anything yet pet.” Loki holds your face in his hands spitting on your face. Another moan.

“Such a mouth on you.” Pulling you head down till it was right in front of his ‘gift’. Opening your mouth for him to enter, with no hesitation he begins to fuck your face. The obscenity's leaving his mouth encouraged you take more of him at once. Humming along with his strokes to increase his pleasure. Having him use you was now the very thing that got you off, unlike in the beginning when you fought it all.

“Good pet.” Soon enough you felt his release. Swallowing down as much as you could. With his demanding actions, and filth filled words your wetness left a mark on the bed.

“Please sir.” Looking up at him with spit and cum leaking down your chin.

“Is this you begging? You will need to be more convincing my dear.” He let you sit up on your knees on the bed so once again you were eye level.

“Please sir I need you in me. I will behave for you. I need you Loki.” Saying his name had an effect on him like nothing before. The restraints gone within a millisecond, he had you on your back already hard. Entering you fast and not stopping. Soon enough you had your release with him following right after.

TIME SKIP

“SIR LOKI IT’S THE ALLFATHER! COME QUICKLY!” A guard had woken you both. Odin? In trouble? As Loki rushed out of the room the guard entered. You assumed to wait for you to follow. Pulling up the silk sheets you opened your mouth but no words escaped.

“I see you had a good nights rest. Or should I say lack thereof.” His grin stretched across his face. The guard looked familiar. It couldn’t have been the same guard, that had laid with you while Loki was away. Could it? Pulling the sheets tighter around your naked skin, the guard advanced towards you.

End of Part 4

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keichan · 4 years

Text

Running Through the Night Tsukishima x fem!reader Part 5: After

You and Tsukishima have been friends for as long as you two could remember. With a very unexpected confession, how will this affect you two?

Authors note: So I’ve decided that this series will end at either between parts 8-10 but I’m not completely sure. I’m glad that you guys are enjoying my first series! I plan on writing a Tanaka SMAU in the near future with @pipsqweaks so follow us (:

Word count: 1737

Genre: college au, unrequited love, angst, best friends to lovers, fluff somewhere in there, mutual pining

Warnings: manga time skip!!! mentions of vomiting

Send me a message or ask to be added to the taglist !

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“So what’s got you like this Y/N?” Sugawara sat across from you in a ramen shop not too far away from Tsukishima’s apartment. You prodded the noodles with your chopsticks before you let out a short sigh.

“Kei confessed to me last night,” You held your breath and set your utensils down before looking at Sugawara for his response.

He grinned, “Really? That’s great! It’s about time that he finally confessed!” He clapped his hands together giddily. Your jaw dropped open. If it was humanly possible, you’re sure it would’ve touched the ground. He slowed down at your reaction, “Are you not happy about it?”

“Wait. You’re saying that you knew about it? What do you mean about time?” You placed both of your hands on the table and leaned forward. Sugawara’s expression slowly switched from joy to confusion.

“Yeah?...” he began slowly. “It wasn’t just me... Literally everyone knew.... Are you telling me that you didn’t?” He let out a nervous laugh.

You leaned back dumbfounded in your chair and began to tap your leg rapidly. You shook your head at the table. “I literally had no idea, I was caught off guard about it.”

“Really? The whole team thought that you two had a thing for each other and was kind of just waiting for some kind of catalyst to finally throw you two together.”

“Are you being serious?”

“Yes. You two were inseparable. It was almost unnatural to not see the both of you in the same room. Y/N, even in your first year over high school, he was already head over heels for you. The times that you weren’t there, he’s... I’m not sure if it’s the right word for it, but tense. The high strung, cocky bastard that we all know. If he sees anything that displeases him, he has to make a comment. But whenever you’re there he isn’t like that he-“

“What are you talking about? He always has to make a comeback regardless. It’s not like he avoids it when I’m there,” you insist.

Sugawara waves his hands, “No, no, it’s not like that. His insults are barely kinder, but he says it because he likes it when you tell him to lay off. Even though he might tell you to shut up or call you an idiot as a reply. Every time you would turn away, he always had this stupid smile on his face.”

You buried your face in your hands mumbling, “I feel so stupid that I didn’t know.”

“So.. Are you telling me that you don’t like him?”

“It’s not that.. It’s just that when I think of everything that happened last night, it just is all starting to make sense. How could I be so blind.”

“Yanno, what’s kinda funny is every time a guy would confess to you in high school, Tsukishima would go out of his way to subtly bully them after you rejected them. He’d either bump into them ‘accidentally’ or flat out insult them with a ’So I heard Y/N-san rejected you. Hate to say it makes sense’ with his signature smirk.” He let out a light laugh.

You followed with a dry laugh. “Yeah, that’s Kei for ya.”

“Speaking of, why did you always reject everyone who confessed to you? Some of the guys were pretty attractive.” Sugawara pondered out loud.

You took a second to think about it. There was never really a reason for you to reject all of those boys your first year. You didn’t need a boyfriend since you had Kei. Wait.

“I just had the realization that the reason why I never said yes was kind of the situation of ‘well I already have Kei, why would I need someone else.” You laughed nervously before continuing. “Everything with Kei is so easy and so natural. Being around him is like breathing. I’m always at ease around him, I just never have had to worry. I mean yeah we bicker, but we’ve never fought. I guess I just never had a reason to see him in that light because everything from our childhood to now has been consistent. I don’t really know the point I’m trying to get at, but I do love him. Maybe I’ve subconsciously blocked all of these other people off because I knew it deep down. I just have never had a reason to acknowledge it.”

After you finished the sound of the other patrons moving around the shop enveloped the atmosphere again, setting you back into reality. Sugawara offered you a warm smile. “Do you think he’s taking it hard right now? What exactly did he say last night?”

You slowly began to retell the events of last night. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw you glow brightly every time you said Tsukishima’s name. Sugawara and many other alumni knew that this was a long time coming. It’s just nice to see it all play out.

“But there is one thing he said last night that doesn’t really make sense. He said something like ‘I can make you happier than him’ or something like that. I have no idea who ‘him’ is supposed to be.” Now in a better mood, leaving room for Sugawara to speak, you began to start eating again.

“Well is there anyone you hang out with that happens to be a guy? From college or from high school”

You shook your head. “I’ve been so busy. Earlier this month we had midterms, so I had to balance that and my part-time job at the market. I usually spend the time I do have with Kei and Yamaguchi or some of my other friends, but only once or twice. Since Yamaguchi and I have been planning Kei’s birthday party since it’s coming up in two weeks, I guess you could say that I’ve been spending more time with him since we’re trying to get everyone from high school to come. But I don’t think that Kei would be jealous of Yamaguchi. The three of us have been so close since middle school. It doesn’t make sense, right?”

