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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

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

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

#finn ohara #logan tremblay #alex ohara #leo knut #oknutzy #cubs #hurt/comfort #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #brothers #broken bones

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yan-twst · 4 years

Note

Hello! You write scenario with vampire Vil, so... can I ask for vampire Rook this time?

rouge

warnings: mentions of death, blood, general yandere themes

word count: 2,588

a/n: the asker didn’t specify yandere here but, the vamp vil scenario they are talking about here was yan so uh, i’m making this a yan rook scenario.

----------

It’d been a while since any human dared walk into his home. It was akin to a mouse walking right into a trap, a bear stepping in a beartrap; surely by now all the villagers knew that those who entered a vampire’s lair were bound to never return. Killed, devoured, drained of their blood by the creatures who stalked the night- from time to time they’d find corpses, pale, cold and stiff, their blood drained to the last drop and expressions morphed into horrifying screams of terror for eternity.

And yet, he could see them as they nervously walked the darkened mansion with nothing but a candle on their hand, hot wax occasionally dripping into their hand and making them hiss in pain. He’d noticed them walk in; he could’ve leapt the second they stepped inside, he could’ve killed them at any moment, but he’d chosen to let them wander inside. Perhaps it was the sheer oddity of the situation, or maybe the hunter’s desire to observe his prey; whatever it was, Rook silently stalked the shaken human throughout his own mansion, watching as they cautiously looked around.

They were tired, clothes wet from the rain and dirtied with splotches of mud- they’d taken off their shoes, perhaps not wanting to leave footprints or dirty the carpets, but the rest of their clothes were soaked in rainwater. The heat from the measley candle they’d taken from a candleholder was clearly not nearly enough to warm them up- Rook rarely set up fireplaces, his undead body not needing the warmth mortals did- but now he wondered if they’d run towards one like a moth to a flame, in their current state.

They were disheveled and exhausted, visibly scared- if he had to take a guess, he’d say they were a young villager who got lost and tried to find shelter in his adobe assuming it was abandoned due to its darkness and solitude. They very clearly had no clue they’d walked into the vampire’s den, judging by the fact that they were venturing in deeper; they had no weapons and no protection, they weren’t a vampire hunter or a soldier in any way, just a lost civilian who wandered into the worst place possible.

He watched for longer than he thought he would. There wasn’t anything interesting about this human, there shouldn’t have been, they were no different to the countless people he’d killed for sustenance before- they were prey and he was predator, easy as that, and yet he found himself almost fascinated. The way the moonlight filtering through the windows would illuminate them as they passed a window, their heavy breathing that combined with the chattering of their teeth as their body kept on growing colder and colder; there was something about them that kept Rook’s interest, far more than any other human had.

They were beautiful.

He’d lived a long life- he’d seen his fair share of lovers of all genders and backgrounds, met nobles and common folk alike who boasted appearances that went on to be legend- Rook had always chased for beauty, always seeking that ethereal concept; he’d turned more than one human into a vampire just because he believed their beauty had to be preserved, he’d collect decorations and paintings for his home to surround himself in art. And despite his current subject of interest clearly being a frightened commoner, dirty and shivering, he could sense it- by their quiet footfalls, their hushed breathing, the panic in their eyes, they were beautiful. How had such a human been living in proximity to his mansion without him realizing? He’d hate to think of the possibility that, had they not gotten lost today, he could have never met them and they’d have simply kept living their life until their time came to join their fellow humans in death; he was perhaps lucky fate had other plans for them, as they’d waltzed right into his grasp.

“Good evening, lapin.” Stepping out of the shadows, Rook finally spoke up- the terrified squeal that left the poor human echoed in the hall, almost dropping their candle in fright. They’d probably assumed the house was empty, and to suddenly come face to face with someone in the dark had almost been enough to frighten them to death.

“A-aah, oh dear lord, are you the owner of this house...? I truly- I didn’t mean to intrude, I just- I went out to forage for some food for my family, but then it began to rain and night fell, and I couldn’t find my way back, and-” their panicked ramblings made Rook chuckle, as he waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss their justifications.

“Oh, no need to worry, I understand your plight. The forest can be so tricky once night falls, non?” he said, and he watched as relief melted into the human’s face, as they perhaps thought they’d managed to find an eccentric but kind nobleman’s home. “Besides, it’s dangerous for a weak thing like you to be out there at these times- the beasts that lurk the night would certainly make a feast out of you.”

“... Y-yes, I guess so.” they seemed shaken by his comment, perhaps their mind wandering to wolves or bears, or perhaps by the even grimmer image of their fellow villagers being found dead with two fang wounds in their neck, attacked by creatures of the night. It seemed to be the later case, as Rook instinctively licked his lips as he watched them bring a hand to their neck, perhaps remembering the images of carnage they’d seen on corpses left behind. “The village priest says it’s dangerous to walk around at night because of the vampires... He told me to wear my rosary and to carry holy water with me, just in case, but- lord, have you seen the state of the victims? I don’t think anything could protect the poor people who run into those beasts.”

Oh, it was so ironic- perhaps like the tragic comedies that sometimes ran in theatres in larger towns that he so adored. Watching the human talk about how scary and rough vampires were, thanking him for saving them, completely unaware he was biding his time until he’d sink his fangs into their flesh. He wouldn’t kill them yet, no, not yet; he had to consider if they should join his immortal ranks- after all, his sudden attraction to them had to mean they had the potential to shine bright. Perhaps he could turn them and keep them as a companion; bring them over to Vil so he could fix them up, or-

“... my betrothed was insistent I didn’t go out tonight, but there was no food left and nobody’s getting paid until next week, so I simply had to go see if there were any eggs or berries in the forest...” Rook’s eyes snapped open at the human’s words- a betrothed. It shouldn’t have been weird, not at all. Humans live so shortly, they marry fast and try to form families before their time runs out; in a small village, someone as beautiful as this human would certainly already be preparing to marry.

It made sense, and yet he felt a wave of jealousy permeate through him. For a vampire, Rook had never been one to particularly demean humans- he’d kill them, sure, but he wouldn’t go as far as to terrorize them for fun, or act as some other vampires did and consider them worms beneath him, inferior to immortals. But the flash of rage that coursed through him was undeniable. Usually he was content to hold beautiful things at arm’s length, to gaze at them, to keep around; he’d never been bothered if an ex-lover moved on, not if any of the humans he turned found other vampire lovers of their own. And yet this human, who he didn’t even know the name of, who he’d just met, was somehow bringing forth emotions foreign to him.

“Oh? Lapin, are you to marry soon?” he asked, trying to keep himself sounding friendly. The question seemed to make them cheer up a bit- despite the fact they were clearly shivering, too shy to ask if he could perhaps direct them to a fireplace.

“Ah, yes! I got engaged some weeks ago to someone close to me...” they blushed as they spoke, and despite the fact their face was adorable like that, the fact that someone else was causing it brought an acrid taste to Rook’s mouth. “... we’re going to get married next month, in the local church, and-”

“... Well, what a careless lover you have, then. Don’t they know that if they let their precious roam lose, they might be stolen by someone else?” Rook chuckled, a bit more darkly than usual. His words made them stop in their talking, as if confused. He went on. “If a rabbit runs lose on the forest, nobody should be surprised when the crow snatches it for itself.”

“... That’s, um-” the fear was back in their face now, eyes panickedly looking around; good. He much preferred that look on them, rather than the lovesick expression when talking about their betrothed. Perhaps this was bloodlust; maybe it’d been too long since he’d drank- it made no sense for him to find himself infatuated with a human like this, and yet the sight of their neck and their terrified gaze made him feel more alive than he’d ever been.

Without much of a thought, he pinned them to the wall- their scream was piercing. Perhaps they thought he was a creep, or maybe they’d finally connected the dots about his pale skin and the empty manor and realized he was a vampire; whatever it was, they didn’t vocalize it, instead choosing to scream for help. Even their scared screams were melodious, somehow; he didn’t know if he could truly blame hunger for the way he rejoiced in their squirming and crying.

“Now, now, lapin, you can’t blame me for this. If you’d kept on walking past my humble abode, I wouldn’t have seen you- I didn’t plan on hunting tonight. But what can one do when the prey saunters right into one’s grasp, hm?” he said breath ghosting over the juncture of their neck and shoulder. They struggled; but the coldness had numbed their body, hours of walking leaving them weak. Even at their peak, no human could overpower a vampire easily, not one as strong as Rook. “I’m afraid you can’t get away with no consequences just because you’re beautiful, lapin.”

Their blood was delicious. It had been too long since he’d gotten to indulge like this- to pin his prey down, to drink their blood leisurely without having to think about being caught, from the comfort of his own home. It’d been too long since he’d found prey he enjoyed so much- usually the human’s panicked cries and sobbing and begging were nothing but background noise, and yet, for once, he found himself spurred to bite down again and again by the helpless whimpering of his victim. His blond hair tickled their neck, the elegant fabric of his attire becoming damp upon coming into contact with their rain soaked clothes, but he paid it little mind.

“S-stop, please...! I don’t- please, no, don’t... kill me...!” they were hiccuping as they cried, feebly trying to fight back- by now, the natural numbing of his saliva had to have taken away the pain, but nothing could soothe their fear. Rook had never been bitten, having been born a vampire; but he’d been told the bite hurt, and then it went numb, only to then become pleasurable. If his little human was feeling any pleasure from the bite, they didn’t show it- their whines and cries could have very well been born from sheer fear or from an unknown pleasure.

“Ah, mon lapin, your words tempt me so,” he lifted his mouth, lips stained red with warm blood. Usually, villagers around him were malnourished or sickly- but this particular human’s blood was rich, comparable to the best he’d had. Rook never had qualms on turning a human; the value of human life, the importance of mortality, the essence of being human, those were things he cared little for; but he didn’t want to stop drinking this blood. And yet, the thought of them laying dead in the ground didn’t please him either; there was no proper way to preserve a corpse, not without the aid of magic he didn’t currently have in hand- and despite the nights being cold, the days were becoming increasingly hot; if he killed them, their beauty would fade so fast... “Say, lapin... Do you truly wish to live?”

Teary eyes stared right into green eyes with slit pupils. He could see himself in the reflection of their eyes- pale skin, red coating his mouth and chin, piercing green eyes almost glowing in the dark, his blond hair framing his face. They were shaking, only held up by his hands that pinned them to the wall- at his question they sobbed and nodded, begging, please spare them, their family needs them, please-

Before they could mention their betrothed and sour his mood again, Rook quickly bit down on his own tongue. His fangs drew blood easily- it tasted coppery and rather gross, but he wasn’t that unused to the taste of his own blood. Vampire blood was not tasty, at least not to other vampires, and it didn’t serve to quench their thirst; he almost lamented covering up the taste of the divine blood he’d just ingested with his own lackluster blood, but there was at least an use for his immortal blood.

When he lowered his head again to go at the wounds he’d created, the human writhed under him, probably assuming he’d changed his mind and decided to kill them. Rook hummed pleasantly as the taste of their blood coated his wounded tongue- and at the same time his own blood coated their injuries. He licked at the two puncture holes, making sure his wound kept on bleeding into them; he had to make sure it got into their bloodstream, after all. He knew it’d worked when the skin around his mouth grew hot, and a piercing scream fell from the human’s lips. Vil had told him once that being turned into a vampire was the most painful thing he’d ever felt- the burning, the cold, the feeling of their body dying and yet continuing to live; it almost pained him when he reluctantly lifted his mouth from their neck and watched their painstriken face as they shook and screamed in sheer pain at the feeling of their body turning.

“Shh, shh, it’s ok, it’s ok...” he said, letting go off their wrists and caressing their hair. Perhaps out of fear or pain, or maybe deep in a delusion brought on by the excruciating pain, they hugged him weakly. Oh, he could get used to this; perhaps it truly was time he got a companion for himself. Sure, it was lamentable he hadn’t even caught their name as a living human; but there’d be plenty of time for them to get acquainted with him.

After all, this wasn’t just his way to preserve their beauty- he had selfish purposes for his actions. For once, perhaps, he’d keep them by his side; if he’d gifted them immortal life, it’d only be fair they spent said time with him, right?

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #rook hunt #yandere tw #death ment #blood tw

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siriuslyshewrote · 5 years

Text

Wrong Part Seven

Series Masterlist

Please make sure to like and reblog if you enjoy - it motivates me to make more content :)

“I’ll pick you up in the morning. Nine?” His calloused and scarred hands stroked your face gently, your foreheads almost touching, his eyes scanning your own. You both stood at the end of the street where you lived, you being determined to sneak in before your parents realised you had left.

“You can make a doctors appointment for then?”

“I’m a fucking Shelby, ain’t I?”

“How could I forget?” You laughed softly, kissing his grinning lips.

————————————————————

24th December, 1926

You stood in front of the hallway mirror, perfecting the rouge lipstick painted onto your lips, a small, nervous smile taking place there. A shawl covered your torso - looking perfectly normal, not like you were trying to hide anything. It was the bleak midwinter, after all.

You could hear the rest of your family arguing upstairs - George , in his hungover state, blaming your parents for something or other. Your head pounded in pain - this had been going on for hours now- as you glanced up the stairs, hand grasping the door handle, twisting it as quietly as possible, and slipped out into the street.

The cold, exhilarating air hit you, as you hurried up the lane - already seeing the boy you loved, leaning against a car which was most certainly stolen from one of his family members, a worried grin on his face, exhaling smoke.

“Hey.” You smiled, kissing his cheek. You didn’t care that your family could very well see this if they looked out of the window. That all seemed so inconsequential now.

“Stealin’ cars again, Finnegan?” You joked, as he opened the door for you to clamber in, his hand supporting the small of your back - as if he was terrified you would fall.

“It’s not stealing if they don’t know it’s gone yet.”

“You really have no concept of stealing, do you?” You giggled, as he started the engine, turning onto the main road.

“Pol won’t notice love, it’s alright.” Fin had told you a lot about his Aunt - the woman who had raised him, and if things were different, you would have been close, he had told you. You were both as blunt as each other. You supposed she really wouldn’t notice now - according to Finn, she had changed after the gallows. The whole family had. Even him.

“So. Did you manage to get an appointment?”

“Course. It’s only like three minutes away.”

“We could have walked!” You protested laughingly.

“Not in your condition-“ He looked at you worriedly.

Your heart melted at that - at this caring boy in front of you , who was so soft and so sweet despite what he had grown up around.

“You daft idiot.” You smiled, but you laced your fingers through his, as he brought the car to a stop outside a rather posh looking building.

He made no move to get out of the car, and you looked at him, confused.

“Finn-“

“I’m scared.” He said quietly, looking down in his lap, hands fidgety.

You swallowed thickly, waiting for him to continue like you knew he would.

“I... what the fuck have I gotten you stuck into ? You’ll hate this fucking life... and our fucking kid, if we even have one, they’ll be stuck here for fucking ever!” He was angry, his head leaning against the metal wheel, words punctuated with swears you knew he usually tried to tone down around you.

“Finn...”

“Shelby’s dangerous fuckin name. And here I am - I’m sticking two innocent people with it. Draggin’ you down with me.” His voice cracked, as your eyes welled with tears - not in fear, in pain for him. You couldn’t truly empathise with what he was going through - could you ever? His life was so different to yours.

“I’m not scared, Finn.” Your fingers stroked his tense back, your voice soothing, soft.

“Yeah, well, you should be. I haven’t told you the half of what goes on... and now you don’t know everything before I’ve dragged you down.”

“Why do you keep saying you’ve dragged me down, Finn? Like I’m on some superior fucking level? Without you, I don’t know where I’d be. How could I have coped the last two years without you? I choose you. And whatever comes with you, I will accept, because I love you. So. Fucking. Much.” You spoke strongly, fingers tilting his chin so he could look in your eyes, know you were telling the truth.

“I love you too.” He spoke hoarsely, his eyes still unsure.

————————————————————

Your legs swung over the side of the doctors bed, the harsh smell of chemicals tickling your nose, making you feel even more nauseous. You glanced over to Finn, as the doctor scribbled something down. His face was pale, but his eyes met yours, and he pushed his normal grin onto his face. For you.

“Well, Mrs Shelby-“ The doctor turned around, giving a worried glance towards Finn - probably hoping he’d said the right name. He hadn’t - but neither of you corrected it. It was fine by you if he thought you were married. Then the shame you already felt wouldn’t intensify.

“It would appear, from what you’ve told me, that you are in the Second Trimester of pregnancy.”

You swallowed - so, it was definite, a tiny baby was growing inside of you - and your hand automatically started to cradle the bump jutting from in between your hips.

“How many months?” Finn inputted, clearly confused by the use of medical terms, which, to be honest, you were too.

You glanced at him - but for the first time, you couldn’t figure out how he felt. If you were truly honest, you didn’t know how you felt either.

“I’d say perhaps late four months, early five.”

“Five?” You furrowed your brows, in complete shock. That was so far along. “But - the bump isn’t that big - surely.”

“You will have been slowly putting on weight so I doubt either of you will have noticed. And I’m assuming you don’t track your periods?”

You bit your lip, nodding.

“Asides from that, from what I can tell, you are naturally rather slim, and still in that lanky teenager phase , so it won’t look the same as another woman’s pregnancy.”

The word teenager met your ears with force , and you were hit with the rememberance that you were only still seventeen, Finn too, he turning eighteen in a few weeks.

————————————————————

“And Mrs Shelby?” The doctor called you back, just as you and Finn were about to leave, the latter with his arm wound around your hip.

“Yes?”

“I’d... very heavily advise to not try to do anything that... may stop this pregnancy, with how far along you are.”

You felt Finn tense.

“So you think just because we’re a bit fucking younger that we’re just going to... you think I’m putting my fucking wife in danger with one of those back street abortionists?” Finn spat, absolutely furious.

“Finn.” You hissed, before sending the doctor a half, apologetic smile.

“Thanks doc, see you in a couple months, I guess?”

He nodded ascent, face pale, and you wondered truly how anyone could be intimidated by the boy next to you.

As you were walking out of the building - in silence - your heart warmed a little at how Finn had called you his wife, though it was incorrect. At how happy it made you feel.

- @audioshoes

- @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy

- @pacifythepanda

- @starscantshinewithoutdarknessx

- @covenforlilfangirl

- @wnygirl2012

- @misunderstood-sinner

- @bellarkebxtch

- @cthgee

- @meteora-fc

- @joebob15274

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queerchoicesblog · 5 years

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Ghost of You (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele)

So this is my very first SC Titanic fanfic: I am excited to post it and well I suppose I should warn you that probably Zetta x Adele fictions will be rather long as this love story features themes that are very dear and meaningful to me, such as 1. well, obviously the Titanic story, 2. references to beginning of the century cinema (love very old and b&w movies), 3. sapphism and 4. femminism/suffragette movement. It’s basically everything I could have ever asked for. The Gentleman Jack fans out there might find a reference here...

So here I tried to imagine what brought Zetta to write that little note to Adele after basically disappearing. Loved that scene and I had to try and portray her turmoil, her missing Adele but also, as any historical lesbian (maybe not only historical), fearing the strings of society and their effect on their love and her beloved suffragette. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I quoted some pieces of dialogue from the original book

Word Count: 2555

Zetta x Adele Tag: @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed @eleanorwaverrley @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @lvcley @nazario-sayeed

________________________

Two rapid knocks on the door then:

“Are you there, doll? Can I come in?”

Richard’s voice abruptly brought Zetta’s back to reality, involuntarily making her jump in her seat. She blinked twice as if wakingg from a dream and took a quick look around. She couldn’t recall how long she had been sitting at her vanity lost in her thoughts with a brush in her hand. She just couldn’t focus that day as she was haunted by memories of the past. But Richard didn’t have to know, mustn’t have to know. She put down the brush and quickly fixed her hair before adjusting her robe to limit the skin exposure to the minimum: after all, they weren’t married yet…and her heart didn’t belong to Mr. King. Only after that, she answered loud enough to be heard on the other side of the ebony door:

“Sure, darling”

She resumed her interrupted makeup session, pretending to be fully taken by that routine that didn’t bring her the usual joy anymore. She looked at herself in the mirror and put on a practiced smile: it would have been enough to fool her fiancé.

Richard entered her boudoir and theatrically opened his arms as a seasoned professional: he mentioned that he started as an actor before becoming a stellar director.

