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dracowars · 4 years

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can i request an imagine im so sorry if it’s too long for your liking but could it be a pureblood slytherin reader x draco imagine where the reader and draco are dating but after some bad news from home (maybe she doesn’t have the kindest parents like draco) she distances herself from everyone and keeps zoning out and finds herself astronomy tower thinking really dark thoughts but draco has constantly been watching over her and is super worried and maybe they have an argument at the tower and draco gets stupid and says something mean or even is dumb to think to accuse her of cheating at the end in which the reader maybe either slaps him (for dramatic effect) or if that’s too much she just says it’s over between the two and she walks off and draco is shocked and tries to stop the reader but she’s already gone and she doesn’t show up to breakfast or lunch and maybe in their class they learn about the boggart again and since they’re older their fears have changed and maybe the reader isn’t paying attention and she’s brought up to test her boggart and it’s draco saying those same things and maybe her parents come out as well and it’s essentially that draco’s unkind words are her fear because it’s the last straw for her until everything breaks because she was holding onto him and she runs out of class and class is dismissed because no one wants to go after that and the reader skips dinner and can be found in moaning myrtles bathroom having a panic attack and she gets really frustrated and hits the the sink really hard to feel something and you can hear myrtle begging the reader to stop and maybe someone sees her and runs to draco to get help but draco runs to the bathroom she’s not there anymore and he finds her at the astronomy tower feeling numb and he overhears her talking to herself and it ends in fluff because he can’t lose her and he figures out it’s probably her parents pressuring her too much again and he can relate because of his and they get back together and it’s just really fluffy at the end maybe they sneak in the kitchen for a quick minute dinner since the reader didn’t eat and draco has to be really kind to the elves heheh

darkness | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,1k

summary: where y/n's parents make her life a living hell and draco doesn't really help

a/n: normally i do not write about things like this but i actually really liked the request so i wrote it anyway. i don't mean to offend anyone with this if i misrepresented something, i did my best to get familiar with the topic <3

warnings: angst, major mental health issues including dark thoughts and self-doubt, hints of su*c*de, mentions of blood, cursing, very sensitive topics in general

universe: harry potter

The cold wind blows through your hair and makes it swirl around the air and into your face, goosebumps spreading all over your body at the sudden coldness. To prevent your hair from flying around, you tame your hair with a hair tie, your gaze fixed straight ahead while your face is illuminated by the setting sun.

You really missed this place during the holidays. The astronomy tower.

Whenever you are stressed from doing a lot of homework or studying in general, this is the place you can hust go to and are somehow always able to relax. The view is breathtaking and you love to watch the sun - or the moon, depening on what time of the day you find yourself up here - shine.

And this special place also gives you the security that you so urgently needed.

The winter holidays were a living hell for you. You have extremely strict parents who see a great importance in your education, but that is basically the only thing that interests them about you. That you bring honor to your pureblood family. That they can proudly show you off to other pureblood families even though they know nothing about you and who you really are.

Until recently they did not even know that you are in a relationship. Unfortunately, one thing led to another and they found it out by an unlucky coincidence which consisted of them picking you up at platform 9¾ for the very first time since you have been at Hogwarts. There they saw you with a platinum haired boy, kissing.

This boy turned out to be Draco Malfoy, the son of the pureblood Malfoy family, who you parents cannot stand at all. To put it in other words, they loathe each other to death and that for probably no reason, at least you have not been able to figure it out yet.

So of course they were not very thrilled that you are in a relationship with a Malfoy, which they showed you straight away. They locked you inside of your room at home because you had to 'think about your actions and their consequences'.

However, when they realized that their behavior would not change anything, they began to put you down. They threw the worst swear words at you, wanted to force you to break up with him and told you what a terrible shame you are for your family. That Draco could never love you and that you are ugly, cheap and overall useless. That is how it went on for your whole vacation.

Your parents always treated you this way, it was not new to you. Nevertheless it hurts every time, even if you try to hide it. You would rather keep all the pain inside of you than to tell others about it, because they are not able to help you anyway. Unfortunately, you did the math without your boyfriend.

This morning at the Central Station of London, Draco immediately saw that you were not feeling well. Any attempts to get you to tell him what is going on with you had been useless though so he left you alone at some point, but you still noticed how he kept staring at you for the whole train ride to Hogwarts.

You would love to tell him, tell him about everything, but something inside of you is stopping you from doing so. An invisible barrier inside of your head, probably fear, that you simply cannot overcome. You know that Draco's parents are pretty similar to yours, but still you just cannot manage to talk to him and you notice how it slowly but surely destroys your deep bond with one another.

Continuing to look into the distance and watch the clouds encircle the beautiful setting sun, which colors the sky in reddish colors, your thoughts suddenly wander to gloomy places. Dark places where you usually only go to when you are locked inside of your own room at home.

But now they are even attacking you at your safest place.

You perfectly know yourself that you are not good enough for Draco. You do not deserve this incredibly great person as your boyfriend. You do not even deserve him as a best friend, no, you do not deserve him at all. You are worthless and for him you are nothing more than one girl out of many.

And still you keep on being selfish and do not end it.

Completely lost in your own dark thoughts, you do not even notice at first how the tears are already streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls. Sniffling, you rub your eyes, smeer your discreetly applied mascara, and wipe the tears from your face.

"Why am I still doing this to myself?", you sob and lower your head, looking deep down at the grounds of Hogwarts. The tears that are enriched with pain flow out of your eyes and fall into the dark depths, causing you to slowly close your eyes.

The sudden mention of your name from behind you makes you abruptly breathe out in shock and your head jumps up as you turn around. Your eyes lock with the gray, sparkling eyes of your boyfriend, who is currently looking at you with pity.

"W-What are you doing here, Draco?", you sniff and wrap your arms around your body in an attempt to hide from him so he does not have to look at you.

"Why are you crying?", he asks, ignoring your question, and before you can realize, he is already standing right in front of you and gently places his hands on your tear stained, puffy cheeks. Gently wiping away your tears with his thumb, he searches your eyes for answers that can explain your current terrible condition. He cannot bear to see you like this, so fragile and deeply hurt.

Whatever happened, he will make sure you know that he is and always will be here for you. And he will not let, whatever it is, continue to hurt you so badly.

"If you do not tell me, then I cannot help you", he softly whispers and brushes the strands of hair behind your ear that have escaped from your ponytail in the wind and then carefully lifts your head so you have to look him in the eyes.

"It's nothing", are the only words you get out, your throat thightening, but all you would like to do is to just finally tell him about everything.

"Do you even realize how worried I am about you, Y/N?! It is killing me!", Draco suddenly raises his voice at you, causing you to flinch and take a step back, your back now touching the railing. Noticing the power of his words, he sighs and looks to the ground in shame.

Your head processes his facial expression and his gestures and again makes you believe that his sadness is your fault. By not being able to control your stupid feelings, you hurt him.

"I-I really have to go", you stutter out and quickly run past him, pressing your coat around your body.

"Have fun with Blaise then", you hear him say and you abruptly stop in your motion. Not fully understanding the words he just said, you turn to him.

"What?", you ask with not more than a breath coming out, hurt evident in your expression as he suddenly stomps in your direction furiously, a disgusted look on his face while he looks into your eyes.

"Don't act stupid now, Y/N! You hardly speak a word to me anymore, you avoid body contact, you are totally dismissive in general and you can't even look at me anymore! Why do you not just admit that you are cheating on me?!", Draco accuses you out of nowhere, not knowing what he is even saying himself, and you could swear that at this very moment your heart has finally burst into a thousand splinters and your last hold has now completely disappeared.

Losing the control over your body for a second, your hand lands on his cheek with full force. There is a dead silence before you just turn and leave, leaving him behind on the astronomy tower. You can hear him say your name after you, but you block it out and run down the stairs, crying, your vision blurred.

Missing one of the last stairs in your hurry, you fall down onto the cold floor. You get up again as quickly as possible when you hear steps behind you and you run. You run for your life while you disappear into the endless corridors of Hogwarts, making your way to your dorm.

The next morning your eyelids stick together from all the crying and you have a aching headache. You did not close one eye that night and just laid there crying in your bed silently until at some point there were no more tears.

In front of the door of your prefect dorm room, you can hear how the other students are leaving your house on their way to breakfast, but your stomach makes a flip when you only think about food. That is the reason why you decide to stay in your warm, safe and comfortable bed a little longer and to skip breakfast, which is unnecessary anyway. Avoiding other people seems like the best idea for you right now.

Just in time for the beginning of your first lesson of the long day, you made it out of your bed and are now sitting in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape.

Your thoughts are whirling around in your head and you do not understand a single word Snape is saying in front of the class, even if you are really trying your best to understand him. Furthermore does it not help your concentration that you see how Draco keeps staring at you from across the room out of the corner of your eye. However, you do not have enough strength for this anymore after a while and therefore focus your gaze out the window at the rising sun.

At least you are distracted until all of the students get up from their seats all of a sudden and you only watch them confused until you notice that they are only waiting for you to join them and you quickly walk, almost stumbling, to them. Ignoring the looks and laughter of everyone, you play around with the hem of your grey Slytherin sweater and ignore them while doing so.

"Well then, let us begin. Ms. Y/L/N, would you please do us the honor and start", Snape clears his throat as you look at him in shock, noticing by the expression on his face that he definetely knows that you did not listen to him at all and have not been present with your mind.

Since you do not have a chance to defy yourself anyway, you nod and go to the position he points at in front of an old, dusty closet. With confusion all over your face, you switch between looking at Professor Snape and the cabinet as he suddenly opens the door and you take a big step back, startled to death.

"Have fun with Blaise then", Draco spits in your face disparagingly and is now slowly walking towards you after stepping out of the cupboard, increasing your pulse. The tears find their way back into your eyes right away while you just keep looking at him petrified, frozen in your spot.

"Why do you not just admit that you are cheating on me?!", he yells at you again and your vision becomes more and more blurred, your ears start to beep while he shouts at you, bringing back the painful memories of yesterday.

"No! Please don't leave me, Draco!"

It is like you are back on the astronomy tower again, your hair blowing in the wind as he steps towards you. In the next moment he is gone all of a sudden and instead of him, two other people are now in front of you.

"You are a shame for our whole family, you stupid brat", your father insults you and you fall onto your knees, holding your hands against your head in pain.

"Stop it! Please!", you beg them, but of course they do not stop, they only make their words worse.

"Draco can never seriously love someone like you. I mean, look at you! You are less worthy than dirt", your father tells you and your entire body is now trembling when you finally see a black cloak in front of your eyes and your parents vanish into thin air.

"Please stay with me", you choke through your tears, words addressed to Draco who had to watch the scene in front of him with pure horror in his eyes.

Breathing heavily, you look up at Professor Snape, who looks at you in disbelief, but as your eyes wander around the room to see everyone staring at you, your legs automatically carry you out of the classroom in the next moment, unable to bear their burning glances.

You run down the empty corridor with a faint vision in search of a safe place to hide until you arrive at one of the girls' bathrooms and rush in, not thinking about someone possibly being in there.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you stumble to the sinks with trembling knees and support all of your weight with your hands on either side of one sink as your legs fail beneath you. Clinging to the edge of the sink, you cry bitterly. The cold walls of the bathroom echo your crying several times, allowing you to hear your own pain.

"What is wrong, Y/N?", you hear a soft voice next to your ear and when you look up it is none other than Myrtle. Apparently of all places you ended up in her bathroom and are not as alone as you wished for.

"I am fine", you say with a monotonous voice, forcing yourself into an upright position, but literally everyone would see that you are definetely not fine, even a ghost.

"Y/N. You look anything but okay. Can I somehow help you-"

"Just leave me alone!", you angrily yell at her and lose control of your body, only seeing a thick, red substance running over your hand when it is already too late. Broken pieces of glass lie around you on the floor, which flew through the air when your fist hit them and inflicted small wounds on your face.

"You need to stop, Y/N!", Myrtle commands, but you do not listen and let yourself fall onto the floor, kicking your foot against the sink and thereby unintentionally loosen one of the old pipes. The sound of flowing water fills the room, surrounding your body on the floor.

On the edge of passing out, you lie in the cold water and stare at the ceiling while Myrtle has disappeared without a trace.

What you do not know, however, is that Myrtle is already on her way to find help and comes across Draco, who is running back and forth through the hallways while searching for you.

It takes Draco a moment to understand Myrtle's fast explanation, but when he does he runs into the direction of the girls' bathroom without hesitation. He rushes through the door into the flooded bathroom and all he sees is the broken mirror and the slightly reddish puddles in the water.

But he does not find you in there and realizes that there can only be one place where you could be.

Walking through the corridors of Hogwarts at lightning speed, he finally reaches the staircase leading to the astronomy tower and goes them up in no time. Once he arrives at the top, he abruptly stops when you come into his field of vision.

There you are, completely broken, leaning your head against the railing, your knees closely drawn to your body while your painful crys echo through his ears.

"Why did you not listen to your parents, you disgusting piece of daughter", you talk to yourself, not noticing that you are not alone any longer. With your already injured hand you hit the pole of the railing once, immediately regretting it as the pain spreads through your body.

However, your gaze lands on a person standing directly ahead and your eyes widen, but unfortunately you lack the strength to stand up, to yell at him, or to resist as he slowly sits down next to you.

Neither of you say a word, but it does not take long before he gently takes you into his strong arms, providing you with the support you needed so badly, so you can cry while he strokes over your hair. He whispers repentances in your ear over and over again. That he regrets his words, that he takes them back and that he was such an idiot.

"You are so wonderful", he confirms and gives you a kiss on the forhead, careful not to scare you away, continuing to stroke your upper arm with his hand.

"Do not believe in what your parents told you, angel. I will stay with you", he shakily breathes and has to pull himself together to not let a tear slip out of his eyes at any moment. "I am sorry that I let you down."

His last few words pull a trigger inside of your head and suddenly everything pours out of your mouth at once. Your fears, your worries. Everything your parents ever said or did to you. You finally tell him about all of it now, even though you should have done it much earlier.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N. You are my world and the reason I live. Never let anyone make you think that I do not love or deserve you, especially not your parents", Draco explains to you sincerely as you stare at him, exhausted but happy.

You slowly put your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, letting the good and bright drown out all of your dark and bad thoughts. Meanwhile, Draco carefully examines your injured hand before scooping you up into his arms while standing up.

"No matter how much you hate me right now, you have to eat something", he tells you, but you do not answer and just enjoy his close presence while you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, letting him carry you away.

If he had known how terrible you were feeling earlier, he would have done something much sooner. He should have been more pushy and not let you get away with a simple 'i am fine'. But now that he knows, he definetely learned from it.

And Draco would have never forgiven himself if he had let you just go like that.

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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

Love Is Blind

Masterlist

Summary: The time has come to reveal your and Henry's relationship to your brothers, simple right? Well it would be if your wasn't the baby sister to the infamous Shelby brothers.

Warnings: RPF, Swearing, Slight Angst, Fluff, Confrontation, Implied Violence

A/N: so here is the Peaky Blinders AU that i started a few days ago, Im really happy with this and had a lot of fun with it. But please excuse the typo's

Taglist: in reblogs

You looked around the road eyes wide ,watching the passers by. The peaky blinders were everywhere... this was always a risk, not to mention you wasn't entirely sure where each of your brothers were. Or aunt Polly you only knew that Ava was off with her lover Fred. And you were doing much of the same... Well not Fred but Henry, your own lover. You'd met him when welcoming Tommy home from the war... He was hard to miss tall- taller then Tommy even! and injured he was searching the crowded dock but... It was clear to see that noone was there to greet him off the boat. He looked distraught and shattered. You were a bleeding heart and had approached him as your family had a small get together, you'd given him a hug pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek and welcomed him home giving him one of the flowers in the bouquet you'd brought for tommy. He had appreciated it, more then you'd ever know.

What you hadn't known was that he was moving into a home a few streets away. A few weeks later you saw him and he thanked you politely, you couldn't help think how very handsome he was, perfect blue eyes but for a speck of brown in his right eye, sharp regal features and pale alabaster skin now free from the bruising of his injury. He hadn't been as broad or muscular back then, but had been tall and lean.

Over the next few months chance meetings became dates, dates became full days basking in one another's presence until finally after a few months you'd fallen for the amazing gentle giant. It had been hard falling so hopelessly in love with Henry and having to hide from brothers and gangsters alike. But somehow you'd both made it with minimal near misses. Three years. Three years you'd been having this secret romance with him. But now you wanted more, as selfish as it was you wanted to be free to love him in public. Without worrying who may have seen you or if Aunt Polly will tell Thomas.

Yes she knew alright. There are no secrets from Aunt Polly. She said you done well and had even spoke with Henry a few times, she liked him. He wasn't in the business but could protect you, his shear size would be enough of a deterrent to others. And honestly she thought Tommy would get along with him, henry was clever and had an imposing frame. If Tommy had the chance, you knew Henry would be pulled into the fold, you were just unsure if that's what you both wanted.

Henry hadn't had much luck with work at first when he was here, so he became a boxer for a time learning to fight and defend himself and bulked up. It was terrifying to watch him be so ferocious in the ring and you thanked god each day Henry had avoided gaining a crooked nose. A few times you'd run into Tommy at the fights, your brother had singled you out and had you brought to him to stand and watch. But you were pleased to find out that your brother always placed his money on your man... So that was a good sign wasn't it?

Henry knew you didn't like his fighting but continued, he wanted to offer you everything. A home with kids and garden a cute little dog and the best clothes and food money could buy. So he saved everything! Kept all his winnings and in just over a year he had a nice sum of money in bets from his winnings and managed to earn enough for a small house. Since then he had a job doing the heavy lifting in a local Steel works.

Everything was set! Henry had a home for you, which you had a hand in help decorate. He promised a long and happy future with you! There was just the small problem of your family. They were... Protective to say the least, not only were you a Shelby sister but younger then Ava.

You quickly left the street today you were meeting Henry by the docks where Tommy kept the horse he'd just got. It was close... but not too close, it was worth the risk to be able to see Henry. Today was the day. You both decided! Henry will talk to them, introduce himself to your brothers this afternoon at the pub before they could drink too much.

You rounded the barn casting one final glance over your shoulder out of habit and slipped into the stalls. You could see him already, his flat cap and dark blue suit. Oh god he had dressed up for it, shit tommy would laugh him out of the bar. You chewed your lip and quivered you were anxious, this could be make or break. If Tommy was against it there was no way you could sneak about and keep your relationship going. They would chase henry out of Birmingham. Or kill him.

You stepped around the horse and giggled watching as henry gave himself a little pep talk twisting his signet ring on his pinkie with shaky hands. He was terrified and so were you. He paused and spun around to face you when he heard the small clicks of your heels on the concrete floor.

"W-what do you think?" he said spinning around holding his hands out letting you get a look at him. You stepped closer to him trying to settle your rapid heart. He was immaculate, stunning and handsome, sculpted by the gods... But looked too pretty. And god knows a Shelby girl wont be allowed to date a pretty boy. You smiled at him stopping inches away from him and walked your fingers over his chest slowly unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"You are magnificent... But a little too refined." you hummed motioning for him to shrug out of the loose suit jacket. He hissed out a shaky breath as you took the jacket from him and tucked it over your arm. That was better, the vest and white shirt showed his frame perfectly, and it also showed the slight strain on the buttons of his shirt. Hinting at the powerful man hidden beneath. You wanted them to see he was a strong man and it wasn't all the cut of the suit. You needed them to see you'd chosen a strong man capable of protecting you.

"There perfect" you said stepping back straightening his tie a little and stood back eyeing him carefully. There really was nothing more you could do. He would have to prove himself in what ever test your brother would conjure on the spot. By god you hope he impressed them.

"Yes you are" he quipped quickly eyes locking on to you making you blush and look away tip toeing around the horse in the stall that hid the two of you. Henry drew in a deep breath watching you closely. This was it. Today was the day, and he hadn't a clue what he was going to say to the great Shelby men. He cursed under his breath turning from you for a second. You understood, this wasn't just your future you were risking today, it was his life. Not many impress Tommy and far less managed to get in his good books when they were trying it on with the baby sister.

"You know that you have to just... Go in there and say 'I'm dating your sister' Right? Be firm and tell them like it is! Stand up to them! They would respect that" You cooed grinning at him from across the barn watching as your love eyed you from the other side of the magnificent white horse Tommy had recently got.

"What and have John blind me with his blades?" He scoffed at you before rounding the horse ducking under the stallions huge head and leant forward trapping you with huge hands resting either side of the horse stall you were leaning on.

"Ugh Johnny boy couldn't even reach your eyes Henry... Its just Tommy and Arthur you need to watch..." you rolled your eyes at him trying to act normal and ignore the black cloud hanging over your head. If this was the last time you were to be alone with him you wanted him to remember you as you are, not the nervous terrified woman you were at this moment. You smirked rising on your tip toes and teased his lips with your breath making him groan silently, the deep contracting of his wide barrelled chest the only give away to the effect you had on him.