“Actually, Y/N, it kind of does. It might be what pushed him over. Especially if you’re spending more time with Yamaguchi out of nowhere over Kei, it probably is coming off like you have a thing with him and you’re just not saying anything on the matter.”

You pointed your chopsticks at him, “I’m just going to assume you’re wrong until Italk to him. Is it cool if you take me back to his place? I just hope he’s home.”

Sugawara nodded standing up, “Yeah of course! And don’t worry about the meal, it’s my treat.”

Tsukishima knew from the moment he woke up that your friendship wasn’t going to be there anymore. If it was it would be awkward and uncomfortable. You would avoid him like you avoided all of the other boys that confessed to you in high school.

He got dressed and began to walk out of the front door. He saw you sleeping peacefully on the couch, beautiful as ever. He scrunched his eyes closed quickly. Dumbass, she rejected you, you can’t think like that. The thoughts overwhelmed him. The realization made him feel numb. He quietly exited the apartment and began driving to his captains house. He couldn’t confide in Yamaguchi, that was clear to him. Nakamura was the next best option. Tsukishima knocked on the door and was let in immediately.

“Are you okay, Tsukishima?” The captain grabbed the tall middle blocker’s shoulder, eyes laced with concern. Tears quickly slipped from the edges of his eyes before he wiped them with his sleeve.

He tried to make his voice as steady as possible by slowing his breathing, but he was already choking back a sob. “I confessed to Y/N last night and she rejected me. She didn’t kiss me back, she didn’t say anything, she just left the room.” Tsukishima sank against the wall. “I really lost her…”

Nakamura crouched down and rubbed his shoulder, “Tsukishima, it’s going to be alright. This is going to pass.”

Tsukishima shook his head in a daze.

“I’ve loved her all of my life. It’s not that simple and it will never be.”

Nakamura stood up and walked to his kitchen. “I’m gonna make you some tea so hopefully you can get to feeling better. Y/N has never left your side and I don’t think she ever would.”

Tsukishima felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He fished it out to see you calling. Your profile picture was from Christmas a few years ago. You stand behind his sitting figure with your arms hanging around his neck. Both of you are smiling so big. His thumb hovered over the answer button but he didn’t click it. He couldn’t talk to you right now. His heart couldn’t handle what you were going to tell him.

He set it on the ground and took his glasses off in an attempt to wipe away his tears, but your phone call opened the floodgates. He pulled his knees to his chest and began to sob. His body wouldn’t stop shaking. Nakamura walked up to him with a mug of tea just to set it down next to Tsukishima’s cell phone. He wasn’t sure what to do besides say everything will be fine and rub his back. He didn’t know Tsukishima could emote like that.

It wasn’t before long that Tsukishima got short of breath and began to choke on his sobs. “Nakamura, I feel like I’m going to be sick. I can’t breathe” Nakamura quickly nodded and led Tsukishima to his bathroom before Tsukishima threw himself over the toilet and began to dry heave, but nothing came up. It pained his captain to see him like this.

After a while once the tears slowed, Nakamura offered him a spare room to stay for as long as he needed. By that point he was so exhausted, he passed out immediately.

Upon waking up he had 27 missed calls and 51 text messages.

The most recent ones saying:

Y/N: Kei, I’m at your at your apartment right now

Y/N: Kei I really want to talk to you about everything, please come home.

Y/N: I’m so worried about you, please answer me

Sent at 10:17pm

Tsukishima didn’t go home that night

((a/n I’m not sure if everyone will agree on how I chose to write Tsukishima at this chapter, but I feel like if he truly thought he lost the opportunity with the love of his life, I’d think that it would push him over.))

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not-from-the-absence-of-violence · 3 years

Text

A whisper weighed upon the tattered down where you and I were lying

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back. ~Richard Siken

Sometimes Travis dreams and sometimes the happy ones hurt more than any nightmare could.

“Should we buy honey, William?” Margaret says, holding up a pot up to him questiongly.

He blinks, taking in his surroundings. He’s at some sort of market in the central square of a village. His village. The sun is shining high in the sky.

“Sorry?” he says to his wife.

She rolls her eyes, placing the jar in her bag and handing the merchant some money. She smiles though, and still they walk with their arms intertwined.

“You are distracted today,” she says, lightheartedly.

He holds her hand tighter, but smiles. “It’s nothing,” he says, “I’m just thinking.”

She snorts. “Thinking? About what, dear?” she says teasingly.

He sighs overdramatically. “You always make fun of me, Margaret,” he says, voice full of put upon dramatics, “And here I thought you were supposed to love me unconditionally, or whatever.”

They both burst out laughing, and he feels the background worry and knowledge fade away. They buy the rest of their things and start heading home by the time the darkness starts creeping over the horizon.

As they approach their home, everything is so idyllic it feels wrong. It’s a small house at the edge of a town, surrounded by lush forests, painted some artful colour. There are plants growing gracefully down one side of it.

Travis’ resolve to maintain his faith that this is real wavers as he sees their ridiculous home. It breaks even more as he finds himself opening the door and there’s a kid standing in the hallway. She isn’t a spitting image of her mother, but she has her curly brown hair, neatly put into two puffy ponytails.

She unmistakably has his eyes.

She smiles and runs towards him, throwing herself into his arms. "Dad!" she says. She can’t be older than five. "You’re home!"

Her weight is so real in his arms, for a moment Travis lets himself believe and hugs her back. She makes a little noise of delight. Margaret is smiling in the doorway, she stands to kiss her daughter’s head before making her way towards the kitchen.

He wants so very badly to believe this is real. That’s the problem with lucid dreaming, you are always so painfully aware of the unreality around you. But Travis Matagot has spent decades mastering pretending and repressing, and so he smiles and carries his daughter into the kitchen.

"So what are we eating tonight?" he asks.

It doesn’t actually matter what they are eating, it’s something warm and nice and completely devoid of meaning anyway. He hears the meaningless chatter around the table, and he probably joins in. He’s happy to just let this wash over him. He doesn’t eat, but at the end of the meal he finds his plate empty and his belly full anyway.

It's fully dark now, and he knows it’s time to tuck Hope into bed. She wants to be read to and Travis obliges, almost on autopilot. The story is some garbled nonsense and she falls asleep in no time.