“My love, every time I see you I’m completely blinded by your beauty. You’re the brightest star in the sky, even brighter than Venus itself” he said moving closer and kneeling beside her chair.

“…And you’re gonna be the most radiant woman at the party tonight. The belle of the ball, la plus belle” he added, courtly taking her free hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

He looked up at her with a dashing smile.

“Trés charmant, Richard…but are you done with poetry?” she smirked, retrieving her hand and resuming her previous core.

“Ah, la belle dame sans merci!” Richard exclaimed before falling back to the floor holding a hand on his chest.

“Silly” Zetta laughed and she was soon joined by Richard who stood again and leaned on her table.

“I can’t help it around you, doll, apologies” he shrugged, flashing her another smile.

Zetta had to summon all her acting expertise not to cringe at “doll”. She hated it when every fiber of her being when Richard -or any other men- called her “doll”. Even her first director called her so, even her husband…doll, as if that was all she was to them: a beautiful toy, maybe a collectible but not truly a woman. Not truly Zetta.

Instead, she mirrored his smile and threw him a quick look before methodically applying some rouge on her cheek.

“So, what are you dying to say that can’t wait?”

“Seeing you isn’t a reasonable excuse?”

Richard was a charming man, without doubt. He wasn’t a bad man or so it seemed to her but she had been deceived by men who swore to only want the best for her that it was hardly possible for Zetta to fully trust any of them. And a man could have never won her heart.

As she flashed him just one of her enigmatic smile, he spoke again:

“Fine, you got me: I just wanted to see you and to remind you that our producers are expecting us at Rao’s for dinner in an hour. We should leave soon” he gave an apologetic smile and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Will we be there in time?”

“We will, I promise you” Zetta confirmed then made a show of shooing him away. “Now shoo, call Sabine and let me get dressed or else we will be late”

Richard raised his arms in surrender, laughing. Then he pressed a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I’ll get off of your hair, doll”

Zetta resumed her makeup as Richard moved towards the door. He was halfway out when

“Oh I almost forgot! I spoke to Alan yesterday and he loved the movie: the story of the two sisters reunited in the midst of chaos on the sinking ship is just perfect, so heart-warming-“

“Yes, it truly is heart-warming” Zetta commented, losing focus again.

“The story is real, right? You met at least one of them on board, didn’t you?”

Zetta’s voice lowered as memories started surfacing back.

“Yes, we were…rather close”

“If they survived, we should track them down and invite them at the movie: it would be great if they could talk to the press. Journalists love stories like this: I can see the headlines alrea-“

“We’ll see, Richard. Now please go call Sabine”

She tried to keep her voice from betraying her feelings, but she could feel a rush of anger surging. She would have never handed the Carrem sisters and such a private and tragic moment of their lives to those shameless sharks who go under the name of journalists. The subtle hint of heartbreak and they prey the unfortunate victims like vultures over a corpse: they wouldn’t stop until they had dissected those aching hearts, leaving them to bleed out. No, she would have done everything in her power to prevent this.

The story she wrote down when asked to bring the grim fate of the Titanic on the big screen was fiction: inspired by true facts but fiction. Zetta was smart enough to know that life and fiction are two separate things and that an edulcorated tale of those most tragic hours was all the world could take: the people of New York, who weren’t there that night, would have been overwhelmed by the real story.

Still, when she sat at her desk and started writing a draft of the script her mind immediately turned to…Adele.

She didn’t even notice Richard leaving the room as the silhouette of Miss Carrem clouded her thoughts. Finally alone, her face fell and she shut her eyes as if to prevent the memory from fading away.

Adele, most gracious, fearless Adele…

Her lips curled into a sad smile as she reminisced their first meeting. She was sitting in her suite smoking and listening to James making some pointless speech when the door opened and Teo stepped in followed by Adele. She had the beauty of a Greek goddess and the look of someone who was going through a lot. She clearly felt out of place among finely dressed first-class passengers in the lavish room but she kept her head high. Zetta remembered feeling the urge to know what troubled her but she put on her mask, the sardonic film star ever out of reach. And then…was it a brave move or just an insane one? Adele told her of her arrest, of prison. Everyone else would have hidden from her, a new employer and Zetta Serda…not Adele. She handed her everything she needed to destroy her life as if it was no big deal. Zetta was taken aback and searched her green eyes for any sign of mockery but find none: the stranger girl truly trusted her with her life. That’s when she realized how unique Miss Carrem was.

Adele found a way to her heart effortlessly as if she had the map from the very start. When she placed her hand over hers in the projection room, she startled Zetta: whenever she had made the fatal mistake to show her vulnerable side to anyone, they would have used it against her to make her feel weak or small…clearly in need of someone who would tell her what to do, to guide her. They would have refilled her glass with wine again and again instead of going for the simplest gesture: taking her hand into theirs and comfort her. Making her believe with that touch that everything would have been fine, and she was stronger than whatever life threw her.

For a moment, as Adele held her hand, she felt safe, pacified, something she had never experienced with any of her supposed lovers. She couldn’t even be mad at her secretary when she revealed her James’ plan and the true reason behind his bailing her out of jail. She was shocked, obviously but she also couldn’t believe that Adele, brave foolish Adele, had put her life into her hands again. “I’m perfectly aware of the risk I’m taking by revealing this to you but you deserve to know. I cannot keep this from you” she said, looking her right in the eye.

Those eyes…they took Zetta’s breath away whenever they ignited with the fire sparking inside her. She could have lost herself in their green depths when they gleamed with pride and mischief as she proposed a toast to the vote to women or whenever their eyes met. She got lost in them when their lips touched, and they grew dark with desire. How daring and foolish they had been in the Turkish baths…but she couldn’t bring herself to regret that moment of ecstasy when she felt free and truly loved, for once. She could still shiver remembering Adele’s touch, the way her lips traced down her body with reverence and adoration, the soft moans the tender girl in her arms suffocated hiding her face in the crook of her neck as she melted under her caresses. In those stolen embraces she knew happiness.

How happy she felt whenever Adele was around: just exchanging a brief look across the room would make her heart flutter.

Then other memories surged and Zetta felt tears welling her closed eyes. Her birthday night, that cursed birthday night…Adele and her sneaking away from the party to find a private spot on the deck. The wine, the cold breeze of the ocean, Adele’s silvery laughter at her tipsy enthusiasm, how she craved those sweet lips all night.

“If I’m honest, I don’t even want to reach shore, I don’t want to go back to the party…I just want to stay out here with you. Forever.”

Adele’s tender smile in agreement.

“Let’s just make a tent of this blanket – we can live off seal meat and rainwater”

Her tipsy proposal made the two of them laugh again.

“What about your acting career?” Adele inquired, a smile lingering on her face.

“We’ll make our own plays. Whaddya say?”

God, how those words sounded different now…how she would have given everything to have Adele there to cup her face and give her a slow, deep kiss. But Adele wasn’t by her side anymore…she lost sight of her when her agent and Richard dragged her and James away from the crowd at the New York pier.

She hadn’t written her ever since that day and she felt so impossibly guilty because of that: Adele must have thought she had forgotten about her after all her words of love on the ship. Maybe she felt used, maybe she hated her by now and cursed the memory of her. She would have reasons to hold a grudge to her…the truth was that happiness and love are hard to accept if you have never truly had them before and if they came from a woman loving another woman.

Zetta had tried to write her a thousand time but every time she had made an effort to put her feelings into words, her lines rang hollow. Yet the words that got stuck in her throat when Adele pulled her into a corner and confessed that no matter what happened that night she needed to tell that she loved her were clear in her mind.

The months spent parted from you are the saddest time of my life. I’m haunted by you, the ghost of you. You’re everywhere: even if I’m silent, not an hour passed where I haven’t thought of you. I tried not to, but whenever I closed my eyes, there you were. I love you and I can’t live without you, without your smile, your wit, your touch. I just can’t but how can I ask you to be with me in the dark? I can’t step back from this wedding and I don’t want you to be a secret mistress: that would squalid and offensive when you are the one I want to give all of me. To marry, if that was even a possibility for us so that I could spend every single day of my life with you, waking up with you by my side, taking care of you…making you happy. Your absence makes even breathing hard, not to mention smiling to strangers, “capitalist pigs” as you would say…I even try and talk like you do, you see? But I find myself wondering: will I make you happy if I have to hide our love from the world? Kiss you only behind closed doors? Let you see me marry a man? You’re a free spirit, my love, I don’t want to put you in a cage because our love, our pure love would be a scandal and a scandal would ruin everything I worked for since I was even younger than you. I don’t want you to spend your life as a ghost yet I find myself craving to see your face one more time as living without you is barely surviving but all the light has gone as I lost you.

Suddenly she felt someone placing their hands on her shoulders.

“Let me help you here, Madame”

She opened her eyes and saw Sabine, smiling sympathetically down at her. She tried and failed to mirror her smile as her mascara was now running down her cheeks.

Sabine helped her to her feet and took care of everything. Zetta let her washed up her face and helped her into her shiny evening dress: she felt like a child in the hands of a loving mother. When she was putting on her earrings, the final touch, Sabine handed her a small stack of envelopes.

“The invitations to the movie screening and party” she explained. “It’s October first, I would suggest to send them first thing tomorrow to ensure that everyone get the invitation within reasonable notice. It wasn’t easy to find all the addresses, but I did my best”

“I’m sure you did, Sabine. Thank you for taking care of it.” Zetta said as she checked the succession of familiar names of former passengers and famous colleagues. “I will sign them personally when we come back from the party”.

“Excellent” Sabine nodded.

Then as Zetta placed the stack on her desk, she presented her a single envelope.

“I hope you don’t mind if I requested a faster delivery for this one” she added before bowing her head curtly and leaving the room. “Have a nice evening, Madame”

Zetta read the name handwritten on the last envelope where a different stamp had been appointed.

‘Mademoiselle Adele Carrem’

A lump formed in her throat but she forced herself not to cry and just smile, mentally thanking Sabine: she had found her. Following nothing else but her instinct, Zetta picked out the invitation and signed it with her fountain pen. Then, as Richard called her name, she grabbed a slip of paper and wrote a brief note:

“Please come, my love. I must see you again. Yours, Zetta”.

She folded everything back into the envelope and finally left her room as a newfound hope kindled inside her.

#storyscape #titanic sc #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele

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shiveringpinkala · 4 years

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voyage to the heart’s land

so, i wrote a fic for @renelemaires because i’m not good at headcanons as was initially requested, but i can do this apparently. sending happiness and good vibes your way!

voyage to the heart’s land; renee lemaire after the war w/ vague hints of baberoe, renee/gene and possible future renee/gene/babe. 2969 words.

Renee left Belgium two years after the war ended.

She loved her home, but the magic of the forests and memories of running around the city square in the blush of youth no longer held the easy charm that she associated with those times. And so, one day, in the height of July’s peaking summer, she pulled out an old atlas of her father’s – yellowed at the edges, curls crinkling on the front of most pages, one corner missing and taking a chuck of the Soviet Union, Egypt and Newfoundland with it – and looked for something new.

She bookmarked Morocco for the language and Portugal for the ocean, but stopped completely when she reached the United States. Jagged borderlines between oddly shaped provinces and big – so much bigger than Belgium, bigger than Europe – and thought of Eugene. She traced her fingers down the neatly labeled Appalachian Montagnes, bypassing the likes of Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia and sweeping over until she landed on Louisiana; little dots pointing out the towns of New Orleans and Baton Rouge. She tapped idly on the image and thought of the Eugene’s low voice and rough accent, the weary determination in his eyes. Her hands stilled.

Louisiana is was then.

Her mother kissed her cheeks at the train station. Her father tucked a riot of bills in her pocket and when she tried to protest, only said to write when she reached America. The subsequent journey took her out to England and then to an ocean liner setting sail for New York. She spent every waking moment she could on deck, drinking in the spray of ocean air and watching contentedly as an Irish mother of four tired to corral her children unsuccessfully.

Once she landed in New York, she asked the nearest shop owner – a plump, friendly woman with a thick Polish accent – where she could find a telegraph office and was given an escort in the form of the woman’s ten year old son who delivered her to her destination with a gap toothed smile. She sent her message; carefully relaying the address that was postmarked on the envelope of the single letter Eugene had written her a year earlier, hoping he hadn’t gotten the urge to pick up roots as well in the time that had lapsed. From there, it was off to the currency exchange station, and then to a hotel. She spent two days in New York, enjoying the rush of bodies and movement despite herself, listening to the array of languages and marveling at the lights that never seemed to dim. On the third morning, she ventured to Grand Central Station and caught a train headed to Philadelphia.

The ride was surprisingly short, but it was also dark and her next train wasn’t due to leave until the morning, but – to her surprise – when she stepped onto the platform there was a giant hand-written sign with her name on it in blocky letters. She blinked, caught out and cautiously approached the strangers huddled around it. One of the men, short and solidly built, braced on a pair of crutches, beamed when he spotted her approach and waved her over.

“Hello?” She asked, still confused. The pretty – and lone – woman standing beside the man in question rolled her eyes at the man’s enthusiasm and held out a hand of Renee when she got close enough.

“Ignore him,” she said, waving a hand at the man’s indignant bark, “I told him that no woman in their right mind would want to walk over to a group of strange rabble without reason, but he insisted,” she smiled, “I’m Frannie.”

“Renee,” she answered bemused, “as you know, apparently. How did –”

“Babe sent us,” the man said, accent broad and unfamiliar, but not unappealing, “Doc told him you were coming and he told us.”

“Babe?” Renee asked, looking at Frannie to see if he was being serious.

“You’ll meet him when you get down there,” he said, “My name’s Bill. Guarnere. I served with the Doc. And this here –” he looked over at the person holding the sign and then whacked at the legs peeking out underneath it with one crutch, “— put that down, ya idiot. There’s a lady present. This is Ralph Spina, one ‘a Doc’s fellow medics.”

Ralph lowered the sign with her name and sent Bill a caustic glare, then looked back at her and nodded. “Nice ta meet you, ma’am.”

“Renee is fine,” she smiled at the trio, unduly charmed, “it’s nice to meet you as well.”

Frannie stepped forward and looped an arm through Renee’s and pointed at her bags, “Ralph get those, will you? Right this way, honey. No friend of Doc Roe is spending the night in some roachy motel. You like Italian? I was thinking ravioli or gnocchi, maybe.”

Renee dropped the protest that she could carry her own luggage when Ralph picked it up immediately and followed in Frannie’s footsteps without complaint. She thought about Eugene and this Babe person arranging for her to have a welcoming party and let the bickering chatter between the three American’s envelope her in gentle waves.

The dinner was amazing (“Now that rationing’s lifting, makes getting the right ingredients easier.” Bill laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at Ralph, and their other friend Joe Toye, who only rolled his eyes at Bill’s bombastic tone, “No more Army noodles here.”) and the company even better as they told her endless stories about what seemed to be every single man they’d served with. At some point, she realized she was laughing so hard that tears were actually welling in her eyes and the salt in them felt like a cleansing of some kind. Like a layer of heavy silt had been washed from her soul. She fell asleep on her borrowed bed that night with a smile on her face.

To repay their generosity, she woke up early – not difficult as her internal clock was a mess from slipping between time zones so quickly – and made a somewhat augmented version of her mother’s waffles and homemade hot chocolate for everyone.

Frannie took a sip while the boys ate seconds – or in Joe’s case, thirds – and said: “That was really good. If everything you make is this good, you should sell it. No point in giving heaven away for free.”

Renee thought about lazy mornings making bread with her mother in the kitchen of their old house. Kneading the dough, watching it rise and the whole house filling up with the smell as it baked. Regular cooking had never been something she’d had much patience for, but baking was something else entirely. She’d always found a peace in the careful measurements and methodical movements; her mind could wander away and rest from its troubles. The look on someone’s face when they took a bite was only a bonus.

She stared down at her hands and thought, for the first time in a long time, that maybe there was something special about them.

“Maybe,” she murmured and enjoyed the contentment of a job well done.

Frannie and the boys saw her off hours later. “Write, you hear,” Frannie said, hugging her tightly, “I need more women in my life that’ll understand my pain.”

“I am a goddamned joy and you know it,” Bill argued, but also pulled Renee into a one-armed embrace. “Tell those idiots to write too, ain’t like they don’t have pens and paper in the swamp.”

“I will. And thank you,” she directed the last at the whole group, who waved away the gratitude with mumbled protests and continued waving as she stepped onto the train.

This one took her to Charleston, down through rolling green hills and farmlands that gave the country some space, opening up into long tracks of fields that both reminded her of home and was nothing at all like it. It was only a stop over this time, but the hour of rest came with polite men and women, an ocean view and accents that were similar to Eugene’s. The leg after took her down to Georgia where she drank an ice-cold Coca-Cola from a Soda Fountain in the rail yard and watched a group of kids played a game right in the middle of the street with a ball and stick; jeers and cheers filtering into the open door of the Fountain. From Savannah, the train took her all the way to New Orleans.

New Orleans was like stepping into a different world. Music seemed to be infused in the air around her from the minute she got off the train; slow saxophone’s and staccato snares, trumpets whisking a melody away into the melting summer breeze. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, taking in the atmosphere. She walked around some of the city; wandering into the French Quarter and marveling at the architecture and listening to accented French coming in fits and stops from the residents who tipped their hats at her as she passed. Eventually, she found herself in a kind of civic center and asked for directions to the town that Eugene had written to her from. The kindly older man working there, showed her where it was on a map and arranged for her to get a cab down.

The bayou, as she learned the whole area was referred to, was almost like something out of a fairy tale. Swamps, running into jungle forests and moss covering everything from the trees to the roofs of the houses half-hidden from the road. The cab dropped her off at a little general store/café that the driver in question assured her would be helpful if she was looking for someone in particular.

A few curious eyes lit on her when she walked into the open aired restaurant, but the stares were without hostility and her purpose was quickly deduced correctly because a kind looking woman with wild grey-touched curls in a faded red dress came up to her with a smile.

“You look like a woman who could use a hand,” she said, eyeing the suitcase and bag at Renee’s feet, “I’m Bea, what can I help you with, sugar?”

“I was told that you could help me find someone?” Renee asked.

Bea’s eyes widened and she whistled lowly. “Honey, that is some pretty voice you got there. As for help, I know just about every person in this neck of the woods; and if I don’t, then they ain’t here. Who you looking for?”

“Eugene Roe.”

A fond smile settled on Bea’s lined face. “That boy got popular in Europe,” she commented and then led Renee over to one of the wrought iron tables in the café. “You sit tight and I’ll give ‘im a call, alright?”

Renee thanked her and sat there, nerves suddenly erupting her stomach as she waited. It had been so long and she had basically invited herself. Maybe he’d be cross? But no, why send a welcoming committee in Philadelphia otherwise? She drummed her knuckles on the table and was only interrupted when Bea set some iced, amber colored liquid in front of her; condensation beading at the tall glass.

“Sweet tea,” Bea explained, “It’s a staple down here. Best get used to it, if you’re staying.”

Renee took a drink, flavor bursting across her tongue. The coolness of it hit her and relaxed some of the tension that had sprung up. “It’s good,” she said, a little surprised.

“Glad to hear it,” Bea replied, grinning. She patted Renee on the shoulder and then twirled away to serve another customer.

When Eugene finally arrived, it took Renee a moment to recognize him. Gone were the worn green army fatigues, and in its place was a pair of denim jeans and a button up checked shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His black hair was a bit longer and his skin had lost the deathly pale hue that she got used to seeing in Bastogne, warming to a pale caramel under his home’s beating sun. She couldn’t stop the smile from lighting up her face at the sight and stood up, so that he could see her better.

Sure enough, he spotted her and froze in the middle of the café before a more subdued, but no less genuine version of his own, smile crossed his features. He resumed his walk and when he was standing in front of her and – after a moment’s hesitation – gently pulled her into his arms. The breath she’d been painfully holding in her lungs gave way, and she breathed in the woodsy citrus kick of his aftershave as she held on.

“It’s good to see you,” he said into her hair, before pulling away to look at her.

“Vous aussi,” she said which softened his smile into loveliness.

“These your bags?”

“Oui. They are.”

“Well, okay then,” he reached down and picked them up, “I got the guest room made up,” he stopped for a moment and then shrugged, expression sheepish, “unless you’d rather stay at an inn? Your choice, o’ course.”