You pulled back just as he dipped down to meet your lips and giggled at him as he wound his large arms around you hoisting you up by your waist and sat you on the wooden fence on the box stall bringing you eye level with him. You giggled folding your arms in your lap with his jacket knowing he wouldn't let you fall, he never did.

"Ah just Tommy and Arthur... That is cruel, I'm shaking in my shoes love" he teased wetting his lips with the luxurious pink tongue you knew all too well.

"Aww my poor bear, so frightened of my brothers I know, perhaps this will help you find that courage of yours~" you cooed before pressing forward kissing him on the lips. His lips drew up into a beaming grin and he stepped closer forcing your legs to part and dress to rise up to your knees as he devoured you in a heated yet forbidden kiss.

"Well then lets go shall we?" He grumbled eyes alight with a new want, a deep desire he had never shown before. It was thrilling and awe inspiring. Like he had a new lust, a lust for life and not just what was hidden beneath your skirts.

"Oh love like you said Tommy and Arthur?! I'm going to need all my strength for this meeting" he laughed as your face held a look of shock and disbelief then a petulant pout when you realised there will be no quick romp in the hay this afternoon. With one final wink he spun around heading for the door.

You stood outside the pub. Your brothers were inside, you could feel it. There was a buzz in the air, the destinct feeling that followed 'the boss' hanging around. You had drawn a little attention walking the streets With henry at your side. People watched as the young Shelby woman walked arm in arm with an undisclosed male carrying his jacket no less. It made you cringe hearing the murmurs of 'should we tell the boss' 'does tommy know?' 'should we help her?' but luckily none made any moves towards you as you moved deeper and deeper into the heath. Towards the pub. You slowed as you neared the final destination and henry pulled out his cigarette tin fishing out the small stick deciding to have a quick smoke before entering the proverbial lions den.

"It will be okay... He will... Test you, but remember family is everything and I'm his youngest sister so..." you trailed off, the truth was you didn't know what Tommy would do or say. He was unpredictable and cunning, he liked to test people. You just hoped Henry passed with flying colours... or the only thing flying will be... you closed your eyes trying not to think of what would happen if things went sour. Henry could die, literally die today for loving you. It curdled your stomach you cant loose him. You hoped Tommy would see that.

"I know that... Here twos?" he said offering you the small cigarette he had been dragging on quickly nervously trying to pull some more courage from the small stick. Because once he was inside he couldn't show any weakness. It was daunting unable to show weakness when the love of his life was on the line. Henry was under no illusions Tommy could and would kill him, and there would be little Henry could do.

"Just remember y/n no matter what I love you. I will always love you" henry said as you toom a few drags on the cigarette. You whined and nodded breathing out the smoke trying to exhale all the tension and anxiety with the fumes.

"I love you too Henry, so much more then I thought I could ever love anyone" without a thought Henry pulled you to him and pressed a kiss to your lips. He didn't give a damn he was kissing the forbidden princess right outside her king brothers castle, or that the others around them would see. Be needed this one final pick me up before faceing the firing squad.

You smiled pulling back handing Henry the remainder of the cigarette and nodded to him. You got this. Then entered the pub walking right into the private room where your family sat. Instantly Polly looked at you frowning seeing you were pale, worried. Then her eyes flicked to your hands still folded with Henry's jacket draped over them. She drew a deep breath and sat straighter looking at the three males wearily. Oh god.

"Tommy I need to talk to you" you said seriously. But the blue eyed man rolled his eyes flicking the ash off his cigarette into the crystal ashtray before speaking dismissively trying to wave you off.

"Your not having that cat its final" john and Arthur chuckled at the automatic response Tommy gave but you frowned. You wasn't to sure what to say next, you didn't want to agitate him but you needed him to listen.

"No its not that- I have something to tell you and its important" you said drawing the attention of John and Arthur, but tommy heaved a sigh and moved stubbing out the lit cigarette and flicked his eyes to you letting you know he was listening.

"Mr Shelby could we talk?" You looked up seeing Henry standing there, tall and wide. Firm and unafraid confidently eyeing your brothers in a way oud never seen before. People cowered. Henry wasn't there was no hint of the anxious man outside. Henry was on a mission.

"Not now can't you see I'm speaking with my sister?" He grunted his voice was even. But to others could be seen as irritated. You turned as Henry didn't so much as flinch, you thought he'd run off but Henry let himself into the room standing closely behind you, one hand moving to his head removing his flat cap revealing the neat styled hair. The usually fluffy curls pulled into a slick style that accentuated his angular features. You nodded to him with a smile pleading him to carry on. What you didn't expect was for henrys huge arm to wrap around your waist in front of your sibling's. Fuck. You felt the shift in the room, anger and shock radiating from the men but an overwhelming curiosity. They wanted to watch this, it was rare someone was so god damned stupid as to put hands on you.

"She is the reason I'm here Mr Shelby" Henrys voice carried over the small space in a low determined tone. You tucked yourself into him, pivoting and twisting a hand to his tummy resting there, fingers twisting the button on his vest. You just needed to feel him, you felt like you were shielding him, but it was also self soothing. You needed to reassure yourself he was here for you. No one else. You.

"Oh? And why is that then?" Tommy shifted leaning back eyeing the man who was being so familiar with his baby sister. Tommy was no fool, you hand flinched or pulled away, this male had been around you enough that you were used to him touching you. You gravitated towards him like... like a lover? Tommy's blue eyes bit into the man. As unsettling as it was seeing his sister so close to another man Tommy couldn't help feeling a little relief, a small spark of joy. If this was your beau you'd done well. Tall, muscular wide and imposing. Not many would pick a fight with him, even drunk people would steer clear of him.

"She invited me" Tommy smirked hearing the man speak, he was confident. Unafraid that boded well too. He wasn't a fucking coward... or atleast he was pretending not to be.

"This is what I wanted to talk to you all about...Tommy, Arthur, John... This is Henry... My?" You hesitated and looked between henry and our family. You just froze, clammed up at the calculating look on Tommy's face. It was frightening being scrutinised by him.

"Lover sweetheart we agreed no more secrets" Henry finally broke the silence tipping his face down to yours with a smile. Ignoring your family in favour of snapping you back to reality.

"Oh no you fuckin' aint sonny boy- y/n you get your ass over here now!" Arthur broke the silence with a rough voice shouting, ordering you to round the table and sit next to him. You grit your teeth and shoo, your head at Arthur watching as he turned red in anger. You wasn't like Ava, you never caused trouble or made trouble for your brothers, heel you were a 'goody two shoes' always doing as you were told. But this time you refused to do as you were asked and stayed put.

Tommy ever the eagle eye noticed. He had been ready to rip this man to shreds but, your simple act of defiance caught his attention. You wasn't a girl to play silly games, so to blatantly refuse and tell them no and side with this Henry meant you were serious. This was serious. And Tommy was wracking his brain he recognised this man... But from where? He was sure he wasn't a blinder so who was he?

"Now y/n don't make me come and get ya"

"I said no" you snapped at your eldest brother, but your eyes were on Tommy. Henry squeezed your waist as you stared down your most threatening of brothers. Eyes locking with his blue gaze as you held your ground. The smallest of smirks tugged at his lip. You were unsure if it was good or bad but he wasn't scowling so you'd take that as a win.

"Your the one that was boxing...pulverised the others" Tommy said pointing slowly at Henry whilst pulling a crystal glass of whisky towards him, his thumb skimming the rim of the glass in thought. He was thinking, scheming... but then again when was Thomas Shelby not scheming?

"Yes, not that it was personal I needed to win" henry spoke clearly not letting the severe glares f your other brothers shake him. He was impenetrable a solid rock- a mass of a man all firm and sharp angles determined and poised.

"Oh? And why is that then?" Tommy purred still keeping his cards close to his chest, no one knew what he really thought of you and henry or the relationship at that moment. But he was speaking, not shooting. And that was all that mattered.

"I needed the money to buy a house for your sister" Henry said plainly placing his hat on the table in front of him. It was a strange gesture but one you understood. He was making himself comfortable but also using it as a metaphor throwing his hat in the ring so to speak, showing your family he had no intentions on hightailing it out of there and leaving you in the dust.

"You did, did you?" Here was something, a twinkle in the cool blues. You tried to dig deeper but as soon as it was there it had vanished. For a second you dare say your brother was impressed with your choice in man.

"I wasn't coming to you without being able to offer your sister something... I wanted to prove I'm capable of providing her a future" Henry shrugged feeling Tommy with a stare. You shivered hearing the iron will, the absolute control Henry had over himself. John scoffed and leant over the table glaring at Henry dragging on his cigarette then spoke up trying to mimic Tommy's own indifferent threatening demeanour, but failed. There was only one Terrifying Tommy.

" and some tiny house on a backstreet in Birmingham is a future?" john scoffed laughing outloud trying to dampen Henry's resolve. But your man was ready and grinned smugly showing off the perfect teeth and stunning looks.

"Medium actually... not huge but its bigger then what she is used to, with front and back garden bought and paid for... Last week I even got her a kitten... Russian blue expensive but y/n wanted one and I wont deny her" he replied without missing a beat. Henry was proud of what he had achieved, and so he should be. The house he had managed to buy was a nicely sized three bedroom home, and it was indeed larger then where you lived with your family at the moment. Well decorated and furnished with tasteful furniture most of which you picked out together.

"And what you think I'll give my blessing because you got her a bloody cat?" tommy drew the attention back to him. You swallowed dryly. Tommy sounded mad now. You moved shuffling in front of Henry trying to cover him more, yet your hand wandered behind your back and you clasped your lovers hand tightly hoping things wont go from bad to worse.

"No, you don't need to bless anything, I'm not here to ask. I'm telling you that we are together and serious...We've been a couple for almost three years... And its about time I informed you" your breath hitched as Henry's voice resounded in the room. Oh god that was too far! You paled and snapped your head to him on the brink of tears and pressed back into Henry trying to make him pull back, but no. The man was a brick wall- immovable and stubborn... yet cool and unfazed. But what struck you most was the shock on your brothers faces. No one had spoken to any of them like that for a very long time. And for good reason.

"There is a fine line between courage and stupidity Henry" Tommy said recovering from the shock quicker then the others. He didn't even see you now standing on shaking knees trying to shield henry as much as you could with your frame. But it was no use, Henry was to big, you were but a tiny waif of a woman in front of him. But Tommy bore his curious gaze into the huge man. It would appear your love now had his undivided attention.

"I know, but I'm on the right side of it. I love your sister. And I have loved her for three years, since the day I got off the boat" tommy tilted his head to the side surprized once more by your lover. You drew a slow breath in. You knew tommy respected those who fought for their country.

"You served?" came the question as tommy poured himself another glass and then lit up another cigarette. You saw a quick smile light up his face, but again it was gone before anyone could really notice. Henry heaved a deep breath and nodded, he was no fool. He took a chance and it had paid off, or it seemed to have paid off he wasn't staring down the barrel of a gun or had a peaky cap flung at his face.

"Yes, along side you in fact... I was smaller then... Easy to miss. Your sister showed kindness to me when I had no one and nothing. She gave me hope, hope for the possibility of family and a normal life. She managed to ease my terrors and pull me from the memories of the war. And for that I will give her everything" henry spoke, you noticed your brothers each shrunk. They understood, the war left scars on the mind and it was true even henry had suffered, but you were able to sooth him and bring him back from the worst night terrors. Tommy grunted and flicked his gaze from you to your man then back again. There was a warmer hint to the blues, dare you say an acceptance. But even you knew he was still going to pull something out of the bag and throw a curveball at your love. Tommy still needed to test Henry, but atleast you could say so far so good.

"And taken something I assume?" Polly hissed looking away as your brother spoke. You rolled your eyes, did he seriously want to know if you'd fucked? Tommy held Henry captive in his gaze he knew the answer but for some reason he wanted the hear it out loud. You couldn't help this was Tommy's test, he was daring your lover to lie to him. You prayed Henry wasn't that stupid. To your reliefe he proved he wasn't as he replied sincerely.

"I shared something freely given I assure you there was no pressure" the statement wasn't smug, henry didn't make you sound like an achievement, something to conquer. And he made it clear that he hadn't pressed you into anything. It earned him a nod from all three men, you smiled they were coming around to Henry. Thank fuck!

"And you come here and say that to my face? Tell me you've broken in my sister? You certainly have balls" your smile dropped and you shifted on your feet. What just happened? Things were going great, and now they weren't? Luckily Henry was more prepared for this then you and he answered smoothly not fazed by the way things had turned so quickly.

"Yes I'm not going to stand here and lie about our relationship I love her. And I'll not hide it a second more. I will protect her and cherish her she has my upmost respect"

"So you say you respect her? Yet... She's carrying you jacket around like some maid?" tommy tried twisting things pokeing at Henry trying to get a rise out of him. Probably so he had a reason to chase him off. But you wanst having it.

"Tommy, I'm holding it so he cannot run! Stop being an ass" you growled releasing Henry's hand and moved forward seething at your brother who lounged back regarding you carefully.

"That's enough mouth from you y/n you've done enough becoming a fucking little whore when our back is turned?" you paused takeing half a step back as tommy's furious gaze landed on you. You quivered feeling hurt, flushing in anger and embarrassment. Not once had he spoke to you like that, you were always praised by your brother, protected and loved to hear him growl at you so cruely was heart breaking.

"I'd ask you don't speak to her like that-" Henry spoke up growing angry himself with the way Tommy had spoke to you. But henry was ignored as Tommy began to lay into you hissing venomously belittling you in front of your family and lover.

"Tell me sister is this some last mineut attempt to cover up a bastard? If so is it even his? For all we know you could be bed hopping all over the heath" you whined at the assault mouth hanging open trying to form words but it was hard. Your eyes welled with tears. Call you a cry baby but you loved your brothers and tried to do them proud to have one of them be so nasty cut you deep.

"No!- Tommy of course not-"

"So your just becoming the heaths bike then? To think after everything you'd sink so low to ruin yourself- Ava was one thing she's always ran around behind our backs but you? I really expected better then to become a two bit whore" his words were like razors ice picks hitting your chest, he always knew how to slice deep. It came with being a blinder- but you never thought you'd be on the receiving end. You moved back another step bumping into Henry, you wanted to run and hide. For the first time in your life you were scared, you didn't want to feel your brothers fury.

"Do not speak to her like that in my presence ever again" Henry snarled brushing past you hiding your quivering from behind him. He was livid and for a second you thought he was going to swing for your brother.

"She's my sister-" Tommy started looking back at henry who had taken the bait hook line and sinker. But was cut off by henry stepping forward leaning over crowding Tommy thumping the table with more force then necessary. Everything jumped, the glasses ashtray even the bottle leapt from the table. You jerked gasping as the bang echoed in the room.

"I don't give a fuck. You wont ever talk to her that again. She is mine and brother or not you will treat her with respect or you will pay for it!" everything stopped. No one moved. No one breathed. It wasn't everyday someone threatened A Shelby, least of all Tommy. Henry growled at your blue eyed brother. Tommy tilted his head taking him in.

"H-henry?" you whispered moving forward pressing a hand to the small buckle as the back of his vest tugging him back, making him stand at his full Hight just in time as John shot up from his seat ready to lunge.

"Oi! Don't you talk to him like that I'll have your fucking eyes!" he roared jumping up turning on your lover but Tommy stopped him fisting a hand in his jacket and tugging him to sit back down... He was grinning?

"Tommy?" Arthur asked not following, but then again he always was a few steps behind everyone. You frowned blinking back tears and gasped. That bastard! It was a trick! You slumped and wrapped yourself around henry before anyone could realise what happened. Henry curled himself around you frowning confused and you tucked yourself into him.

"Any man who a the balls to defend her against me...Will protect her from anyone..." Tommy spoke and tipped his head to the seat across from him offering Henry a seat at the table. You both sat quickly beside one another Polly moved pouring you both a drink, you looked like you needed it.

"So? So you mean we can be together?" Henry asked trying to keep up with how he'd just gone from having a target on his back to having a seat with the family. Tommy smiled nodding whilst bringing his own drink to his lips sipping the amber liquid then spoke.

"Mmm But you've broken her... You'll repay me for ruining her by making her an honest woman"

"The rings in my pocket" Henry said rubbing your back as you shook next to him, the adrenaline and worry now rushing through you. All these years of anxiety washing away with sweet tears of reliefe. Henry tucked you under his arm and held you close on the bench seat hushing you as you crumbled. You didn't really register what was said instead pressed your self into him hands tugging his clothes trying to calm down.

"Then do it- but you ever turn your fists on her I'll kill you" Tommy threatened holding out his cigarette tin offering one to henry, he took it thanking him then popped it between his lips and lit the white stick. His hand only quivered slightly, the rush of what just happened hitting him.

"It will never happen, I couldn't live with myself if I ever made her feel less then perfect let alone harm her" he said squeezing you tighter to his side.

"Then we have a deal?" tommy smiled, a genuine smile as he spied the two of you. He had no doubt, if henry was willing to go toe to toe with him in his pub, in front of his family- probably the most dangerous thing you could do in the heath. Then henry will take care of you and protect you with his life. Plus Henry made you happy and that was all Tommy could ask for, your safety and happiness. Contrary to what people thought he had no issues with anyone dating his sisters. He just didn't want his girls to have weak simpering husbands to protect them should the worst ever happen... And Henry knew how to shoot a gun from his time in the forces, so when handed a weapon Tommy wont have to worry about having a newbie protecting his baby sister. And Henry will be given a gun to protect you with.

"That we do" Henry grinned shaking Tommy's hand and quickly snagged your own placing a thin gold band on your left ring finger before you could even muster a single sound. You blinked wiping your eyes pawing at the salty droplets and gasped seeing the band on your finger, a small diamond in the centre or the dainty ring.

"W-what your not e-ven gonna ask me Henry?" You stuttered at him hiccupping and sniffling trying not to have a full blown breakdown and cry from both relief and happiness. Henry laughed pressing a cheeky kiss to your cheek making you flush and tuck your head back into his chest trying to hide from the onlookers.

"Now why would I give you the chance to say no? Hmm? I may be a tad slow sometimes but I'm not a complete idiot" he purred finishing with a small chuckle, that the others echoed everyone had calmed down accepting the news. You whined at him and slapped his chest lightly pouting as henry laughed.

"Besides your brother and I made a deal" he added as you pulled back eyeing your new ring with a weak smile managing to control yourself bar a few sniffling gasps and the odd rogue tear.

"Oh s-o I'm b-business?~" you tried to tease him but the words lost their bite as you were still tearful from your crying. You were weepy you couldn't help it, today had been stressful- hell this past week had been stressful!

"Business? No... Your my world love" he cooed not caring in the slightest at how soppy he sounded. He wasn't here to put on a show for your brothers. He was here for you.

"I love you" you said peeking up at him with a shy smile.

"Good to know~" he hummed winking at you taking another drag of the cigarette, but you pouted sticking out your bottom lip like you did each time he teased you.

"Yes, yes I love you too" he caved pressing a chaste kiss to your lips drawing a growl from your eldest brother, but nothing was thrown so you summarized you were safe.

"Congratulations Henry I told you they weren't that bad" Polly spoke up quickly ending your sweet kiss before anything could go south.

"Yes Ms Polly you were right, we should have listened to you" henry admitted rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly

"Wait pol you knew?" tommy growled snapping to his aunt but the older woman rolled her eyes. Honestly you think he'd learn by now. No one pulled the wool over Polly's eyes.

"Who to you think has helped keep her from having a kid for three years Tommy! At least that's one thing I don't have to worry about anymore thank god!" she huffed pretending to be annoyed but you knew she was happy for you. She had been routing for henry, and trying to get you to tell the boys for a long time. You were just scared.

"Polly! Stop it" you squeaked flushing, no one needed to know just what Polly had been helping you with! Least of all your fucking siblings!

"What its true? Now your free to pop them out without any uncomfortable questions from this lot, and i have no doubt it will be soon" she teased with a smirk enjoying tormenting you, she had bit her tongue for too long it was about time she got to poke fun at you. You were such a shy innocent little thing.

"Oh my god stop" you moaned ducking down as everyone chuckled at your expense. Henry then made it worse by ducking down beside you and whispered in your ear.

"...She does have a point love" then nipped at it quickly before turning back to your brothers as your face flamed.

It hadn't been the easiest of days, but in the end all the worry and anxiety had paid off not only had you managed to reveal your relationship to your family with no casualties. But you also became engaged to the man of your dreams. Tommy seemed relived, he was happy for you in his own over protective brotherly way. The freedom that came with todays outcome was worth it and now you and henry were free to start your lives together. Truly start with a marriage kids the whole nine yards! And you'd never been happier.