Once she’s asleep, he stands there and looks at her, so small, so fragile, so utterly dependent on him. She has that sort of childish devotion too, she loves him, trusts him with everything. It’s terrifying, more than any horrible nightmare he could have. It's almost ironic really, that one of his biggest fears is his own child sleeping safely under his watchful eye.

Margaret leads him out of the room, with some mumbling about sleep. Suddenly Travis feels tired and yawns without meaning to. They get undressed and she climbs into bed in silence. He stares at her for a while, in bed with her hair let down and an expression of satisfied peace on her face. It aches.

He stares for long until she pats the bed next to her. He slips into the covers and her warmth feels so real. How come he can remember her smell so well? Something like a river bank and spring flowers.

Travis lays his head just under her neck, she plays with his hair and he tries to just not think so much. She's humming a song she wouldn't know because it was composed about thirty years after her death. He hasn't changed, of course. Maybe the Queen doesn't even exist in this corner of his mind.

"You will have to leave," Margaret says abruptly, although not unkindly.

Travis groans. "Maybe I don't," he says and firmly closes his eyes, trying not to see her face.

She lifts his chin up to meet her gaze anyway, and it hurts, fuck, it hurts to see her look at him like this.

"Travis," she says, he flinches, she never would have called him that. "We both know you always wake up eventually."

"We usually don't have a kid." His voice cracks on the end of the sentence.

"It's because you’ve been thinking about it, probably."

He knows this isn't Margaret. She is a thing stitched of memories, of things he saw in her, of the Margaret he has now.

Partially she's just him, bouncing him thoughts he would like to not examine when he is awake. Today’s Margaret's treatment had helped, of course, but it had opened doors with things behind them Travis had almost managed to forget about.

"Why don't I at least believe it's true," he laments, "Why don't I get to live my perfect world or whatever, at least for like a night?"

"I don’t think that’s what this is," she tells him.

He knows that, but he asks anyway. "What do you think it is, then?"

"You don't actually want to know."

He lays his head back on her chest, listening to the phantom beating of her heart. "I know you’ll tell me anyway."

She hums. Her hands are back in his hair. "I think," she starts, "Partially this is a place you believe you could have ended up, if your mother hadn't died, if your father had been kinder, if the world hadn't ended, if you hadn't walked into that wretched forest."

He vaguely hums in acknowledgement, and for once he doesn't interrupt.

"Maybe then, you would have settled down in a small town, with your wife. You would have wanted and would've gotten a kid. Been a great father."

She trails off, he doesn't look at her.

"I guess," he says. "You said partially?"

"This is what you wish you wanted, too."

He tenses up. "I do want this."

She shakes her head, and even without looking at her he can picture her face clearly, the exasperated fondness mixed with that horrid melancholy.

"We both know that's not true," she says.

There’s a pause. Travis doesn’t know if he's angry or guilty or relieved.

"Come on, Travis," she says, being so very kind, so patient.

They hadn’t been like this, him and Margaret. They’d been so young, in the grand scheme of things. They’d liked going to bars and beating everybody at Illimat and running small schemes and violating curfew and running from law enforcers. Margaret had been kind to him, but she could bite back just as viciously as he could. It had worked so well. At the time they were both just mildly dysfunctional people, and they’d truly brought out the best in each other. They were reckless and they had gotten married with blood oaths, which people had advised against. They’d been told such things just invite tragedy.

And they had both been so very afraid when Margaret had noticed she was pregnant.

"I remember," Travis said, he could hear the waver in his voice "That you said we should find a Black Lily, or a doctor, or maybe we…" he trailed off, not wanting the tears to spill from his eyes.

"We never got to weigh our options,” Margaret says.

William hadn't wanted children. He was afraid of what he knew you could do to a child, he was afraid of outliving his own kid, he didn't want to give his long dead father the satisfaction. And every single bit of relief he had ever felt about it not being a problem anymore had been met with guilt in a tenfold.

"We didn't want this," she said, "I didn't want this." Margaret would not have settled for a weirdly perfect life passively weaving and cooking dinners. William would not have coped well either. The two of them had been master con artists and reckless young lovers.

"I wouldn't have left you," he says.

She kisses his hair and murmurs "I know, my love, I know."

Travis Matagot would have left, of course, right at dawn, unable to face any of this. But he knows that William would have tried. William would have stayed and he would have been broken and afraid but he would have stayed and he would have faced it all.

If it had come to that, then he knows they would have been unfit, stumbling parents. It would have been messy and just a bit broken, and they would have found a way, because together they usually had. It wouldn't end in a perfect village with normal jobs and no heartbreak, not even back then.

And then William had died alongside her in the depths of the river.

She smiles like she knows what he's thinking, which she probably does, as she’s nothing more than a shade of his own subconscious.

"We would have made the best of it," she says, "But none of that would have led us here because then you wouldn't be you, and I loved you. Even the parts you believe unlovable, even the ones that led you to be the broken man you are now, and especially the ones that made you yearn for more than this."

They sit in the silence of that, but Travis still doesn't wake up. "There’s more to this, isn't there," he says, sighing. There’s always more to it.

"You don't actually want to go back anymore, and that scares you."

He flinches and sits up angrily. “I don’t know what you mean.”

When she speaks, there’s a bit of the real bite she would have had in her voice. “Yes, you do.”

"I didn't want you to die!" he says. His hands are shaking in his lap. He's crying, trying to focus on a point on the wall, trying to wake up.

"Gable isn't here," she says, "And neither is Jonnit, and you wish you wanted this back, but you have the two of them now."

"I would trade it all to have you back," he says, and his voice comes out so small.

"Oh, Travis," she says, gently placing her hand on his back, "It's alright, you know-"

"Shut up!" he says. He looks at her, her endless patience, the mangled ghost of his wife that isn’t really like her at all.

She slumps against him, hugging him from behind. He turns around and kisses her softly, and he remembers kissing her so vividly this feels almost real.

He wakes up in the middle of the night and he knows he's very obviously been crying. He climbs out of what he generously calls his bunk. He needs to get some fresh air, or something.

As he’s walking up to the deck, he bumps into Gable, because of course he does.

"Have you been smoking rope?" they ask, peering at him.

Travis could not be in a worse mood to deal with this. "Yes!" he spits out angrily, the lie coming easily.

"I just asked a question! What did I do this time?" Gable says, exasperated.

"Nothing," he says and then, "Everything, I don’t fucking know, Gable! Just leave it."