“Your guest room is fine,” she said, following him out of the café, where they waved goodbyes to Bea, who hassled them into agreeing to lunch the next day, “as long as your friend doesn’t mind?”

A series of emotions flickered over his face before settling into rueful. “Edward don’t mind; he’s the one been fretting about pillows or some such since your wire.”

The last knot of anxiety loosened in her gut at that. “Then lead on.”

Eugene’s – “Gene, I insist.” – house was a medium sized bungalow set back a little way from the dirt road and surrounded by a sparse, moss ridden wood with the nearest neighbors half-a-mile down the road. It was sweet and Renee found an instant kinship to the large dormer windows and wide porch that extended out from the house.

“It’s not much,” he said, almost sounding apologetic.

Renee refrained from saying that any standing building was stunning to her now, no matter the size or color or shape. “It’s beautiful,” she told him honestly.

They were greeted at the dog by a floppy eared beagle whose whole hindquarters wriggled when Renee leaned down to pet him. “That’s Rex,” Gene said, rolling his eyes good naturedly at the pup, “wandered into the yard one day and never left. Ain’t much of a guard dog, as you can see.”

“He doesn’t need to be. He’s lovely exactly the way he is,” she said, laughing when he took a chance to lick at her cheek.

Gene led them into the house. Renee took in the cozy decorating, lacking a bit in the way that most male driven houses did, and was examining a series of photos on an end table when the last resident of the house came bounding around the corner, stopping abruptly when he saw her. He was as Bill had described him – skinny, redhaired, eyes too big for his ugly mug – though she would argue the ‘ugly’ descriptor; he had a sweet, open face that put her at ease immediately.

“Hey,” he said, practically vibrating in anticipation, giving her a half-wave from his place in the doorway and biting his lip, “you must be Renee. It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

“Enchante, Edward. I’ve heard much about you.”

“You have? From – wait, Edward?” He looked over at Gene who was deliberately turned away, though Renee could see the hint of a pleased grin on his face. “Really, Gene; Edward?” He turned back to Renee in a mild huff. “Call me Babe, everyone does.”

“Babe,” she agreed, noticing that some of the stiffness in his frame had disappeared in the wake of the mix-up. Probably, that was Gene’s intention all along.

“Right. Are you hungry? Gene was making some kind of stew thing –”

“It’s jambalaya, Babe, you know this.”

“— before Bea called. It’ll make your senses wish they’d died, but it tastes amazing.”

Renee nodded. “I’d love to try some.”

She sat at the dining table as Gene and Babe worked seamlessly around each other in the small kitchen, and rather than feeling awkward or forgotten, both men managed to include her in their ritual, making her feel as at home for the first time since the bombs began to fall. Babe, in a similar vein to Bill, gave her all the gossip about town, while Gene corrected the most outlandish claims the redhead made (“It did not try to eat you, Babe.” “It wanted too – I could tell, stared at my leg like it was a rack of ribs.” “It was an alligator snapping turtle not an actual gator.” “Well, what he hell’s it got alligator in its name for then, huh? Huh Gene? Answer me that!”) with a well-rehearsed fondness.

The jambalaya was as Babe advertised it – amazing, but eye wateringly spicy – and was finished off with powered French pastries Gene called beignets. Gene asked about her journey and she indulged them with the story, making sure to thank them for setting Frannie and the others in her path.

“Bill says that you two must write him sometime. He was quite insistent,” she said teasingly.

Babe snorted. “Sure. Tomorrow I’ll send him a telegram: Dear Bill, screw you, Love Babe.”

She laughed and Babe grinned all the brighter for it. Gene shook his head, but his eyes kept bouncing between them with a contentedness that Renee was glad to see he was capable of. It made the restless, inadequate feelings in her heart go into hibernation. A tranquil hush came to a rest in her blood. Whatever may come, she thought she could be herself here. Perhaps even be truly happy.

It was a something to look forward too. A gift.

And she intended to enjoy it.

#it's longer than i intended #(was supposed to be a ficlet)#hopefully you like it!#*fingers crossed*#band of brothers #gift fic #renee lemaire #eugene roe #babe heffron

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rock-n-roll-refugee · 5 years

Text

Ultraviolence~Chapter 1

I had to rewrite this because I forgot to save it... shoot me

PART 2 OUT NOW ON MY PAGE (I’m too lazy and dumb to link)

Peter Parker x Villain!Reader

A/N: This is something I wanna try, and I know I suck at writing and sticking to one project so let’s see how well this goes. And if y’all like this please let me know I feed off your complements :( also idk what The Hand is, i know its from Daredevil, but I'm just using it randomly. sorry

warnings: a lot of swearing lol, violence, blood

If you watched A Clockwork Orange you would know that the storyline follows a madman’s twisted descent into normality. Substitute Def Leppard for the old Ludwig Van and you have the tragic story of (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

She had many similarities to the infamous Alex Delarge in which they both are mentally deranged and crave that sweet taste of violence. (Y/N) also took part in somewhat of a gang, but it wasn’t like Alex’s droogs. It was more of an ancient organization of assassins than a gang, but nonetheless, she was on the wrong side of the law. The organization was called The Hand and she was taken in by Bakuto, the leader, when she was only four after her father killed her mother and abandoned a very young (Y/N) on the streets. Her father was a rouge member and destroyed his family so he could escape for himself. Or at least that was the story she was told. Bakuto took her in because he saw potential, or maybe it was just her superhuman powers, for she had the ability to manipulate the elements into any weapon of choice making her an excellent weapon for The Hand.

It was a typical mission, take out a corrupt entrepreneur who had got caught in a bad situation with some bad people. It was a task that she had preformed many times over many years, but today was different. It was her first solo mission.

“Its in and out. Simple as that.” she whispered to herself.

She scaled the building, it was a large villa on the edge Lake George in New York. It was magnificent and it all came from dirty money. The atmosphere gave her a boost of confidence and she decided, why not have a little fun? Unlike the rest of The Hand, she always liked to spice up her assassinations with a little flare. Just like her idol Mr. Delarge, she was always one for the dramatics. A lot of her inspiration came from her favorite movie, as you know, is A Clockwork Orange. However, this was the only film (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has ever sense there wasn't anything to compare to. She smuggled the film into base, knowing she was forbidden to view films from the outside, and that it would disrupt her training, but it was her only memory with her previous family. Her father would watch this movie and to her mother’s dismay, she watched it along with him even though it was a movie very unsuitable for young eyes. What should be considered an awful memory according to Bakuto was something of comfort for (Y/N). Unlike most, she sympathized for Alex Delarge, and even though he was meant to be an evil “anti-hero”, she was able to relate to his strife.

She was lost in her thoughts when she heard the front doors open and close. She snuck to a new hiding spot and watch guests flow into the mansion. There was a corporate celebration being held tonight, and what better way of sending a message than in front of maybe hundreds. The hours passed and it became gradually hard to stay hidden due to the vast amount of party goers. She was ahead of the game however and was prepared for this situation. She changed into appropriate attire for the event, which was a black camisole dress layered with a mesh long sleeve dress with gold embroidery, which was provided to her. She slipped on the obligatory heels and joined the party, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“I don’t understand Mr. Stark, why did you have to bring me here again?” Peter whined at Tony as the exited the car.

“Kid, if you want to be involved with Stark Industries you need to know how to go to things like this.” Tony said waving off Happy.

“Who is this guy anyways?” Peter said trying to keep up with Tony

“This guy is a pretty big investor in my company, and it would be rude of us not to go. He’s kind of a jackass though.”

They maneuvered their way through the crowd, shaking hands and greeting unfamiliar people. They finally found a place to stand, to be greeted by yet more money sniffing mongrels wanting to stuff their greedy hands into Tony’s pockets. Peter slouched over getting bored after only 15 minutes and waiting for this event to be over. He groaned and Tony rolled his eyes and sighed. Peter’s eyes began to scan the room for something slightly interesting, when he caught a good look at her. His posture suddenly improved grabbing Tony’s attention. He watched Peter drool over the (Y/H/C) haired girl in the black and gold dress, watching every move she made.

“Quit drooling kid and go talk to her.” Tony demanded. Peter’s eyes went large.

“Wha-what do you mean Mr. Stark?” Peter stuttered looking back from her and Tony.

“You really aren’t subtle.” Tony said face palming, “quit groaning and go over there. Gives you something to do rather than bugging me all night.”

Tony nudged Peter in her direction and he slowly and awkwardly waddled over to her. She stood in a pretty empty part of the party with her arms crossed, just staring blankly into the crowd.

“he-hey” he said softly

She looked at the nervous boy with her eyebrow raised,

“hi” she said easily dismissing him

“um... so... cool party right?”

“right.” she said giving only a sliver of attention the the boy. Her attitude gave him a weird boost in confidence.

“So, what’s your name?” He asked throwing her off guard.

“Uhhh...” she was preparing to go unnoticed and not talk to anyone, so she didn’t even bother coming up with a fake name. She frantically scanned the room for ideas. She looked over to the bar and saw the bartender pouring a drink for a partygoer,

“Scotch...” she muttered, “Scotch uhhhh...”

She then saw a man walk by wearing a brown leather jacket,

“Leather?” She said unsure.

“Scotch Leather?” Peter asked

“Yeah...” she said mentally face palming.

He began to burst out laughing as she joined him laughing nervously.

“I’m so sorry, I know that’s your name and its very rude of me to laugh, but no offense, that sounds like a stripper’s name.” He said as she scoffed. She realized the humor in it and began to laugh hysterically with him.

Hours went by, and the two just talked and laughed about everything. As night fell, they heard a glass being chimed, attracting everyone’s attention. The host, and (Y/N)’s target stood up in the front of the room.

“That’s my cue” she said to herself.

“Sorry what?” Peter said no catching what she was saying.

“Oh, I said I need to use the restroom.” she said putting down her glass of water, “It was nice meeting you Parker.”

Peter smiled victoriously and marched back to Tony.

“You were over there for a while. How’d it go?” Tony whispered as the host began his speech.

“Amazing! She's smart, and pretty, and my age too!” Peter told him ecstatically.

“Did you get her number?”

“Crap.”

She had changed back into her previous attire and snuck onto the roof where she had a good view of her target. She tied her hair up into a tight bun and slipped on her mask. She had to use her full face mask due to the fact that she walked around the party for a while and enough people saw her face to be able to show it. She groaned at the suffocation and begrudgingly stuffed her head in. It was musty and smelled like sweat, and the connected goggles were scratched up and foggy. The one advantage was that her identity was completely hidden and she looked pretty freaky. She adjusted her suit, which was an all black bulletproof suit that went up to her neck, and cargo pants and boots over the suit.

She reached out her hand and a chunk of metal melted from a bare pipe and flew into her hand, shaping into a katana once it touched her palm. she peaked through the skylight at the target, still rambling on.

“...and to all those who have been a part of my project, I’d like to thank and for the profits, we are making more than we anticipated, so I am making a proposal for the next...”

He droned on for a long time, but she had to wait for the perfect moment. She wanted to make her first solo mission something to remember.

She cut a hole through the skylight and swiftly hopped down right behind him, barely making a noise when her feet touched the floor. She went unnoticed until she stood up behind him. She was merely a shadow, and barely visible, but what caught everyone’s eye was the gleam of her sword. The crowd audibly gasps at the intruder and a frightened murmur is heard throughout the room.

“I know, I know. These new plans are ambitious, but trust me I have a plan to initiate a...” he says, as a reply to the gasps and murmurs.

The assassin smirks under her mask as the host turns around confused as to why the crowd looked frightened, and the moment he is face to face with her she sheaths her katana deep into his heart. The people in the crown scream and run frantically out of the building. She chuckles knowing the scene looks almost like renaissance painting, her and the target dead center, his eyes rolled back into his head, and the frenzy of the guests scattering the ironically serene and exquisite room. It was almost poetic and how she wished she could get a snapshot of the moment. She twisted the sword making the man scream out in pain and retracted her sword, taking one last look at the magnificent scene and scurrying off.

“Hey Peter?” Tony asked, not looking directly at him

“Y-yeah?”

“Do you have your suit on you?”

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lyrazehedgieboiii · 4 years

Note

Maybe prompt number 25 it sounds very sincere to the heart

Rated M b/c of cussing, and mentions of sexual activity.

Prompt 25- “Do you realize how much I love you?”

Modern Sonamy oneshot. This is for you, Anon! Whomever you may be~

Amy was walking home after a long day (of getting kidnapped) and started breaking down. After a few minutes of sobbing, she heard an innocent voice call out to her.

“Ms. Amy? Why are you crying?” Amy looked up to see ten year old Cream, with her chao, Cheese. She changed her outfit to something a little more conservative. She wore an orange sweater dress in the winter, along with black leggings like Amy did. Amy had a similar sweater dress, except it was a turtle-neck, and it was a little tighter around the waist. Amy wiped away her tears and smiled.

“I’m fine, Cream.” Her voice cracked. Now Cream definitely knew something was wrong. Amy’s sweet, melodious never cracked.

“Stop lying, Ms. Amy. I’m going to call Ms. Rouge, Ms. Blaze, and Ms. Lyra. They’ll know what happened.” She called the following girls on her phone. She had it in case of emergencies. Clearly this is one.

“Hi, Cream. What do you mean? WHAT?! I’m on my way, Rouge is with me, I’ll get Blaze. Just get her home.”

“Hi Ms. Lyra. Amy’s crying for some reason. I don’t know, she just dropped on the floor and started crying. Okay, see you later.” Cream ended the call, and helped Amy up, while giving her a hug.

“It’s about Sonic, isn’t it. That no good, cowardly, piece of-” Rouge’s mouth was covered by Blaze because of Cream’s presence.

“Cow pie. A stinking poop is what he is!” Cream exclaimed in anger. The girls all agreed at Cream’s comment. Amy sniffled.

“W-why?! Why c-can’t he l-love m...me?! Is it the way I look?! I can change! I-I’d even dye my hair!” The girls all looked to each other. They all shook their heads.

“Amy...I-We, don’t think Sonic’s worth it. He keeps breaking your heart, no matter how much you do for him. He’s not even considerate. You deserve so much more better than that.” Blaze told Amy, as she cried in Blaze’s arms.

“B-but, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to fall for anyone else! And Sonic wouldn’t allow me to date other people.” Rouge looked puzzled. Lyra asked the question that Rouge was thinking.

“What do you mean, Sonic won’t let you date other people?” Lyra brought her chair closer. She was sitting in the corner, writing about at least fifty different ways she could kill Sonic for breaking Amy’s heart.

“Well, I can’t really explain it. Rouge, you know how you set me up on a blind date? Well, I was sitting with him, and suddenly Sonic came out of nowhere, and pulled me out of the cafe. He told me to stay away from other guys. Of course I was upset, so I told him to stop acting all overprotective, I can do whatever the hell I want, and he doesn’t listen, he just drops me off back here, and basically patrolled my house for the next few hours while I cried myself to sleep.” Amy said, her tears not scared of falling out.

“That little shit!” Rouge yelled. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

“Oh! It must be my mom.” Cream ran to the door, and there stood her mother. She said ‘bye’ to everyone and left.

“Okay, since I couldn’t say this in front of Cream, but, wanna go to the bar? It could get your mind of things!” Rouge literally started begging.

“Fine. I guess that would help. Let’s go.” Amy was about to get up, but Rouge stopped her.

“You’re not going anywhere in that. I brought some outfits, and we’re gonna wear them.” And with that, Rouge took out four skimpy outfits. Lyra had a poker face.

“Ain’t no way in hell am I wearing that shit.” Rouge rolled her eyes. She took out a denim jacket, and handed it to her. They all put on their outfits in Amy’s room.

Amy was wearing a red silk strapless dress that hugged at her waist, she wore some bright red lipstick, but used a napkin to bring down the tone.

Blaze was wearing a purple spaghetti strapped deep sweetheart cut at her chest, and was wearing some lipgloss to make her lips sparkle.

Rouge was wearing a black strapless dress which ended about mid-thigh. The dress clenched at her waist. She wore deep red lipstick, and didn’t bother with the tone.

Lyra wore a white circle skirt dress, the skirt ending to her knees. She had a denim jacket on. She put on some lip balm, not really bothering putting on make-up. She sneaked her headphones and laptop, knowing that she’d need it later. The girls all took their purses and left in Rouge’s car.

- At The Bar

There was hip-hop music playing, lots of people everywhere, strangers getting all over each other, and some private booths for...you know...

“Here we are~! Let’s go get something to drink!” Rouge drags the girls to the bar counter. She orders four cocktails (lol I’m too immature to drink and go to clubs) for the girls and they sit down in a couch that surrounds a circle table. After a while, Rouge sees a familiar red figure at the entrance. She stands up and waves, making the other three girls with her confused.

“Rouge! What’re you doing here, babe?” Knuckles asked the bat as he, and his three friends, one being a specific hedgehog. Lyra signaled Rouge to huddle up as a group.

“He’s here. With them.” Blaze said, her eyes wide open, gesturing to Amy and wanting her to be happy.

“I want her to be happy and forget all about that asshole. The only way to do that is to keep him away from her! She’s suffering through heartbreak.” Lyra bluntly stated. The boys, being the idiots they are, decided to try and eavesdrop on their conversation. They heard something about her heartbreak. Everyone looked at Shadow, seeing he was the womanizer.

“I haven’t been playing with any girls, honest.” Shadow said emotionlessly. The boys turned to Sonic. He looked confused.

“What did I do?” Was all he asked. Knuckles face-palmed, Silver was making an ‘Are you fucking kidding me?!’ look, and Shadow just rolled his eyes, looking like he doesn’t give a fuck, but cares for his self-proclaimed little sister’s wellbeing. “No, seriously, I don’t understand, what did I do?” He dared to ask.

“You’re off breaking hearts, like normal.” Silver muttered. Sonic got even more puzzled. Silver sighed. “You hurt little Amy’s heart, Sonic. The little cinnamon roll doesn’t deserve this. We all know you like her, you ain’t fooling anyone.” Silver was right, but Sonic’s ego didn’t want to admit that.

“He’s right, Sonic. Ya’ know, she’s been having suicidal thoughts lately.” Lyra lied. Lyra was right tho-WAIT, WHAT WAS SHE DOING IN THIS CONVERSATION?!

“Pegs, this is a boy conversation, stay out of it.” Shadow told Lyra. She muttered some profanities at him, and he only smirked.

“PEGS? What the hell are you doing to my sister?! Why the hell have you given her a name that doesn’t even suit her and doesn’t even relate to her?!”

“Relax, Faker. Let your sister date whoever she wants. She won’t let me flirt with her. Focus on your own girl.”

- WITH THE GIRLS~~~~~~~

“Why don’t we hook you up with someone, hmm? I hear Shadow’s fre-”

“Fuck no.” Lyra and Amy said simultaneously.

“No offense, Rouge, but I don’t think I’m interested in dating or having a fling with anyone. My heart’s stuck with someone who could possibly be attracted to boys-” Amy’s comment was interrupted by a loud snort by Lyra.

“What do you mean, could possibly be attracted to boys? I hope you’re not mistaking Silver as Sonic.” As Rouge said that, Blaze scowled at her friend. Rouge thought for a moment, not acknowledging the fact that Blaze was burning imaginary holes through her head. Rouge gasped and ran over to Knuckles and whispered something into his ear. He did a small nod to his girlfriend.

“Oh, Shadow! Silver! There’s this new spirytus bottle that I’ve been dying to try out.” And with that, he dragged Shadow and Silver out of the scene.

“Oh, I think we should do the same! Right Lyra, and Blaze? Amy, you stay here, I know you get a little tipsy you get after a strong drink. You even flirt with boys when you’re in that state.” That one comment made Sonic snap his head towards Amy. Amy mentally facepalmed. Sonic’s not happy. AT. ALL. Rouge dragged the two away from the oblivious hedgehogs.

“So...you’re sixteen, and you’re drinking. And it’s obviously not your first time. Am I right.” Amy stayed silent. She just wanted to melt into the ground, not wanting to listen to the useless shit that the guy who ruined her life was spitting out.

“Why do you always try to find other guys?” This really made Amy snap. She stood up, giving Sonic a chance to scan her figure very quickly without her realizing. No wonder he’s called the fastest thing alive, am I right? Amy gave herself a few minutes to regain her posture because she was a bit drunk.