#peaky blinders au #henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #rpf #henry cavill au #henry cavil x y/n

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mochiimiiki · 3 years

Note

aaaaaaa okay so can you perhaps write anything i mean anything about xiao receiving flowers, like a whole bouquet of em it can be a story or a scenario im just brain rotting for this guy

A/N: omg gladly my lovely i adore Xiao and this concept is BEAUTIFUL!!! hope u like <3

Warnings: little bit angsty?, fluff, spoilers for zhongli and xiao’s stories

{Xiao x reader}

It was a summer’s eve and the blistering sun had settled in the sky. Painting the once blue canvas in an array of pinks, oranges and yellows that was littered by red hued clouds.

You’d spent the day searching for the rare glaze lily, a gift you prayed to the archons Xiao would smile at. Recently, the Yaksha had been low in spirits and surprisingly no amount of almond tofu could lift them. It was a pity that you had to waste so much mora on the meal.

However, you were quite certain this would put a smile on his face. You knew from Zhonlgi that Glaze lilies along with Qixing and silk flowers were Xiao’s favourite kind of flowers, after all they stemmed all the way back to ancient Liyue.

As you clambered up the stairs to the Wangshu Inn you ran the thought in your mind. Playing on repeat like a broken record. Ancient Liyue. A time when everyone doted upon the Yakshas and the Adepti. Now they were nothing more than a tale in the myths and legends section at the Liyue bookstore, a child story.

However, you knew differently. You’d met not only one of the five original Yakshas but all the Adepti and even the ex geo god himself, Zhongli. All thanks to Xiao.

You were proud to call Xiao your confidant you always came to him with silly mortal requests, tales and woes. Unbeknownst to you Xiao treasured these stories with all his heart. They kept him grounded and made him feel like, even for just a few hours, that he could be a mortal with you.

As you entered the reception room, you were delightfully greeted by both of the Inn’s owners. After all, you had become quite the regular due to your visits to see Xiao.

Upon reaching your destination you remained motionless in the door way. Watching as Xiao stood silently, lost in thought and casting his watchful gaze out into the wilderness of the marsh. As you leaned against the frame of the door you noted that the once ruby red paint had faded to a dull pink and was peeling with age. You gulped silently. The thought drawing you back into the many mysteries of Liyue and how you were still unsure just how old this, essentially, immortal being was.

“I know your there.” Pierced Xiao’s usual monotone voice, a hint of irritation creeping into his words. However, you knew better than to let the tone affect you in anyway... but that didn’t stop the stinging in your heart.

You skipped up to him and brought around the bouquet of flowers. The sickly sweet scent of pristinely pricked plants filtered in through your nose and pulled a sneeze from you. Silently apologising as you handed him the flowers. To which he took, shock written across his usually emotionless face.

“I know this gesture might seem strange to you... but it’s like a get well thing! It’s something us mortals do amongst one another when we get- Oh no are you okay?!”

There before you stood a weepy Xiao. Eons of tears pooling in the brims of his eyes. He quickly turned when he realised you took notice, silently cursing himself for not concealing his feelings better in front of you. “Xiao I’m sorry if you hate them I can take them back!” You fretted anxiously bouncing in your spot, misunderstanding the reason behind his tears.

A low chuckle escaped Xiao’s parted lips and you froze. Why was he laughing? Was this some cruel way that he was going to reveal that he hated you?

“Thank you.”

You gasped and your head shot up to meet Xiao’s amber eyes (now dry from tears) gazing softly at you. The sight made your stomach coil with butterflies. Not once had the Yaksha thanked you before. He usually gave a nod of acknowledgment to which you had grown accustomed to as his own form of a thank you.

Xiao cautiously brought you closer and awkwardly wrapped an arm around you. His gesture was out of character, a complete turn about to what you expected. Your mission had been simply to being a smile to his saddened face. His gesture was one of an awkward hug. It was a concept that he had learned from the people who passed through the Inn.

You knew you could never be with Xiao, not when you had a duty to discover the mysteries behind Teyvat and he bore the burden to protect Liyue for so long as he so lived. But in the moments that you shared with him, ones like these, you could always hope.

#genshin impact #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin traveler #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli #anime #design #genshin childe #genshin impact xiao #xiao headcanons #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #val writes

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hoe-imaginess · 4 years

Text

hostage | madara uchiha

Madara x Tobirama’s s/o

summary: Tobirama’s wife is held captive when the Uchiha invade Senju territory. She does what she can to keep the peace. It doesn’t last long.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: sex as a bargaining tool, physical/emotional harm, heavy angst, mentions of miscarriage/abortion, brutal use of sharingan

a/n: part of a long and self-indulgent founders era fic I was writing, but recently gave up on. so this is just a very choppy rough draft. it’s all over the place. apologies for the poor & skimpy writing style. fair warning: bit of a darker rendition of Madara than what I usually write on this blog. IM me if you want more details before reading

⤰

They attack in the dead of night.

With the main host of the Senju army battling in far-away provinces, Hashirama and Tobirama with it, few seasoned shinobi are left to protect the plot of land which the Senju call home.

The Uchiha overwhelm the paltry resistance quickly and efficiently, then set about infiltrating the rest of the territory to claim as theirs.

They’re met with little defiance. Of the Senju who don’t escape into the woods, slipping through Uchiha clutches before they can fully surround the vicinity, a majority left to endure the raid are civilians with no real experience or means to contend the invaders’ assault.

Chaos ensues. Uchiha chase down fleeing families, drag them back to the center of the camp where hostages are corralled. They bark and shout orders at stubborn Senju who refuse to abide, sometimes resorting to violence to win obedience.

Then come the fires. The Senju, in one final, practiced act of loyalty, set ablaze as much property as they can in an effort to destroy any intelligence on Senju affairs which the Uchiha might find and use to their favor.

Some of these renegades are stopped before they can succeed, others manage to do their part before being apprehended.

She is one among them, burning the room in her home which her husband uses so often to practice and hone his jutsu; where plots of war are imagined and scribed; where important records are stored.

Tobirama would balk to see all his work going up in flames, but she knows that it’s what he would want her to do.

The anguish that beats mercilessly in her chest as she watches her home catch fire is dreadful.

Such a small little place, she thinks. Just big enough for the two of them. They hadn’t been married for more than a few months now. Arranged, like so many unions those days.

Yet the little, perfect home held such memories in that short time; watching smoke rise from the walls and foundations makes her sick with sorrow.

But it must be done. Whatever the invaders might pillage from her home, they would find nothing to their benefit, and nothing that might end up hurting Tobirama, or the Senju.

Two Uchiha men grab her just as she watches the roof of her home collapse in on itself, pillars weakened and corrupted by flame.

It’s a sodden and meager thing to find so fulfilling, but it’s the only thing from which to reap comfort.

Doomed as she may now be to whatever her captors have planned, she, too, has plans: plans to remember Tobirama’s prudence, adopt it as her own. Whatever awaits her, she can face with her chin held high.

As she’s herded into a crowd of the Senju hostages, uncertain of their holistic fate, the cries and tears of anguish from men, women, and children alike hurt her beyond words.

When the leader of the invaders stands before them and addresses them, with his coal-black eyes piercing every one of them even in the dark void of night, she feels anger beyond words.

And when she learns of his plans to occupy their land, to keep them as prisoners of war, she feels determination.

⤰

When she’s brought before Madara Uchiha in the coming days for the purpose of interrogation, he senses immediately that she isn’t a Senju.

Arranged marriages aren’t uncommon, and Madara knows Hashirama is quick to support alliances with clans he finds trustworthy enough. Madara wonders who, among the Senju prominent enough to be pursued for political marriage, might call this woman their wife.

Feeling foolish for having not expected such a question in advance—though somewhere, she’s hardly able to blame herself, given the chaos of the last few days—her mind races for explanation when he inquires about her husband.

“I’m a widow,” she lies. “He died months ago.”

She remains with the Senju to uphold the alliance her marriage created, she says, hoping he believes it.

His gaze is startling, and she fears intermittently that he’s staring right through her with those merciless eyes, extracting the truth under her lies, truths that needn’t be spoken, only simmering underneath the surface for his scrutiny to grab.

She feels apprehension like she’s never known when, after her explanations, he’s quiet. Utterly quiet.

Then, just as she tries and fails to steel her heart’s rapid beating, he dismisses her.

As she’s led out of the tent the Uchiha have constructed for their own purposes of war, she takes a calming breath.

If she plans on putting her wits to use and curbing the punishments soon to be expounded against the Senju innocents, she needs to leverage herself with composure.

She can’t let Madara Uchiha rattle her this much if she plans on contriving against him.

If she plans on winning his trust.

⤰

It’s fairly easy to be granted an audience.

She’s rigid in her loyalty to the Senju, and answers any of Madara’s interrogations about Senju information with silence or ignorance. Still, she’s compliant with otherwise basic facets of the Uchiha occupation; she tells him where best to find food and water in the land; from which fields they might find the most harvest; offers insight on neighboring clans that may contend the Uchiha occupation of Senju territory, loyal to the Senju as they were.

In compensation, Madara is usually merciful with her requests. She asks that the Senju hostages be given more daily rations and more room in which to sleep and live, now that the Uchiha occupy most of their old homes.

Generally, entreatments to the betterment of their well-being are met with leniency. Something for which she is glad, but the brother, Izuna, is not.

She hears them arguing sometimes: Izuna claiming that his elder brother is being too forgiving on the enemy—she assumes she is the enemy in question—and Madara stating in response that he has no quarrel with Senju commoners, and that amending some of their grievances is no harm to their cause.

These small victories continue to mount, until she finds herself at his side almost daily, discussing hostage afflictions, enduring his queries and, occasionally, even his frustration at receiving no answers.

This frustration burgeons quickly, until she’s half-convinced that her play at ignorance is one he sees right through. But he always dismisses her when his irritation becomes visible and unavoidable, almost as if to save her from facing the brunt of it.

It’s the first of the strange, apprehensive intimacies that he gives her.

More apparent, soon after, are his long-held gazes.

They sweep over her, inspect her while she talks, greedily scrutinizing her responses. He doesn’t miss the shiver that runs through her when his dark eyes linger for too long.

She isn’t naive enough to think this prolonged regard is devoid of any suspicious undertone, nor is she naive to dismiss the lust behind his gazes; the careful inspections of her very body that describe something hidden and desiring under his facade.

She doesn’t want him to look at her like that. She doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like the way it makes her skin crawl, or her heart stutter.

But how can she be ungrateful for his dangerous admiration when it might prove profitable?

⤰

She reaps the benefits of his greed not long after their invasion.

He’s taken up residency in one of the precluded houses near the center of the camp. No guards stand watch outside; he doesn’t need them.

When she asks for entrance to his room he gives it, albeit cautiously. She doesn’t bother disguising her visit under any pretense; she’s there for him, and he knows this, apparently, judging by the careful look he gives her when she walks in and shuts the door behind her.

Shame and irritation sizzles underneath her skin, but she ignores it. Her efforts have guaranteed the safety of the innocents under Uchiha rule so far, but those efforts won’t last forever. There’s more to be done.

It’s not long until she’s pressed against him. Insistently her hand rubs over the space between his thighs. He’s soft, unaffected by her touch. It discourages her, but she continues, regardless.

“What do you hope to gain from this?” he asks, eyes steely and trained on her, as if her eager hand isn’t even there.

He hasn’t made a move to stop her, so she urges herself on.

"Isn’t this what you want?” she implores.

“What makes you believe that?”

“The way you look at me.”

It’s a calm declaration, though she’s still explicitly hiding something under her tone, he sees, something like frustration.

“How do I look at you?” he inquires.

When she refuses to answer, he lifts a finger under her chin and forces her gaze to him.

“Like you want to control me,” she answers bitterly.

The bulge under her hand twitches to life. She rubs harder. His face changes; his expression is tighter, more concentrated.

“And that’s what you want?” His hand stretches across the back of her neck, keeps her head still. Fingers brush at the nape in deceptively gentle tandem. “To be controlled?”

“No.” She squeezes her hand, hard. He replies with an angry, swift breath. “You could never control me.”

The hand at her nape curls into her hair and yanks hard, so hard that her rubbing stops.

“I already do.”

She’s infuriated by his words, he can see that plainly on her face. But he doesn’t care. She’s made the mistake of dangling her seductions in front of him, and he’ll rise to the occasion, if she's so determined to stir him.

It shocks her how smoothly he maneuvers her to the futon at their feet, lays her down and climbs over her; how expertly his mouth captures hers and his tongue slides over her lips.

She opens her mouth obediently, lets him explore. Shame courses through her when a hand between her thighs coaxes a pleased, albeit startled hum from her mouth.

His fingers work her up quickly, pull her clothes off without a hiccup or delay.

She had, foolishly, underestimated the strength of him. After she’s stripped bare, when he holds her arms down, there’s no room for her to fight back. As he looms over her, powerful and dangerous, she realizes she should be shaking in fear, in hatred, in uncertainty.

Instead, her body is calm, forcefully calm.

Sensing this, he sees it not as her resolve, but as a challenge.

She refuses to close her eyes when he starts, and stares up at him, disputing his gaze. The pleased sigh that leaves his mouth when he starts rocking into her makes her shiver, despite her determination to keep her body still, keep it pliable for his pleasure but loyal to her convictions.

His thrusts are deep and hard, reaching into her in ways she didn’t even know possible until now. Her breath catches with every snap of his hips, until those breaths are choking off into surprised gasps when he angles his body a certain way, hits a certain spot inside of her that makes her legs jolt with pleasure.

One hand is planted firmly into the sheets beside her, keeping his body suspended over her. The other holds her thigh, keeps it pressed down to ensure she’s stretched as open as he needs her to be.

When pleasure urges him to go harder, he takes her leg and curves it around his waist to dig into her deeper. With the new angle she can peer down, watch his cock spear into her with precise finesse. She tears her eyes away, the sight of it making her nerves tingle, making the unbidden pleasure that much more potent.

Even if she wanted to vacate her mind, to numb herself to all feeling until she could be sure he was done and her task finished, it’s an impossible feat. Too many sensations; his heavy breath coming in low pants; strong thighs shoving against her legs with every thrust; his eyes, even when she turns from them, searing into her, pinning her down.

A flush spreads over her body, hot and feverish and anxious. In the scant light she sees his skin giving way to his own pleasure; sweat lines the curve of his prominent clavicles, a drop on his brow as it furrows with the heightened pace of his thrusts.

She starts to tremble uncontrollably as he roughly pounds into her, losing some of his rhythm, a basic need for release urging him. Rumbling, chest-born moans spill from his lips, and against her body’s wishes, she cums with a hard-fought whimper.

As she shivers through the onslaught of pleasure, he stares down at her, his face an emotionless canvas.

She doesn’t even realize he’s near his end until he grabs onto her hard, grunts loud and staggered, then stops moving.

He takes a moment to let the pleasure sink in, eyes closed to revel in the wet heat surrounding him, pulsing and twitching. Then he pulls out.

He leaves her on the mat, naked, curled into herself as if to hide the shame of her orgasm. Nothing in his posture speaks of an identical sentiment on his part. The sex she finds so monumentally impairing, he sees as nothing more than what it is: sex.

No sooner than he moves away from her is he dressing, the raw muscle of his back moving with every motion, his sweat-glazed scars glistening in the moonlight that invades from closed curtains.

Before he leaves, he says, “I assume you have herbs.”

Her eyes open.

The herbs.

She had almost forgotten. She hasn’t needed to take them since Tobirama left, since there was no one else to share her bed…

The thought of Madara’s seed quickening inside of her makes her nauseous. She’s almost grateful he’s reminded her of the contraceptives.

“Yes,” she says. She’ll take them first thing in the morning. They were made to work even after the fact. No need to panic.

“Good.”

He leaves her in his room, and she falls asleep despite her errant thoughts.

⤰

She draws a bath for herself and slips into the lukewarm water.

The bruises and love-marks haven’t gone away. Every time they do, every time her skin is returned to its unsullied state, she’s in his bed again, tempering him, giving herself over to his rough desires in some hope it will continue to coax leniency out of him.

She’s been bathing more often, she realizes: some meager attempt to wash his scent and his touch from her, no matter the pleasure she takes from it in kind.

But there’s still much resistance in her thoughts when she gives herself over to him, a chiding reminder in the back of her head that says what she’s doing is shameful.

She’s a married woman, after all; widow, in Madara’s eyes.

But the masquerade doesn’t take away from the guilt she feels every time she opens her legs for his lust. It’s not even easy to imagine it’s Tobirama anymore. Tobirama isn’t so purposefully rough, isn’t keen on making pleasure so hard-fought with such domination that she receives from the Uchiha.

A chill runs through her to think of the difference between them, to think she might never again know the softer, more loving touch of her husband. The possessive, taking nature of Madara’s intimacy might be all she ever knows.

She touches the skin under her breast, feeling no texture on the flesh, but knowing the seal Tobirama left is still there: a risky, but comforting reminder of his caresses.

She so misses them. She misses his voice, his touch, his earthy scent. The room around her is so devoid of it. The very air feels seized by the conquest of her Uchiha captors. Every breath she draws is more of their smoke, their fire, their danger.

She sinks underneath the surface of the bathwater, eyes closed, a calming air reserved in her lungs.

The water is comforting, reminds her of Tobirama. She imagines it’s him surrounding and warming her skin, if only for a moment.

She lets the world around her numb to nothingness, hoping at some point, so too will her anxieties leave her and make this dilemma all the easier to endure.

⤰

Izuna hadn’t meant to come across her this way.

The woman isn’t answering his brother’s summons, and the guards stationed outside her home say she won’t respond to the calls or demanding knocks they make at her door.

Izuna isn’t a patient man. He has much better things to do than fetch his brother’s stubborn whore.

The guards at the door had apparently been warned not to intrude on her sanctity more than necessary, and utter a protest when Izuna barges into her home unannounced. He ignores their murmuring, unfamiliar with the respect—or whatever it is—that keeps them compliant.

The living area is empty and so is the kitchen. He calls her name once, then twice, irritation coloring his shouts. They garner no response.

At the back of the house, he hears a sound, and goes to it. He hears it again once he’s closer, coming from the washroom, he thinks.

He knocks once.

No response.

He knocks again.

Still, no response.

Sufferance all but worn, he pulls open the door.

There’s a bath of water, her form distorted underneath its surface. His intrusion is apparently louder than any previous call for her attention and she folds up quickly from underneath the water, breaking the surface and sending splashes everywhere in her haste to glance around, size him up, and cover herself for modesty.

Too late. He’s seen it.

Never mind her naked body. Even if he needs to be forgiven for barging in on her later, he doubts, now seeing the mark that she quickly goes to hide under her breast, that she’ll be getting mercy from him or any other Uchiha from this point on.

⤰

When Izuna drags her into the war tent, Madara is more startled by the interruption than irritated.

She’s half-clothed, body and hair wet from the remnants of what he assumes was an interrupted cleanse; Izuna has a distraught look of fury on his face that never bodes well. What surprises Madara most, however, is the way she cowers into herself when Izuna throws her down at his feet.

“What is this, Izuna?” Madara demands of his brother, mildly offended to witness this treatment of her, at his brother’s hand, no less. Madara’s intimacies with her are common knowledge, if not frowned upon by some of his Uchiha lieutenants.

Izuna points an accusative finger down at her. “Look at it.”

Madara blinks through his confusion, waiting for clarity. Izuna hisses in anger, grabs her hair, and yanks her upright.

“Show him,” he commands her.

She groans angrily in response.

He yanks a little harder.

“Show him.”

Madara’s suspicion gains with rapid unease. The doubt always tugging at the rear of his conscience comes to the forefront, ready to be fed with truths, ready to reap its victory.

Izuna forces her to stay still, then claws at the hand she has wrapped about her stomach, hiding something beneath the haphazardly-adorned clothing.

Madara catches on, and approaches.

She slows her writhing when he crouches down in front of her. Then something like preemptive defeat rushes through her when he puts his hands on her, and she stills completely.

Madara doesn’t know what he expects to see beneath the fold of the robe he pulls away from her skin—the skin which is always covered by bandages when he strips her bare at night; courtesy, she always says, of a wound received during the invasion—but Tobirama’s Senju’s hiraishin mark is definitely the last.

The silence that ensues as he scrutinizes the seal is far more tormenting, she thinks, than any punishment he can possibly have in store for her.

He’s enraged, of that she’s sure. And the indignant, defiant scowl on her face which receives him when he looks at her undoubtedly makes that worse.

But she’s been found out, she knows. There’s little else she has to her aims at this point except her resentment, a resentment which she can now display with liberation.

Her masquerade is extraneous now; any excuse she can possibly make redundant. She has to accept her fate, with her chin held high.

Like Tobirama would.

But the conviction doesn’t last long.

“Hold her down,” Madara tells two of the Uchiha men in the room.

She panics.

When Izuna’s hands leave her and more vindictive ones take their place, she starts kicking away, trying to fight and make their hold on her that much more difficult to win.

But it’s useless against the pure fear that runs through her when Madara slips out of the tent and returns a moment later, in his hand, an iron poker which had been mending the campfire outside.