He sees them flinch and he sees the hurt look on their face, and he almost convinces himself he doesn't care.

"What has gotten- Travis? Travis, where are you going?"

He begins stomping off to find a closet where he can curl into a ball in peace. "I said leave it!" he shouts over his shoulder.

They stomp off in the other direction.

He does find a corner eventually, and he just sits there. He can't actually bring himself to cry, or even to think. He's stuck on old worn memories and the intense mix of helplessness and guilt. He hates himself and everything for it.

It’s Margaret who finds him.

"Leave," he says, not turning to face her.

"Travis," she says, ignoring him. "We are still tethered together, remember, and you woke me up rather abruptly."

"Well I am so sorry," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Happy now?"

She sighs. "Bad dream?"

"Well, you know," he says, too tired and strung out to stop himself, "About her. And our kid. And you, I guess. A perfect day. Bad dream.”

That makes her pause. "I understand why that would make my presence upsetting, and if you truly want me to leave I will," she says. "But I don't want to leave you here alone, and you won't talk about this to Gable, and you shouldn't dump these sort of things on Jonnit."

She's right. She usually is. He sighs and sits up a little straighter.

"You don't need to look at me, if that helps."

That does make it easier, and he hates that she knows it. "Alright," he says.

"So this dream about something you lost is what upset you?"

"I feel like I just had this conversation, you know."

"You talked to her?" She sounds a little surprised.

He considers the question. “It wasn't like with Dref, she was just like… a memory."

Margaret nods. "I can feel you don't want to take me through the whole dream,” she says, sounding both gentle and firm, “But can you maybe tell me what you think is most upsetting to you right now."

"She said some things that I didn’t want to think about."

"Very vague, dear, but it's a start," she says.

So Travis starts explaining. It's halting and abstract and broken up by bitten back sobs but he tries. Tries to explain Margaret, and the life he never got to lead, and the one he never even wanted. About a kid he never had that he still feels guilty towards. About the mangled stitched together thing his dream Margaret was, and how that is all that’s left of her now.

Margaret weaves a spell between them quietly. The moment their connection strengthens, tears begin to fill her eyes, almost involuntarily.

He turns to look at her. Seeing her face is hard and comforting all at once, because nothing in his life is ever allowed to be simple.

“You’re holding onto so much, Travis,” she says, her voice somehow still steady, despite her tears.

Travis can feel she's shouldering his burden of grief and guilt with him. It's nice somehow, to know that she truly understands. In a sick, twisted way, it's nice to know she's struggling under it too.

"I just don't want to lose her,” he whispers.

She pauses to think, and then very carefully says "You’re holding onto all this grief and guilt because you believe it keeps her close, but Travis dear, it only makes it harder for you to think about her, talk about her.”

She moves forward to hold his hands and his gaze. “You want to be guilty because that makes the pain fair. You want to be in pain because her loss deserves to be felt. You are afraid of being content without it; now and in the future. Which is not letting you be happy with the people you have now, and not letting you think about what you could have."

They’re looking at each other now, and her hands move up to cradle his face ever so sweetly. Travis has nothing to say. He just nods vaguely and feels her tears on her hands.

"I wish I could get rid of it all for you, but it will take work, and you have been bottling it up for so long.” She slowly pulls him closer to her and kisses the top of his forehead. She murmurs, like a small prayer onto his skin, like it's holy, “You need to understand it's okay to let go of her Travis. You love her, so deeply and fully, I can feel that. That will keep her close, that is worth remembering."

He's crying now, and he leans into her and falls into her embrace so easily as the tears finally flow, as he lets himself feel the grief finally, letting it all out. Letting it go. She holds him, sharing the mourning with him. She rubs his back tenderly as he sobs into her chest. She’s got him this time.

A few nights later, he dreams of a river and he's holding Margaret’s hand. He's been through this a million times: sometimes he hopes he will be able to pull them both out, sometimes he hopes to die with her. Neither ever works out, of course.

This time he stops struggling, and looks at her face. Looks at the millions of hands pulling her down, and the current threatening to tear him apart.

It burns in his chest, but he takes a deep breath.

“Goodbye,” he says.

And he lets go of her hand.

#skyjacks #campaign podcast #campaign skyjacks #travis matagot #margaret skyjacks #my writing #fic

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liquorisce · 4 years

Text

... tell me i’m beautiful?

pairing: royai, roy mustang x riza hawkeye

fandom: Full Metal Alchemist (Brotherhood/Manga)

summary: on some nights Riza is delicate. and Roy is possessive. (warning: unhealthy amounts of pining.) (also havoc is a good friend) 3677 words.

a/n: i saw on my tumblr feed that it’s fma day (3.10) (the day when the greatest angst of our generation was born), and i was hit with major feels for full metal alchemist. it truly is one of the greatest stories of our generation. anyway, here is some old royai from my wip notes that i had to dust the cobwebs off of (that my anxious ass never had the balls to post). my writing style has changed over the years, but my heart is still so full for these two, so it was fun to rewrite.

The buzz around the Eastern Headquarters is that one of the Top ranks is getting hitched and that it’s going to be a fancy affair, traditional with a masquerade ball.

When Roy sees an invite in his post, he’s rather surprised. But the wedding is in Central and it’s an excuse to see his best friend, so it doesn’t seem so bad after all.

“Lieutenant,” he asks, just as she is about to leave for the day, “what’s all this I hear about a ball at the General’s wedding?”

“It seems we must be accompanied with a date, Sir. You received the invitation four weeks ago.” He detects some annoyance in her words, but he lets it pass, because his brain has begun to imagine Hawkeye in a dress, especially one of those grand, frilly ones.

“Then you will accompany me.”

It was acceptable, the way he states it like it’s the obvious course of action, because he is her superior after all. But it also ticks her off, that he expects it, without even bothering to ask. She may be his subordinate but there are times when she wishes he would just see her as a woman.

“That won’t be possible, Sir.”

She is just as shocked with her own coldness as he is, his eyebrows twitching in question.

“I’m afraid I’ve already promised Havoc I would go as his date.”

His eyes narrow and she sees a flicker of emotion awash in the dark of his eyes and she almost feels as if she’s done something wrong.

But she hasn’t, and she will not apologise. She clenches her fist.

“Ah,” he drawls, not missing a beat, “have you decided what to wear yet?”

That wasn’t the question she was expecting and it throws her off balance.

“I,” she pauses for a moment, to regain her composure, “I haven’t thought about it yet.”