“Now listen here, y-you ass-napkin! I hate being treated like I’m not allowed to date other people, when I am. So, stop it. You have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do. Just don’t talk to me Sonic the Hedgehog. Stay away from me, and don’t talk to me.” She straightened out her posture, and before walking away, she said something that made Sonic truly feel like an ass-napkin. “Do you realize how much I love you?” A hand grabbed Amy’s waist, and pulled her to their chest. She tried squirming out, but the person wouldn’t budge. She took in the scent of the person, and stopped. It was Sonic.

He leaned down, and captured her lips in his own, even though she wasn’t kissing back. He kissed harder, and Amy had no choice but to give in. She decided to take advantage of the moment, and to take as much as she possibly could. In the background, Lyra and Rouge were fangirling, Blaze was recording a video, and the boys were silently cheering Sonic on.

“The reason I keep you away from dating other boys is because I want to. Seeing you with other boys internally hurts me, that’s why I’m so protective of you. But, I’m too shy to confess my feelings to you. I just want to keep you safe.” Amy smirked.

“You’re not shy, Mr. the Hedgehog. You’re just afraid it’ll cause a huge damage to that oversized ego of yours. Go choke on a peanut or something.” Lyra yelled “HEY!” at Amy because that was usually her line. “But, I no matter what I do, I just can’t get my mind off you. Frick that rhymes.” Amy looks over to the fourth wall, where the author is sitting. (”Sorry for that unintentional rhyme, I don’t want to change it.”)

“Sorry Ames. I just love you too much to let you go. I want you to be mine, but...I just want to run, too.” Sonic put his head down. Amy rolled her eyes.

“Enough with the cheesiness, Sonic. It’s soooo not you. First of all, it wasn’t so hard to confess, was it? Second of all, I won’t tie you down. All I want is for you to be happy, and I know that running makes you happy. So whenever you’re with me, and you feel like running, don’t hold it in. Just go.” Amy said calmly. Sonic grew excited and kissed her again. His confident signature smirk was back, and he looked down at his new girlfriend.

“So, there’s no way I’m letting you get away with wearing that outfit, missy.” Sonic said smugly. He picked Amy up bridal style and ran to her house.

#sonamy

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

Text

Shadowed Hearts/Winter Souls (Chapter Twenty-Two)

MASTERLIST

TW: Character Death (But It's a Bad Guy)

**********************

The letter came ten days later.

Natalia refused to leave Sokovia before finding out what had happened, and she refused to leave the town while there was still smoke from the manor visible on the horizon. Tony rented rooms in the closest inn, paid piles of coin to the owners to ensure that they forgot he and Natalia were ever there, and spent his days drafting telegrams to be delivered to Brescia.

The time had come for him to fulfill his promise to keep their little family safe, and as soon as Natalia was ready to leave, they would be gone.

Ten days it took news to come, the message brought by way of Mr. Lee, who ran nervous hands through his thinning hair and pushed his glasses up his nose , handing the letter to Natalia with a whispered, “So sorry, my dear girl.”

Nakhozyl had fallen to the rebel forces, attacked before sun up and taken by sun down with little loss of life on the Sokovian side. But the Komandir had been terribly injured, thrown from his horse and captured, dragged away with the retreating Tsar's men, gone before anyone realized what had happened. Samuel and Ronin had been captured hours West, too intent on making it to the manor to notice they were being watched, and they'd been apprehended only hours away from the village, dragged away fighting and shouting and spilling blood trying to reach home.

There was no word as to who had come to set the manor on fire or even why the house had been burned to nothing more than rocks, but apparently no one was worried that the Black Widow hadn’t been captured. They assumed she was dead, and if not dead, heartbroken and powerless and therefore unimportant. The word from spies in the cities said the Tsar was furious over the loss of Nakhozyl, furious with his Generals for not culling the rebel army sooner, furious that even with the help of a high ranking traitor, his men had been no match for the Winter Soldier. Rumour had it the Tsar was talking about emancipating Sokovia even now, disgusted with the loss of life, exhausted from the war, irritated at having expended so many resources on a tiny piece of Russia he'd never ever seen. If the worthless little country wanted to be on their own, so be it. Brock Rumlow was thrown out in disgrace, the Generals having used him for all they needed, forsaking the promise of protection they’d made when he’d come to their side. Apparently Rumlow was in hiding, none of the still installed spies having seen hide nor hair of the man since at least a week before Nakhozyl. Natalia read the letter twice through, and then handed it Tony, who passed it over to Wanda.

Then the Black Widow penned a letter of her own, the first time she'd used the spy channels in years, her message brief and to the point, explicit in it's instructions and threatening for anyone who dared disobey.

"Just this one more thing, Antonio." She told Tony that morning, exhaustion filtering through the words. "Just this one more thing, and then you can take us away."

*********** It took less than three days. *********** The ground where the manor had stood was black and ugly, a scar that snow had yet to cover, crystals of ice clinging to the few pieces that had refused to burn entirely away. The stone stairs were still standing, leading to nothing since the foyer had turned to ash, some pieces of thick carpet left in what had been the parlor, fallen through from the second floor as the floors had warped and melted and burned. Tony had had enough presence of mind to free the horses before the stables had ignited, but the Falconers lodge was nothing more than a few charred beams, the carriage house non existent, the wagon disintegrated to nothing inside. The orchards and gardens Natalia had hoped to revive in the spring were gone, any hint of anything that might have been green simply vanished into the ruined earth. The woodshed and it's carefully hoarded stockpiles had acted as kindling, the pantry where they’d painstakingly stored enough food for the family for the season eliminated, the air still smelling acrid of seared animal fat and spices scorched. It was gone. It was all gone and as Brock Rumlow was dragged from a blacked out carriage with hands and feet shackled, he stared around him at the destruction in sickening awe. ….he’d never meant for this… ...not for this… Natalia was beautiful standing there among all the destruction, her brightly red hair perfectly styled, cheeks rouged and lips painted. She was wrapped in fine fur, brilliant sable and gorgeous velvet and she looked every inch a noblewoman, every inch the Natalia Romanova he had known for so many years, every inch the Black Widow and as Rumlow was forced to his knees in front of her, he knew there was no pity to be found in those wicked green eyes. “Don’t go anywhere.” Natalia told the men that had snatched Rumlow from his hide away in a non descript inn, two rebel soldiers known for their tracking, for their cruelty, for their uncanny ability to find anyone and anything no matter how cold the trail. It had taken them two days to find Rumlow after word had come from the Black Widow-- Bring me Rumlow and bring him alive, or I will substitute your body in place of his-- and the soldiers were all too happy to deliver the traitor into her waiting hands. “Don’t go anywhere.” she told them without taking her eyes off Rumlow. “I had to ride a horse here and I didn’t enjoy it at all. I’ll be requiring a ride in the carriage back to the inn.” “My Lady Romanova.” one of the soldiers murmured respectfully and pulled his partner back a considerable distance. Neither wanted to be close when the Widow exacted her revenge. “Brock Rumlow.” She said flatly and Brock started talking, rambling, panicking-- “Natalia. I swear, I swear I didn’t tell them where you lived. I tried to convince them to leave you alone, I thought they’d go after James, not after you, not after the children, I swear--” “Shut up.” Natalia ordered, and Rumlow shut up, watching with wide eyes as Natalia opened the bottle in her hands and tossed the cork away. “You have ruined my life, Rumlow.” The former soldier flinched when Natalia tipped the bottle over and poured it onto his head, the too sharp scent of kerosene stinging his nose as it ran down his face. The liquid trickled down his neck and soaked into his jacket, dripped down his sleeves and landed in blots around his bent knees and Brock closed his eyes as fear climbed up his throat and strangled him to silence. Surely she wouldn’t-- “This is for the soldiers you killed with your greed, the families you ruined because you are a coward and a traitor and sent them willingly into a fight they could not win.” Natalia shook the empty bottle and then broke it on the rocks where Rumlow was kneeling, wiping her hands very carefully on a rag before tossing that at him as well. “This is for my family.” Natalia took a cigarette from her coat and lit it with steady fingers, pulling deep at the cloves and tobacco and exhaling into the frigid air. “For my children the twins, for Antonio, for my brother your komandir and for the men I loved.” “Because we have been through far too much and you didn’t so much as hesitate before striking at our heart.” Another slow inhale, those sharp eyes never leaving Rumlow’s face. “Because James trusted you with his life, he trusted you with my life, and you betrayed us both. You betrayed us all.” “You have taken everything from me.” Natalia was whispering now, her throat working as she swallowed. “And I cannot imagine a death that is as cruel as you deserve. Letting you rot in a Sokovian prison is too merciful because you should not be allowed to breathe that long, but putting a bullet through your head is too painless because you should have to hurt longer than that.”

"You should have to hurt like I'm going to hurt, every day, for the rest of my life." “Natalia--” Rumlow whispered. “Mercy--I never meant for it to go this far. I only meant for James-- we all wanted this war to end and I thought if James was out of the way--"

The Widow narrowed her eyes and Brock faltered. "My--my Lady. Mercy. Please." “I do not know that word.” Natalia said coldly. “It burned away with the last pieces of my home, and now you will burn too.” “Natalia--!” “This is for my family.” Natalia said again, lighting another match and holding it out for Rumlow to see. “And it is still not enough.”

************* Rumlow screams echoed across the empty valley for a long time, longer than it seemed possible for a man to burn, long enough that even the two other soldiers turned away and closed their eyes, long enough that Natalia finished her cigarette and lit another, watching the man melt away without expression, without emotion, without a single care. And when it was over, Natalia tethered her horse to the back of the carriage and climbed inside, telling the driver, “Take me to the city.” and sitting back to not say another word. It was well past dinner before the carriage arrived at the train station, and Tony looked up with dull eyes and a haggard expression when Natalia finally entered the rail car that was meant to carry them away. “I didn’t think you were going to come.” He admitted, a bone deep weariness dragging the words, two weeks of grief and pain and loneliness rendering his voice flat, emotionless. “I had one last thing to finish.” Natalia sat herself across from Tony, pulling her collar up around her neck. “But I’m ready to go now.” “Do you want one last look?” Tony asked and Natalia’s full lips lifted in a dim approximation of a smile. "Want to say good bye?" “Good bye to what? This wretched place has taken everything from me. I never want to see it again.”

"Yeah." Tony swallowed and sat back in his seat. "Yeah, I understand." The train pulled from the station and headed West, taking the tattered pieces of their family along with it. Tony, traveling the same tracks he’d come along a year previous, back when he thought his heart was as broken as it could ever be. Natalia, with her gaze set resolutely on the floor so she wouldn’t see Sokovia disappearing behind them, one hand resting on the curve of her stomach hidden beneath her heavy coat. And in the very back of the car, Wanda sat at Pietro’s bedside and held his burned, bandaged fingers in her own, reading out loud from her novel in hopes that the words would reach Pietro, would encourage him to open his one good eye, would bring any sort of response from her twin because Wanda didn’t know what she would do if she lost him too. Natalia didn’t cry as the sun set on everything that had been her life, and Tony only put a hand to his heart when the last of the Sokovian peaks disappeared as night caught up with the train and plunged it into darkness. “Shadows and winter.” Natalia whispered and Tony closed his eyes so he wouldn't rage over the unfairness of it all. “My life is nothing more than shadows and winter.”

***********

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************

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#ncts fics #winteriron

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the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Phantom Pain (3)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Bad Habits and Rough Sex, Angsty and Dark AF.

DESCRIPTION - Everybody in the world knew of you, but not who you really were. Some called you a vigilante, some called you a criminal and some called you a hero but all of them called you The Phantom. Only two people knew your real identity and they swore to never tell anyone but when The Avengers need to infiltrate a high-security facility, Bruce Banner deduces that you’re the only one who can pull it off. That decision puts you and Bucky Barnes on a path you can’t turn back from, even if neither of like where it’s leading.

Chapter Three - Safe In My Arms

You were going to murder Tony. You were going to phase your hand inside his chest and squeeze his organs or you were going to phase inside an Iron Suit and then beat the hell out of him with his own creation. How the hell did he not see this coming?

Technically it was Bruce who brought you in but it would be a cold day in hell before you were ever angry at Bruce for anything. It wasn’t Banners fault that you were in this position.

“You said you wanted to be subtle, not have Hydra know you knew about that facility.” You argued weakly.

“That was before you hacked their files in less than a day without them knowing you had ever been there. If we can get you inside the facility, into the actual system then you could hack Hydra in it’s entirety.” The Black Widow explained, looking at you like she was disappointed she had to explain it at all.

"As annoying as she is, as her self appointed cool older brother..."

"Sleazy drunk uncle."

"... I have to object." Tony said, flipping you off behind Steve's back when you interrupted.

"She'll stay aboard the jet with Banner until we've cleared the facility. She'll be perfectly safe.”

"Captain, Cap, Cappy. I'm a civilian, not an Avenger or even Avenger affiliated." You said, trying to smile charmingly though the nerves.

"I know I'm asking a lot Miss King but if you can hack their network, you can help us locate the other facilities. It's the strongest chance we've had in a long time to wipe Hydra off the map for good." Steve appealed.

You couldn't fault his logic, the only problem was he didn't have all the facts. You weren't a hacker, you couldn't help and you either had to admit that or...

"Nope. I'm sorry Captain but Hydra isn't my problem and I'm not risking my ass to help you with your vendetta. You're the hero's, find a way to deal with your own problems."

You were met with judgemental silence.

"I know you're scared but I can tell you're a good person, you already helped us once. I personally swear I won't let anything happen to you." Steve vowed.

This guy did not give in easily.

"Please." He said, looking at you with the biggest, bluest puppy dog eyes you had ever seen and you felt your heart melt under his gaze.

You couldn't hack Hydra, which meant that this mission would be for no reason. They'd blow their upper hand on a fantasy. You shot a pleading look at Tony and he glanced at the ceiling and shot you a wink. He thought he and Friday could do it, and you would get the credit. You didn't like the idea of that but it would keep your cover intact.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” You said.

“Thank you.” Steve said, sounding relieved and a tiny bit proud of you.

You had to stop yourself preening at having made Captain America proud and reminded yourself you were lying to him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll personally make sure you’re safe. Consider The Falcon you’re own personal bodyguard.” Sam said, winking at you.

“She just agreed, don’t scare her off again.” Bucky sniped from the corner.

“Alright, Princess come with me, we’ll go over the plan. Wheels up in a couple hours?” Tony said, slinging his arm around your shoulders and guiding you from the room.

You were uncharacteristically quiet as he escorted you away. As soon as you were out of eye and earshot of the teams you punched him on the shoulder. Hard.

“Ok, ow.” He deapanned, trying to hide how much it had hurt.

“What the fuck Snark? Why? Why would you do this to me? Are you trying to sabotage me?” You hissed, pulling back your arm to punch him again.

“Stop trying to beat me up you psychopath, I’ll be doing all the heavy lifting while you get the credit. You should be kissing my ass.” He said, ducking away from you.

“Oh I’ll do something with your ass alright.” You vowed.

Tony arched his brow at you and you realised how wrong that had sounded.

“Don’t.” You warned.

He closed his mouth before you saw the wicked glint in his eyes.

“My safeword is Casper.” My quipped.

“That’s it!”

Bruce rounded the corner to the sounds of scuffling and muffled swearing. You had Tony in a headlock and his hand was smooshed into your face, pushing it away. Bruce didn’t even flinch, just stepped carefully over the two of you and kept walking.

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

The sounds of distant gunshots had your heart racing and your skin crawling.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t you know, pop in and help out?” You asked Bruce.

He looked up from the tablet he was studying and frowned at you.

“They can handle it, they’re going to be fine. Try not to think about it, play Cwazy Cupcakes or something.” Bruce suggested.

“I’m not allowed, West banned me after I fell down the stairs while playing it.” You admitted and Bruce looked half disappointed and half amused.

You sighed and kicked your feet up, clasping your hands behind your head.

“You could go in and help but you would blow your cover and probably only end up distracting them and making it more difficult. You’re best to stay here and wait it out with me.” Bruce soothed, noting the nervous jig of your foot,

“Fine, but if Tony gets hurt and I miss it I’m going to be furious.” You grumbled.

“Turn the comms on and listen if it makes you feel better.” Bruce offered.

“Am I allowed to do that?” You asked.

“No, you aren’t.” Bruce grinned.

“Ooooh, naughty. I like it.” You said, rubbing your hand together in glee until you realised you didn’t have any idea how to turn them on and listen in.

Bruce chuckled and shook his head at you fondly before turning them on for you and you blew him a kiss.

“We have a small group of them congregating in the south corner of the building and we can’t get close.” You heard someone, you thought it was Hawkeye say.

“Oh, Tony blast the roof while Falcon blasts the outer door. That’ll distract them while Vision phases through the wall and lets Widow and Winter Soldier in through the inner door at the end of the south corridor.” You suggested.

“You’re not supposed to be on this line, why are you here?” Sam asked bewilderedly.

“You get used to her doing that.” Tony informed casually.

“Miss King, you shouldn’t be on the Comms. It’s a good plan though.” Steve said and you positively glowed.

“Does that mean I can stay?” You asked hopefully.

“No, go away. Nobody likes you.” Tony said childishly before it went silent and you gathered he’d cut you out.

“Little bitch.” You huffed.

Bruce chuckled and rolled his eyes at you, passing the tablet over to you.

“I read it, it’s a good plan. Business isn’t my thing but I think Tony will approve.” He told you.

You closed the business plans you’d asked him to read and smirked. You knew Tony was going to love it, it was dramatic as hell.

The sound of twin explosions drifted over and you guessed they had used your idea.

“That was the last of them.” Natasha said as she finished off the last agent in the south side of the building.

“Facility is clear, time to bring our expert in.” Steve decided.

“I’ll go get our little hacker.” Sam offered.

“I’ve got her.” Bucky snapped through the comms, stomping towards the quinjet.

Like hell was he letting Sam fetch you, he wasn’t letting you be left alone with Sam at all. Even if it meant he had to suffer your presence himself.

You and Bruce looked up at him as he came up the ramp.

“We’re ready for you, move.” He ordered and you rolled your eyes and stood up, leisurely stretching your arms above your head.

“Wish me luck?” You asked Banner jokingly.

Bruce saw right through you and offered a comforting smile.

“You’ll be great, I’ll be waiting here.” Bruce said calmly.

You walked past Bucky and his arm shot out and blocked your path.

“Stay beside me at all times, don’t make any noise and if I tell you to do something, you do it without question. Understand?” He said briskly.

“Yes Sargent.” You replied.

His eyes narrowed at your slightly sarcastic response but you seemed nervous so he allowed it. You weren’t familiar with this sort of thing so you’d probably stick to him like a baby duckling and do as you were told.

You resisted the urge to crack several jokes as he led you through the familiar hallways. He said don’t make noise so you bit down on your tongue and for once in your life, behaved. There was a scuffling sound behind you and you turned around, swearing loudly at what you saw.

There was an injured but very not dead Hydra agent at the end of the corridor with a gun pointed right at you. Everything slowed down as he pulled the trigger and you froze. You could become tangible and the bullet would pass through you but Bucky was right behind you. You closed your eyes and braced for the impact but it never came. There was a heat at your back and the sound of metal hitting metal and you opened your eyes to see Bucky’s metal arm curled around you, blocking the bullet. His flesh arm came up over your shoulder, gun in hand and he shot the rouge agent down.

His arms were around you, ensconcing you but not actually touching you and for a brief second you felt strangely safe. You turned your head to look up at him, your eyes still wide from your near intimate experience with a bullet.

“Thank you.” You said emphatically.

Bucky’s heart swelled and his chest puffed out proudly at the gratitude. Something felt oddly right about protecting you and his arms lingered in their position around you.

You released the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding and reached out to flick the metal of his wrist.

“That thing comes in handy, pun intended.” You said, your voice only slightly wavering.

He scoffed and stepped away from you, eyes darting around to check there were no more of them.

“Buck, we heard gunshots? Is everything ok?” Steve’s worried voice asked in his ear.

“We missed one of the bastards, I took care of him. Package is secure. Bringing her to you now.” He replied.

“Package? Well, I’ve been called worse I suppose.” You said, only slightly insulted.

“Stay in front of me, I doubt there are more but we need to proceed with caution.” Bucky instructed you.

“Somehow, I’m not really worried, despite nearly just being shot.” You admitted.