When he brings it over to her, she feels the heat radiating off of its glowing, orange, sharp tip.

Her heart rate skips into the margins of delirium and she shakes her head.

“Don’t—” she pleads, glaring up at him. “Don’t—”

Madara presses the singeing iron against the skin below her breast and she screams. Loud and ragged. He doesn’t care.

Even before the deed is done, the smell of her own burnt flesh nauseates her beyond the limits of her endurance, and she passes out.

⤰

The burn is so severe that it leaves her bed-ridden for days on end.

Every twist and turn of her body stretches the thin, pink skin and leaves her whimpering in pain.

Uchiha medics tend to her wound. She isn’t allowed the relief of healing jutsu; the burn is treated with oils and creams which alleviate only some of the pain, and none of the superficial scarring. Something for which she knows she has Madara to thank. He wants her to bear the mark of her deceit, wants the charred flesh to serve as a reminder of mockery.

She had slighted him with her seductions, made a fool of him with her deception. The burn itself would be a meager sanction in comparison—he could have killed her, after all—if not for the scornful significance it held that did more justice to his condescension than any words could.

Any semblance of superiority her secret had once given her is all but crushed with the wound. Tobirama’s seal had soothed her, served as a pillar of faith and courage; a warm breath of comfort on her skin whenever the chill of her captors’ doujutsu fixed her, whenever Madara’s gaze searched her for weakness.

Knowing her husband’s latent protection remained hidden from the eyes of the invaders had been enough, amidst all the turmoil, to shield her from fear.

Now it was gone, rendered useless and indiscernible under corrugated skin.

Like her home, her body now, too, at the hands of the Uchiha, denied her refuge.

Yet in some twisted, ironic way, the wound still grounds her. The pain is a bittersweet reminder that her body is alive, and not a shell for the hopelessness she feels inside.

It’s a degrading and pitiful comfort. But it’s all she has now.

⤰

Madara makes infrequent visits during her recovery.

The first few are made in silence. As she lies there, pitiful and motionless, he stares without a word to spare. His scrutinizing gaze, both spiteful to set eyes upon her and satisfied to see her agony, is the only acknowledgement he gives.

The patronizing graduates to interrogation. He stands over her impotent form, leering down as he demands to know the reason for her having the seal on her skin, demands to know her relationship to Tobirama Senju.

The line of questioning betrays the deductions he’s already made. He’s already decided that the woman is Tobirama’s spouse, or at the least, some sort of lover. The intimate placement of his seal is telling enough, and her previous elusion on the subject of her purpose on Senju land is further proof. All the suspicions piece together and exploit her lies.

But he wants to hear the truth from her own mouth, the very mouth which conspired to deceive him with its pleasure, keep him pliant with its warm caresses on his body. Only then will he be satisfied, only when she admits who she is, what she is, who she belongs to—

Then he can remind her that it’s he who owns her now. He who conquered her home as easily as he had conquered her.

Her silence isn’t as defiant as she thinks, not by a long shot. To patronize her is a pleasant notion, but the hooded, resentful gaze she gives him fails to stir him in any way besides to sing praises of his own power.

⤰

“Kill her,” Izuna insists.

His determined indignation on the matter comes like a chant in the days following the revelation.

Madara’s commitment to deciding how best to deal with her is only marginally interrupted by his brother’s input, but it does disrupt his logic and feed his own fury.

He should kill her. Should string her up for the rest of the Senju to see: let her be an example to whoever else among them may have delusions of defying him.

“What point is there in keeping her alive?” Izuna presses on. “Kill her. Send her body to the Senju army. Let them know we won’t be trifled with.”

“No,” is Madara’s decisive reply. “She serves more use to us alive.”

“I fail to see how. She’s done enough to outwit you. I would’ve thought you eager to be rid of her.”

Madara resents the comment, but tempers his irritation. “I know your dislike for Tobirama makes you enthusiastic to do her harm. And why is that? Because you know harm done to her is harm done to him.”

“Precisely.”

“Then you should understand the benefit of keeping her alive.”

“Fine. Keep her alive. But not unscathed. If you want to use her as leverage, deliver a gift to the Senju. The correspondence between you and Hashirama has been pitifully civil so far. Send something with the next envoy. Something of hers. A finger will do.”

“No.” Madara’s tone is unequivocally firm. “We will do no such thing.”

Madara has little doubt that his brother’s enmity runs deep enough that an adequate offense on her part, no matter how slight, might be cause for Izuna to damage her. That’s not something Madara can allow.

His conscience forces away the fact that part of his aversion to his brother’s threats are rooted in possessiveness; Izuna has no claim to her, has no entitlement to her punishment.

That’s Madara’s. That’s his. And his alone.

⤰

How she finds herself sharing his bed again, she may never know, and will never be brave enough to ponder.

She’s silent when he moves inside of her. Even when he makes her cum, as easily and powerfully as he always has, she barely lets the ragged, frustrated moan loose from her lips for a second before closing her throat and swallowing down the tightness.

When he rolls off of her he lies in silence. Where he would usually get up to bathe or leave, he remains, like he's done so often recently, to sleep beside her.

He taunted her once, told her he had no fears of sleeping beside her now, because she knows what it would mean for the Senju hostages if she tried anything.

That aside, she’s half-convinced that he’s awake at all hours of the night regardless, waiting patiently for the opportunity to catch her plots and punish her accordingly.

But how difficult would it be? To kill him, leave him, save as many hostages as she can while he bleeds out in the room, alone and cold.

It’s a fantasy she allows herself to imagine over and over again. A fantasy too opportunistic to ignore after their nights of scornful passion leave her weak and spiteful.

The kunai she left under her pillow feels cold as ice when she slowly reaches for it, hiding the purposeful movement behind a comfortable stretch.

It’s been a long hour since she first played at sleep. She never hears him breathing, but considers his silence as good a signal as any that he’s unconscious.

When she carefully turns over, she confirms that his eyes are closed. He sleeps on his back, always, as most shinobi do. Alert and at the ready even in slumber.

Slowly she rises from under the sheets, ever so careful not to let the fabric move an inch across his skin. She should just slit his throat, she realizes. But piercing into him will be swifter, and more profitable.

The kunai wavers in her hand. Killing unwitting men in their sleep isn’t so difficult a task; shinobi and kunoichi alike do it all the time, don’t they? That was war.

It should be easy to stab down into his heart and twist, to watch him wake in tormenting shock as the blood fills his lungs and chokes him. She would enjoy that.

But the wavering in her hand worsens to a subtle tremor.

He’s not an unwitting man, not some simple enemy to kill for convenience. That makes her confidence ever harder to steel, but she has to. She has to kill him.

She won’t wait a moment longer. Kill him, destroy him, and be done with it.

But just as she raises the kunai, a strong hand wraps around her wrist in an unforgiving grip.

His eyes are open, glaring at her.

She shivers with fear and rage as his hand tightens to a bruising grip. Her panic sends her mind into a frenzy of action.

She can still do it. Just one stab downwards and she can end it.

But even pushing down with both hands doesn’t overwhelm his strength. He still glares and scowls, infuriated.

She tries again, putting her entire body’s weight down on the weapon, limbs shaking with the effort.

He doesn’t budge.

He flips them instead, and the kunai is suddenly in his hands, pressed against her throat.

“There are easier ways to kill me,” he mutters. If his blood is boiling at her trespass, nothing in his bored, thin voice betrays composure. “You could be more creative.”

Tears prickle her eyes. Her hands press desperately against his, trying to push the cold blade away from her skin. But he keeps it there. Even the smallest movement will slice the flesh.

“Remember that you are the one at my mercy. I could kill you and every Senju in this camp any time I wish.”

“You’re horrible,” she seethes, breath shallow in anger. "I hate you.”

“I’m aware. Yet you continue to share my bed night after night. You still think you’ll gain anything from it?”

The words sting her pride, split her open to let the doubts and faults and fruitless depravities spill in.

“You do nothing but shame yourself. Look at you. Spreading your legs for me like a dutiful whore, thinking it will somehow save you and your people. It’s pathetic—"

She slaps him, hard.

Though his cheek burns with redness, he’s otherwise unfazed by pain. He scowls and slams her arm down to prevent any more of her rage.

“You may think you have control over me,” she says in a seething whisper. Even with the kunai pressed against her jugular, the expression on her face is nothing short of brazen. A lofty, defeated brazen that comes across as scorn. “But you don’t, and you never will. There’s only one man I’ve ever loved. When you’re on top of me I think of him and only him. It makes it bearable. You’ll never be half the man that he is.”

He scowls at her, his eyes like burning, silent daggers. She knows she might have sealed her fate right then and there. But so be it. Let her last moments of life be spent spiting him.

Her body relaxes, unconcerned with fighting whatever comes next.

She doesn’t expect him to laugh.

“Tell yourself that, if you must,” he says, with a sadistic, grim smirk. “But you know very well the power I have over you.”

His eyes turn crimson and she gasps, but by the time she makes to look away, it’s too late.

In the illusion, Tobirama is frowning at her, eyes wide, a sneer of disgust on his face.

She doesn’t understand why, at first. Why does he look so gloomy? She feels only joy to see him. Joy and unbearable relief.

She tries to run to him. But burning hands at her throat summon her back. Despite no voice, face, or body to accompany the unforgiving grip, she knows it’s Madara who impedes her by the ferocious strength alone.

“Whore.”

It’s not Madara’s voice, but Tobirama’s. It carries over to her, like they’re separated by a valley despite his being only yards away. If she could reach out to him, touch him, feel his embrace—

“Uchiha whore,” he barks at her again, scowling now.

“No,” she pleads, eyes stinging with tears. She tries to pull the grip from her neck away and escape, but Madara locks her arms down to her sides, rendering her utterly trapped.

“Tobirama,” she begs for his sanctity, for his forgiveness. But he’s backing away from her now.

She cries and cries desperately, screeching in frustration when Madara’s grip tightens to a visceral degree, until she feels like her skin is alight with flames.

She looks down, and sees that they are. And the skin which these flames scorch dies off to corrupted, pink flesh as it travels up her arm in a slow crawl. An agonizing, horrible, slow crawl.

Hours elapse as she endures the torture. Hours of raw, inhuman pain and her husband slurring his vile insults at her. The sheer destruction it pillages on her mind and body makes her feel small, makes the flames which take their time in exploring her skin burn brighter and hotter until finally she feels like nothing but ash.

The last of her willpower billows away with that ash, as she watches Tobirama’s form start to disappear on some horizon that defies logic.

She still wants to touch him. Still wants to be held by him. She still wants him, despite how clearly he doesn’t want her.

His obscenities circle her thoughts, all-encompassing, completely and finally defeating her.

Whore. Slut. Traitor. Weakling.

She cries a voiceless cry when Tobirama disappears, and Madara takes the illusion away shortly after.

She blinks for clarity, eyes adjusting back to a reality no less harrowing than the previous artifice.

He leers down at her, takes in her anguish and her seedy frame with gluttonous cruelty in his gaze.

Numb, teary eyes stare up at him as they slowly read his form. Realizing her predicament, she starts to hyperventilate, and tears run down her face.

She shuts her eyes in one last attempt of modesty, forcing the stream of salt to sluice more violently down her cheeks.

“Tobirama,” she pleads weakly, the only thing that she can think of in her hazy pain.

It angers Madara.

“He doesn’t want you. Now look at me.”

She refuses.

His hand twists into her hair and snaps her head back so hard that she almost sees stars behind her eyelids.

“I said look at me.”

“No,” she cries weakly, though she obeys, regardless. Her bloodshot, desperate eyes feed his sadistic vengeance. Then she’s turning her head away from him. Meager defiance. “Please—”

Satisfied with the short admission of her defeat, he takes her face and forces her look at him.

“Try anything like that again and I’ll make sure you spend an eternity in a nightmare of my making. Do you understand?”

She has no energy to respond.

“Answer me.”

All she can offer is a weak nod, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

In a moment of triumphant vindictiveness, his fingers press harshly against the burn under her breast, bringing to life a reminiscent pain, a crushing reminder of what he’s done to her.

He pushes her face away and she curls into herself, thinking of Tobirama.

In these makeshift quarters he’ll find no sleep; his mind is a mess of anger, desperation, and confusion. He needed to hurt her, didn’t he? She had defied him again. What other choice did he have?

Another moment spent in her presence is another pin of irrational emotion nudged into his chest. He needs to leave.

He catches her glaring at him when he climbs off and starts to dress. It’s a look full of pure, searing hatred.

But he says nothing. He’s extracted enough triumph from her.

His silence is in victory; hers in defeat.

⤰

She feels less alive each passing day.

She doesn’t see him very often, not since the incident in the night when she’d failed to take swift revenge.

Occasionally she hears him on the other side of the door, inquiring the guards who stand watch outside about her disposition. Rarely does he enter and see for himself.

When he does, they exchange no words. He examines the room for any plotting demonstration of escape or sabotage, disguising his observation of her underneath these sweeping inspections.

However, sometimes he gives up on the pretense and simply stares, studying her, trying to decide how he feels.

His actions are regrettable, of that he’s sure and self-condemned, but there’s still a glimmer of insolence in her eyes when he catches her gaze: one which rekindles the spite within him, fans vengeful flames and reminds him that she brought this upon herself.

She would see no pity from him.

Any words of apology on his tongue fizzle away then, and his visits conclude as silently as they begin.

⤰

The fight in her dwindles helplessly, and as it dwindles, so too does all sense of reservation.

The prodigious determination there once had been to contend Madara and his Uchiha conspirators is all but spent. What good does it do her now? She’s broken, subjugated, and without leverage.

Her body, which had once enabled her to use its seductions to the advantage of her people, is now depleted and only a shell. A shell for the hollow, cold heap of defeat that she now is.

How deluded was she to think she could save all the people here? How had she ever thought that she alone could protect the hostages from the evil at their door?

And Tobirama, whose embrace was denied to her even in dreadful illusions—what would he think of her? Madara was right. What else was she now but an Uchiha whore? Obsolete, ruined, soiled.

Tobirama won’t want her. Not now. Not ever again.

What more is there for her?

As the weeks go by, Madara’s distrust ebbs away. Suspicions of subterfuge die with her audacity; the times he does happen upon her, she’s nothing but a husk of the sharp woman she had made herself out to be.

House arrest soon becomes a superfluous precaution, and even when the guards leave their posts, she makes few attempts to leave her home. And when she does, she wanders aimlessly, meanders without direction and without purpose.

She’s pitiful, Madara decides. Pitiful and crushed. He has nothing to fear or suspect from her. Her fire is gone.

What he doesn’t expect is that the last ember of that fire holds one desperate dredge of scorn. One which she won’t allow to be extinguished.

When she wanders into the Uchiha war tent that day, she isn’t stopped.

She’s given no second-glance by any of the Uchiha shinobi. Even if they were to give her careful inspection, they would never know of the kunai in her pocket, the steel icy and begging to be utilized for one final, desperate fight.

Madara isn’t there. Instead, she finds Izuna.

“Where is he?” she asks weakly.

Izuna pays her so limited attention these days, regards her as little else except the harlot his brother broke in and conquered, that her presence has nothing more than a fleeting impasse on his patience. Like a gnat buzzing around his head.

“My brother? Who knows.”

When he accords her his attention he sees that she’s looking lifeless as ever. Sometimes he ponders the nature of the unkind things his brother has done to her, with a fraction of a fraction of pity. Then he’s reminded of the trespasses she’s made, and the pity is gone.

“What?” he mocks. “If you’re hoping to charm some leniency out of him, you’ll get nowhere looking like that.” He tsks, a sneer marring his lips as he pulls his eyes over her form, like it’s a harrowing task to complete. “You’re better off groveling on your knees... save him the displeasure of looking at your face, at the least.”

Although she doesn’t react, he sees humiliation simmering underneath the hardened, broken surface of her expression. He would have favored a more promising response to his taunts, but he’s satisfied to see her tamed of her previous unruliness, nevertheless.

He turns his back to her. Her misery is pleasant only for so long; the more he looks, the more unsightly it becomes.

The Uchiha sigil stares back at her, stitched proudly and delicately onto the back of his garb.

It mocks her, does more to incite her than any of his degrading condescension can.

Unthinking, she moves to him.

Hearing her approach he turns to meet her, the same bored sneer on his face.

The melancholy is still in full bloom on her features, but there’s something else there, too. Something that tells him she’s struggling to express a grievance on her tongue.

He scoffs.

“What is it, woman?”

He’s not Madara, she decides, but he’ll do.

Aimlessly, she yanks the kunai from her pocket, then brings it down on his neck, not caring for whatever consequences will follow.

⤰

She wondered why Izuna didn’t kill her the moment he wrangled the kunai from her grip.

Blood spills from his neck; thick crimson pours in rivulets down his shirt, down the hand that presses against his wound.

It may not be fatal but it’s certainly critical. Sharingan had worked in his favor. An inch more of the dagger’s descent studied without the activation of his doujutsu might have guaranteed his death. He inched away just in time.

She doesn’t have time to lament her failure.

He did throw her to the floor in his anger, but nothing else comes. If he hadn’t been so occupied with sealing his wound, she imagines his ire would prove much worse, if not terminal.

She doesn’t bother pushing up from her place on the floor when another Uchiha, hearing the din of Izuna’s angry hollers, barges in, sees the chaos, and sprints away after taking orders from Izuna. She doesn’t hear the essence of these orders, numb to the world as she is.

Had the kunai been in her hand, she would slit her own throat in defiance. Death would have been preferable to what comes next.

When Madara storms in, she’s still a pile of hapless defeat on the floor.

He says not a word, but the pure rage boiling behind his gaze says all it needs to: She made a grievous mistake.

She gasps when he grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her to her feet. She screws her eyes shut, unwilling to look at him. He doesn’t seem to care whether she does or doesn’t.

She’s certain that he rips hair right from the roots when he whips her around, shoves her forward with enough force to break every bone in her body. A bookcase greets her as she barrels into it. That’s when her eyes open in pained shock, a rushed gasp escaping her as she struggles to regain the air thrown out of her lungs.

She wants to collapse, but a hand clasps around her neck and keeps her standing. Then the fingers tighten around her throat. She chokes pitifully for oxygen.

“I told you that if you ever tried something like that again that you would regret it.” His voice is cold with anger. “But to make an attempt on my brother’s life?”

She doesn't answer. Apparently, he doesn’t expect her to.

He shoves her back to the ground. It knocks the wind out of her, and when she pushes herself up on shaky limbs, a heavy boot in her back sends her to the floor again.

She yelps as he digs his heel into sensitive muscle. A burst of hot and red pain spreads through her back. Her kidneys, maybe? She doesn’t know. But he’s damaged something internally, and she wishes she were dead.

Her breaths are pitiful and scant when he finally takes his foot away. She says nothing. Thinks of nothing.

“Get up,” he demands, in a rigid, thin voice devoid of anything except fury.

Even if she wanted to obey, her body refuses.

“Get up,” he snaps, and the unforgiving hand returns to twist into her hair, sending webs of pan across her scalp as he hauls her to her knees.

He crouches in front of her, a hand still fisted in her hair. Now he wants her to look. His other hand takes her face and squeezes, so hard she’s half-convinced he plans to crush her skull.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

Desperately, she tries. But it’s a task to keep her eyes open without nausea seeping into her gut. Her eyelids force themselves to shut in an effort to quell dizziness.

But then he jostles her around by the grip in her hair, so hard and so viciously that her entire world blacks out momentarily. The motion sends her mind reeling and her vision swimming.

“Open your eyes.”

Adrenaline shoots through her and demands her to obey.

She isn’t surprised when the red of sharingan is there to greet her.

Everything goes black in the world of his making. She almost expects to see Tobirama there, for him to shout at her and degrade her again.

Instead, she feels pain. The worst pain she’s ever felt. So painful she can’t breathe, can’t think. The only thing that exists is the hot, searing flame of anguish that stings every inch of her skin, every gap of her insides, down to the very organs.

A hundred kunai stab into her head. She hears them slicing flesh to ribbons and digging fractures into her skull. Her blood curdles until it’s set aflame. That too, she hears, bubbling underneath the surface of her skin like thick, boiling water.

Everything hurts. Everything is endless agony.

When air finally fills her lungs, she wails.

So loud, so violently, so wretchedly, that it’s almost itself anguish to hear.

Then he takes it all away.

The relief is heavenly. She crumples into a ball.

She hates it. She hates the weakness. If Tobirama could see her…

Then the pain comes again. She screams in tandem, then bites her tongue so hard it bleeds.

The cruel routine goes on, for what to her deluded, frenetic mind seems like hours, but is in reality passed in mere minutes.

Izuna watches as his wound is tended to, his expression as devoid of any mercy or sympathy as his brother’s.

⤰

Two weeks later, when her body and mind make the slow, pitiful climb back to equilibrium, she notices the change.