She doesn’t want to engage in his banter anymore, because there are feelings involved - mostly hers, and they are irrational, she thinks - and expectations, expectations that have no basis but are yet difficult to do away with. So she hastens to the door.

He’s quiet for a minute, but because he can’t help himself, he murmurs, “… You should wear green. It suits you."

…

She ends up wearing a dress, it’s slinky, tighter than the clothes she’s used to, slipping past her knees. Somehow she finds herself in heels, black strapped ones she’s borrowed from a friend that she clearly cannot walk in. It lacks the comfort of her boots but she deals with it, because apparently this is the price that comes along with looking pretty.

The dress is borrowed too, but she doesn’t miss the fact that out of all the dresses Rebecca paraded as options, she reached for the dark green one. … Apparently it suited her.

At least that is what she is assured of when Havoc comes to pick her up, his eyes popping in surprise when he sees her.

"Wow,” he let’s out a loose whistle, “you clean up real good, don’t you?"

She blushes and it’s another rare sight. "The Hawkeye blushing?” He teases, “I’ve got to be dreaming."

They make their way to the wedding and Havoc dives headfirst to the bar. She isn’t surprised. She looks around, her eyes seeking whom she had stubbornly decided not to care about and she sees him with a woman - obviously - hanging onto his every word.

An officer of sorts, she guesses, but not from their division, because Roy has unleashed his charm, his eyes twinkling flirtatiously.

She averts her eyes to the bar and to her date, who despite his melancholy has ordered an extra drink for her, a cocktail which he swears is the best he’s ever had. The thought of alcohol seems far more appealing than watching her superior with yet another woman.

…

"Did you want to dance, Lieutenant?"

She’s a few drinks down, he’s had even more and his words are beginning to slur.

"I’m sorry,” he says and he sounds genuinely remorseful. “I just… I can’t get her out of my head."

She pats his head comfortingly and he slumps a little on the counter. "You loved her that much?"

He nods gloomily and Riza pretends to ignore the glisten of his eyes. Havoc’s eyes rest on the newly married couple, a little envious of the ingenuity of their smiles.

"You know, I actually thought we would make it there."

He doesn’t have to say it but Riza knows he’s talking about the altar, of dreams of marriage that he harboured for his ex-girlfriend. He was painful to watch these past few weeks, ever since Rebecca ended things with him, and when he asked her to the wedding, she couldn’t help but agree.

Besides, she had made sure Roy had seen the invitation days ago and if he hadn’t asked her by then, it was quite likely he never would.

"I’m sure you’ll find someone else,” she says comfortingly. “Even we soldiers are allowed to be happy eventually.” She isn’t sure she believes it, but for someone as pure as Havoc, surely fate can be kinder.

He tries his best to put on a smile, nodding with the optimism in her words. “Well hopefully I find happiness before my hair turns grey,” he jokes, making her giggle.

It feels nice, letting her hair down with a friend, even though she would rather let her hair and a lot of other things down with a certain someone else, but she tries not to think of it.

When she turns, the smile is wiped clean off her face, because her gaze catches the eyes of that same someone else, eyes dark as night, hair even darker, swept back to show off the handsome angles of his face. He is with someone else, a pretty brunette with her back bare and his hand splayed on it, and they are moving to the music but his eyes are on her, intense, questioning… reprimanding her almost.

For what? She thinks heatedly, he has no right to look at her like that, like he’s displeased with her, when she cannot even express just how unhappy she is with him.

“But seriously, Lieutenant,” Havoc says, hesitating for a moment, but choosing honesty, “you look amazing tonight. I must be the envy of every man in here."

She lets herself bask in his appreciative gaze and her cheeks heat up. "You really think so?"

He nods, smiling at her. "You sound surprised. A woman like you must be used to such compliments, isn’t it?”

She laughs ruefully. Compliments? She couldn’t remember the last time a man had ever called her pretty. At least not since she entered the military. “You’re the first, Havoc."

His mouth almost gaped open in surprise.

She went on, her frustration further driven by the alcohol in her blood. "No one’s ever even asked me out,” she says, helplessly. “Sure, there had been a few men who seemed interested, but even they never tried to take things further."

The Lieutenant didn’t date, everyone knew that. But listening to her open up about it, doubting herself, he felt for her.

Because he was one of those men too, a long, long time ago.

He remembers when he first joined the unit, newly assigned to Eastern, full of smiles.

The place really was swarming with beautiful women, just as he had heard. He figured he would get on here just fine.

And when he first entered the office of the Major Roy Mustang whom he was assigned to, he thought his heart was going to stop.

He had never seen anyone like her, young, strong, leaning over the table and giving the Major a piece of her mind. She scolded him like she had the authority to, and he listened, even though there was a formal apology attached to her rant in the end.

He was stunned, unable to do anything but watch when she turned around and stalked out of the room, because the view from the front was even better than behind, a round heart-shaped face framed in short blonde hair, deep brown eyes and a body that would make anyone’s thoughts stain the darkest shade of impurity.

Life, of course, had very different plans for them, even though they got closer, just like he wished. One afternoon, Rebecca walked into the office and threw her arms around Riza, and Havoc soon learnt that love was far more nuanced than admiration at first sight.

"At first I thought it was the uniform,” she confesses, “I thought maybe I was just scaring the men away."

You have no idea, he thinks, sighing. Riza Hawkeye was made of fire, and it turned men on even if they were afraid of being burnt by it.

"But my friend Jessica had absolutely no problem when it came to this sort of thing."

She casts her eyes lower, twirling the remnants of her whiskey. "Maybe there’s just something wrong with me."

Her lips lift up in a sardonic grin. "I’m a pretty pathetic Lieutenant, huh?” She rests her forehead against the counter. “I can’t believe I’m here at a wedding, crying over men.” Sighing, she murmurs, “I suppose these feelings are par for course when you have couples dancing all around you."

He rests his hand over the back of her head, ruffling the softness of her locks. "It isn’t pathetic,” he murmurs comfortingly, “You’re only human, after all. We’re all just idiots who want nothing more than to be loved."

He leaves out the part where he willingly offers himself up for the job, spurred a little by his already broken heart and embers of a decade-old attraction that never went away. He could make her feel special, take her out on all the dates she feels she missed out on, tell her she’s beautiful till she never doubts it ever again. It would be a selfish distraction, but Havoc is a romantic, and maybe, just maybe, it would lead them down a different path to happiness.

But he remembers what made him give up that mission in the first place, all those years ago, cold, blazing eyes that delivered a threat far worse than his words.