Bucky was about to reprimand you for not taking it seriously but then he realised that you trusted him to protect you. You felt safe with him. His chest warmed all over again and he proudly led you to the server room where the team was.

“Package delivery.” You announced as you walked in, The Winter Soldier nearly pressed to your back.

“Miss King, how fast can you get to work? It won’t take long for Hydra to realise this base has been hit so we need to move as quickly as we can.” The Captain said, all business.

“I’m on it.” You said, wandering over to the main computer console and sitting down, trying to look like you knew what you were doing.

You felt several pairs of eyes on your back and turned around to glare at them.

“I need space to work my magic folks, how about you all go and make sure there are no more Nazi bastards lurking about?” You suggested.

“I’ll stay with her. Unlike all of you, I might be of some use.” Tony said coming to stand beside you and you nodded your agreement.

“Alright, we’ll do another sweep. Get to work you two.” Steve instructed.

“Aye Aye Captain.” You said diligently, saluting him.

Bucky threw you a strange look as he left the room. As soon as they were gone you turned and looked helplessly at Tony.

“Move.” He scoffed and you jumped out of the seat, letting him and Friday do their thing.

“If you can do this why was I even brought in?” You asked him.

“Too risky, can’t guarantee I can do it. When you apparently hacked Hydra so quickly and efficiently Cap decided the reward outweighed the risk.” Tony explained.

The pieces snapped together in your head and you glared at him.

“They wouldn’t let you come in so you threw me to the wolves without even knowing if you can do this? You played me!” You hissed.

“You can punch me later, right now daddy has work to do.” He said smugly.

“Never, ever refer to yourself as daddy again and you bet your ass I will be punching you later.” You said, wrinkling your nose.

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

“So Miss King is The Phantom?”

Bruce nearly fell off his seat in surprise.

“What? Who?” He stammered.

Natasha smirked at him from where she was casually standing on the quinjet ramp, it hadn’t taken her long to figure it out. His reaction was the last confirmation she needed.

“So Secretary Ross’s niece is in open defence of The Accords and you and Stark are helping her? What I can’t figure out is why?"

"We sort of killed her." Bruce admitted, there was no point in pretending any more.

"She looks good for a dead woman." Natasha's eyebrows raised almost comically high.

Bruce sighed and launched into an explanation about how you became the Phantom.

"So she followed you in and sacrificed her life? But it didn't kill her?"

"No, though she argues that point constantly." He said wearily.

“I would as well.” Natasha admitted.

She could see your reasoning. You had been burned alive and came back as a Phantom, it was a reasonable claim to say you were dead.

“Who else knows?” Bruce asked.

“Just me, I doubt anyone else will figure it out. You can’t keep bringing her in though, she knows nothing about computers and it’s glaringly obvious.”Natasha pointed out with a hint of amusement.

“So you wont say anything?” Bruce checked.

“I won’t tell anyone that Stark is a hypocrite and is helping Ross’s very own niece break the accords, but I will make Stark pay for it.” Natasha confirmed.

“As long as she doesn’t get caught in the crossfire.” Bruce said protectively.

“She won’t, she’s going to help me.” Natasha said cryptically.

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

Bucky carefully checked the corridor before walking down it, his mind whirling. You had been dragged onto this mission, practically kicking and screaming. He hadn't judged you too harshly for it, you were only a civilian after all. But despite your initial fear, you had recovered very quickly from almost being shot. It was strange. He decided you were hiding your feelings behind your snarky facade, you were probably internally freaking out.

His feet automatically led him back towards the server room. You probably needed reassurance that you were safe.

“I don’t know, I think the wings are sexy.”

He heard your voice, saccharine sweet before he rounded the corner and saw you leaning against the wall, Sam leaning next to you looking smug.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing something?” Bucky snapped at you.

“I’m running a program, Starks checking it over since he knows what to look for.” You said dismissively, turning away from the glaring super soldier.

“I was just telling Miss King here about a fundraiser I have to attend on Saturday night.” Sam said, shooting Bucky a victorious look.

“Oh were you indeed?” Bucky snarled, stomping forwards and yanking you away from Sam by the elbow and ignoring your indignant squawking, pushing you back into the server room.

“Your dating life can wait, there are much more important things going on right now.” he snapped coldly at you.

“I can’t go anyway, I have to make an appearance at an auction on behalf of my family. Speaking of, do you have plans that night Sargent?”

Bucky faltered.

“What?” He barked out, perplexed. Did you just reject Sam and ask him on a date in the same sentence?

“Well I could probably use a security detail, just in case Hydra figure out I helped you guys.” You explained, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Get back to hacking Mic Domniţă.” He huffed, slamming the server room door closed in your face.

He rolled his eyes at the idea of having to follow you about all night. Bossing you around, keeping an eye on you.... The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

“What are you smirking at?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“Your failure to get a date.” Bucky lied.

Sam might not have a date, but he sure as hell did and he knew you were going to be spitting mad about it.

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

I'm really loving the responses to this so far! Thank you all so much for being so supportive and reassuring! I hope this chapter lived up to your hopes?

We'll start to see more of other characters like Sam, Clint, Steve and Wanda etc soon. Miss King aka The Phantom will be unraveled (pun intended) as we go as well. Next Chapter has a very interesting cameo (I think so anyway, I hope you agree!)

You can ask to be added to or removed from tags at any time folks, just comment or inbox :D @lifewandererblog @drdorkus @gravedollie666 @sadsoldat @bigplantdaddy @moodyruth @likes-to-smell-books @shirukitsune @inquisitor-selvala @brownle-22 @myfandomlife-blog @markusstraya @adeleoctobre @vajeenparty @sexyvixen7 @love-nakamura @buckitybarnes @littledeadrottinghood @pinkisokay @jsmith509 @brownlee-22 @angieptt @thosesexytexasboys @liveonce-sodoitright @tarastudiesalot @spnrvt @dahkness @dilaila95 @rororo06 @mizzzpink @release-the-cathyrchkn @thefridgeismybestie @fairislesheets @strangersstranger @life-wanderer @uuuuuuuuggggghhh

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imaginesandideas · 5 years

Text

Versace on the floor

this is my veeery overdue entry to @queens-n-roses 2k challenge! congrats dear 🖤 you truly deserve it!!

before we’ll get to it, I wanted to apologise for my recent lack of new content. I’ve had a lot of trouble passing last semester and I think I’m still trying to figure out how to cope with the aftermaths of it all. hopefully it’ll change soon though.

ANYWAY - this one is inspired by Versace On The Floor by Bruno Mars (listening and/or checking out the lyrics is very recommended here). The dress that I had in mind as I was writing, is Atelier Versace, Fall 1995 (as pictured above). Could be read as both Roger and BoRhap Roger, it’s all up to you loves❣️though not gonna lie, that I had late 70′s Roger in mind 👀👀👀

word count: 3,154 (yeah.jpg)

WARNINGS: SMUT (fingering, edging, just the regular), and some swearing; do not read if you’re under 18 please!!!

~~~~~

Funny how the right dress can make one feel so bold, so unstoppable, so desired. And that’s the way you were feeling that night.

You were looking and feeling like absolute goddess.

How did Roger got it last minute for you remained a mystery, but you were in no way complaining.

How could you. It’s Versace after all.

“You ready?” you heard him yell from the hall as you examined yourself in the mirror.

The gown was utterly mesmerising.

Essentially it was made from thousands strings of diamonds sewn on by hand one next to the other, thicker around the chest but more even as it went further down, leaving just a little to imagination. Tight around your torso, yet descending loosely at the length of your legs. Perfect in every detail. As if it was taken out of your dreams.

As for the accessories, you opted for simple beige ankle strap stilettos - something that wouldn’t cause distraction from your breathtaking gown but would still look great. You were wearing your hair loose, in smooth waves to add a bit of old-age Hollywood chic. For makeup, you focused on giving special attention to your eyes with thick, cat winged eyeliner in addition to matte lipstick in a shade of deep mauve. And a dash of silvery highlighter on your cheekbones.

Again - simple and sexy. Perfect for your well planned party outfit.

Your gaze fell to the corner of your bed where your fur coat was laid out waiting to add final touch of glamour to the look. It was your most favourite one. Roger bought it somewhere during the tour as a gift for you, and you cherished it like your greatest treasure since. That is, until you’ve found the sparkly Versace dress hanging in the middle of your wardrobe 2 hours ago and immediately fell in love.

You let yourself drown in the folds of your fur, before spraying some perfume on your neck.

Chilly feeling of the liquid running down your chest to the valley between your breasts sent a shiver down your spine. Tonight was about to be great and you could already feel it.

Holding your favourite clutch bag close, you stepped out of the room, closing the door behind you. Turning on your heels, you head to the stairs before joining Roger in the hall where he was all dressed up and waiting. Upon hearing your steps he came to see you.

Of course he was impatient. When he first had seen the dress in the window display, he was convinced that he had to get it for his girl.

What he was seeing completely took his breath away.

In the warm light from chandelier above, you looked like a piece of art, like a shining crystal. His adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably which you did not miss as you looked down from the top of the stairs.

You’ve never been overly insecure, only given a good reason to, one being surrounded by women of elite level of beauty. But that wasn’t happening tonight, because now you were feeling utterly divine. The only thing missing was a crown, but who needed that ridiculous emblem when you’re living with Roger goddamn Taylor of Queen.

“Fuck, doll.” you heard him mutter under his breath, raspiness of his voice making it sound more like a bold statement. “You look like-“

“A dream?”

“Fuck if only.”

You were almost sliding off the stairs at this point, making your moves as feline and slow as possible, only prolonging his suffering. By the time you stepped on the last step, his leather trousers became painfully tight and his mouth pretty much watered. What a sight it was to watch him so out words to say. The sparkly outfit fitted you so well it nearly looked as if it blended into your skin. You truly were a walking jewel, gleaming with your every motion. The things you did to him by simply looking like that made you feel even more fierce, vain even.

You felt his arms sneak expertly underneath your soft fur before tugging you closer to him, closing the distance between the two of you just enough to feel his hot breath on your neck. Your hips met his own in a sharp crash of bodies but he didn’t stop there. He glanced down again, admiring you all the way from your toes, through your ankles and up your legs, stopping just for a second to let out a dreamy sigh upon seeing nude, lace panties you were wearing underneath the semi see-through material of your dress. With a sharp and a bit exaggerated intake of air, his eyes continued to wander further up, feeding your growing vanity.

The images of what he wanted to do to you, matched his desperate touches. His fingers were cold in comparison to your fur heated body as he dug them into your skin, making you gasp.

“You really are a dream. Wet one if you’d ask me.” You chuckled at his exclamation, placing a hand on his neck, your nails scratching lightly and leaving pinkish marks on his already flushed skin.

“Roger Taylor, do I look like your wet dream?” you teased tilting your head. Your neck looked so inviting, as if it was made for leaving bite marks. Skin gleaming with peachy like glow both from the light of chandelier above you, and the way it worked with diamonds of your dress.

“Like wet dream coming true, love. Twirl around for me.” And you did as you were told, making your hair fly up a little, mussing it ever so slightly. Roger’s hands didn’t leave your sides the entire time, only lowered to the level of your hips to slide smoothly over your bum while you were turning on your heels.

“Maybe we should just call it a day and stay at home instead, huh?”

“Roger!”

“What?” You sighed trying to get out of his grasp, but his grip tightened bringing you even closer, signalling you how hard he’s gotten.

“All this dressing up for nothing?”

“Not for nothing darling.” He whispered in your ear, his breath sending pleasant sensation down your neck and shoulders, as he began to slowly expose your front. Hand moving to the small of your back, the other sliding the fur coat off your shoulder. Peppering every newly exposed inch of skin with hot, open mouthed kisses, he hasn’t given you a slightest chance to shiver with coolness coming from the half-open balcony doors.

His clever fingers made their way up your spine to the top of the zipper while continuing to work on your neck and cleavage, earning a series of involuntary moans. Just as he began to pull it down, your hand shot up to his neck, yanking by his hair in a state of sugary-sweet oblivion. Groan escaped his lips and he nipped more harshly at the skin on your collarbone, leaving reddish marks to cover up later. The zip came to an end right above the curve of your ass, and he had to fight the urge to let his hands wander further down. He had better plans in mind.

Slowly, in so Roger-like torturous manner, he slid the coat off completely, your hand bag hitting the floor with a loud thud before disappearing underneath the folds of fur. Though you really couldn’t care less. You were gradually loosing yourself in his firm yet lingering touches, his tempting words of pure affection, his seductive voice and gaze that could easily burn you alive if you’d only allow him to. Yes, you were a queen, but he could never give away the sheer exhilaration of having you so melted under mere touch of his fingertips.

Being in control was his forte, and the chances that he’d let such opportunity slide were close to none.

“Rog...” you almost begged through breathy series of sighs. “S-stop teasing.”

He only chuckled to place few more wet kisses along your jaw before locking your eyes with his own. The smug on his face was more than evident. Eyes hooded, he admired his work which consisted of your rosy cheeks, a bit smudged lipstick, parted lips, pleading gaze and deliquescent form. You were no longer a walking diamond. Now, you were melting, and one could say that you were the one persuading the other to stay in.

“God, I love that dress.” His grip on your waist loosened, fingers tracing up and down your sides. “But you won’t need it anymore.”

You bit your lip in anticipation, your own fingers coming to rest on his chest. You all but touched the bare skin underneath it, sneaking your fingers between the buttons, but he grabbed your wrist. Inching closer to let his words affect you even more, he spoke again.

“Take it off princess. Take it off for me.”

You took a sharp breath, your gaze suddenly dropping to the ground as he leaned away ever so slightly to give you more space. The expression on your face didn’t go unnoticed to Roger. The shameless rouge of your cheeks turned into bright red blush against the fading shade of your face.

„Hey, hey! Eyes on me.” Roger brought his index finger underneath your jaw in an attempt to regain your attention. All of sudden your previous confidence was gone and replaced by slight feeling of insecurity, so unexpected in such circumstances. “You’re beautiful in it, not because of it, okay? I’ve seen all of you already, and everything’s perfect. Versace or no Versace.” he exclaimed rubbing your cheek with his thumb. His stare was unavoidable and slowly, the concern filled look on your face softened as you noticed his genuine smile. “That’s my girl.”

Finally relaxing with lips pursed together, you put your hands behind your own back. As you slid off one strap, Roger figured out a better backdrop for what was about to come and led you by the hand to the end of a sofa.

“Wait here.”

“Roger where are you going?”

“Wait!” he repeated dismissing you with a raise of his hand before backing to the other room. You overheard him swear a couple times as sounds of desperate rummaging in the cupboards grew louder, until you could make out a content “finally” and he was back with a few candles. Within a matter of seconds he lit up the candles, switched the light off and jumped back onto the piece of furniture in front of your amazed form, waiting eagerly for you to continue.

“Don’t mind me.” he all but whispered as he propped on his elbows and leaned head on the back of the couch, legs spreading wide apart and grin plastered all over his features, accentuating wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. You rolled your eyes but smiled nevertheless. Biting your lip suggestively, you let your hands return to the business. While your fingers skimmed over your shoulders torturously, his eyes didn’t leave your figure. He didn’t stop watching even when he struggled to get out pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket. Smoke filled your vision as eyed you from underneath his thick eyelashes. He was getting visibly charged, stare full of lust and longing. And it only motivated you to keep the game going.

As the first strap was down, the other instantly following, you found yourself unhurriedly scooting the material off, careful not to ruin the dress. Your hips leisurely swaying as if to help your actions, but both of you knew that wasn’t the reason. You wanted him on the edge.

And he was, his hips shifting impatiently in the seat, drags of cigarette smoke more abrupt with every passing minute. So when you leaned forward, your nipples hardened from crisp of the night air, and licked your top lip, hands continuously sliding the dress further down your hips, he could barely contain himself before he’d throw the fag on the floor and pull you onto his lap. Fumbling with his belt buckle, he swallowed hard almost choking on remains of his cigarette. Now it was you watching him trying get out off his unfortunate choice of pants to stroke his already painfully hard cock. You let out a moan yourself at the sight of him groaning with eyes shut closed, fingers sliding up and down his length with ease thanks to fair amount of precum.

„Stop staring and c’mere.” you didn’t even realize how long you’ve been standing in your underwear only, since gown seemingly had slid off completely some time ago. Roger was peering at you from his semi-laying position opposite you, movements of his hand getting more sluggish. You could only obey as he put the cigarette on coffee table, and held out a hand for you to take it. Straddling him you let your hands rest atop of his chest before starting to unbutton the silky-like shirt. Meanwhile he continued trying to get himself ready, groans leaving his lips every now and then. You only unbuttoned the last button and he was already shrugging both the shirt and jacket off his shoulders to rapidly grab you by your hips, closing the space between your bodies with a heated kiss. You gasped into his mouth feeling his cock pressing to your clothed centre, thin fabric of your knickers now far too impermeable for your liking.

Roger sensed your needs and moved stripe to the side to slide two fingers inside your aching core. It was nearly too much after being teased for so long, and your back arched in pleasure. You’ve felt your inner muscles tense when he added some pressure to your swollen clit with his thumb. Your mouth fell open to let out a breathless moan. Roger watched you in complete awe as you unraveled on his lap, while all he did was use his digits. He was absolutely fired up then, stroking his aching cock as you continued fucking yourself on his fingers. But that’s not how that would go, no. In a brisk, you felt empty again as he switched hands on his shaft to jerk himself off more. Coating his member with your hot juices, he let out a throaty moan.

„Tosser.” his closed eyes shot up at your exclamation. You had your arms crossed over your chest and pouted. “That’s not really fair, y’know.”

His toothy grin widened in the dark before he bit his bottom lip. He was truly enjoying himself.

„Ride me.”

„What was that?”

„Ride me like you mean it.” you examined his face for signs of hoaxing but found none. He was dead serious, his eyes flickering with lust in the dim light of candles. You licked your lips again, teeth grazing over your bottom lip and stood up to discard the damp piece of underwear you should’ve lost long ago. Stepping forward, you left your stilettos on the floor next to your panties and knelt, placing your hands on either side of his head on the back of the sofa. Nails scraped at the suede material in a shade of dark chocolate and Roger shivered before swallowing, his eyes wide like marbles, only darker, like sapphires.

Slowly, Roger impatiently guiding his member, you sunk down onto him, pleasant feeling of fullness sweeping over you. The skin on your neck streched so much one could count all the veins, as you threw your head back in ecstasy.

Roger tensed under your weight and let out a guttural moan. His hands shot up to your hips, forcing you to move.

“J-just like that. Doing so well.”

You set up a steady pace but with every passing second your moves were becoming more greedy, more eager. You closed your eyes, focusing on the bare pleasure. Roger’s grip on your sides loosened to eventually disappear, though you were too engrossed in your own actions to care. Hearing a familiar noise you looked down to find Roger lighting up another cigarette, like it was nothing. Upon seeing your frown he muttered a quick “Please continue.” before he took a deep drag. As if to motivate you, his thumb found its way back to your clit. A cloud of smoke was blown in your direction as your thighs shook with a shock of pleasure coming from between your legs. Now you really were riding him, your knuckles whitened from grasping at the sofa and breaths short while you jumped up and down his shaft, almost slipping off a few times in the process.

Your movements were hectic, insatiable even. Roger’s thumb was continuously rubbing circles around your throbbing point, puffs of smoke making the whole image appear even more elated, in otherworldly kind of way. He was motivated to make you come, and it didn’t take you long until your walls were clenching, wettness dripping down onto his lap. He was close, the cigarette suddenly bothering him enough to throw it somewhere on the floorboards. You felt him shudder.

But you could no longer hold back a deep moan that left your mouth, stopping you mid movement. Pure bliss covered your vision and your hands moved down to Roger’s chest, leaving reddened trails in the process.

Your eyelashes were like a curtain, falling quickly after the show, hiding your onyx-like, dark, dilated pupils. All you could hear was Roger’s breathless praises and the blood thumping loudly in your ears. He sat up and you could feel his hips snap up with such force to meet his approaching orgasm. Holding you close, his hands travelling down your bare back, small beads of sweat running down his hairline and forehead. He started kissing and nibbling down your chest fiercely. And then he came, biting on your nipple, greedy hands tangled in your hair, mouth opening as he spurted his hot cum on your senstive walls. His body trembled as he emptied himself completely, his seed mixed with your own cum pouring onto his trousers. Your muscles finally begun to relax, but you stayed in his arms nevertheless, both too tired and content to do so.

He kissed your shoulder tenderly, only now noticing the purple mess he’s made of your skin. Not that he was ashamed of course. He always enjoyed seeing you trying - and failing, to cover his lovemarks.

“Mine.” He breathed, fingers tracing lazy circles on your back as your head rested in the crook of his neck. You extended your arm to place your hand on his cheek lovingly. Roger’s blues returned to yours with a soft smirk and he placed a kiss to the inside of your palm, following by a series of pecks on each of your fingertips.

“Still regret staying in?” He teased earning a huff from you.

“So t’was all? I thought you’ve had more in you.”

His chest vibrated with a laugh.

“All snotty now, aye? Don’t worry, we just getting started love.”