It’s unlike one she’s felt before, but not entirely unrelated to an irksome nausea: a queasiness in her stomach that neither food nor rest alleviates; something new, like an aura, that swathes her and accompanies her every second of the day; an extra weight added to the burden of her body.

Then comes the fearful ascent of logic.

Amidst her turmoil, she’s forgotten about missing her monthly bleed. Its absence could be blamed on the toll her body has taken, but she knows better.

The revelation brings her into a spiral of hectic anxiety, of despairing conflict.

It’s not long before she finds herself sneaking into one of the medical tents, decision already made on how best to deal with the new predicament.

She shuffles through the stock of vials and herbs which the Uchiha medics keep at the back of the tent, finds what she’s looking for and almost escapes as covertly as she had infiltrated, when she’s stopped.

“What is that you have?”

She pauses a foot away from the tent’s exit, her body in a mode of panic.

“Some herbs for my wounds,” she mutters.

An elder Uchiha woman, a medic, turns her around and inspects the filched items in her grasp.

“That is ginger root,” the medic observes warily. “If you need something for the pain, I would suggest dried poppy.”

The young woman stares fretfully at the old woman; the old woman stares back.

“Thank you,” the younger stutters blankly, unable to make a step in either direction; play along and heed the advice to go search for the proper herbs, or flee and risk suspicion?

“You look ill,” the old woman says, eyeing her, putting a hand to her forehead.

She backs away. “I just need rest.”

“Let me examine you. I can help you find the right medicines.”

“No,” she says. Any medic will be able to feel the life inside of her, given the chance. “I’ll be alright.”

She tries to leave then, but the old woman doesn’t let her.

⤰

When Madara answers the request for his presence at one of the medic huts, he’s surprised to find her there, sitting on a cot, hunched over and distressingly quiet. Two Uchiha men stand at her sides, supervising her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Madara asks.

Recently, he’s appreciated any reason to stay away from her. The sight of her makes him sick, makes a conflict of rage and confusion and culpability dance angrily in his head.

The old woman offers him the ginger root, and a small vial of clear liquid. “She was after these.”

Madara takes them into examination. “Am I supposed to know what this is?” His patience, already thin, dwindles considerably for the roundabout elucidations.

“A toxic mixture,” the old woman explains plainly. “Boiled with regular tea and these will certainly destroy whatever grows inside a womb.”

With subdued bafflement, Madara looks at the woman on the cot, understanding all at once.

She doesn’t dare meet his eyes. Even now her body trembles with frustration, with fear, with defeat.

Izuna, who had accompanied his brother, scoffs, incredulously loud. “So either you managed to put one in her, brother, or it’s the Senju’s.”

“Can it be determined?” Madara asks the medic, ignoring his brother, and never taking his eyes off the frail form on the cot.

“In a month’s time the chakra should be durable enough for us to sense.”

“Kill it,” Izuna insists, coming to stand next to his brother, a voice of frustrated reason. “If it’s a Senju, better off unborn. And if it’s an Uchiha... you would pass on the clan’s power to halfling filth.”

Unperturbed, Madara stares in silence. Finally she meets his gaze, unsettled by the look of dark concentration in his eyes.

“Why attempt to destroy the life inside of you unless it’s a burden to you?” he ponders out loud.

She realizes his train of logic: it must be his, for her to be so adamant in her pursuit to terminate it.

“If it was my husband’s,” she says, “and it is, I would do the same. You would kill my child the moment I bring it into this world. Why let life grow that is destined to be murdered in cold blood?”

“And if it were mine?”

“It isn’t."

Madara scowls.

“And if it were,” she goes on dangerously. “All the more reason to destroy it.”

That visibly infuriates him.

“Give her the herbs,” Izuna asserts again. “Let her solve the problem. Either way she’s doing you a favor.”

Madara doesn’t speak for a long time.

His careful inspection of her lasts long enough to make her doubts rise afresh, make her feet fidget uncomfortably and her heart pound in desperation.

“She stays here tonight,” he decides ultimately, looking to the Uchiha guards at her side. “She doesn’t leave.”

Izuna looks muddled, and somewhat irritated by the decision.

She just looks afraid.

⤰

He doesn't return for many days, but his absence can’t be appreciated as much of a reprieve at all; her mind is a mess of anxiety and denial the entire time.

This can’t be happening, she tells herself countless times. She can’t be pregnant. And worse, can’t be ignorant to the father. There’s no possible way. It can’t be happening.

Part of her reasons for the better: it must be Tobirama’s. No more than three months have passed since the Uchiha first conquered and occupied the land, no more than three months since she’s been with her husband.

The other part of her, downtrodden and beaten into pessimistic depravity, knows that with the chaos Madara brought, so too came a negligence to her normal routines: was she taking the contraceptive herbs as diligently as she needed to, given their intimacies? Amidst the turbulence he caused, had she remembered each and every time they were together to make sure nothing was conceived from their depraved liaisons? How could she not, when the way he touched her and took her made her sick?

But then, doubt: leading her astray, reminding her that everything horrible and miserable that could happen already had, so what was a bit more to the mountain of suffering she already endured? What was stopping fate from deciding that the life inside her womb belonged not to her loving husband, but to her unforgiving captor?

Thinking about it drives her to depressive insanity. By the time Madara comes to see her, she’s depleted almost all of her brain power.

“Leave us,” he commands the guards who have been assigned to watch her.

They obey, and the pair are left in silence.

Her mind pleads with her to run, to attack, to simply scream—anything. Anything that will quell the distress of the pause in the air, the distress of not knowing his intent.

When he takes a step forward she inches back. Noticing this, he’s dissuaded from approaching any closer.

“So long as the child is inside of you, you have nothing to fear from me.”

Her heart pounds so furiously in her chest that she’s sure it’s audible in the quiet of the room.

The statement angers her, scares her, and much to her shame, relieves her.

“It’s not yours,” she claims.

“Unless I’m miscalculating, the Senju host left a week before my arrival. And not long after that, a fortnight at most for the sake of assumptions, this child might have been conceived. Between us.”

Bile rises in her throat and she wants to protest, but he goes on, badgering her with the logic she’s thus far refused to entertain.

“If it were his, you would be farther along. Visibly, for one. And more than likely, I would be able to sense the chakra, deduce which clan it belongs to.”

By now she’s trembling quietly with her fear, fighting the urge to deny him, to preserve the hope that the reality he speaks of is in fact skewed.

“The child inside of you is an Uchiha,” he says determinedly.

She shakes her head.

“You know I’m right.”

“You’re not,” she argues. “You said yourself there's no way of knowing. Not yet.”

He cocks his head. “Then you really have no idea, do you? No idea who it belongs to? Normally mothers can read the chakra within them at this stage. Can you not?”

She won’t grant him an answer, instead stares down at her feet as they dig into the ground, as if in a desperate attempt to escape underneath.

Madara watches her with careful scrutiny. “I suppose we’ll have to see, then. But somewhere in that head of yours, you know I’m right.”

You’re not right, she repeats in her mind. You’re not. You’re not.

Just as he makes to leave, he stops.

“And let me be clear,” he says, menacingly. “If you make any attempt to destroy what grows inside of you, you won’t be the one suffering the consequences.”

The glare he gives her speaks volumes: The Senju hostages. The violence that would ensue. The atrocities he might commit if she disobeyed.

He leaves her. She clutches her stomach, letting the first, long-suppressed tear roll down her cheek. A warm, wet trail is left in its wake.

In the turmoil she finds evidence for and against his claims when she lets her thoughts run away with logic. A wash of anxious desperation enlivens her, makes her conscience grab for a reprieve to her doubts. But even that is denied by the crushing reality of her situation.

The life inside of her might belong to the enemy, to the Uchiha.

And still, it might not.

She stumbles between one acceptance and the next, each clouding her ever more until the tears are spilling in streams down her cheeks.

When she puts every morsel of her ability into sensing the life within her, she can’t tell if the faint trace of Senju chakra she feels is authentic, or a desperate manifestation of her mind’s making.

#madara #madara uchiha #naruto imagines

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impossible-rat-babies · 3 years

Note

What about 45 for pollux and ortega 👀

45. comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together

thank you tas i know im showing up late for this prompt, but better late than never right? lmao

fallen hero | ~1.5k words | m!ortega + nb!sidstep | cw: very mild mentions of nsft | mostly below the cut!

ao3

Pollux sinks lower into the bath water and, for the first time in a long while, it’s quiet.

The faucet still drips, ripples spreading out until they hit his knees and they sink beneath the water--distorted and unclear. The next drop ripples until the waves are too small and they sink beneath the surface of the water. Holding as still as possible and the top of the water turns to glass--white tiled walls of the shower shining in the warm white overhead light. Steam flutters around it in swirling little clouds like cigarette smoke.

Sinking further, his nose almost rests against the surface of the water and it smells of oatmeal and lavender. His eyes slowly close, back relaxing in a cascade down his spine and into his hips. A domino effect until he’s almost too lazy to move and it’s easier to breathe.

The porcelain of the tub holds the warmth against his body, the water perhaps too hot but he likes it when his skin turns flush red and he can hold onto that warmth for hours. He lifts his hands out of the water, the backs of them almost red enough to eclipse the scars and the recent rough angry cracked lines of eczema across his wrists. He frowns.

“Don’t pick at it, Pollux...”

His eyes dart over to Ortega, sitting opposite him beside the tub, arm propped up on the edge. Thumbnail picking a callous on his index finger, white shirt mostly unbuttoned--feet bare, legs stretched out. It’s lazy how he pesters, but his gaze is pointed at Pollux’s fingers curled to scratch.

“I wasn’t going to.”

Pollux sits up, water dripping off his scratchy unshaven chin as his hands disappear beneath the water. Out of sight, Pollux picks a hangnail on his middle finger, circles the little grooves his rings have left. They’re all sitting up on the vanity, carefully pulled from his fingers by Ortega with the excuse they’ll be ruined in the water.

“You looked like you were thinking about it.”

Ortega adjusts, leaning over and his back hunches, shoulders bunched.

“I was just looking.”

Pollux insists, but there’s no fight behind his voice, just tired apathy. He doesn’t have the gumption or the initiative to bicker right now, tucking his hands under his legs and he bends his knobby knees to peek out of the water. Ortega gives a tired sigh, seemingly in no mood to bicker either and he sits back with a grunt. He’s getting too old to sit on the floor like this, but he said he was staying.

His hand drops to trace the cream colored water, index finger breaking the glassy surface followed by his middle and ring fingers.

Pollux stares at his idle hand as it makes waves that reach the shore of his knees and thighs in a rippling caress. A touch from a distance, crossing this eight or so inches between them.

He can’t resist--he reaches out, guarded but brushing his hand along the back of Ortega’s hand. Across his knuckles, one two three valleys and peaks each dotted with a hint of cool metal, four fingers to curl around three fingers as he is want to do. Moisture gathers in the creases of Ortega’s hand, either from the steam or just the water, hand sweat sticky to the touch.

Ortega hums, a punctuated sound in the hush, fingers twitching and they cup--curl and spread. Holding his hand with quiet affection.

Pollux thinks about warning him, that if he shocks him it’ll be the reckoning of all reckonings, but there’s no words in his throat when he looks.

Ortega’s eyes are half closed.

Eyelashes brushing the half moon lines of age and sleepless nights, the crows feet tickling at the corners of his eyes to match worn and well loved laughter lines. There’s greying salt and pepper to his temples--wiggling wavy strands tickling sideburns and his beard is coming in nicely. He mostly joked about it in the hospital that night, but Ortega took it to heart. It’s a stop in the transit of change and age--both subjects they’ve both talked and shouted themselves to raw throats on.

At least his hairline hasn’t started to recede yet and oh the crisis he would have at the mere thought of going bald. Not that the stylists would let it show, god forbid he doesn’t age in grace at just over forty. He’s no longer the face though; no stylist in the world can make grief look beautiful, nor erase heartbreak.

Pollux still remembers the charming rapscallion of a playboy who fit so well in front of a camera one would think he was born for the limelight. Born for this action, this sort of lifestyle and maybe he was, but Pollux doesn’t think so.

Time changed that—time and tragedy. Falls from great heights, twice now for Ortega, brought changes of perspective to them both and oh it smarts in the cavity of his chest. Beneath his ribs there’s ache he hasn’t been able to soothe for almost a year now. (Ortega makes up most of the aches and pains his body.)

Time is a cruel mistress with her pointing fingers and cheshire smiles--teeth far too straight and too white on a backdrop of red lipstick.

“Lux?”

Ortega whispers his name like a question.

Deep breath in and he closes his eyes. Feels the squeeze in his hand and he clutches back--the cool press of an emitter to his palm.

“Ricardo?”

He whispers back and opens his eyes.

“You know,” A mumble from only partially open lips that twist to a smile, “I always thought you would have smaller hands. Baby hands, ya know? Match the rest of you.”

Pollux sniggers.

“But you have piano fingers instead.”

“I never learned how to play the piano.”

“Is it funny that I can’t imagine you ever playing one?”

Pollux laughs briefly, the apples of his cheeks hurting in that good way. A way that remind him that he’s as real as his breathing, as the heartbeat he feels in the left side of his chest.

“I’d be terrible at it...” Pollux whispers like any louder and something would snap crackle pop like tempered glass. Like car windows and gas tank explosions--windows and red balloon paintings.

“True.”

Pollux rolls his eyes, head flopping back against the rim of the tub. Wet strands of hair tickling his shoulders, sticking to sweat slick skin--indiscriminate in its touches of tattoos versus real skin. Both worn and scarred and he calms the urge to scratch the hollow his collarbones form when he too hunches over.

“Would you still listen to me play, Ricardo?”

“Of course.”

Said without hesitation and a bright smile Pollux can’t help but share--crooked teeth and scars that tug and all.

Later they’ll go about the same routine they always do.

Ortega will help him out of the bath and Pollux will half dress. Ortega will sit in front of him while he sits on the bed, take his hands in his and rub medicated lotion into his cracked skin. He’ll pull loose scabs away, fingers light on the fresh cracks as they sting.

Hands across his prominent knuckles and narrow fingers, down his thin wrists, making sure the inside of his elbows are cared for. Routine motions, Pollux watching his hands work. The surety of his hands having memorized his skin, as knowing as his eyes and Pollux is known.

The quiet horror of that realization and the even quieter way he lets that fact eat him alive.

The quiet way Ortega asks each night if he needs help and the even softer way Pollux tells him yes—the timid way he’ll ask for help behind his knees.

Ortega will kiss the side of his knee when he’s done and look up at him with heady eyes and Pollux will pull him in close, guide his lips to his (as he is want to do) and turn off the light. Let what happens in the dark happen in the dark.

Both of their hands much more suited to break, but still Ortega will cradle the back of his neck and along the outside of his thigh like his fingers have always belonged there—meant to touch him. Press kisses to lavender scented skin.

And Pollux will run his fingers across his jawline and down along his neck and he thinks that if Ortega really could see him then he would see him.

(Hold him wailing--sobbing and better yet stop this. Make it all stop. How does he stop? He doesn’t, that’s it. He already knows how this goes, the ending of this story.)

There’s no words said when tears collect on his eyelashes, just hand in terrible hand, fanned out--small palm to larger palm. Names whispered with gasping breaths and fingers linked together. Pressed against the mattress and another night lost--another night gained.

#fallen hero #chargestep #fallen hero retribution #owen writes #okay to rebloog #obsessed with the intimacy of names like hello!#skdjhfk thank you tas i appreciate youuuuuu <3 #they talk about stupid things your honor #mournholdmushroom

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logically-asexual · 3 years

Text

okay i'm already procrastinating and i don't plan on sleeping any time soon so here we go.

☆ ✩ my personal ranking for every season 1 Sanders Sides episode. ✩ ☆

i think it's going to be pretty similar to @dukeofonions' but let's see if i find something new to contribute haha. i see you didn't include that one about Patton in the Big Game or whatever, so i'm not including it either xd. also i think i'm going to count Accepting Anxiety as one episode only.

edit: i finished and now i dare you to drink a shot of water every time i say the word spanish or a version of the word comfort and become very well hydrated.

#16 I'm in a Disney Show

(i agree with dukeofonions here) i always forget this episode exists. it was ok in terms of being happy for real life Thomas but as a Sanders Sides episode it didn't do anything. the sides were just giving their opinions but it wasn't very funny or interesting. also i'm bitter because it made me look up the episode he was in and i didn't like it at all. i don't know if i'm too old for those Disney shows now but Thomas was literally the only good part of it, everything else was really dull and boring imo. a waste of time.

however, Logan supporting clickbait is one of the funniest things ever, and i'll never forget it.

#15 Becoming A Cartoon

i didn't hate this episode but it was just .. meh.. you know? several factors contribute to this. one, i couldn't feel much nostalgia for Butch Hartman's shows because i watched them in Spanish, and everything feels really weird when they speak English, i don't like how my old cartoons sound in English. two, it was disappointing to me because we were all desperately waiting for Plot™ and instead they give us this short episode about nothing (oh how the tables have turned now it's the other way around haha). and three, i didn't like the style of the animation :/ their faces and expressions freaked me out, Roman's douchey face still haunts me.

#14 Way Too Adult

here i'm biased because i don't like Patton much, and i didn't back when i watched the series the first time either, so this video was a little disappointingwithout the rest. also it wasn't relatable to me because i am still too young and dependent on my parents haha. but Patton is funny and it's funny to laugh at Thomas' struggling.

#13 The Dark Side of Disney

i've never been a fan of Disney movies. i actually never watched Mulan or the Lion King or Aladdin as a kid, so meh. i liked the ending, though, it was cool to see Virgil have fun and be right for once. it does make me a bit uncomfortable because the way Thomas tries too hard with Virgil's mouth movements and his low voice reminds me of a guy that had made me v uncomfortable not long before watching that video. so an icky feel overall.

#12 A New Year of Lying to Myself

this video was actually kind of fogettable to me. i had a hard time connecting the voices in the song to the characters and idk. i don't love it nor hate it, just .. neutral.

#11 My True Identity

pretty much the same opinion as dukeofonions, again. it's a good introduction and it's good that it was the beginning of it all but on its own it's not very special. i think it's awesome on Thomas to have come up with such a clever idea, like choosing the dad, the teacher and the prince and putting them together and match them with thoughts?? that fit so perfectly?? it really is just very impressive when you think about it, that it was just a random idea he had for a short 5 minute video.

#10 Taking on Anxiety

i liked this video a lot because when i watched it i had recently been a lot on tumblr, and found out through relatable posts that i had anxiety. so watching this video was really fun and it made me happy to feel so seen, specially the intro when Thomas just talks about what it's like to have Anxiety and Virgil is so smug about it.

- ★ -

okay now that those are out of the way things are going to get hard... all the following i love with all my heart so i'm going to rank them based on the smallest things.

#9 Growing Up

once more, Patton isn't my favorite. so that's why i'm putting this here, plus the echo at the end askjhsahg, but i love love this video. i remember we were waiting and oh so ready for the angst of nobody taking Patton seriously. and we received!! i love that though Roman and Logan are antagonists here, they're both so happy about Thomas wanting to have a healthy life. and i just adore the way Logan admits his mistake at the end and asks Patton directly. my heart... also aw.. the nostalgia. i remember none of us knew how to spell Patton's name and were writing it in very funny ways until Thomas and Joan told us lol.

#8 The Mind vs The Heart

when i watched this video the first times i didn't like it much, because i only had eyes for Virgil, but later i came back to it and loved it. so taking that into account i'm putting it here. logicality was the first ship i ever shipped in the show because i saw a gifset on tumblr of Patton screaming "what do you know about love?!" and Logan "apparently more than YOU" and the caption said "MARRIED", and i thought hey yeah... anyway. i love them. they're both my dads since that day.

this video is so so so relatable and i love it. Logan and Patton are so much fun arguing and i love how they compromise at the end and work together. im reconsidering.. i might move it higher? no, fine i'll leave it here.

#7 Making Some Changes

this video was absolutely hilarious. i personally couldn't see it as the Sides still once they were acted by Thomas' friends, i enjoyed it more as that bunch being silly and trying to be the sides but failing in so many ways, while sometimes nailing stuff suddenly. i really don't take this one too seriously as an episode. except Joan!Logan and Valerie!Logan, my beloved... i love how Joan acted as Logan and their voice and that they kept their ace ring on.. there's a reason i had them as my icon for so long. and Valerie looks a bit (a lot) like me with the glasses and dressed in dark colors, plus she spoke Spanish and there's .. no words to describe the joy i felt when seeing/hearing that. wait i'm getting emotional...