"There will be no fraternisation within this unit,” he had stated calmly before even Havoc had gotten a chance to admit to it himself. “If I find out you’ve laid a hand on her, I will have you transferred out of Eastern before you know it."

Back then he didn’t know if Major Roy Mustang even had that sort of power. But something else told him that if he didn’t listen it would be his burnt corpse they would be carrying out of Eastern.

Even now Havoc knows it’s useless, that he cannot even comfort her the way he really wants to, because he knows his eyes are here, they don’t leave her, always watching from the corner, staking claim.

"Thanks Havoc,” she says, trying for warm but still sounding miserable, lacing her fingers with his for a brief second in appreciation of his effort to make her feel better.

He sighs. “Would you mind if I went outside for a smoke?” They didn’t allow smoking in the ballroom, and his cravings had kicked in three drinks ago.

“Sure,” she says, “I’ll come with you."

He looks surprised because the Lieutenant has never approved of his smoking, but he thinks maybe she would prefer it to her own company tonight.

But when she tries to stand it’s like the blood has drained from her head, and she falters. Gingerly, she rubs a hand to her forehead.

"On second thought, I think I’ll stay here.” She gets back onto her seat, “I’ve had too much to drink."

"Will you be alright?” He asks, and it is more out of courtesy than anything else because he knows that if she isn’t, he will be by her side in seconds to take care of her.

She assures him she’s fine, that a drink of water will make everything better, even though fine is far from what she feels. Having let out her feelings, she doesn’t feel the light headedness that most claim, just empty and dejected because it is more than just never being told she’s pretty or going out on dates. If only her sorrows were as commonplace as wishing for love. If only she didn’t desire a very specific love. A love she will never have.

“Excuse me,” she mumbles to the waiter,“ could I have a glass of water please?"

He hurries away to get it and she rests her head against the counter. As she closes her eyes, she wonders how they do it, all those women he talks to, all the willing females he engages with. Is it all the giggling?

Does Roy like it if his women show a lot of skin? She remembers the woman from earlier, pale pink fabric shimmering off her dainty frame. Or maybe he likes the petite ones.

She sighs dejectedly. At 5'5”, she had curves that filled out every inch of her uniform and a full chest that had been a major cause of discomfort during military school. She was anything but petite.

In the end what bothers her most is that it probably doesn’t matter if she isn’t skinny or she doesn’t wear clothes that dip to the small of her back. Military rules state they couldn’t be together and it seems Roy wasn’t the least bit tempted to break them.

“I’m afraid all the dancing has made my head spin,” he tells her. “It was really lovely to have the pleasure of your company…” He pauses at the end, awkward because he just spent the last 40 minutes dancing her in circles but he can’t, for the love of God, remember her name.

“It’s Elizabeth,” she purrs, laughing, “You’re just like the rumours say, Colonel! So terrible with names."

She comes closer, her breath damp on the shell of his ear, "And so incredibly handsome."

"I’m flattered,” he says, untangling himself from her, smiling the way he knows is probably misleading, but in this situation it’s polite.

He can’t quite explain it but he is struck by this inexplicable urge to see his own Elizabeth, a sharp contrast to this one’s dark hair and light eyes, her beauty stemming from self-respect that is sorely lacking in most of the women that threw themselves at him.

He can’t pretend that he’s a saint and that there haven’t been a few that have followed him into bed, but there is nothing more than frustration at play here, a compromise of sorts where he can make believe that the girl in front of him is one with pale hair that shimmers and eyes that would always show him the light.

Where he can dream that the lips he kisses are the same bow shaped ones that admonish him at work.

Looking over at the bar counter, he sees that she’s still there, this time with Havoc nowhere to be seen. There’s a small, selfish part of him that rejoices in this fact, because their intimacy and hand-holding had him seeing red a little while ago.

It isn’t fair that he wants her like this, so irrationally and so selfishly, he knows it, but he can’t stop himself from this desire and he knows it often scares men away from her.

He knows there have been times when he has deliberately scared men off of her. He wonders how she would react if she learns of it. Would she have preferred their affections?

When he comes closer he sees that her head is resting on the counter, eyes closed. “Lieutenant,” he calls, but she doesn’t stir. Roy is known to be a little paranoid when it comes to his aide and the tension creeps onto his face, furrowing it’s way between his eyebrows.

He tries calling her again, this time placing his hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. Her head turns to the side and he can see that her mouth is parted slightly and her breaths are even.

Has she… Passed out?! Laughing to himself, he occupies the seat beside her, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. He could happily stay like this forever, wrapped up in the softness of her hair and skin, watching her without interruption as she sleeps. There’s a mole just under her ear, a tiny black little thing and he wonders if he could reach down and kiss it. It would be quick, no one would ever know it.

He could press his lips to her skin, touch his tongue to her earlobe, take it between his teeth maybe, the way he’s always wanted to when they are alone in his office and he is tempted to misuse his rank.

He gives in to this sweet compulsion and bends down, lips pressing ever so lightly against the mark.

She smells sweet, of the lavender she’s been partial to ever since she was a teenager, wrapped in this very same fragrance when she would finish her shower.

Roy knows this because every time she would be anywhere nearby his attention as an apprentice would falter, often earning him rebukes from her father.

He had promised himself just one, but it’s a promise ill-kept because his lips inch further along her jawline, featherlight brushes of temptation going against everything he has worked for.

But what good is his ambition when all it brings him is turmoil, and this cruel deprivation of her? When all he feels every day when he looks at her is longing, immense and painful, to the point of desperation.

Reason loses it’s shine further when he can feel her pulse flutter, and the softest murmur of his name brushes his ear.

“Roy,” she mumbles and it’s so maddening, the effect his name on her lips has, he considers giving her orders to never address him Colonel ever again, “I wore green. Just like you told me to.”

His eyes widen, remembering the day he’d asked her to accompany him. She had this look in her eyes, disappointment, frustration - or was it disgust - and he dared to hope she’d go with it anyway, but she didn’t. And the feeling of rejection, of being rejected by Riza, isn’t one he can shake so easily.

“What?” She had asked confused, when the statement he hadn’t intended to say out loud - he liked her in green, and that was something he kept secret, it brought out her eyes - had clearly been heard. “It suits you,” he’d said simply, and her temper had flared. Narrowing her eyes, she had said, “What I choose to wear is none of your business, Sir."

She’d emphasized the last word with as much sarcasm as one could possibly fit into one syllable.

He had laughed that day… a frustrated laugh, but now seeing that she actually listened to him, he thinks maybe what he thought mattered much more than what she let on.