~~~~~

oooof, hope it’s not as bad as I thought

Comments, ideas and words of notice are always appreciated 💜 lmk if you’d like to be on/off the general Roger taglist 🙌🏻

taglist: @rogersdrumkit @rogersfalsettos @erinhardytaylor @cyborgfromthesupermarket @sabbrriiinnaa @wolverinesbeer @simplyvictoria-93 @laubluered @ceruleanrainblues @shae-is-not-ok @i-am-sarah @imamazzellhoe @shishterfackisback @rogerstambourinee @rockyroadthepastryarchy @tanya-is-dead @twistingrealityagain

#qnr2kchallenge #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor x you #roger taylor fic #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor smut #borhap #queen fanfiction #queen fic #roger meddows taylor #full fic

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tayerroos · 5 years

Text

Patchwork Tales: Book 1

A “9" roleplay compendium. Read on AO3 Chapter: 3 [First] [Back] [You Are Here] [Next] Warnings for this chapter: None

#book 1 #Chapter 3 #Patchwork Tales #Fanfiction #Shane Acker's 9 #9 RP

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simone-garnett · 5 years

Text

title: strawberry kisses word count: 9.2k information: high school au. dedicated to @thatkillervibe bc i promised them i’d finish my high school au when they posted theirs and you should read it bc it’s incredible guys. it’s just unfair. also bc their reviews make me wanna cry.

ao3 // ffn

Caitlin isn’t quite sure how Iris convinced her to help out in the kissing booth of her school fair, Caitlin didn’t even attend that school. But Iris with a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts and a way with words that could convince an army general to turn on their country had turned up her charm, sweet talking Caitlin into agreeing, the girl helpless to refuse the pleas of her close friend, the squeal of joy from Iris and the hug almost make it seem worth it.

It helps that she would likely never have to see any of these people again, Caitlin’s own school over two hours away, a selective school that her mother swears has the best science department in the state.

Iris goes on a million miles an hour, thanking her for the assistance, promising that nothing would happen that could hurt Caitlin, swearing the customers would wear blindfolds if it made her feel more comfortable doing it, the people not able to recognise her if they don’t know what she looks like.

Caitlin had already agreed, but it was sweet of Iris to try and protect her, the girl going on about how it would add an extra level of mystique around it. Caitlin nods, smiling as Iris gives her the date and details.

And then it is too late to change her mind, Caitlin unaware of the impact this one day would have on her life.

Nerves like butterflies in her stomach erupt as the day draws near, the mere thought of it enough to distract her from her studies, chemistry and biology playing second fiddle to the maelstrom of emotions inside her, playing havoc with her brain and heart. It is difficult to squash them down, but even at a young age she has mastered the skill, allowing herself a minute to wallow in its intensity before squashing it down, drowning out the noise with chemical equations and precipitation reactions and science. Because science was easy, it was comfortable, it wasn’t scary in the slightest. It becomes a struggle to ignore the feelings when it is only a few days, a few hours away, Caitlin giving up on trying, throwing herself on her bed, praying for sleep she knows won’t come.

And then it is here.

It is a nice, summer day, the school grounds of Central City High an eruption of colour and energy, the atmosphere buzzing from the excitement of students and parents and teachers alike, families and friends and couples walking through the grounds, smiles and laughter filling up the air, lifting up the spirits of everyone there.

Caitlin arrives early - she arrives everywhere early. She walks around, smiling softly to herself as she glances around. She walks around alone. It isn’t really anybody’s fault; Iris was running around, making sure everything was operating like a well-oiled machine, and Barry was trailing along. She knew no one else. And it showed. Showed to others, and to herself. Because everyone had someone, everyone but her. There was loneliness scratching at her heart, the small tickle enough to remind her that there was no one to enjoy it with.

It feels strange enjoying the carnival with no one else to share it with, so she relaxes, people watches until it is time for her to take her shift in the kissing booth. It brings a smile to her lips, imaginary lives created in an instant, the happiness of other - even imaginary - something that Caitlin enjoys. She is silly and out-there with the fictional lives of the students she’s never met before, and she can’t help but laugh at it all. There are some odd looks thrown her way, strangers confused as to why she was laughing by herself, and she doesn’t blame them. But she doesn’t care.

She catches sight of someone, a crowd of someone’s really, but he stands out, wide smile, soulful eyes and long hair that blows freely in the wind. It causes her to stop in her spot, Caitlin struck by his presence, breath catching in that moment. She feels like a cheesy cliche, the way she can’t look away, a flow of electricity through her veins, but it’s real and true and she can’t tear herself away.

Not once did she think he’d notice her standing, staring.

He does.

His was mid sentence, mouth moving a million miles an hour, hands gesticulating everywhere. It is an animated discussion at best, an argument at worst. But his attention flickers away from the guy with the glasses he was talking to, looks around. And he stops, mouth agape. The thought of ducking, of averting her gaze and ignoring him entirely floats through her mind, but she can’t find the strength to, not when he is watching her the way he is. It is indescribable, the feeling fluttering inside her, the spark the crackles between them. She feels is, is surprised by it, and the temptation of crossing the distance between them, of introducing herself to the cute boy and a smile with enough power to run a generator, passes through her mind. And judging from his reaction, she thinks - she hopes - he is thinking the same thing.

But her phone rings.

It breaks her trance, Caitlin ducking her head on embarrassment, red tinting her cheeks. And how she maintains a steady voice when speaking to Iris she has no idea, her friend calling to plead with her to start fifteen minutes early. The fear returns then, a rock in her stomach, slowing down her mind and movements. And she forgets about the cute boy, Caitlin forcing herself to move toward the tent where the booth was, time speeding up around her.

Iris is waiting outside, pacing around, her face lighting up as she sees Caitlin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squeals, arms thrown around Caitlin’s neck in a hug. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that? I owe you girl, big time.” Relief was coming out of her pores, Iris slipping her hand into Caitlin’s, tugging her into the back of the tent and pushing her into a seat.

“Wait -” And Caitlin’s heart is beating hard, the girl unable to deny reality for any longer. “What are you doing? What’s - what’s happening?”

“Lippie.” It is a simple answer, Iris leaning over to the table beside Caitlin which the girl hadn’t even noticed, rouge lipgloss in her hand. “Okay and pout.” Iris holds her face still, Caitlin sticking out her lips as bright red lipgloss is placed on her lips. It only takes a few moments for her to complete the job and Iris caps the product, placing it in Caitlin’s hand. “Strawberry flavoured, to give them something to crave later. Just remember to refresh regularly,” Iris reminds her, eyes sparkling like diamonds as she smiles at her friend. “And have fun girl. Who knows who you’ll meet in there.” The wink is a bit much, Caitlin thinks, as Iris spins her around and pushes her to where Lisa is standing, Caitlin stumbling before she finds her stride, unsure and hesitant.

The older girl is oblivious to her entrance, Caitlin having to tap her on the shoulder in order to get her attention. She spins around, lipstick smudged slightly, hair like a Maybelline commercial. “You’re replacing me?” At Caitlin’s meek nod, Lisa sighs in relief, shoulders falling. “Thank god. Damn Len owed a favour to her boyfriend. Can’t wait to ditch this place.” She pauses, gaze flickering up and down Caitlin before smirking. “Might come back on the other side though.” The words are smooth and red colours her cheeks and she stammers for words even after Lisa flounces out of the tent.

Wait, isn't Iris with Eddie? How is Barry her boyf-

Her thoughts are interrupted by the first person, a boy her age shuffling in, holding on to the rope that lead him from the entrance of the tent to the exit. He stops when he finds the knot to indicate he was beside her, the guy turning to his left where he was told she would be. It is a small peck on the lips, chaste, but not quick enough for him to feel cheated out of his money. It takes a few attempts for her to get the timing of it right, and she internally sighs in relief, the process not as nerve wracking as she imagined it to be.

There is a throng of people, both guys and girls, that line up in front of her tent, Iris bouncing as she sees the crowd of people waiting for a moment with Caitlin Snow, this mysterious beauty no one had yet to catch eyes upon. Curiosity and hormones can be a dangerous mix, but in this instance, it is only a profitable one.

One by one they come in, receive their kiss, and then slip out, the clock’s hand slowing down for her, the afternoon taking forever. She checks her watch frequently, quietly counting down the hours and minutes until it is all over and she can resume her life outside these fabric walls.

She glances at the time, relief filling her as she realises there is just five minutes left of her shift, five more minutes until she can leave the tent and not look back. She figures that there is either five more customers, or that she can attempt to hold the first one for as long as possible to avoid the line. The school funds wouldn’t miss out on the money and the other’s wouldn’t miss out on their kiss, another lad or lady waiting to take her place while she relaxes and enjoys the fair.

She calls for the gatekeeper-slash-money collector to send in another person.

And they do, a guy slowly feeling his way into the tent, stopping at the knot in the centre.

It’s the boy from before.

Her heartbeat picks up at the sight of him, a blush colouring her cheeks and she hides her face before realising that they couldn’t actually see her. He didn’t know who she was.

... It leaves her a little disappointed.

Words get caught in her throat, Caitlin opening her mouth to say something, anything, but she can’t. It would be difficult dragging this on when she can’t form words around him.

But he beats her to the task. “I’m sorry,” the guy rambles, standing there awkwardly, the blindfold over his eyes. The shirt is unique, Caitlin muffling a laugh as she reads the science pun on it, smiling brightly at the joke.“I’m not usually like this. It’s just that I lost a bet and this is the result and I’m so sorry.” He stresses the last words and she isn’t sure how to respond to it.

“I like your shirt,” she offers sweetly instead.

He pulls a face. “Really?” It is followed quickly by a wince, as though he realises how it sounds out loud and regrets it immediately. “I’m not saying you don’t understand it, because I’m sure you do. But everyone in our Science Club thinks it’s the corniest thing ever. And, I mean, they are so wrong, but I figure consensus there would be reflected in the real world, so....” He drifts off, hand lifting from the rope to rub the back of his neck in nervousness, Caitlin watching as the bottom locks of his hair got caught up in the action.

“It’s cute.” She sounds a little different and gosh, she hopes he can hear the subtle changes in her voice.

He doesn’t seem to, a smile stretching across his lips. “Okay, but would you wear it?” He is joking, but it doesn’t stop the image flashing through her mind. Couples stole each others clothing, she thinks. Or at least, she stole Ronnie’s jumpers when they were dating. She wouldn’t mind taking his shirts.

“Yeah,” she says eventually, realising he couldn’t see her nod in the affirmative. “I would.” The tops of his eyebrows come out from the blindfold and he is definitely sceptical. “Okay, not all the time,” she amends, “but I would wear it.”

He chuckles weakly, rubbing his exposed bicep as the silence between them draws on. “Sooo.... we’re doing this aren’t we?”

“You did pay for it.”

He nods at her words, but he doesn’t make a move. But then quietly, “I’m not sure what I should be doing.”

“Just stand there.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. She caves to her feelings and plays with his hair, twirling the soft locks around her finger. Caitlin may be in love with the way it feels. “Is this okay?”

He gulps, voice strained. “Yep.”

And she is definitely affected by her little crush, voice soft as she leans in close, her eyelids fluttering closed. She stops when they are only an inch apart, hot puffs of air against her lips. “And is this okay?”

He nods, apparently losing his voice. His hand flexes beside his side and he itches to hold her.

Caitlin closes those scant centimetres between them, capturing his lips in a kiss.

The kiss is soft and gentle, Caitlin leaning into the guy in front of her more firmly as she feels warmth flood her being. The electricity from before shoots through her, and she likes the sensation, smiling against his lips as she lingers in the embrace.

The kiss is soft and gentle, until it’s not.

He lets go of the rope, choosing instead to hold her, hands on her waist as he tugs her closer, the boy deepening the kiss. It takes her by surprise, but she leans into it easily, hands moving from his shoulders, one cupping the back of his neck to hold him to her, the other carding through his locks. And she would feel embarrassed at her moan if he didn’t growl in response, the vibrations shooting through her, his fingers digging into her skin, the rope uncomfortable between them.

They pull away breathless and she considers pulling off his blindfold, wonders how he’ll react to seeing her. “That... was unexpected,” he chokes out.

“You’re telling me,” she sighs, slightly in love with the rasp in his voice, with the effect she had on him with just one kiss. And Caitlin is a hopeless romantic, already imagining the sound whispered in her ear as he tells her how perfect the kiss was, how he can’t wait until he gets to do it again. And she imagines the hands on her waist, strong and tight, imagines them holding her hand, holding her close, imagines those lips on her neck, lightly peppering kisses as he tells her how he missed her, how he wants her. It sends a hot flush through her and she has to force a cough out to disguise the whimper that leaves her at the thought.

His face freezes at her words, the smile falling fractionally. “Wait - unexpected in a good way or a bad way?”

“Unexpected in a I-wouldn’t-mind-doing-that-again way.” She rushes out the words before she could second guess herself, Caitlin’s eyes widening as she realises that yes, she actually said them out loud.

He looks surprised at the words, but it fades away, face lighting up with a grin. “You have a nice voice, you know that?”

She bites back her own smile, looking at him through her lashes. “That... that’s a new one. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he beams, pausing only to lick his lips. “Is that... strawberry?” A snort of laughter escapes her, Caitlin covering her mouth to muffle the sound, but he catches it, a smile, sweet and genuine, stretching on his face. “So I was wondering, do you wanna, I don’t know, grab some Big Belly Burger sometime?” He sounds nervous. She thinks it’s cute.

“Are you asking me out?” she asks coyly, a teasing smile on her lips. “But you don’t even know what I look like.”

“I don’t need to.” He says the words so confidently, so sure he wouldn’t care, and she feels the butterflies returning, a swarm of them inside her stomach, fluttering around and leaving her feeling dizzy with a feeling she couldn’t identify.

There is a disturbance at the back of the tent and Caitlin can hear voices coming from the direction. She thinks she hears Iris, thinks she hears her name. Caitlin turns to the mysterious guy, a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

He nods at her request and is only then that she rushes off, slipping out of the tent to answer questions for Iris. The girl relaxes at the sight of her, the young guy that was with Iris pushed inside. ”I’m so sorry,” Iris apologises, taking her hand. “Brad was late and I couldn’t find anyone to take over. Oh gosh, girl, you’re a lifesaver, thank you so much.” A smile stretches across Iris’ expression, more relaxed than she had been most of the day. “And now you’re finished.” She loops her arm in with Caitlin’s, “so lets go have some fun!”

The reluctance from Caitlin to leave is obvious, the girl looking back to the tent. And she eventually breaks away from Iris, the girl turning her head to look at Caitlin quizzically. ”I - I left something inside there,” she says. It’s not exactly a lie, a boy was left inside there. “You go ahead and I’ll catch up.” Iris nods slowly, a look in her eyes that tells Caitlin she hadn’t quite sold herself. But she does go and Caitlin rushes back in the tent, an apology ready on her tongue.

But when she goes back, the guy is gone.

Caitlin can’t stop thinking about the guy from the kissing booth, thinking of his smile and laugh and the way he kissed her so thoroughly, urgent and insistent as though she were the best thing his lips had ever touched, the way his hands were on her hips, the way they slid to her back, he made her feel like a goddess. And late at night she fantasises about him, those biceps where she could feel the strength underneath her fingertips, the hair that was longer than her school would allow him, the urge to run her fingers and touch it one she couldn’t resist.

He is a distraction she never anticipated, never thought she’d have to fight. But he pops into her head when she revises her AP Physics, her mind drifting from the formula to the pun on his shirt to his face, his mouth, his smile. It isn’t good and she’d been caught more than once in class daydreaming, the blush a permanent fixture on her face as Professor Wells calls her out.

He ruins her for other guys,

and she never even got his name.

It isn’t good, just how much time she accidentally devotes into thinking about the boy, and she wonders if she could make up another excuse to visit Iris at her school, to attend Science Club meetings and carnivals until she bumps into him and gets his name. And number. And maybe another kiss. She shakes her head, laughing at herself, as she refocusses on her work. It would be obvious and desperate on her part, and there was no way that he would still be single, not for this long. Not him.

It isn’t healthy Caitlin tells herself eventually, isn’t good for her to daydream over a boy she’s likely to never meet again, isn’t good for her to get so distracted from her school work, not when she needs the scholarship for college. And so she tries to forget him, forces herself to. Her energy is directed to the state science competition approaching in a few weeks, Caitlin a core part of her school’s team. Succeeding would be an incredible achievement and a highlight on her application forms.

It would be just what she needs to get out from under her mother’s shadow and show the world that she, Caitlin Snow, was a scientific genius in her own right.

And she succeeds in forgetting him.

Mostly.

The next time she really gets to spend time with Iris is at the State Science Competition finals. Not that Iris was competing; she was involved in the school newspaper and student council, but science bored her more than anything else. She however, was a wonderfully supportive friend... for Barry.

The boy was a part of the Central City Stars and as Iris’ official best friend she had gone to support him.

The sight of the competition shouldn’t have relaxed Caitlin, she knew how intelligent Barry was, the guy able to read at superhuman speeds and absorb the information just as quickly. He was the enemy, but he was also her friend. So she approaches them, Barry yelping as Caitlin bumps his hip with hers, surprising him. He glares at both her and Iris as the other girl start laughing, Barry crossing his arms in mock annoyance. “That’s it Cait, no more Mr Nice-Guy.”

“Barry I don’t think you can change. That’s definitely a part of your molecular structure.” There is confusion as to whether she was teasing him or complimenting him and he chooses to bite his tongue. She smiles widely at him, sliding her arm around his shoulder, giving him a one-armed hug. It is enough to crack his mood, Barry pulling her close, a whisper of good luck against the side of her head. “Glad to see you’ve come to support me Iris.”

Iris hesitates and Barry’s face falls at the sight. It is enough to have Iris cave, a smile on her face as she loops her arm with Barry. “Sorry girl, here for my school.”

“So what do I need to bribe you with to have you switching sides Iris?” she teases, Barry looking put-out as Iris pretends to ponder it over.

“A cute guy would be enough.”

Caitlin grins at her, turning her head to search the crowd. “Hey Oliver!” And they watch as a boy lifts his head, turning to her, a quizzical look upon his face. And Iris hums in approval, gaze flicking over the man before smirking at Caitlin. The other girl shakes her head, and he goes back to whispering with the blonde beside him.

“You thought about that?” Iris whispers, eyes dancing in mirth.

She laughs. “Of course, I’ve got eyes.”

“I’m right here you guys,” Barry complains, crossing his arms and pouting at the pair.

The synchronised ‘we know’ is enough to have them erupting into giggles.

it is also enough to steal the attention of the blonde beside Oliver, the girl squealing and dragging him along with her to the group.

“Caitlin!” Felicity almost stumbles into her, letting go of Oliver to pull her into a hug.

“Guys this is Felicity and Oliver, Felicity, Oliver this is Barry and Iris.” They all wave (most wave, not Oliver, he just watches, teases of a smile on his lips) and she hopes they get along, her best friends from school and her best friends from her childhood some of the closest people Caitlin had in her life. They exchange pleasantries and Barry looks at Oliver in awe, the boy so much bigger up close, questions on his diet and exercise regime rolling off his tongue. Caitlin and Iris try and muffle their laughter, to varying degrees of success, and Barry glares at them before turning back to Oliver.

The boys go off on their own, and Caitlin is almost positive that, despite Oliver’s apparent reluctance, they would be fast friends.