#6 My Personality Q&A

when i watched this Virgil was my favorite side and i didn't care much about the rest lol. when i heard his answers i related to him SO much it was scary, and also his voice is so soft and it was all very comforting. it was also when i first starting looking at Logan with more attention, because when he brought up Big Hero 6 and Fall Out Boy and said he didn't sing and would recite it like a poem? it only took a couple seconds but my brain said "me" and never went back.

now this video is a little underwhelming to watch for me, most of the appeal for me was in finding out the answers, and also watching it when we didn't know a lot about the sides. now we know more and want to know more so it's not as fun to me as it was first.

i wish so bad they'd do another one, although i know it would be more difficult with a much bigger audience, i think they can manage and i just need it. the chaos.. the energy.. they all being so savage with each other, learning little random facts about them you didn't expect.. i need it.

- ★ -

oh boy top 5 here we go. the next three are practically a tie. i can't choose.

#5 Alone on Valentines Day

i love Valerie, and the idea of this video was perfect and so perfectly excecuted. every side just giving their crazy opinions on how to woo a random stranger, i laughed SO much. first with Logan speaking simlish out of nowhere? at that point i didn't know practically anything about the sims except that it was some video game and the whiplash of Logan going AYO and the rest killed me. then when Roman whipped out that dialogue in Spanish??? my life was completed. i've never felt more happy than i did in that moment gosh. just the hilarity of Roman's drama, the shock of them speaking Spanish suddenly like that, the absolute JOY of seeing a creator i like speak (may i say) perfect Spanish, the other characters' faces after that.. never been happier.

also the conclusion was so cute. Virgil solving the whole problem without wanting to. i loved it.

#4 Am I Original

i think this video speaks for itself. it was fun to watch them all do the ideas Roman had, plus Logan and Virgil nodding at each other, (i love them so much), plus the angst at the end of Roman's perfectionism, plus Roman's just perfect name. this video has it all.

i think Thomas posted it kind of late at night and i watched it at 7am in the classroom as i waited for my classmates to arrive and the class to start. (i usually was like 40 minutes early to school due to mom’s work). i had to contain my laughter and it wasn’t easy.

#3 Losing My Motivation

i started loving this video after a while, when Logan passed Virgil in the position for my favorite side. but once he did this episode was beautiful. it's so funny and i love Logan and Patton's dynamic so much. and the video also so damn relatable in general. i felt so seen with it because they named all the problems i have when procrastinating, down to Patton's vague explanation of his feelings, it's exactly how i feel every time i want to do stuff. and the plot twist! i can hear the dramatic sound effect and see how they all turn to Logan clearly in my head, and it always makes me smile. plus there's so much Logan angst that can be dug up and overanalized. i love to watch it over and over.

#2 Accepting Anxiety

this video was perfect. everything we wanted. we knew it was coming and it delivered perfectly, better than any fanfic done in the waiting time. the week between the parts was agonizing but in a fun way somehow. i remember precisely when i was watching part 2 in my living room. i screamed. and i cried, a lot. i was feeling terrible at that time in my life and Thomas was such a comforting presence and i can't begin to describe how this episode made me feel.

and later it is always fun to rewatch with all their different reactions to being in Virgil's room, the energy of that was on point. Thomas is such a great actor and the characters where just amazingly performed. plus it gave so much to talk adn think about, the idea of the rooms, lots lots of insight into the characters, foreshadowing, so much. it's just perfect i have nothing else to say.

#1 (for purely emotional reasons, ironically) My Negative Thinking

i think Accepting Anxiety is the best episode of the season objectively but my favorite is My Negative Thinking. because i love Virgil and Logan so much and seeing them argue together was and is great. the comfort.. i can't repeat that word enough throughout this post. it's such a soft video while not being overwhelming with Patton and Roman's outbursts. just quiet (mostly) and clear and with perfectly timed humour.

Logan my beloved.. learning spanish... helping me with my own anxiety.. and their debate was so good. and the fact that they were friends i- i can't. Virgil didn't think Logan liked him and Logan told him explicitly that he did and the casual softness of it i cant even. Logan is happy that he tried.. it's just marvelous. Virgil and Logan as best friends will always be my favorite pair, and their dynamic will always be what i strive for in any relationship i might form, with both sides silently comforting each other within their own limits and realistic perspectives. so nice.

- ★ -

so yeah. that's all. thank you if you read all the way up to here. ♡ ♡ ♡

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

Light Of My Life Pt.2 Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely returning anon!

“I’m the anon who requested the avenger reader and ......... *chefs kiss* *chefs kiss* *chefs kiss* It’s so good! i love the readers powers and how they get sparky when they’re happy! I always thought that captain America and tony stark and Natasha and everyone else would be protective of the reader so I wonder what would happen if she introduced Jason to the avengers? Do you think they’d find out that he was red hood? (And they’d keep it a secret but maybe then they’d be REALLY protective)”

LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

HI AGAIN IM SO GLAD YOU’RE BACK LOVE!!! We been knew I love me a good protective family and Jason sooooo my beautiful anon you did it again! Chef’s kisses right back at you angel <333 Because you liked the happy sparks let me show you what happens when all the emotions come out to play.... mwahahahaha CHECK OUT PT 1 HERE!

“Fuck no.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend as he pouted. “Hey I met your family you have to meet mine!” you chided, Jason had been reluctant to meet the other Avengers. The last time he’d ever met one besides you was as Robin pre-death when Stark came to visit Bruce Wayne and Iron Man visited Batman. The two never really got along and since Jason idolized Bruce he hadn’t been the kindest to Stark.

You’d only recently learned this when you told the other Avengers why you always wanted to be in Gotham. Cap was happy you’d found a friend, he understood the necessity of having a person you can talk to and rely on, and he missed his person so he wished you the best. To say Stark was pissed was an understatement. Not only was he secretly rooting for you and Spidey to get together but he always got a bad taste in his mouth thinking about the Wayne family. “No” was his only reply and you had to give him the “even though you’re my father figure and my boss you don’t control my personal life” speech which ended in a hug and some cursing under his breath. To your surprise Peter was equally upset and said next time you went to Gotham he needed to meet this elusive, powerless, gun wielding, Jason.

And just like that here you were in Gotham, wrapping in your boyfriend’s arms, trying to convince him to come meet the “A-list” as he called them. “You’re going Jay. Maybe you can bring Tim he loves the Avengers he’d die to meet them!” you cooed, knowing Jason would agree because he never wanted to tell you no. Jason knew how excited you were, he could feel the light shocks that danced on your skin as he held you. Begrudgingly he agreed. You had decided it would be better to meet as your human personas rather than stir up the media with an Avengers visit to Gotham.

“Hey gorgeous” Jason grinned as you gave him a spin in one of your favorite outfits, beyond excited to introduce him to the people who were your family you rushed over to him. As you toyed with his t-shirt collar you admired his appearance, Jason was fashionable in the lowkey, vibey kind of fashion, it was perfect, and undeniably attractive. You could tell he was trying to hide his nerves, he gripped your hand tighter than normal and fidgeted slightly, he knew these people were your home and you could tell he wanted to make a good impression even if he wouldn’t admit it.

You’d invited them to your now shared apartment with Jason. The two of you had spent a while cleaning and prepping for guests and the apartment was spotless. Getting the text from Stark that him, Peter, and Natasha were headed up and you saw the three of them cloaked in jackets and hats entering the main lobby. Giving Jason’s hand a squeeze you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and a reassuring looking. Jason leaning into your embrace whispered “it’ll go fine” and you couldn’t tell if he was saying it to himself or you. Almost on cue there was a loud knock and before you could get to the door Tony burst in with Natasha and Peter following. “WHERE IS HE!” Tony yelled and you rushed over grinning. “Shut up Stark behave yourself!” he brought you into a quick hug before looking at Jason. “Hello Todd” he said, Jason looked a little shocked that Tony had either remembered from those years ago or had done his research. Jason stuck out a hand feigning confidence and Tony took it strongly.

Inviting everyone in you all sat cooly around the living room. As you talked with Natasha about recent events and living in Gotham you noticed that Jason looked afraid to touch you, sitting rigid next to you. Glancing over you saw him getting death stares from Peter and Tony anytime he moved a muscle. “The two of you stop it!” you chided, grabbing Jason’s hand and realizing it was slightly shaking. “I expect it from Mr. Father Figure but really Parker?” you quipped as he shrugged in agreement.

You could feel your aura radiate with annoyance and Peter and Tony looked taken aback. “Hey Sparky- Y/N it’s fine” Jason looked embarrassed at his use of one of his many nicknames. “Dude you use electric puns too!” Peter looked excited as he told Jason about some of his favorites. As the two bonded you groaned when Peter said “DUDE LIGHTNING MCQUEEN IS SUCH A GOOD ONE!” and went in for a high five over your embarrassment. Tony broke the bro-moment, “So Jason Todd, second Robin, heard you died. Haven’t seen you in a bit do you prefer Todd or Hood?” Jason gulped, straightening up as he squeezed your hand. “Um, Todd is fine, yeah I did and it was really hard but I have Y/N and she’s really been amazing and also yes I was Robin when I saw you a long time ago and you totally already know that but yeah” he took in a deep breath as Tony processed his answers. Turning to you he asked “and he’s nice to you? Good friend? Good lover? No ring yet right? I learned the hard way waiting too long isn’t great but you better not rush this kid” you rolled your eyes hearing the same line of questioning as always. “Tony shut the hell up” Natasha interrupted. “Look, Jason’s whole body is angled to Y/N, he’s holding her hand through the sparks and probably shocks, he hasn’t gotten angry at your dumb overprotective dad moments, and everytime one of them looks at the other they calm down a little more. They’re in love Tony leave them be.” Tony starred in silence before standing up, drawing in a breath you could feel Jason tense. “Alright then I approve. Let’s get this party started! You guys got booze?”

A couple drinks in an everyone was best friends with everyone. You and Peter weren’t of age yet so you both skipped but Tony was definitely nicer a couple drinks in, and Jason was a lot less tense even though he wasn’t drinking, determined to stay sober to answer any questions he was asked. Peter still looked like he didn’t trust Jason but you couldn’t help but grin as you watched the only father figure you’d ever had bond with your boyfriend. You finally felt like you had a family, it was perfect.

Perfect until Peter Parker got attacked.

As you frantically zapped through light posts you heard Jason on his bike behind you. Tony and Natasha didn’t want to alert the press with two of the most prominent Avengers being seen in Gotham and after a couple drinks they decided to let you and Jason take the lead. So as Red Hood and Y/H/N took to the Gotham streets after Clayface who had engulfed a terrified Peter Parker, Black Widow and Iron Man watched from above.

You zapped in front of Clayface, your skin practically sizzling. “you!” ZAP “are!” ZAP “interrupting!” ZAP “my!” ZAP “DAY!!!” you screeched, letting out all the anger and stress pent up from the day. Unfortunately, your electricity didn’t have much effect on a giant piece of dirt, so you went for keeping it’s attention while Jason fiddled with some explosives.

You zapped around the scene, being careful not to let Clayface get a hand on you for fear of him trying to engulf you too. You could barely hear Jason, cursing yourself for leaving you comm somewhere in the apartment but you could make out “Y/H/N it’s ready but Peter’s in there!” from Jason. “Shit alright I’m going in I guess!” you called, unsure if your powers would even work inside of Clayface. With a deep breath you ran straight ahead, preparing for whatever came next when a figure shoved you out of the way. Instinctively you shot into a lamp post for safety when you saw Red Hood press the button for the explosives and dive into Clayface. Once you realized he just sacrificed his life for yours appeared on the pavement screaming for Jason. Lightning cracked above you as you cried out amid the explosion. At the peak of the explosion everything you felt was too much, needing to know if Jason was okay and it Peter was still alive you felt stuck to the ground. Letting out a guttural scream you gave up trying to hold everything in. The lightning dissipated as you felt your energy connect to every current in Gotham. As the smoke cleared you saw a pile of Clay and no Red Hood and your heart snapped in half. Sinking to your knees you felt the power of every light in Gotham and it was too much. As your tears poured you needed the pain to stop, it had to stop, you’d lost everything.

And then it did. No more sparks, no more current, no more emotion, no more pain.

Your eyes fell out of focus as you stared ahead. You didn’t see two figures emerged from behind the corner of a building. Your eyes were blurry and you felt numb, unable to recognize the voice of Jason as he called out for you. Everything was quiet and muted, no buzzing from the streetlights or vibrations from cell towers, you felt disconnected, lost. Slowly blinking, thoughts of your past boyfriend jolted through you so quickly you couldn’t comprehend the fact that he was right in front of you. His voice sounded like a faint whisper calling for you. A different reality almost. You felt yourself get lifted into the air, off the ground and into someone’s embrace.

This embrace carried you home. Home. That was your apartment. With Jason. But he was gone and someone had brought you home, setting you softly on the couch.

“What the fuck happened to Y/N” Jason pleaded Tony who looked just as confused. “I think she’s in shock, maybe she didn’t have her comm in and didn’t hear the plan for rescuing Peter then dealing with Clayface?” Tony whispered as he looked at you as you stared at a wall, tears slowly cascading down your cheeks. Natasha squatted next to you, waving a hand in front of your face. “She’s in shock but we need to shock her out of it, anyone got a spark?” Tony quickly reprogrammed part of his suit to deliver a fair amount of voltage into your body. Taking a deep breath Jason just wanted to hold your hand but he knew that was not going to be safe until you woke up. As everyone stood back Tony counted down “One, Two - ”

Suddenly you felt the connection again, it jolted through you and danced on your skin, you felt the humming of the fan in your apartment. Your apartment, you were home. Home. Home is with Jason, and you could feel him next to you. Jason, was, home. Safe.

“JASON YOU IDIOT WHAT WERE YOU THINKING YOU FUCKING DIED AGAIN!” you bolted up and began wailing on his chest, shocking everyone around you at your burst of, well, energy. Without thinking Jason just pulled you into his chest, swaying slightly back and forth you melted into his grip. “Y/N baby Stark thought your comm was on like mine and we thought you knew the plan, you were making a good diversion and everything” Jason explained. “Then Parker and I come out after the big boom and you’re like completely zoned out. Like even the sky was clear, and your eyes didn’t have the little sparkle they always have, we thought you’d lost it or something” he rambled as you finally put the pieces together. Glancing up at him you whispered “so you’re okay?” and he nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily Sparky” you found comfort in the nickname that was slowly growing on you.

After a cup of tea and some relaxation you were feeling a lot better. Peter was impressed at how quickly Jason thought on his feet and that he’d put himself in danger to save him and was a lot happier with your relationship. You’d told him about Tim and how well the two nerds would get along so he tagged along with Stark who was out meeting Bruce and trying to explain why there had been an explosion and Avenger sighting in his city, and Natasha used her expertise to know it was time for you and Jason to have some alone time, so she headed out as well.

Now you were resting in Jason’s arms as he toyed with your hair. Breaking the silence you admitted “I think I severed my powers when I thought you died” and Jason looked up, his face asking you for more. Delving into some of your own truths you admitted “I always knew my powers were emotion driven. Like our kiss that one night. And I knew there was a reason that I have to keep some energy inside and reign it in, but now I know that releasing it all doesn’t explode, it makes me implode on myself. Like the energy I use is raw emotion and when I thought you were gone it hurt too much and I cut it off” you sighed, enjoying the feeling of letting it off your chest. You could’ve sworn Jason slyly wiped a tear away before pulling you in close as he too sighed. “I think you’re right Y/N but that means your powers are more interesting than we ever knew. And I know what it feels like to lose everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing for ever being the reason you felt the loss. It kills me to think of you in such pain you couldn’t feel it anymore. Because you are the strongest person I know and I know how painful it must’ve been. I’m so sorry. And I love you”

The big eight letters. They felt right. Raising your head to his you took his lips in yours, trying to convey the same words right back at him. In the moment of pure love you felt warmth envelop your entire body, unable to contain the joy. Mid-kiss you let a grin slip onto your face and you pulled away. “Jason Todd I love YOU!” you moved to throw your arms around him and as you outstretched your fingers you released some of your love into the air and suddenly everything in the room when black.

“Y/N you just shorted out the apartment building. But I love you too” You were kind of glad the lights were now off because Jason couldn’t see the furious blush that developed on your cheeks. Flopping down on to him you mused “Too many emotions for one day, I feel pretty shorted out too” and Jason hummed in agreement. As the two of your drifted off into sleep you heard him mumble:

“You better get control of these emotions I can’t be telling you I love you then having you break my toaster. I need my waffles you know” and you groaned.

“I’ll put that on the list of things to worry about. Right beneath the end of the world so pretty high up there”

“Thanks I appreciate it. Good night my lovely bolt of lightning”

“Goodnight you sappy fuck”

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stupouid · 4 years

Text

Unity (ATLA boys x reader) Chapter 1

Prologue|Chapter 1

A/N haha lets go im bored and i have lots of ideas so here’s chapter 1. Y/N meets Sokka in this one ee-ee I hope you guys like it!

Warning: unedited, like ONE curse word.

word count: 2432 words ee-ee

Y/M/N is your mom’s name

if you have any more questions you can say so in the replies or my askbox!

Omashu, Earth Kingdom

5 years later

You know how Azula said that things would run smoothly for Y/N because she was of royal blood? Well that was a fucking lie. Y/N and her father moved back to Omashu because Y/N’s mother had passed away. Y/N thought that because of her blood, she would at least get to meet her grandfather, King Bumi, but she was only met with dirty looks. After pushing countless questions onto her father as to why they were treated so badly, Y/N’s father caved in and told her the truth. The whole truth.

Y/N’s mother was an Earth Kingdom princess. Y/N was aware of that already, but what Y/N didn’t know was that her mother was disowned after her parents found out that she had a child with a fire nation nobleman. They were in the middle of a war, for spirits sake. How could the king's own daughter fraternize with the enemy? Flooded with embarrassment, Y/N’s mother suggested they leave Omashu, and Y/N’s father took Y/N and her mother to the Capital City in the fire nation so the young couple could get married and raise Y/N in peace.

Y/N thought the story was sweet. Her mother gave up a lavish life in the Earth Kingdom to live in the fire nation (basically enemy territory.) But the rest of Omashu didn’t see it that way. They thought of Y/N’s mother as a traitor, and since Y/N was her daughter, they saw the young girl as a traitor too. It didn’t help that Y/Ns father wasn’t ashamed of his fire nation bloodline. Their neighbors were convinced that the L/Ns were spies.

For the next four years of her life, Y/N lived in hell. She was severely bullied at school. She came home from school with tears in her eyes at least twice a week. Y/N was afraid to set foot anywhere near the royal palace. But she found solace in meditation. There was a large hill several blocks away from the bustling city where she sat and meditated. But all this (or at least some) came to an end when on Y/N’s 13th birthday, Mai’s father Ukano, successfully infiltrated the city. All fingers were pointed at Y/N and her father, as the recent events ultimately supported the claim that they were spies. However, they couldn’t exactly prove it and the L/Ns remained in Omashu.

Despite having even more reasons for the people of Omashu to hate Y/N, at least she wouldn’t be alone anymore. After four long years of sending letters back and forth, Y/N finally got to see one of her best friends again. (Not that Y/N didn’t ever see Ty Lee in those four years, Y/N did watch Ty Lee’s performances in the circus every once in a while) In the next year, Mai trained Y/N in throwing knives like she promised, and also taught her how to take care of Tom-Tom, along with gossiping with her about what had happened with who and what.

Y/N cried when she learned that Zuko had been banished from the Fire Nation for the past two years, and came to the conclusion that he was so focused on capturing the Avatar and regaining his honor that he never replied to her letters anymore. However, Y/N was surprised to learn that Zuko and Mai got together before said banishment. She wasn’t upset by this, as the two talked about how they were more like siblings to each other years before.

A month after Y/Ns 14th birthday, Mai and Y/N received a letter from Azula stating that she and Ty Lee would be in Omashu. Azula was forming a small, elite team to bring back Zuko and General Iroh to the fire nation. Y/N was confused as to why Azula would need a team to bring them back, but then realized that Zuko wouldn’t stop until he caught the avatar, and probably needed lots of people to convince him. Nonetheless, Y/N tagged along with Mai to reunite with Ty Lee and Azula.

Hugs were shared, gifts were given, and soon it was time for the four girls to head back to Mai’s home. Once they arrived, the female warriors learned that not only did the majority of the city’s citizens had to evacuate because of a sickness called ‘pentapox’, (which Y/N had never heard of in her life) but that Tom Tom was missing and most likely being held hostage by the Resistance. Azula was furious with Mai’s father for being so careless, and Y/N and Mai were outraged that the citizens had taken Tom Tom. Azula proposed they trade Tom Tom for King Bumi and rename the city to ‘New Ozai’ because Ukano had made a fool of himself. Despite being raised in the fire nation for more than half of her life, and the people of Omashu treating her and her father like dirt, Y/N was conflicted by Azula’s proposition. Technically, Y/N could take the throne (if it ever came to that), and this was her mother’s home. But Y/N knew better than to defy Azula in anything and stayed quiet. The four girls went to bed, mostly thinking about kicking the resistance’s asses.