"I even wore heels,” she whispers, still drunk, slurring the s’s.

“You did,” he says slowly, because he noticed, just like he notices everything, the way it made her legs look endless, the way it made her hips sway when she walked in with Havoc. He runs an idle finger across her cheek.

“Do I look pretty, Colonel?"

When she speaks these words, he hears the uncertainty behind the pink lips that she licks, barely inches from his.

He could tell her that yes, she’s pretty, but he’d rather show her. With kisses sweeping all over her body, and caresses earning soft sighs from her full mouth.

He could.

And he almost does.

He almost kisses her, full on the mouth, tongue flicking across hers, telling her that pretty is an understatement and that the first time he saw her, he was already mesmerised.

But he is mindful of their surroundings, not wanting to cause her any further disrespect by acting out the increasingly lewd fantasies churning in his mind. Because he doubts a kiss would stay just that, a kiss and nothing more, not when it is Riza underneath him, lips pliant and sweet, testing his restraint.

"Havoc,” he says harshly when he comes to realise the looming figure behind him, keeping his distance but well within hearing radius. “Take her home."

He’s surprised at first, because he was sure he had witnessed something deeper, more intimate between those two tonight. Havoc had seen the Colonel flush, and stroke her skin tenderly, the Lieutenant’s eyes dazed and gazing at him with blatant desire.

"Sir, sh-shouldn’t you?” He stutters, clearly asking something inappropriate and out of turn but he can’t help it. There is no one in the entire hall who could have missed the palpable chemistry between the two of them.

But he doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head, his eyes dark and stormy, and tells him to make sure she has a glass of water before she’s put to bed.

When Havoc walks her out, one hand around her waist and the other firmly holding her arm around his shoulder he realises that he’s a bit irritated with this years-old game of hide-and-seek. His broken heart was urging him to slap some sense into the Colonel and yell, because people who’ve found love - the real kind - have no business denying it.

“I think it should be fairly clear by now why you so rarely get propositioned by men,” he says dryly.

She makes a noise, questioning, barely able to take in his sarcasm or even his words for that matter, as her eyes droop shut.

He takes in the rare sight of a defenseless Hawkeye clinging to his arm and his mouth turns up with the hint of a smile.

“… It isn’t that no one’s interested,” he whispers, “just that everybody knows they wouldn’t stand a chance. Not against him.”

- fin -

#royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #full metal alchemist: brotherhood #full metal alchemist #liquorisce fanfiction #fmab

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raineydaywrites · 3 years

Text

let he who is without sin throw the first stone

Febuwhump day 24: memory loss

notes: This doesn't follow the prompt as much as some of my other fics have this month, primarily it refers to the canon memory situation. It is extremely Lucretia defense, and your mileage may vary, so know that going in. This comes from some frustration about the fact that a lot of people don’t seem to want to talk about the fact that the rest of IPRE crew also had a messed up plan that they thought was right that ended up hurting people and not working... basically the same thing some people crucify Lucretia over, and I wanted to explore that in writing.

June was glad to have been invited to the party, truly. She was fond of the Birds, and she'd let go of the anger she felt over finding out that their town 'saviors' had in fact been the ones to doom her to the fate of the Chalice for so long.

She enjoyed spending time with the Birds, and sought out opportunities for it when they arose.

She hadn't spent time with all seven of the Birds in the same room since the Day of Story and Song though. And now that she was here, she was finding out something that was rather off-putting.

It seemed that there was still quite a bit of tension between Madame Lucretia and the rest of the Birds.

June had caught wind of that possibility from things she'd hear from or around the other Birds, but never had it been so obvious as it was here and now, with them all together.

There were a number of Bureau members and other natives to this plane at the party, but none of them seemed willing to say anything about the situation. June wasn't sure if that was because they had just gotten used to it, spending more time around the Birds than she, or if they just didn't feel like bothering, but it was clear that they weren't going to address it.

Well. She may have a strange relationship with age, but she was, technically a teenager. And wasn't it a teenager's prerogative to start a perhaps-poorly-planned argument no one else was willing to start?

She saw Lucretia standing with the other Birds, before she suddenly turned and walked out of the room. The Birds seemed to be arguing amongst themselves, and June was certain that one of them had said something to upset Lucretia and the rest were wondering if it had been too harsh or not.

Now, June understood that the family members had felt betrayed by what Lucretia did, and she tried not to judge, really, or stick her nose into business that wasn't hers, but she couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of anger at the sight.

She slammed her hands down on the table in front of her, standing up to address the Birds.

"You know, I try not to judge, friends, but what the hell was that?" she demanded, pointing to the door that Lucretia had fled out of.

"None of your business," Taako sneered, but they all knew him well enough to see the defensiveness in his posture. Lucretia had written about it extensively in the journals.

June would normally feel a touch kinder to him in response to that- they all loved the Birds enough to understand his idiosyncrasies, but she was still too angry for that.

"You haven't forgiven her, have you? Have any of you?" June shouted.

She was starting to get the attention of other people in the crowd, but she didn't care. This needed to be said.

"She betrayed us. She hurt us- we have a right to not forgive her ever! She's lucky we let her spend time with us at all!" Taako shouted back.

Magnus put a hand on Taako's arm, calming him slightly.

"June," Magnus said, looking pained. "I forgive her. Merle forgives her. Lup forgives her. I think the rest of them will too. But it takes time to get over some things, ya know?"

"Oh, I know." June kept her voice cold, staring them down, and she saw Magnus wince at the phrasing. She would apologize to him later. "I understand forgiveness and time very well. And I wouldn't normally say something like this- would give you time to work it out- but you clearly still want her in your lives, or you wouldn't spend time with her, and what you're doing now is just deepening the wounds in all of you. You need to get your shit together or stop hurting her to make yourselves feel better."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Davenport said, slowly, carefully. "You've been through a lot, and I respect that, but you only know what you heard in the Story. You didn't live it."

"No, I didn't live through what you lived through," June began, knowing she had to be careful not to say something that she would regret. She thought about her next words very carefully before she started to say them. "But I did live through what you forced upon this world."

She saw Magnus flinch again, and he wasn't the only one. The other Birds did as well, to a one, and a number of the Faerun natives did the same.

There was an unspoken agreement between the Faerun natives not to say anything about the Relics that the Birds had created. They had saved the world. They regretted the hurt they had caused.

But June was starting to think that their silence had gone on too long. Someone needed to remind them.