It leaves the girls together, Felicity rambling on about her revision on the developments of superconductors and microchips. It worries Caitlin, isolating Iris by talking science when she wouldn’t be able to keep up.

“You’re -”Iris starts and Caitlin holds her breath, unsure how Iris will react. Because while she teases Barry and Caitlin about their nerdiness, they grew up together, Felicity - she wouldn’t understand, not when she was teased incessantly in Vegas, no one able to understand her genius. “- Incredible,” Iris finishes, breathing out in awe. Her words have Felicity lighting up in pride and Caitlin could kiss Iris for that reaction, for the way it has Felicity stumbling over her words, denying the impressiveness of her knowledge.

“It’s not too late to jump ship,” Caitlin teases and Felicity laughs and this, she thinks, this is perfect.

But then she sees him. The boy from the the kissing booth. With his long, soft hair and wonderful smile and shirt with another ridiculous pun, it can’t be anyone else.

And of course he is, she thinks. He was a part of his own science club, he had told her that before. So of course he would come to the competition to represent his school. But she hadn’t thought that she’d meet him again, hadn’t thought it would be in this environment, surrounded by these people, this pressure on her to not get distracted. He catches her staring at him, his brows furrowing at he stares back.

And her shift in behaviour is slight, but its obvious, Felicity stopping mid sentence, mouth pulled into an ‘o’ and frowning in concentration as she watches Caitlin, gaze sliding across to where the other girl was focussing. “Is that him?”

The question has Caitlin jumping, eyes owlish as her gaze darts between the pair of them, Felicity smirking and Iris almost vibrating in excitement. “No. What? Who?”

“Okay girl, if you plan on lying to us, you really need to work on that. So -” Iris strains her neck, looking side to side to catch a glimpse of the mysterious guy. “Who is it and how did you meet?”

“The cute guy she made out with at the kissing booth ages ago.” Felicity adjusts her glasses, swaying to the side to bump shoulders with Caitlin, the girl now stiff. “And the main star of all her fantasies.”

Iris turns to her quickly, eyes sparkling like diamonds, the smile on her face enough to weaken most people. “You never told me you met someone at the kissing booth Cait! You know I would have tracked them down for you.”

“Felicity, remind me never to tell you anything again. Ever.” The words lack much bite, Felicity looking too proud of herself to show any remorse for revealing that information to Iris.

“You should go over there, say hi, grab his number.” Iris nods like it is the obvious thing to do, like approaching the person you’ve been fantasising over and saying hello is an easy and simple thing to do. Which, maybe for her it is. But she was the hottest girl at Central City High and was dating the hottest (and sweetest) guy there so Caitlin takes her advice with a grain of salt.

“Are you insane?!” she hisses, Caitlin blushing at the mere thought of it. “I could never do that.”

“Cait, babe, you need to go for it.” And she thinks Iris is far too perceptive, her gaze softening as she takes Caitlin’s hands between her own. “You’re an incredible girl and he’d be crazy to reject you. Don’t - don’t do this to yourself.”

It is sweet, but strikes too close to home, the walls around her heart struck with the vibrations from the words. Because he already had. He left. She asked him to wait and he left, left her.

“He’s still competition Iris.” The girl nods, but Caitlin can see the cogs turning in her head. And she finds herself watching Iris as the competition nears its start and the groups congregate, Iris sidling to the Central City Stars, pulling Barry to the side. Caitlin knows she should be paying attention to her own group, but Iris’ face is lighting up and Barry’s is even worse. Her stomach swoops when they both turn and meet her gaze, the twinkle in their eyes unnerving her. Last time Iris had looked at her like that Caitlin had been roped into the Kissing Booth.

It is Ronnie who gets her attention, a hand on her shoulder and a concerned look on his face. She offers him a smile, forcing herself to forget about the conspiratorial look between her two friends. She turns back to Professor Wells, the man finishing his talk, the team walking to their table. Felicity sits at the head of the table, the leader of their team, Caitlin in between Lily Stein and Ronnie Raymond.

She turns her head, Barry at the top of his own table, Wally - Iris’ younger brother beside him, the pair discussing something. And then she sees him, the boy from the kissing booth having a much more heated discussion with the guy in glasses beside him. She thinks they might be arguing but it stops suddenly, the guy looking up and catching her watching them.

It has her ducking her head, Caitlin letting herself get caught up in Ronnie and his easy going demeanour, lets its wash over her, lets it help her forget the pressure of the competition, the nerves over a guy who had no idea who she is. He is relaxing, Lily and Felicity joining the conversation easily. And, when the adjudicator signifies the beginning of the competition, Caitlin feels as though she can take on the world.

The first round is general science questions, each team given a set of questions, the four allowed to discuss before the team captain answered. The timer for each question does heighten her nerves, but Caitlin is surrounded by her best friends and it is easy to forget that this isn’t a mock challenge set by Professor Wells.

They don’t miss a single question, but then, neither does Barry’s team.

The second round commences after a slight break, the rules changing. A buzzer is before each of them, the questions addressed to both teams, the points going to whichever school had the student answer it correctly. The questions were more specialised, choosing different branches of science and also mathematics. The initial questions were physics related and, while she was exceptional at the subject, Ronnie... he was a class above. He was doing spectacularly, though the other team had multiple individuals who also seemed to specialise in that area.

But then the boy hits the button and time all but stops for Caitlin.

Her heart rate picks up, the organ beating hard and fast, trying to escape from its confines in her chest. And it’s him, she knows it when he speaks, the same warm timbre, same softness and joy, even in this scenario. And she can’t tear her gaze away from him, can’t muster the strength to. He catches her, he always seems to catch her, but it isn’t enough.

He looks confused, but meets her gaze all the same. She doesn’t know what’s going through his head, assumes he thinks it is a method to throw him off. But she can feel the electricity, even if he can’t. And she’s crazy, she must be, to feel an intensity between them when he doesn’t recognise her. But she had spent months dreaming about this moment, and now it is happening, it doesn’t seem real. So she stares,

and he stares back.

Physics questions exhausted, they move on to biology, her speciality.

Caitlin moves without conscious thought, hitting the buzzer, her lightbulb flashing, indicating that she had reacted fastest. Her voice is crisp as she answers that it is mitochondria which is the powerhouse of the cell, gaze still locked with the mystery boy as the words roll off of her tongue. And she can see it, can pinpoint the very moment realisation hits him. It isn’t immediate, his brows furrowing as he struggles to place why the voice is so familiar, but then his eyebrows rise and his jaw drops, lips forming an ‘o’.

Only then does she have the strength to break the connection between them, Caitlin staunchly avoiding his gaze throughout the rest of the round. She can feel it, feel the intensity of it burning against her skin, his gaze unwavering. It licks at her skin, and she can feel it across all of her, Caitlin biting back her feelings, her need to look at him. Because if it is disgust in his gaze, if it is disappointment... she wouldn’t be able to handle that.

The Lily and Caitlin duo answering the majority of questions in chemistry and biology, though Barry does pose a challenge. Mathematics is Wally’s strong suit, and Felicity has a challenge facing the other two members of Barry’s team when it turns to technology. The race is too close to call, the weighting of questions varying depending on difficulty.

It is then that there is a break called, the teams disbanding to wait for the reveal of the final, the members jittery with excitement. Ronnie pulls them all into a group hug, the boy so sure they won against the other team. Caitlin isn’t quite so confident, but he had always been the voice of optimism when they were dating, it was one of the endearing things about him, even if it was the cause for more than one argument, and she remembers why he is universally liked.

Lily spots her parents in the audience and rushes off to him, Ronnie and Felicity lingering with Caitlin in the sidelines of the stage, discussing how they thought they went and ways they could improve. They are joined by Lily and Mr Stein, the small girl dragging her father to the group, the rest of them soaking up his advice and commendations. But there is a lull in the conversation, something distracting Felicity, and it wasn’t Oliver.

“So kissing booth cutie is staring at you,” Felicity says with a delighted smile, looking over Caitlin’s shoulder before waving at him. It has her stiffening, Caitlin determined to not cave in and check whether that was true.

“What?” Ronnie doesn’t sound sad or disappointed, merely curious at the descriptor and, for the millionth time, Caitlin is pleased that their breakup went as smoothly as it did. Mr Stein however, he looks sharply at the other team, a discerning eye on them as he scrutinises the boy.

“Nothing,” Caitlin says in response to Ronnie, burying her head in her hands. “And we are not calling him that!” It is a harsh whisper to Felicity, but she brushes it off. Professor Wells congratulates them on their effort in his own way, stiff and formal, with an undercurrent of genuine care and fondness for them all that has them beaming anyway. Mr Stein, he is more affectionate, pulling the girls into a hug, tells them that he was proud of them whether they win or lose, tells them they all have bright futures ahead of them. To Ronnie he offers a brisk handshake, the boy rolling his eyes, even as he smiles and accepts the handshake.

The bell rings indicating the break is over and a winner had been determined. So she turns to walk back to their table, Caitlin catching Barry watching her and smirking, while conversing with the boy from the kissing booth. She hates that she blushes as the look Barry gave her, plans her revenge, as he keeps on looking at her, wavering between the two. He gives up all pretence of having a conversation with the guy, especially as the kissing booth cutie (and damn it Felicity, she will get revenge for that) wasn’t wavering - he was most definitely staring at her.

They win, and she can’t help the smile and laughter that escape her when they pull aside and it finally hits her. They all walk off with a cheer, Ronnie pulling Caitlin into a hug and spinning her around. She laughs, her heart light and smile easy, the pair of them joined by Felicity and Lily, the group basking in the glory of their success. But then Ronnie goes off with his family, Felicity with Oliver. Caitlin looks around, almost hoping that the win would summon her mother, with arms open and words of support and pride spilling forth.

It is a fruitless dream, but she’s content. She has Mr Stein pull her into a hug, tears in his eyes as he tells her and Lily that he is proud of his two girls and he knew they would be special. It is nice, and Lily ribs him about Caitlin being his favourite daughter that has wet laughter coming from Mr Stein and half-hearted denials. He’s not her dad, but he is just as much her parent as her mother, Mr Stein there for her since her early childhood, the man a rock when her dad was sick and passed, Lily the sister she never had.

They offer her a ride home, but she shakes her head, Caitlin already having organised a ride with Barry and Iris. She leaves the Stein family in search for her friends, searching the crowd for the opposing team’s student support group. She finds Iris easily, the girl throwing her arms around Caitlin’s neck in a strong hug. “I knew you could do it girl!”

Barry huffs from her side, crossed arms and mock anger. “And here I was thinking you had my back Iris.” He breaks easily, pulling Caitlin into a hug of his own. “Congrats Cait, you guys were really incredible.” He whispers it against the side of her head, and there is no disappointment or envy in his tone.

Her smile almost splits her face as she squeezes him just that bit more before letting go. “Thanks Barry, you did pretty spectacularly yourself.”

“Yeah well,” and he beams at her words, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he becomes shy at the praise. “We’ll get you next year.”

It is enough to elicit a scoff from Caitlin, a rebuttal on her tongue. But it dies immediately, Barry and Iris exchanging looks, the pair communicating without words, the girl’s eyes widening. “What is it?” Caitlin sounds suspicious, she is suspicious, but it isn’t going to go well, she knows it.

“Well,” Iris starts, dragging the vowel along. “Remember how I promised to take you home for the weekend, well, I promised Barry I’d take him out for dinner to celebrate so I organised another ride for you.” She rushes the words out, the pair preparing to run.

“Well I can come along for a celebratory dinner, especially since I won.” Her voice has an edge, her arms crossed and Iris winces at her choice of words.

“Did I say celebratory? I meant conciliatory. To make up for the fact he lost - you being there, it would be like salt in the wounds. Don’t worry, you’ll like Cisco.” And they make a run for it, leaving Caitlin confused and alone.

She uncrosses her arms, pouting at where her friends used to be standing, muttering to herself. “Who the hell is Cisc -”

She turns around and there he is, the mystery boy from the kissing booth. Right in front of her. “Oh.”

He offers her a wave, a shy smile on his face. “That would be me.” And she’s left speechless. Because he’s right in front of her. Talking to her. She hadn’t prepared for this, there were no binders on this scenario. “So you’re Caitlin?” She can only nod mutely, wide eyed as she tries to process it all. He seems to be handling it better than her. “Well, congrats on the win. You guys were the better team, though Hartley would object to that.” He barks out a laugh and Caitlin finds herself falling that little bit more with him.

“I like your shirt.” It is a direct callback to their conversation from before, Caitlin more shy now open and vulnerable. “It’s cute.”

He sucks in a breath, and yeah, he definitely remembers her, remembers their last encounter. The butterflies return, fluttering away in her stomach, each flap of their wings forming tornadoes inside her.

“Okay,” and his voice is hoarse, Cisco taking a step closer to her. “But would you wear it?” They are closer now, so much closer. She can see the shine of his hair, the slight stubble across his jawline. She can hear the inflection in his tone, the fear of her response.

And Caitlin is almost breathless. “Yeah.”

He’s staring at her like she is a vision, a masterpiece that he is trying to memorise what she looks like, like she’s a mirage that would disappear if he were to reach over and touch her. It sends her heart into overdrive, the awe shining in his eyes. “What?” she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, a small smile on her lips.

“I knew you’d be beautiful.” His voice is warm and she melts at the words, at the sincerity infused in his tone.

But still she rolls her eyes, determined to keep this light. “And you could tell by listening to my voice?”

“Your voice, your personality, your laugh. You were so beautiful and sweet and I knew, no matter what you looked like, it would be beautiful.” And well, crap. Because she was determined to keep it light and he went there, baring his heart out to her, Caitlin drowning easily in the emotion of those few words.

“Then why did you disappear?” She sounds so small asking the question that had haunted her for so long. “I said I’d be right back and when I returned you were gone.” There is a vulnerability in her tone, and his smile flickers and falls.

“The other dude showed up and your lipstick was all over my mouth, so I couldn’t really lie and say I was waiting for a kiss. I had to go.” He sounds so sad, voice low and soft and she’d drop it if she didn’t need answers so desperately, these thoughts plaguing her during the darkest nights, when her memories of their kiss morphed into nightmares of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘why’s’.

“You could have waited at the exit, I went around the tent three times hoping I’d just missed you.” There is an embarrassment which tints her confession, a secret she had cradled to her chest, not even admitting it to Felicity.

“I guess I was scared. There was a beautiful, smart, funny girl who is, by the way, an incredible kisser. I didn’t get why she’d be interested in me.” His head drops and she misses it already, misses how his eyes shine and how his laugh makes her heart skip a beat. The self deprecation kills her, Caitlin reaching out for him, her hand on his cheek, lifting his head back up.

She thinks he sees her emotion, her acceptance, in her eyes, Cisco covering her hand with his own. “She was.” It is a croak, Caitlin choked up by her feelings. At the way his eyes dim, she amends herself, “She is.”

There is a spark of hope and she wants to stoke it, wants to see it grow, see it consume them both. “I mean, you have complete permission to slap me or stop me, I won’t fight you or be upset, but I’ve been dreaming about this since I first got to kiss you and I’d really like to do it again.” And again, he is able to render her speechless, his eyes, so dark and beautiful, darting between her own, looking for any sign of reluctance on her part. She can only nod, lips separating in anticipation. And it is her which makes the first move, leaning forward, nose skimming the skin of his cheek, but it is Cisco who closes the distance, a gentle hand on her chin, tilting it closer to him as he takes a breath before pressing their mouths together.

And it is just as glorious as she remembered.

It is different than before, the kiss gentle and soft this time, no urgency, no fear of the other person disappearing. It is almost fragile, the soft brush of lips together, once, twice, thrice. It is then that Caitlin can’t stand the teasing, lifting herself on her toes to press the kiss more firmly. It has him smiling against her, his hands settling on her hips and she can only hope that the rest of their kisses leave her like this. They break it slowly, Caitlin opening her eyes, sight blurry, until it focusses on him. Giggling isn’t something that she would accompany first kisses, but it isn’t their first, even if it feels like it.

“I’m pretty sure I owe you Big Belly Burger. Remember?” He sounds so unsure, as though she hadn’t replayed his voice for months, hadn’t stared at him all afternoon because she wanted him to recognise her, to mean what he had said. As though he hadn’t stolen her breath with a simple kiss. But still, it is enough to bring out a blush, Caitlin suddenly fascinated with the ground below, the toe of her shoe swiping lightly over the floor underneath it.

“Yeah, I remember.” She steals a glance through her lashes, confidence growing along with his smile.

He offers her his hand, a shy smile on his face. “Well come on then, I gotta make this the best first date ever, and we can’t waste daylight.”

Her heart skips a beat at the words ‘first date’, and she cannot believe this is real life. Her hand slides into his perfectly and she feels like it was made to hold her own, Cisco running his thumb over her knuckles. It is calloused and she knows there are stories she doesn’t know, stories she’ll enjoy learning about.

And she follows him without resistance as he leads her to his car, as he drives down to Central City where the best Big Belly Burger was located.

She follows him without resistance as they both fall deeper in love with each other.

Seven years, two PhDs, two Masters and a doctorate between the pair of them, Caitlin and Cisco were still going strong. It had been difficult, with different universities and streams of studies, but they had survived the distance, had thrived in their new environment and grown stronger as a pair. But they had been brought back together, and by Professor Wells of all people. When he had started STAR Labs he had wanted experience, but he also had wanted passion and innovation and youth. He had convinced Caitlin to come back to Central City and she convinced him to hire Cisco.

(There was no convincing needed, he was already on the list).

It was exciting, finally being in the same city, in the same apartment, in the same bed. The flutter of butterflies hadn’t disappeared, not in all the years of dating him. All she needed was a smile from him early morning when the sun bathed him in a golden glow, all she needed was a hand on her shoulder at work when she was struggling through the chemical composition required to trigger a chemical reaction. All she needed was a look, a touch, a smile, and she was right back to being a teenager on her first date, to the girl manning the kissing booth, unaware of the impact it would have on her life.

He means everything to her and so, when she hears from Professor Wells that Cisco had taken a half day without telling her, she grows concerned, Caitlin counting down the minutes before rushing out the door, heading immediately to their apartment.

It is with shaky fingers she tries to out the key in the door, Cisco having not responded to any of her texts. A sigh of relief leaves her as it finally, finally, slips into the hole, the door swinging open.

And she’s left standing at the entrance, shocked still at the sight before.

There is a booth at the entrance of their apartment, red fabric forming a tent, blocking off everything else except for the neon sign in front of her.

Fiancee booth. Entrance fee: your heart.

Caitlin fails to stifle the gasp that escapes her, hands moving belatedly to cover her mouth, breath hitching as the magnitude of what is about to happen hits her. It has her heart thundering in her chest, and she can’t get it under control, can barely make herself inhale oxygen.

She drops her stuff by the door, trembling fingers pulling the curtain aside so she could enter the tent. There are tears before she ever sees him, electronic candles around the structure, setting the atmosphere. And there he is, kneeling in the middle, Cisco dressed up in a tuxedo, an open velvet box outstretched in his hands, an anxious smile on his face as her gaze falls to the diamond ring in the box.

“Cisco.” It’s all she can manage, Caitlin left a blubbering mess at the sight before her. She drops to her knees before him immediately and so easily, the need to be closer to him, to be right by his side one she had accepted long ago. And he drops the box to his side, hands lifting up to cup her face, thumbs swiping across her cheekbones, calloused finger pads sending shivers through her. He’s shaking, thumb stuttering in its movements, even as she leans into his touch, Caitlin soaking everything about the moment in. He only stops to wipe his thumb against the thighs of his pants, Caitlin catching the glitter of water on his skin from the glow of the candles.

And oh, she thinks. I’m crying.

“Welcome to your fiance booth Cait, you enter alone and leave with a fiance.” His voice trembles and his eyes are shining.

“Should I be worried about the line that was behind me,” she jokes, a weak smile on her face.

But it is enough, Cisco relaxing, a chuckle leaving him as he shakes his head at her words. “It’s only for you Cait, my heart is only for you.” His voice is more steady and she can’t help herself, Caitlin tilting her head, a lingering kiss pressed against the inside of his wrist. She holds her lips there, the feeling of his pulse underneath her skin sending chills through her. The tears start to well up once more, the sight of Cisco blurring before her, and she whispers her confession of love against his skin.