Soon morning came, and the girls got ready to make the trade. The girls met with the Avatar just next to where the statue of Fire Lord Ozai would be built. Upon arriving, the fire nation girls were met with a small boy with a hat on, a beautiful looking girl water tribe girl who looked around her age, and an extremely handsome watertribe boy who had a necklace that matched hers.

“Hey! Where’d you get your necklac-” “Hi everybody!” The watertribe started to question Y/N, but was cut off by King Bumi being lowered down by a crane in a cage.

“Azula? Is that…” Y/N was amazed. This was her grandfather?

“Sadly, it is. You can go to him while I confer with the Avatar.” Azula chuckled. Y/N ran straight to her grandfather. Aang was about to protest, but Mai said, “You brought my brother?”

Aang responded with, “He’s here. We’re ready to trade.” Mai, Aang, and Azula talked to each other for a while, and in the meantime Y/N was trying to get to know her grandfather.

“K-king Bumi?” Y/N asked the old man.

“Are you asking if I’m King Bumi? Because I am. What do you want?” The old man replied. Despite being trapped in a metal case, Y/N was still intimidated by him.

“I knew your daughter. Y/M/N?” King Bumi’s face contorted, and Y/N couldn’t tell if it was out of confusion or disgust. “Y/M/N?” he stated. “Oh! Y/M/N! My daughter! Yes! It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. She moved to the fire nation, you know. Speaking of which, you look just like her! I wonder wh-” Y/N cut him off.

“She died. Four years ago. And I’m… I’m her daughter. So you’re my grandfather.” Tears were threatening to slip out of Y/N’s eyes, but Y/N wouldn’t dare let them out. She didn’t want to cry in front of Azula and the cute watertribe boy.

“Oh. What’s your name? How come I’ve never seen you before? Why have you never visited? You know, I wasn’t the one who chose to disown Y/M/N. It was your grandmother, actually.” Y/N was shocked to hear that he didn’t hate her. She started sobbing as she said,

“Y-Y/N. My n-name is Y/N. My mother s-said that after she was disowned she urged my father to move us to the fire nation. We lived there until she died, when I was 7.”

“Oh, you poor girl. How come you never visited? I would have been more than happy to let you stay!” Despite his crazy exterior, King Bumi was a kind and soft person at heart.

“I-I thought you would hate me! I-it doesn’t help that my father isn’t ashamed of being fire nation. And I’m so sorry that my friend’s father has taken over this place. I’m so sorry, King Bumi.”

“Nonsense! It isn’t your fault you lived in the fire nation, or that this place is conquered by the fire nation. I could never hate you because of your mother. I never even hated your mother. I just wish you came by the palace sometimes.”

“I wish I did too-” The cage that trapped King Bumi was being lifted up, and Y/N was cut off by King Bumi screaming “Whoaa! See you all later!” Panicking, Y/N screamed, “GRANDFATHER!” She then turned around, screaming “AZULA!”

Aang thought to himself, ‘Grandfather?’ Before screaming, “Bumi!” Aang sprinted forward, but Azula blocked his way, shooting her blue flames at him. This confused Y/N. Why was Azula shooting at him? The small kid jumped and then he suddenly had a glider. While taking out the glider, his hat fell off, exposing the light blue tattoos on his body. Astonished, Azula and Y/N shouted, “The Avatar!” Y/N was aware that the current Avatar would have to be an airbender, but to actually see him in person, especially when Zuko was supposed to see him, it was amazing! The thought of the Avatar returning was what got Y/N through the hard times in Omashu. She knew that with him around, the world would be at peace again. But Y/N realized, if that kid was the Avatar, that meant Azula was shooting at him.

Y/N just stood there, watching as Ty Lee and Mai charged at the two watertribe teens while they were escaping with Tom Tom. It was a lot for Y/N to take in, and she couldn’t decide who’s team she would be on. After hearing a crash, she turned around to see the Avatar removing the chains from King Bumi’s cage.

“It’s just like old times, isn’t it, Bumi?” she heard the Avatar say to her grandfather. ‘Old times?’ she thought, but then remembered that the Avatar had been missing for over 100 years. Y/N decided she should be on the Avatar’s side since he knew his grandfather, so she started running over to the two, before noticing that Azula was shooting several fire missiles at them. This gave Y/N another reason to be on the Avatars side, her best friend was about to kill her grandfather for spirits sake!

Y/N booked it for Aang and King Bumi. But Azula’s missiles were faster than Y/N. Luckily, Aang fought them off with his airbending. Helpless, Y/N just stood there, watching the two throw their bending at each other. She hears Mai nonchalantly say “How are you gonna fight without your bending?”, which meant that Ty Lee chi blocked the watertribe girl. Y/N heard the watertribe boy reply with “I seem to manage!” and she couldn't suppress her chuckle. Y/N turns around again to see the Avatar and Azula still fighting. She heard the Avatar shout, “Hang on, Bumi! Our ride’s here!” signalling that the two were about to leave. Y/N was not going to let the Avatar leave with her only relative on her mother’s side, not without her at least. So Y/N screamed, “AVATAR! BUMI IS MY GRANDFATHER! TAKE ME WITH YOU!”

This outraged Azula, and she started directing some of her firebending toward Y/N. But after training with Azula for many years, Y/N knew her blind spots, and dodged the fire with ease. Aang heard what Y/N had said, and decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take her with them. He figured that it wouldn’t hurt to take them, especially since she seemed to defy her friend for him. Y/N joined Aang and Bumi at the end of the chute the two were on.

“Im Y/N. Bumi’s granddaughter. And you’re the Avatar!” Y/N said, amazed. He looked much younger up close. “Were you friends with my grandfather?”

“Very close, actually. Before I disappeared. I’m Aang, and this is Momo!! It’s nice to meet you! I didn’t know Bumi had a granddaughter!” Aang replied, laughing. Y/N scratched the lemur between his ears. He was very adorable.

“I didn’t know either!” Bumi stated. The three laughed loudly. The laughter died down and there was an awkward silence, before Bumi said, “You should go. Goodbye, Aang and Y/N. Don't forget what I told you about jing! I’ll see you when the time is right.”

“What? Why! I only just met you! I can’t leave you!” Y/N interjected. She didn’t want to leave her grandfather behind.

“Just go. Y/N. I know you’ll help Aang with his mission greatly. And besides, Princess Azula doesn't seem too happy with you. Wouldn’t want to see how that turns out.” Y/N laughed. Hopefully she would see him again soon. She nodded at her grandfather and King Bumi let himself tumble backwards into the chute.

“So… I guess we’re allies now, huh?” Aang stated out of the blue.

“I guess so.” Y/N replied. “I didn’t realize that you were so young. I think I could help you guys out.” Aang nodded at this and they went to go find the two watertribe teens, Sokka and Katara.

Meanwhile, Ty Lee, Mai, and Azula were on a palanquin in the city. “So,” Mai started. “We’re tracking down your brother and Uncle now, huh?”

“It’ll be interesting seeing Zuko again, won’t it Mai? Too bad Y/N won’t be with us to see him.” Ty Lee asked Mai. The broody girl blushed at the thought of seeing Zuko again, but Azula grimaced when Ty Lee mentioned Y/N. She had saved that girl, chosen her, and she had the audacity to defy her? For some Avatar? As far as Azula knew, the Avatar was nothing more than a roadblock for Fire Lord Ozai’s plan to conquer the rest of the three nations.

“It’s not just Zuko and Iroh anymore. Since little Y/N decided to betray us for the Avatar, we have a third and fourth target now. Don’t feel bad for Y/N, by the way. If I hear you even talking positively about her, I’ll make sure your fate is the same as my brothers.”

taglist: @emberislandplayers, @eridanuswave

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classicdaisycalico · 3 years

Note

Im here for the most recent ask prompt. I didn't understand if we have to tell you a pair, but I will say #1 and #15 with shadouge

Short fic challenge

Anon I will do ANYTHING to liven up the Shadouge tag so HERE WE GO.

1. "A conversation you wish had happened in canon"

***

With the sheer brawn of Iblis and the devilish cunning of Mephiles, Solaris was the biggest challenge anyone on the side of good had yet to face. Without a doubt, the Emeralds were needed here. Sonic was needed here.

But he was dead...or so it seemed.

Elise mentioned something about sensing his presence in the wind, a sort of wishful justification that somehow the blue hedgehog was only mostly dead. Admittedly, Shadow would have been lying if he hadn't thought the same. That faker had a fighting spirit that could last as long as the ultimate life form himself could exist. Without that kind of motivation, any fight against Solaris would be for naught. Gathering the seven Chaos Emeralds, then, was the only right thing to do.

Somehow everyone had managed to pull through on this feat, and in record time, apparently. Granted, the destruction of time and space itself may have been a factor, but the speed at which the gems had been obtained was astounding, nevertheless. How ironic, Shadow thought to himself, that this process had been slower while the blue blur had been alive. Perhaps a well-timed nod to the idea after Sonic was brought back could give him the motivation to stay focused on the matter a little better.

Still, that would only happen if the revival was a success.

"Think it'll work?"

A voice next to him interrupted his train of thought. He turned and found Rouge standing at his side. "I don't see why not," he said. "The Chaos Emeralds had a hand in giving me life. They should have no issue in giving Sonic his back."

The black hedgehog couldn't help but feel his muzzle heat up when he realized how close the two of them were standing. It hadn't even been the first time the distance between them was this small. It was since that fateful day by the sea that he became more cognizant of the idea.

He remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was the same day he had been told of what was to come for him and Omega, their faithful E-series robot companion, in the future. It was that same member of Team Dark, in fact, who would betray him and seal him into stasis forever, after everyone else in the world turned against him.

Everyone except Rouge, who rescued him from stasis in Eggman's base, who saved his life on several other occasions, who had worked with him to defeat his own biological father and his alien offspring permanently. Through all the light and dark he had suffered, she had been by his side the whole time.

She would make that same point again that very day. The words echoed in his mind, over and over again, like a broken record:

"Shadow...even if you believe everyone in the world will be against you...know that I'll always be by your side. Remember that..."

He wasn't wrong when he said "I will". Until now, no one else in recent memory would stand by someone whose past was so painful, someone whose memory had been tampered with one time too many, someone who was abused to the point of distrusting everyone around him, someone whose path to recovery was like navigating a minefield. Anyone else who said this to him would have him wonder if they meant such a promise.

And yet, he believed her every word. At least, with her, he never had to doubt anything. He never had to second-guess himself. Recovering from his past never scared her away.

Shadow respected that. He respected her, and he trusted her. For him to hold anyone in such a high regard was not something that was given freely.

Still, "respect" and "trust" didn't feel like enough to describe what he felt.

He recalled a conversation long ago with Maria on the ARK, where she once explained to him the concept of love. For a 12-year old girl, her response was surprisingly mature. According to her, she knew someone loved another if they prioritized that person's else's needs before their own in times of trouble.

She was absolutely correct. Between her, Shadow, and Gerald, her definition checked off all the right boxes. Maria was family, after all; of course he and Gerald loved her.

He had also come to learn that Rouge checked off all those boxes, too. Of course, the only context Shadow knew of this kind of love was family. This bat was not family, not in the way he was used to.

But he still loved her.

He looked over at Amy, wringing her hands together while trying to hold back tears as Elise lay the Emeralds in a circle around Sonic. As much as Shadow couldn't seem to believe it, maybe the pink hedgehog was onto something. Perhaps whatever she felt for her blue hero, he felt for the spy next to him. The idea held water very well; there was probably no other way to describe it.

Elise was now lying next to Sonic in the middle of the Emeralds, which began to glow. All the while, the ultimate life form let his fingers brush against those of his ally. As it turned out, these newfound feelings had given way to something else on his mind. "Rouge."

The partner in question turned and faced him. "Yes?"

"He can't fight this alone."

She blinked, feeling his hand grasp hers. "What are you saying?"

"Solaris may well be the biggest threat we've ever seen. Sonic cannot face it alone."

Rouge's eyes widened. "So you're joining him?"

"Silver, too," Shadow replied. "And even among the three of us, our efforts may not be enough."

The Emeralds were floating now, revolving around Sonic's body. Only one scenario involved the gems acting this way. If he was to help the faker, this was the way to do it, but before he could join him, there was one last thing left to do.

He turned to face Rouge. "People may die tonight," he answered. "And if I should be one of them–"

"Shadow, we know that's impossible–"

"If I should be one of them..." he resumed, harshly, before taking a calmer breath to compose himself. "You said you would stay by my side no matter what. Is that right?"

She nodded slowly. "Absolutely."

He took another slow breath, reaching for the limiters on his wrists. "If I should live after this battle...find me."

He removed them, while Rouge could only watch in dismay. "Shadow–"

He urgently placed the limiters in her hands. "Find me," he repeated, and sighed, shaking his head. "If only I told you sooner..."

There was a sternness in her voice now as she heard the serious tone in his. "Tell me what?"

Looking at her, Shadow could see up close just how many small features of her he never paid attention to, like how her snow-white hair curled slightly at the ends. Like how her eyes were a perfect mixture of blue and green. Like how her skin somehow miraculously remained untouched by battle scars no matter how many fights she found herself in.

He chose to set himself up for this. There was no turning back now. Taking one last look at his ally, the hedgehog shut his eyes and pressed his lips to hers.

He could feel her gasp in surprise, but that was irrelevant. What mattered was that she needed to know how he felt about her before it was too late.

Before he knew it, the spy was kissing him back. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, reassured that her feelings were mutual. After all, her promise was as good as binding. Was that not a declaration of love by itself?

On any other occasion, he would have gladly taken his time with this kiss. He could have deepened it, ran his fingers through her hair, lightly stroked her velvety wings, let his hands venture down her back and along her hips and up again, mold the sharp edges of his own figure into the softer curves of hers until there was no space between them at all. Call it the territorial instincts of his Black Arms DNA, perhaps.

Take that, Knuckles.

But there was still a war going on, and he still had a role in it.

They pulled away as slowly as time would allow, their eyes only half open and gazing longingly into the other's. Their foreheads were still touching, along with the tips of their noses. One of his hands still clung to hers, fingers laced together. He could hear her taking slow, steady breaths, stark contrast to the rapid pulse of her heart. Who could blame her? She was caught horrendously off-guard. "What did you want to tell me, Shadow?"

He wanted to tell her. Badly. But all he could do was gently nuzzle the side of her face. "There's no time."

"You can't just–"

Rouge found herself holding Shadow's limiters against her chest, but there was no Shadow standing in front of her. Instead, she looked up and saw him slowly backing away, the ghost of regret clouding his eyes. "What are you doing?"

He shook his head, feeling a part of his heart ache as the distance between them increased. "I'm sorry."

The ultimate life form turned on his heel and ran towards the Chaos Emeralds, now rapidly rotating around Sonic. His only focus now was joining the blue blur and destroying Solaris for good.

He had to survive. Only then, could he find his ally and let her know the three words that echoed through his mind, but never found the right time and place to say out loud:

"I love you."

***

OKAY NOW FOR THE OTHER ONE LET'S DO THIS

***

15. "The scene that will give you, personally, the most joy."

***

The sun was going down, illuminating the sky with brilliant shades of orange and gold fading into red. Dusk would soon be near, which meant nightfall was not far behind.

Being a bat, a night creature, Rouge thrived during this time of day. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't slow down and appreciate the beauty that this sunset had to offer. It almost made her forget the rest of her surroundings, like the tree attached to the thick branch on which she stood.

Upon suddenly seeing Shadow pop up next to her, she yelped in shock. "Don't do that! You scared me half to death!"

"Rouge, I have a question."

There it was, the perfect opportunity to ask her about what was on his mind, about how it was always around Rouge that he found himself trying to keep a cool head a little more than needed. It was her that made his face flush a deeper red than the streaks in his quills. It was her who made his heart beat faster than he could run. It was her that caught every man's eye in a way so tantalizing that he felt a need to tell them all to back off.

Tantalizing...like the many gems she chased after. Her eyes were like turquoise, her lips like amethyst, her black catsuit like onyx, her hair like pearls. Who was she to talk about the mysterious brilliance of a Chaos Emerald when she herself was right there before his eyes? And just like a diamond, her personality was just as multifaceted. On one hand, she appeared cold and cruel, calculating and cunning. On the other, she showed a caring and compassionate side, a side she showed to no one else but him. She was everything a jewel could ever be: hard to find and even harder to obtain, but so beautiful one couldn't help but get drawn in.

In fact, he'd been drawn in for so long, he nearly forgot he had a question to ask. "...When was the last time you ever really got to see the world?"

The bat was slightly taken aback by this question. "I–"

"And not because of some jewel heist, either. I mean...REALLY seeing the world."

She sat down on the tree branch, now much deeper in thought. "I...don't know. Probably...never? Why?"

The hedgehog sat down next to her. "Because it's come to my attention that I never have, either." He smoothed some stray quills back, a tell-tale sign of the nervousness he harbored around her. "To be honest...I was wondering–"

"Of course I'll come with you."

He froze. "How did you know?"

She shrugged. "Lucky guess. Besides," she added, reaching for his hand. "It's what she would have wanted for you. Besides, with Eggy out of commission for good, you've got nothing but time to do it."

He knew immediately which "she" the spy referred to: Maria, his surrogate sister from long ago, whose wish to see the world had never been realized. He also knew Rouge wasn't wrong about Eggman, either. He was gone. Completely. Nothing could restrain Shadow, limit him, make him doubt himself and his decisions.

He was, for all intents and purposes...free. And Rouge wanted to fly in that freedom with him. She helped him find it, after all.

A smile slowly spread across his face. "Then why wait?"

He grabbed her wrist, ready to venture forth, until he realized what was under her hand was not her wrist. It felt loose. Round. Like a piece of jewelry, no doubt. "Rouge...what is that?"

The ultimate life form could see her pause, her muzzle turning bright pink as she searched for words. "...It was from a long time ago," she answered. "I meant to tell you earlier today, but I forgot."

He tilted his head to the side. "Care to show me?"

She took a deep breath, and slowly slid down part of her glove from her elbow down to her wrist. He gasped as he realized what it was he felt: on her wrist was one of his inhibitor rings. "Is that–"

"Yeah," she answered, sheepishly, trying to avoid his eyes.

"How...?" was all he could ask. "When did you–"

"Since the ARK. When you fell from space back down to Mobius. Sonic found it...he gave it to me when I asked you where you went."

The bat looked back up. "Everyone thought you were dead, but something told me I would find you again...and I did. But you lost your memory, and between all those androids, and the Black Arms, and Gemerl, and even beyond that..."

Her voice trailed off. She almost sounded shameful when she explained it, but Shadow didn't care. He could only stare back at her in wonder. "You wore it this whole time?"

She nodded. "I'd say it's more important than any jewel I've ever found. I value it."

The bat looked up at the hedgehog, the uncertainty in her eyes dissipating. "And I value the hedgehog that came with it just as much, if not more."

He was speechless. Even if she didn't say the exact words he expected her to, her intent was clear: she loved him.

And his feelings were certainly more than mutual. "Rouge...I–"

He was cut off when she reached up to kiss him. This wasn't just a flirty little peck on the cheek, however. This was a real kiss, one that represented all the pent-up passion and emotion finally coming out.

It was here that Shadow realized Rouge was not completely jewel-like. Jewels were hard, but her lips were soft against his. Jewels were angular and severe, nothing like the gentle curve of her waist. Jewels were sharp, unlike the smoothness of her skin and her hair.

No. There was not a single gem on the planet that could replicate this.

They broke apart almost reluctantly, but nothing could stop them from smiling. It was an unusual feeling for Shadow to experience, but it made sense that it was Rouge alone who could make it feel less strange.

He felt the spy nuzzle against his shoulder. "Where to now, ally?"

The hedgehog couldn't help chuckling. He called her "ally" as far back as when they found Emerl. It was the closest thing to a nickname he was comfortable calling her. "You're more familiar with this world than I am. You tell me."

She looked back up at him. "I hear Spagonia is nice this time of year. Might take us a while to get there, though..."

"Are you sure?" He reached from behind his quills and brought out a Chaos Emerald. "Just in time to watch the sunrise."

His hold around her waist secured itself further. "Ready when you are."

She was grinning from ear to ear. "Let's get moving."

He held up the Emerald in the air, effortlessly uttering the words, "Chaos Control!"

Together, in a brilliant flash of light, they disappeared as the sun sank down over the horizon, awaiting a new day in Spagonia, a new day that would usher in a new era in their lives, one full of adventure, freedom, and most importantly, one where they finally found peace.

#melissa writes #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #shadouge #my sonic series otp #Anon i'm so sorry for taking so long #writing these prompts down and getting ideas and whatnot took longer than i wanted #but i hope you like these!#also HI I'M STILL TAKING WRITING PROMPTS!!!!!#ask away!#now back to my regularly scheduled blogging

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passable-talent · 4 years

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self indulgent niche hayden christensen character x male reader has returned!!!

this time, featuring Jacob from Outcast (2014). it was a bad movie. I loved it so much.

dedicated, as always, to @haydens-moles - i know this wasn’t the one u asked for but i hope its close enough. i did try to showcase what he’s been doing before getting into the x reader stuff. this popped into my head and i had to write it. im sorry about it and ily 🥺

i did not expect this to be THIS long. its not awful but like. long, for what i usually do

tw: war, homophobia (briefly in the beginning), scars, wounds, sword fighting, death of unnamed characters, arrow wound

All this death.