"I'm grateful to what y'all did for us. But before you did it, you used our plane as a testing ground for a plan that you weren't sure would even work. You were responsible for atrocities the likes of which our world had never seen before. And you had no right to do that to us. Not even to save everyone."

"June..." several people murmured for her to stop speaking, reaching out as if to comfort or confront her.

"No! I am speaking!" June shouted, and she stood up on the table to stop them from blocking her from view of the Birds.

"And did it work? Madame Lucretia didn't get any of the Relics other than her own back for a decade! Some of the Relics were in continuous use or close to it that whole time, and wasn't that your plan? To keep the Light separate, keep it being wanted and used?" It was a rhetorical question, but she needed to say it. "And did it stop the Hunger? Did it help at all? Or did it just make them desperate and angry?"

"It helped!" Merle insisted.

"Why are you saying all this?" Lup demanded, face and voice devastated, and June felt bad, but she couldn't stop. "You just want to hurt us because we haven't all forgiven her yet?"

"I'm saying all this because I think you've gotten a little cocky. You've forgotten just what it is you did before Madame Lucretia did what she did," June said, looking them each in the eye as she spoke.

"Are you fucking saying we deserved that?" Taako demanded, stalking forward towards her.

June wasn't intimidated by him.

"No," she said, watching him with a detached haughtiness that she hadn't felt since she was combined with the Chalice. "I'm saying you deserved worse."

She let that sink in for a minute, watched Taako's face go slack as if she'd slapped him, then angry again. She spoke again before he could.

"You did something horrible. Something that you had no right to do. Something that hurt people. Because you thought you knew what was best for everyone. And your plan didn't even work out how you wanted it to. Sound familiar?" she cocked her head to the side, to the door that Lucretia had left from.

"You did something that was wrong and unjust. And you had to be stopped. Some people might suggest that you oughta consider yourselves lucky that you had a friend to stop you, who would do it as kindly and lovingly as possible. Because if it had been up to your victims? If you hadn't saved everyone first? We might not have been nearly so merciful."

She took a breath, trying to calm herself. She wanted to make them understand, not to hurt them. The realization might hurt a little, but she was really trying not to do any worse than she needed to.

"I know that you meant well. I know that you didn't think you had any other options at your disposal. I know you and I love you. And so I can forgive you for the pain you have inflicted on me and on my world. On everyone I love," June said, and her face turned pleading, almost apologetic. She hoped that they wouldn't hate her after this. "But I find it very disturbing that you aren't willing to pay that forward. Especially when I can tell that you still love her. Still want her in your lives. You suffered because of what she did, I know. But so did she, for your benefit. And this refusal to forgive her for this, this refusal to even acknowledge that your plan and hers were motivated by the same things- all it does is hurt all of you. And it hurts us to watch it happen."

June felt the anger she held slowly dissipate, and she suddenly felt foolish for her dramatics. She stepped down off the table, walking forward through the now silent crowd around her, past the Birds, all standing very still, strange, conflicted expressions passing over their faces as her words sunk in.

She stopped in front of Magnus, dipping her head a little and reaching out for a hug, if he was willing.

He pulled her in, but didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry if what I said hurt you. I wish I could have said it in a way that didn't," she said, speaking to Magnus primarily, but making sure that her voice was clear and loud enough for them all to hear.

The hug seemed to have broken the standoff.

"Forgot how smart you are," Magnus whispered into her hair. "And how much you care."

When she pulled out of the hug, she saw that Taako was running off somewhere, probably to lick his wounds without lashing out at anyone. Seemed like Kravitz intended to follow though, so she wasn't too worried.

The rest of the Birds, aside from Magnus above her, were moving towards a corner of the room, huddled together and speaking softly enough that she wondered if they'd cast some sort of spell to stop anyone else from hearing them.

"Should I leave?" June asked, pulling out of the hug. "Give everybody some time to calm down?"

"You don't have to do that!" Magnus insisted, then his expression twisted a little. "Maybe try to stay away a little bit though. It's- it might take a second for people to stop feeling angry and defensive."

"So, wait to apologize to the rest of them for like, a week? Two?" June asked, half-joking and smiling to show it.

"Week for Dav, Lup, and Barry, two weeks for Taako," Magnus said, nodding decisively and grinning widely back at her. "I think Merle's already past it."

"And you?" June asked. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know," Magnus admitted. "But I think you were right that we had to hear that. Maybe you could have waited to not be at a party, but who am I to criticize rushing into something?" His laugh was happy, if a little rueful.

Magnus glanced back to where the other Birds were speaking and grimaced. "I should probably go talk to them. We're, uh, gonna have to have a long family meeting after this."

"Go on," June said. "Give them my love."

"I will!" Magnus assured, before he turned and jogged off to the others.

June walked back to her seat, grabbing her cup of water and moving to lean against the wall. She was sure that everyone was watching her, and it was off-putting. There were enough people that were strangers to her that she felt uncomfortable with the attention.

She was not all that surprised when someone came up to talk to her, all things considered. It was the kid, Angus McDonald, and she was really unsure how he would react to this. He saw the Birds as family, if she understood the situation right. Being raised by Taako and Kravitz, she thought, with a lot of help and input from the rest of them. So this could really go a lot of different ways.

"What's your favorite candy? I'm buying you so much of it. You seem like you need it," Angus said in greeting.

"Uh-" June laughed, "-anything chocolate, really."

Angus actually wrote that down, and June laughed again.

"They've been very frustrating lately," Angus sighed, leaning against the wall next to her. "I didn't want to say anything, because I love them and I know that these things take time, but you brought up some really good points. They won't admit it easily, so I will."

"I don't know if I did anything all that useful really," June said, letting a tinge of regret color her voice. "I should have been nicer about it."

"Nice hasn't been getting us anywhere. Sometimes you just have to force your way through!" Angus insisted.

"I hope you're right," June said, softly, watching the Birds speak, wishing she had thought about this more before speaking. But maybe her message would still get through, regardless of the tone.

About a week after June got back to Refuge after the party, she found a big pile of chocolate on her desk, and a letter with a drawing from Angus. The drawing featured all seven Birds, along with Kravitz and Angus himself, sitting around a table playing some kind of game. It was childish and inexperienced and June already knew she'd treasure it forever.

She settled in to read the letter that came with it, happy and comfortable for the first time in a week. Looks like she'd been forgiven.

#taz balance #taz lucretia #ipre crew #febuwhump #febuwhumpday24 #taz june #june/the chalice was so savage about Phandolin I feel like this is in character for her

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