His other hand strokes the other side of her face, Cisco tucking the hair behind her ear so that he could continue. And she wants to pause moment, wishes it were possible just spend her life as happy as she was in this singular moment of time, her heart threatening to burst from joy.

She mourns the loss of contact, Cisco eventually letting go of her face, Caitlin no longer crying. And he picks up the box. There isn’t a question of her response, she had known it for years now, had only waited for the right time. The temptation is there to nod, to say ‘yes’ and slide the ring on her finger in that moment, the seconds going by without her being his fiancee almost agonising. But she knows Cisco, knows he prepared this night for so long, and she can’t fathom interrupting him in it.

"I love you,” he breathes, and crap, crap, crap, that’s all he needs to say for the tears to restart, the adoration evident in his voice. She wipes the tears away desperately, paws at her cheeks, cursing her emotion. Because he pauses and she just wants him, wants him to ask the question, wants to tell him yes, wants it all now.

“I love you too Cisco,” she sniffles, a smile on her lips and the tears finally stop, her vision to Cisco, just Cisco. She can see his nervous grin and she wants to kiss it all away.

“I’ve loved you for so long Cait, ever since I kissed this incredible girl at a kissing booth and she thought I had a cool shirt. I knew then there wouldn’t be any one else who would come close to you.” She whimpers at his words and she knew it too, knew her life wouldn’t be anywhere as incredible if she didn’t have him to share it with. Her heart aches for him, for the tremble in his voice as he tells her these words. “I never thought it’d be possible for you to like me back, to love me back. But by some miracle you did, you do, and I thank God for that every single day, thank Him that you’re the first thing I can see in the morning, the last thing I see at night. I thank Him because you’re my soulmate Cait, there isn’t any one in the world I could love like I love you. You make me happy Caitlin Snow, so very, incredibly happy and you have my heart, my soul, you have all of me.” It hurts, physically hurts, to stay still and listen as Cisco talks, Caitlin itching to hug him, to pepper his face with kisses, to show him just how happy he makes her. He had always been more eloquent with matters of the heart. But she doesn’t, forces herself to wait for him to ask that question with bated breath, her heartbeat stuttering as he opens himself up to her. “I’m yours, I always have, always will be. I’m just hoping that you’re mine -” She’s already nodding at his words, the smile spreading across her lips, “ - and that you’ll be okay making it official.” He proffers up the ring to her, Cisco offering her a smile that makes her fall in love with him all over again. “Will you marry me Cait?”

She nods, laughs in glee as he slides the ring on her finger, Caitlin pouncing on him, pinning him to the ground as she hovers above him. She takes the moment to pause, to absorb this and him and she hadn’t seen it coming all those years ago when she agreed to help Iris with her fundraiser. He looks so beautiful she thinks, memorising the sight of Cisco on his back, hands by his head, fingers interlocked with her own. He looks up at her, smile splitting his face in half, and she can’t contain her sigh. “Do you think that we would have got together if we didn’t do the kissing booth?”

The words slip out absentmindedly, Caitlin unaware she was even thinking it until she hears the words come from her mouth. Cisco tilts his head, the hair splayed against the floor underneath him. “I dunno Cait, I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t. There’s no point in torturing myself like that because I have you. God, I still can’t believe you said yes,” he chuckles, awe and adoration in his gaze. “I don’t think there is a universe out there that doesn’t have you and me together.” He says the words so simply, but the force of it against her heart, it is overpowering.

He’s beautiful and he’s smart and he’s sweet and he’s kind. And he’s mine.

It is a fiance booth, but they still got their kisses.

No blindfold necessary.

#killervibe #caitlin snow #cisco ramon #the flash #the flash fic #ruthie writes #y'all this was fluff okay #i wrote fluff #it's a damn miracle #fun-fact - this was supposed to be my entrance for the 'free day' on killervibe week last year #i wrote 4-5k and missed the date and never got back to the fic #.... prolly cause its fluff and i struggle with that #title is the song 'strawberry kisses' by nikki webster #also THIS SONG WAS MY JAM IN 2003 AND EARLIER #I LOVE IT #literally edited the fic so i could use that as my song title #im sorry about cisco's proposal btw #the hell if i knew what i was going on about #killer vibe

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exquisitley-obsessed · 6 years

Text

Pieces of People - Part 11

Summary: Vampire y/n returns to Mystic Falls after finding out her friend Stefan Salvatore has gone off the rails with blood, what she doesn’t expect to happen is find out her deep-rooted connections with the Mikaelson family, in particular – Elijah.

Word Count: 3372

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of blood.

A/N: I’d just like to thank everyone who’s still reading this and liking and commenting it means the world. Don’t forget – if you want to be notified every time I add to this story just message me or comment asking to be added to the tag list <3

MASTERLIST FOR THIS STORY,

MASTERLIST

“What the hell happened?”

“Okay, don’t get your protective boyfriend pants in a twist, she’ll be fine,” Damon mumbled as y/n slumped drearily into his side.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Y/n mumbled as the distorted image of Elijah swam around her eyes. But, of course, no one was listening to her.

“I’d still like to know.” Elijah’s spoke with finality and power, his arms itching by his sides to reach over and hold her, touch her even.

“There may or may not have been a small problem with a bunch of vampire-hating council members with a freaky priest leader. And y/n may or may not have been bled to death in a barn filled with vervained air, slap bang in the middle of nowhere. But don’t worry,” Damon was gently shuffling y/n’s unresponsive feet up the front steps, “She’s fine now.”

“She doesn’t look fine.” Elijah moved after Damon, taking in the image of y/n’s blood-soaked clothes and the veiny blood splatters across her skin. It hurt. It physically hurt him to see her like this. To know what agonising pain she must have been feeling less than a few hours ago when he had simply been sitting around at home.

“Well, we both know she’ll be right as rain once she’s downed a few blood bags, so why don’t you hit the road and just give her some space for tonight.” Damon had already opened the door and was gently pushing y/n inside, out of Elijah’s sight.

“Wait,” Elijah’s stopped the door from shutting in his face, looking at y/n and nowhere else, “Y/n…” He mumbled. Gently, she swung herself around, gripping onto the wooden door frame with white knuckles. “Just…tell me what you want.” Elijah murmured, completely forgetting that Damon was even in the same world as them.

“What I want?” Y/n hummed, her eyelids dropping with every second and her entire body weight pushed up against the wall, “I want to have a shower.” She finally coughed out after a few long moments, “I want to drink a couple blood bags and then I want to get out of these…clothes. I want to put on some fresh pyjamas and I want to go to bed.” Elijah’s hand slowly retracted from the door.

“But I want to see you tomorrow.”

It caught him off guard. The soft words that danced from her lips and seemed to almost pierce right into his heart like some kind of knife of hope. Suddenly, he found himself looking into her eyes and getting lost. He found the feeling of his chest swelling as every cell of his skin burned to touch her, to take her clothes off for her. Why was it so easy to feel this way around her?

“I’ll um…” Y/n mumbled, her eyelids fluttering further and further closed, “I’ll come around to your house first thing and we can…talk.”

“Okay.” His voice was warm and comforting almost lulling her to sleep right there and then. “Okay y/n,” She began turning away, gripping onto Damon’s arm tightly as she moved towards the basement, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Damon gently guided y/n in the direction of the hallway before he turned back to the door. The two men shared a look. A mutual understanding passing between them.

And then Elijah curtly nodded, and Damon shut the door.

After having at least 12 hours of nice long sleep, y/n finally emerged from her crisp clean sheets feeling like a new woman. She had spent the entire morning, or should I say afternoon, taking her time with getting ready.

She spent a near hour in the shower, feeling the hot water wear away knots in her muscles. Remembering how weird it had felt last night, to watch as the water ran from rich rouge to watery red to powder pink. Feeling the worry and stress of the entire day melt away down the drain with that bloodied water.

Then came breakfast: honey and toast, sweet tea, fresh fruit picked from the garden. All in all, it was a luxurious and well-deserved morning. And the knowledge that she would soon see Elijah, Elijah who had looked so hurt, so pained, so angry by the site of her bloodied clothes. Elijah who even Damon was now telling her to forgive. Just…Elijah.

It was mid-afternoon by the time y/n found herself walking into the Mikaelson’s oversized home. The warm winter sun tumbling through the patterned glass, painting shadows of flowers, cherubs and nude women onto the marble floor.

Reaching up, y/n began slowly twisting her heavy scarf from around her neck, watching with curious eyes as the nude women seemed to almost wink in the sunlight. The moment was so peaceful. It seemed only fitting that it would be Klaus who ruined it.

“Love!” Klaus’s voice called out, snapping her out of her trance and into a slightly defensive position. She always felt like that around him, “I didn’t know you would be joining us too.” Y/n furrowed her brows.

“I didn’t know there was something to join?” She took a tentative step towards him and then watched with surprise as Stefan emerged from around a corner, “Stefan?”

“Y/n,” Stefan could simply mumble back, the same air of question mirrored in his eyes.

“No, no, this is good!” Klaus called out in his usual way, walking straight over to her. “You of all people should be here to hear what I have to say. I mean after all…” Klaus cocked his head, the same lazily cocky smile drawn across his lips, “The vampire hunters, the tattoos, the key…it did all start with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that now love. All you need to do is come with me and Stefan, we’re going to have a little chat over dinner.” Klaus twisted around and grinned slightly sadistically at Stefan who appeared highly uncomfortable.

“Actually, not to disappoint…but I was here to meet another Mikaelson.” Y/n hummed, already moving past Klaus. Whatever he had to say, it could wait the five minutes she needed just to see his face.

“I hope you don’t mean me.” Rebekah’s elevated voice sung through the stone hallway, her heels accompanying the noise. “I’ve had enough of your surprise visits for one week.” She stopped by a stray wooden table at the base of the stairs, re-positioning the flowers so the more pinkish ones sat at the front. Y/n opened her mouth to respond but Klaus got there first.

“Oh yes of course!” He cheerily called out, his hands clapping together, “Rebekah told me all about your little threat.” He hummed, his hands folding behind his back as he gave her an infuriating smile. Y/n took a deep, shaky breath.

“Do you really think that you are in any position to be cruel to me right now?” Her voice was quiet and calm, a complete change from Klaus’s overzealous one. A silence settled for a moment as his features fell.

“Maybe not.” He hummed, “I understand you were here to see Elijah…” Y/n remained guarded despite how soft his voice seemed to get, “But I would be honoured if you would accompany me to dinner, here…tonight.” He outstretched his hand slightly as if he was literally offering her this opportunity. Eyeing it with wariness, y/n took a delicate step forward, her features turning vulnerable.

“I need your word Niklaus.” She may have been quiet, but she was strong, “I need you to promise me, that by the end of tonight, I will have my memories back. Each…and every last one of them.” Klaus didn’t move. His eyes flickered over her facial features delicately before he grew tall and let his hand fall to his side. Leaning in he slowly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers skating across her skin in a way that caused goose bumps to ripple across her body. For a moment, the thought that he might actually kiss her crossed her mind, but then his lips brushed along her cheek as he whispered into her ear.

“I promise you, y/n, that you will have your memories by the end of tonight.”

The dinner was painful. Sitting across from Stefan and picking at her food every now and then, y/n had to listen to the constant bickering between Rebekah and Klaus as they dissolved into some meaningless argument about a meaningless subject.

“Can we just…please get to the point.” Stefan groaned into the palms of his hands at some desperate point. Y/n at that moment had been swirling the rouge wine around in her glass, seeing how far she could get it to reach the top without spilling over.

“Ahh yes.” Klaus leant back, throwing his napkin onto his half-finished meal, “The very reason why we’re all here.” His eyes flickered deviously around the table until they came to rest back on Stefan. “We’re here to discuss a certain vampire hunter that I have chained up and the certain tattoos that adorn his arm.”

“Oh, skip the theatrics Nik.” Rebekah hissed into her wine glass.

“Very well.” Klaus nodded curtly, “The first time I saw the vampire hunter tattoo was back in the 12th century, in y/h/t.” Y/n could already feel Klaus’s eyes on her as she glared directly at her untouched meal, “They were on the arm of a certain man named Alexander. Well known in his village to bring about vampires he had caught and burned them in broad daylight for everyone to see.

“Well, of course, this put me and my family on edge slightly, but we had a way of ensuring that he would never get to figure out what we were. A spy on the inside I believe they call it.”

“Who?” Stefan interrupted, his curiosity getting the better of him. Klaus’s eyes flicked up to Rebekah who sat uncomfortably across from him.

“Why Rebekah of course. But the thing is, she really ended up falling in love with the man.” Klaus looked pitifully down, a playful smirk pulling at his lips, “Me and the rest of my family, of course, needed even more reassurance than our liability of a sister…so I decided to go after a family member of the hunter. The only one that was still around, that is.”

“Who?” Stefan asked again, leaning back in his chair as he divulged into the story.

“A sweet little flower girl who went by the name of y/n. Or in other words…”

“Me.” Y/n was glaring at Klaus now. He was enjoying this.

“Yes…you.” Klaus smiled darkly.

“So, wait,” Stefan, leant his elbows onto the table as his eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly, “That’s how you two know each other. Klaus was using you to get information on your brother.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t using you…but Elijah was.” It was as if Klaus had reached over and slapped her in the face. The audacity of him toying with this information, the information that made y/n feel as though she had been missing a piece of herself her entire life – and he was playing a game. She wanted to hold him up against a wall by the throat, feel the blood under his skin begin pumping faster as the air became restricted. Wanted to watch as his skin flushed, and his eyes bulged as he hissed at her everything she needed to know. That’s the thing about being a vampire – intrusive violent thoughts were all too natural.

“Elijah wasn’t using her Nik.” Rebekah said softly after a moment, her eyes staying on the grinning form of Klaus, “Don’t be cruel.”

“Oh, yes…of course!” Klaus leant back, “He wasn’t using her. Turns out all my siblings are as unreliable as my little sister.

“I told Elijah of the flower girl by the name of y/n. Told him to check her out, watch her for a few days and then tell me if she was a possible lead. Turns out in those few days Elijah had somehow convinced himself that y/n here was too sweet and kind to be dragged into this mess, that she was to be left alone on his orders.”

“Let me guess,” Stefan sighed, “You’re not one for orders?”

“No, I’m not.” Klaus’s eyes were fixed on his plate but soon, his vision seemed to mist over as he was taken somewhere far away, “But I was when it came to this. Over time me, Elijah and Rebekah would spend the majority of our time with this Alexander and his little sister, y/n.

“Elijah was right. Y/n was just a girl caught up in something that was so much bigger than herself. She just wanted to sell flowers to feed her family, befriend all those that stepped foot in town…fall in love with the good man.” Klaus and Rebekah made brief eye contact for a moment, “She was to be left out of it.”

“But as you can probably tell by y/n being here,” Rebekah spoke up her eyes fixed on her brother, “That didn’t quite go as planned…did it Klaus?” Klaus’s upper lip sneered for a moment before he seemed to catch himself and calm down.

“No.” He said dully, “It didn’t.”

“What happened?” Y/n asked flatly. Klaus glared at her.

“Rebekah. Why don’t you tell them?” Rebekah sighed long and hard.

“One night when I was with Alexander, he…staked me…with a knife dipped in the ash of the white oak. And then…”

“And then proceeded to stake the rest of your family, didn’t he Rebekah?” Klaus said. “Your entire family line almost ended because you couldn’t pick the right man.”

“Not to interrupt,” Stefan sighed, “But I thought the stake didn’t work on you.” He said to Klaus who grinned in response.

“It doesn’t. I woke up surrounded by the foul creatures and killed them one by one…until I got to Rebekah’s dear Alexander. I strung him up on the wall, his own knives pinning him through his muscle, and then I made him watch his worst nightmare before I punctured his heart with the knife he tried to kill my family with.”

“Watch his worst nightmare?” Stefan asked, but y/n already knew what he was going to say, and already felt the hot, angry tears burn behind her eyes.

“I made Alexander the vampire hunter watch as I turned his dear baby sister, the only family he had left, into the one thing he hated above all.” Klaus’s eyes remained lowered, “The one thing he was programmed to kill.”

No one needed to say the word, but everyone was thinking it. Y/n was gripping onto the edge of the table so hard that it had begun to splinter under her fingers, cracks in the wood snapping across the entire table. She quickly pulled her shaking fingers into her lap, feeling the rage splinter through her body.

“You mean to tell me.” Even her voice was shaking, “That I died…that I turned into a monster…that I can’t have kids. So that you could get back at my brother.” The silence in the room was thick and heavily uncomfortable as both Rebekah and Klaus seemed to dip their heads in shame.

Abruptly, y/n was on her feet, her chair screeching behind her and falling onto the floor. Immediately, the guards at the side of the room shifted slightly, but with a wave of a hand from Klaus, they returned to their post.

Y/n’s chest rose quickly and with ferocity as she slowly began to remember the night that this had all happened. She saw the look in her big brother’s eyes as he watched Klaus gripping her from behind. Hurt, betrayal, anger. She felt the hot blood from Klaus’s wrist being choked down her throat. The blade that pressed against her human and vulnerable throat. The fear of not understanding what was happening. Of seeing her brother pinned to a wall by knives. Of just wanting to go home.

“Y/n.” Someone said but they were far away, or maybe she was.

In an instant, y/n had hurled a detailed whiskey glass against the fireplace, not even looking long enough to watch as the glass fractured and shattered across the rich carpeted floor.

“Y/n!” It was Klaus saying her name this time. Her anger peaked.

“No!” Her voice cracked as she swung around to glare at him, “You don’t get to…” She could hardly breathe through the feeling of her chest swelling, “Do you know how long I’ve lived not knowing how I became like this?” She felt the tears brimming in her eyes, “How many different scenarios I’ve thought of? And now…now it turns out that turning me into a vampire was a second thought? Was fucking collateral damage in a world that I wasn’t even a part of! Are you fucking kidding me?” She felt as though she was losing control.

“Y/n-” Klaus tried again. But it was no point. He had already done enough.

“Shut up.” She spat, her hands on her lower back as she paced across the fireplace, glaring at anyone and anything, “You don’t get to talk. To explain yourself…because guess what, there’s nothing to explain, is there? You slit my throat, you turn me into a vampire, you ruin my life and you don’t even think about it. Because that’s what you do. You fuck up and then you think.”

Klaus was a still as ice. Standing with a napkin still intertwined with his fingers as he looked at her with glassy eyes. Maybe she was being cruel, or maybe she was just being honest. That’s the reality of Niklaus Mikaelson.

“You screw me over and then have the audacity to play games with me and my life 900 years later. Because that’s just who Klaus Mikaelson is. Well, guess what?” She was right in his face now, her top lip pulled back and her eyes filled with nothing but disgust, “I’m not Caroline, I’m not even Stefan, and I’m not going to pity you, Klaus, because you fucking reap what you sow.”

Pulling back for a moment, y/n covered her face with her hands. Trying desperately to catch her breath once more. Dragging her fingers gently down her face y/n finally met Klaus’s pained eyes and found that she didn’t…she couldn’t care.

“All I want…all, I want…is for you to give me my memories back.” She took a step closer to his broken stature, “And then for me to never have to see you again.”

There was a pause. And for a moment, y/n couldn’t even remember that Stefan, Rebekah or even Elijah existed in the same world as her and her hatred for Klaus.

“All right,” Klaus whispered delicately, his tongue clicking over the words. “I will do anything you ask.” His voice was calm and clear, cutting through all her erratic and blazing thoughts, “Anything…to try and make up for the mistake I made all those years ago.” Somehow his fingers had found their way to her face and soon he was gently brushing away angry, hot tears that y/n didn’t even know were there. And then he was looking in her eyes.

“Remember your life before you became a vampire. Remember your family and your little village. Your friends and your flowers. Remember how it felt to meet Elijah for the first time, what he looked like with his ridiculous, long hair. Remember the lifetimes worth of pain I put you through on that one night, how it felt to watch your friends and family bathed in blood. Remember the next 50 years after that. The time you spent with the Mikaelson family. The places you visited and the people you met. Remember that you fell in love and that you were loved dearly by those around you. Remember the last conversation you had with each of us.”

“Remember me telling you to forget.”

The last thing she saw were the tears that trickled down his cheeks. The look in his eye as he too seemed to be taken back to the past. A complicated time full of complicated feelings. And then she felt as though she was falling back, moving through time to somewhere that felt both new and old at once.

And then. She remembered.

next part

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