All this death surrounded you, you welcomed it into your home. Your mother, the honorable queen, had opened the palace grounds to the war-torn soldiers, and you, their noble prince, walked among them.

You spoke to the soldiers about the war, thanked them for their sacrifice. You walked among them, empathizing with their pain, fetching them water or food or a nurse when they asked.

Your heart broke for them, every one of them. They clearly believed in the crusade, believed in the mission of their king and their god... their hearts would break in turn if they discovered you believed in neither.

How could a bloody, violent, evil war be fought for a benevolent god? How could a fair king order his men to their deaths?

You adjusted the crown you wore and walked from the main-hall-turned-medical-bay, hoping to find your father. He had grown weary with you in the recent years, your unwillingness to find a princess and your disapproval of his politics, but maybe he’d listen to you about the safety of your people. Maybe, he’d realize that you took your crown seriously, even if you didn’t intend to wear it the way that he wanted you to. After all, you were his only suitable heir- he was well into his old age, and if he intended to replace you with your brother, he’d have to wait years until the toddler was old enough to rule. You were his only choice.

You neared the entrance into your father’s throne room, but heard his voice echoing without it, and so paused just beyond the doorframe to listen.

“I will have no soft-hearted, peace-mongering pansy on my throne! That will not be my legacy!”

You knew your father’s opinions of you. You never, until this moment, realized how deeply they ran.

This war, this country. Even if one day you could gain control and stop it all, they would still never respect you. Never. You saw it now- and you saw what you needed to do.

The thought of running away was not a new one. You had, for years, considered it, weighed the likeliness. You knew you’d survive, being trained in hunting, combat, all of it, by Gallain, a noble knight. You had been trained alongside Jacob, who was both your personal knight and your best friend.

And, something more.

You often went to him whenever you felt like running away, and he always convinced you to stay, assuring you of your nobility and royalty. But Jacob disappeared years ago, without even a goodbye, so on that day you had no such guidance.

With your sword, your bow and arrow, and as much gold as you could carry, you disappeared with your horse into the countryside.

“Something must be done,” said a nobleman, a lord, commanding the center of a tavern.

“I agree,” said another, portly belly pressing against the table in front of him, “But he’s bested my guards. What can be done?”

“He’s a thieving, murderous boy who takes more than he can carry. Surely he can be bested by just a few more guards.”

“No, Estevan- he cuts through men like no knight I’ve ever seen. He’s terrifying. My wife is worried for our children, should he return.”

Jacob wasn’t one to push into conversations to which he wasn’t invited, but this did seem to be his specialty. He was still a nomad, still an outcast, but now his tavern interests were less opium and more noble assistance to those who needed it.

“Excuse me,” he said, looking up from the booth he’d been seated in, “but who might be causing you lot so much trouble?” The collection of noblemen looked at him, various expressions of disbelief and incredulousness gracing their faces.

“You don’t know of the Dark Prince?”

Jacob let his eyes narrow briefly as he considered the nickname against all he’d known as a knight, as well as all he’d learned as an outcast.

“I don’t.”

The man who had been referred to as ‘Estevan’ let out an obnoxious laugh.

“Boy, come along, to my estate,” he said, giving his friends little cheeky glances. “I’ve strengthened my guard, as I’m expecting an attempt at a thievery tonight. If you best him, I’ll pay you handsomely.”

Clearly, these idiotic men had never heard of Jacob, the Outcast.

Well, Jacob the Outcast had never heard of you.

In the three years since you’d fled your kingdom, you’d created quite a name for yourself. Your first move had been taking some of the money you swiped from your father and commissioning a crown- one made of black tungsten, with none of the engravings or jewels that had once been your royal right. You wanted smooth, reflective metal, curling around your temples and into short, sharp spikes.

You wore it whenever you weren’t alone, which was nearly all the time. You wore it when you travelled, even under your large hood; you wore it when you fought. And yes, you wore it when you stole.

Jacob followed Estevan to his estate and watched from afar while the guards he’d hired stood watch. He was hidden, and kept watch over the whole of the estate, wondering if he’d catch a glimpse of this Dark Prince.

He was glad he’d chosen to hide, as the skies opened up upon the earth, and he kept semi-dry underneath the leaves of the tree he’d perched within. The guards, walking the length of an exterior wall, had no such refuge from the storm.

He did not notice the black-cloaked figure until it was illuminated by the torchlight. You had no sword drawn to catch the light until you were upon the guards, and the two of them fell to you without so much as a sound.

Jacob, curious, kept his eyes on you as you broke through the wall, having made a hole between the guards’ patrols. He knew that he could easily take you down with a single arrow, but he wanted to see how this would end.

Would you cut through guards, as one of the noblemen had suggested? Why were you attempting this theft when you had to have known you were expected here? Would you succeed?

You entered the home silently, taking stock of your location. You’d received a bit of insider information from one of Estevan’s servants as to the location of his gold, and made a direct route to it.

Gold, as you well know, is one of the heaviest substances on earth. But you were much stronger than you’d been as a prince only trained out of tradition, and not for any true purpose. You were strong enough to carry enough gold to buy a kingdom, and still fight your way out of here.

Today, you would be modest. You only needed to feed a village, a few pounds was plenty. Why take what you didn’t need?

The guards were none the wiser until you made your escape, attempting to break once again through their wall to flee into the surrounding forest. You brought the whole lot of them down upon you, and Jacob relaxed against the tree, assured that you would certainly be brought to justice by the ten guards that you now face.

Yet, you weren’t. You weren’t even harmed. Large hood still hiding your crown and your face, you bled through them, some receiving a strike to the legs to put them on the ground, others struck over the head with the hilt of your sword. You had gone through the whole of them without much of an issue, and walked at not much of a worried pace toward the forest.

Well, if there was a time for Jacob to intervene, now was it. Nothing else stood in your way.

He pulled an arrow and notched it to the drawstring, lifting it to his face. Even in the rain, at this distance, he would make the shot.

No more than three seconds later, you took an arrow to the shoulder.

There was pain, yes. It shocked you into stumbling forward, the sudden motion throwing your hood back and exposing your face. But you’d had your fair share of pain, and more pressing was the confusion- Estevan Perrero hired no archers. There shouldn’t have been any on his property, let alone one who could hit you at this range.

Against your better judgement, you turned, glancing back at the estate you had just removed a few pounds of gold from, and scanned its walls. There were no archers in sight, so you righted your hood and hurried on, disappearing into the forest, showing little care for the arrow you now carried in your shoulder. You knew better than to attempt to remove it.

Jacob threw himself from the tree and gave chase. He couldn’t let you get far- it would be hard to track you in this rain, and he needed to find you.

He had to find this Dark Prince- because it couldn’t possibly be the young prince he’d once loved and protected, all that time ago. It had to have been a trick of the light, or the rain, it couldn’t- this hardened, scarred, skilled thief couldn’t possibly be the compassionate prince whose nightmares he’d once soothed.

He followed you through the forests, to a trade road that lead to a nearby village. You traveled in the rain all through the night until you reached a village, just before dawn, and he followed, far enough behind that you didn’t notice him.

Then, you carefully removed your bag from your shoulder, avoiding the arrow. You distributed the gold among the people, and though they thanked you tremendously, you waved away their offers of repayment upon the condition that you were given somewhere to sleep, and heal.

You were allowed a room in a tavern, the biggest one available. Only once the door had closed did you allow yourself to rest, letting your shoulders fall, your eyes close.

You were so tired.

With one hand, you removed your black crown, regarding it with sorrow-filled eyes. Then, you reached over your shoulder and let your fingers frame the arrow; it was wedged deep into your flesh, and all of the surrounding fabric was soaked through with blood. It needed to be removed, but you couldn’t get a good angle on it, not one comfortable enough to yank it out cleanly. And a clean yank was instrumental- if the arrowhead was left behind, you’d all but lose the arm.

You felt a little bit of panic grip your stomach, as you didn’t know how you’d remove it, and once one emotion broke through to your mind, many followed. You felt your throat close up, fighting against the past you’d left behind, the people you’ve abandoned, all of the killing and the stealing.

“Need help with that?” said a voice behind you, and you quickly sucked up your emotions to whirl around. Had you really forgotten to lock the door?

Any number of quips and comebacks came to mind, but as quickly as they appeared, they faded- you didn’t realize the man who’d regarded you was Jacob.

A thousand feelings flittered through you at the sight of him. He was just as beautiful as you remembered, and he looked at you just as kindly. But you couldn’t push aside how he’d abandoned you without as much as a goodbye. And now- what was he doing here?

Still, you could trust his hands. So you nodded, wordlessly, and turned, gripping onto the table in front of you to make sure your muscles would stay in place as he pulled.

He approached you carefully, as though advancing toward a wild animal, you could hear it in his gait on the squeaky floorboards. He took one hand to the center of your back, then sliding it to the side to frame the arrow with two fingers on either side. He made a small noise as he touched you- you wondered if he was worried for the wound, or surprised by the muscle that had never been there when he’d known you.

“Don’t tense,” he said, and you gave a little scoff. Obviously, you thought to yourself, but that was certainly easier said than done. Without warning he pulled, tearing the arrow from your flesh. You let out a roar, your body falling forward, your uninjured arm barely keeping you from falling flat onto the table. Heaving, agonized breaths took control of your body until the pain ebbed, and you swallowed hard.

“Sorry,” Jacob said, glad he had used a light arrowhead that hadn’t gone deep, and was fairly easy to remove, “I wouldn’t have shot if I knew it was you.” You turned to him, surprised, narrowing your eyes.

“It was you?” You repeated, then turned your eyes to the floor, weighing what that revelation meant. “So then- you followed me? What, have you been hired to arrest me? These people need that gold, you can’t take it back from them!” Jacob shook his head with the slightest of a smile, holding up a hand.

“No, nothing like that,” he said, “I was supposed to stop a theft, but when I saw you-” His gaze raked down your body and back up again. “I never expected to see you so far from home. And so different.” Maybe it was meant to be sweet, but it still stung your heart that he had left you, when he disappeared to wherever he’d gone, some five years ago. Any fondness you felt for him was soured by that.

“I wasn’t too much different, until you shot me,” you said dryly, ”Make it up to me, Jacob, help me dress the wound. That’ll be your first step.” You turned from him and began shedding layers, blood soaked as they were, and laying them over the single chair in the room.

“My first step toward what?” He asked, and you paused, your last layer halfway up your torso, looking away from him.

“Toward letting me forgive you.” With your grim tone, he dropped his queries, waiting for you to completely bare your torso. He searched into his own bag to find a roll of bandage.

You waited, looking over your shoulder at him as he dug through his belongings, and then turned his attention to you. You looked away when he grew closer, closing your eyes against his touch. His hands were exactly as you remembered them- calloused, rough, warm. For a moment before he began giving attention to your renewed wound, he let his fingers trace over the scars that littered you.

“I used to know your body better than any map,” he breathed, running the pad of his finger down the long scar you’d received when your path crossed with an overzealous Mongol, “but it seems like you’ve carved yourself an entirely new terrain.” You swallowed hard as he began wrapping the bandage around your shoulder and torso, gathering your wits to make a response.

“Well, such a thing does happen, when you disappear for five years.” You let him guide your limbs as he dressed the wound, your gaze low, breathing as evenly as you could force yourself to.

“Where have you been?” you asked him, and if you hadn’t known him since childhood, you wouldn’t have picked up on it- but with his little exhale, you heard him smile.

“I spent a few years in the far east, in an opium-stupor,” he said, his fingers just as gentle as they’d ever been, at least when he handled you. “But after Gallain died, I’ve been travelling the world, offering my services anywhere I thought I could do some good. That was why I thought I’d be stopping a theft today.” There was so much to take in, but you couldn’t help but think of your old mentor.

“I’d heard Gallain passed. I’m sorry.” Jacob stiffened, just for a moment, and regardless of the brevity, you felt him do it. No matter how you tried to convince yourself you were holding him away from you, your heart still ached at the thought of the grief he must have felt.

“What’s happened to you, all this time?” He asked, pulling the attention away from himself as he tucked the length of the bandage under itself, your wound completely covered.

You had known the question was coming- it was inevitable. And still, you had to think about your answer. You didn’t want to admit the awful things you’d done, not to him.

“My father was never going to let me be king,” you said with a bit of a pitiful smile, pulling your tunic over yourself again, “You knew that, didn’t you?” Jacob let out a heavy breath, shaking his head.

“I knew he didn’t approve of your politics,” he said, and bit his lip before he added “of us.” You shut your eyes briefly, knowing it was better than seeing whatever expression he had at those two words. Did he miss you? Did he regret being with you? Did he regret leaving you?

“But I never thought he’d cast you out.”

“He didn’t,” you corrected him, lifting your chin before opening your eyes. “I didn’t give him the chance. I left.” Jacob narrowed his eyes briefly, considering what you were saying, and you took the break in the conversation to take a seat on the bed.

“How long ago?”

You caught his eye, and now that he stood above you, you felt almost ashamed of your actions, of the consequences they must’ve had on the people you cared about. Your poor little brother.

“Three years.”

Jacob shook his head, but didn’t say anything. Neither of you looked at the other, and neither said a thing. You looked out the window, seeing the sky grow lighter with the early morning.

“Jacob, I need-” you swallowed harshly, “I have to sleep.” He only let out a laugh, a smile sprouting on his face again.

“Me too,” he said, and after a moment of deep thinking, turned toward the door of the room.

“Jacob,” you said, making him pause, and turn back to you. Now that you had his attention, you couldn’t back down- but you took an instant longer to gather your courage. “You can stay,” you said, and it took you right back to when you’d said those very same words to him for the first time, when he was your knight, before he was a crusader, and you just a young teenaged prince.

If you could assume from the fondness, affection, and longing that warmed his face, he was remembering the same thing.

-🦌 Roe

#jacob #outcast #outcast 2014 #jacob outcast #hayden christensen #nicholas cage #anakin skywalker #x reader #jacob x reader #jacob outcast x reader #jacob x male!reader #x male!reader

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

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Just Like a Woman - Part 12

A Roger Taylor x Reader Story

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 3.1k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @rrogerchxrm, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronewritesthedust1, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @nixfreak, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace, @itsabenthing, @bookandband, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife, @grazessa, @borhapqueen92, @theonsasheart, @vektorivittu, @chanti-frn, @brianssixpence, @dancingcoolcat, @xviiarez, @irepookie, @lnnuend0, @rogerxmeddows, @vici-xx, @bellas2silly,@rogerrhqpsody If you’d like to be added for the epilogue, let me know!

A/N: THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER! However, there WILL be an epilogue, so it’s not quite over yet!

Warning(s): None!

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

Part 12 here we go!!!

Two weeks passed. The sentencing was equally as satisfying as the trial. Sully was hit with ten years in prison, but would not be eligible for parole until after serving at least five. You were sure they would appeal, but for now, he was going to be off the streets and Dominique had secured her justice. It made your entire career in law up until this point worth it.

After the sentencing, Bill called you into his office. You were nervous about it because usually he didn’t have private meetings unless it was serious. You swallowed before walking in.

“Y/N,” he greeted you. “Thanks for coming up. I know you’re busy.”

“No problem,” you replied. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you for handling this case,” he said. “You took it on with no experience. You also overcame your own hurt to take on Roger’s divorce. You’ve proven just how valuable you are to this firm these past months.”

You blinked, surprised by the flattery.

“Well, I - um - thank you,” you said. “What’s brought this on?”

“We’re growing as a firm,” he said. “And with John retiring, I’ve got to start thinking about his replacement.”

John was the other senior partner. He was Bill’s professor, and they began the firm together. Your stomach jolted. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

He twirled his pen between his fingers and glanced down at a packet of papers on his desk.

“This is a new contract for employment,” he said. “For you. To become a partner.”

“A senior partner?” you questioned.

He smiled. “Just partner for now. But that is the track I see for you.”

You almost squirmed in your seat with joy. To become a partner was a dream of yours. To be on track for senior partner was even more pleasing to hear.

“What do you say?” he asked. “We’re a good team. You deserve to help me run this place, especially after what you’ve recently accomplished.”

A smile spread across your face.

“I say hell yes,” you told him, beaming.

“Wonderful,” he replied. “If you read the contract, you’ll see your salary increase.”

You reached out and picked up the packet. You scanned the first page until you found the number. Your stomach did a flip at the offer and your eyes went wide.

“What?!”

He smirked. “That’s just a little less than I make. I thought that was fair considering how great an attorney you are.”

“That’s a lot of money!”

“Nothing that you don’t deserve.”

You put the papers in your lap and looked at him with your mouth hanging open.

“This is incredible, Bill,” you said earnestly. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he returned. “I’m looking forward to this.”

Feeling completely elated, you signed the papers. Afterward, you called Roger to tell him the good news.

“A partner?!” he gasped. “Y/N, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

“Thank you, sweetie!” you replied. “I just can’t believe it! I mean, Bill did so much of the work for Dominique’s case, and he guided me through all of it, so I was just really shocked! But I’m excited I can hardly stand it!”

“Tell you what, this calls for celebration,” he said. “How about I take you to a special lunch tomorrow and we can toast to your promotion?”

“I’d love that,” you told him.

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight, love.”

“See you tonight.”

You hung up and giggled to yourself. You could barely contain your emotion. Everything was coming together, like Roger said. You were looking forward to your future with him, and your promising career as a partner.

The next day, Jane came into your office first thing in the morning.

“Y/N, Miss -” she began, but Miss Thomas swept by her and marched into your office.

“Miss Thomas needs to see you,” Jane finished, shooting the woman an annoyed glare.

“Yes, Jane, I can see that,” you sighed. “You may go.”

She nodded and closed the door. You looked at Miss Thomas.

“Lucy, how can I help you?” you asked.

“I need you to help my father with his wrongful termination suit,” she said, swinging her hair behind her shoulder.

“Okay, what does he do?” you asked.

“He’s a primary school teacher,” she said.

“And why was he fired?” you wondered.

“Because he believes he’s Santa Claus,” she told you simply.

You blinked. “I - I’m sorry?”

“He told the children that he’s Santa - which he believes - so the headmaster fired him,” she went on. “It’s completely unfair. What, just because he’s Santa means he doesn’t have a right to work?”

“You do know that he’s not really Santa Claus, right?” you asked slowly, shock still coming over you.

“There’s no way to prove that he isn’t, really,” she said with a shrug. “Whether he is or not isn’t for me to decide. The point is, he shouldn’t be fired for it.”

“When’s the court date?” you asked, ignoring the ridiculousness of it.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “Can you meet with him today?”

Your eyes went wide. “Tomorrow?! Why am I only just learning about this?!”

“He had another lawyer, but he was terrible so I fired him,” she answered. “You’re the best lawyer I know, so I came to you.”

“I can meet with him today, but it’ll have to be over lunch,” you said with a sigh. “I’m booked the rest of the day.”

“Great, I’ll see you at noon,” she chirped.

She stood up, turned on her heel and sauntered out of your office. You heaved another sigh. You had so been looking forward to your lunch with Roger, but now you were going to have to call and cancel. But as you picked up the phone, you heard the now familiar laugh of the little boy. You whipped around and spotted him crawling beneath the window behind your desk.

“What are you doing down there?” you wondered, smiling at him.

You had seen him at least once a day for the past two weeks. You told only Roger, who insisted you see a psychiatrist. Or maybe even a neurologist. You refused because going to the doctor was your absolute least favorite thing to do and you were certain the visions would stop. Only, they weren’t. You were beginning to consider Roger’s idea. Especially now that you were talking to him.

He only giggled before disappearing as he always did. You shook your head, amused. Then you dialed Roger. The phone rang, and as it did, you got an idea.

“Hello?” Roger’s voice came through on the other end.

“Rog?”

“Yes, love?”

“Could you meet me at my office for lunch today instead of the restaurant?” you requested. “I’m meeting a last minute client and I could use your help.”

“Really?” he questioned. “Sounds odd. And what about our celebration?”

“It’s Miss Thomas’s father,” you told him. “Can we celebrate tonight instead?”

“I can’t imagine what he’s like,” he said with a chuckle. “Of course we can celebrate tonight. I’ll change the reservation.

“Thank you so much,” you replied. “Get here around noon, yeah?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Love you!”

“Love you more.”

You hung up, humming contentedly.

He made good on his promise. In fact, Roger arrived before Miss Thomas and her father. You explained to Roger what she had told you that morning, but didn’t tell him the vital question you were going to ask.

Miss Thomas entered your office, accompanied by the kindest looking elderly man you had ever seen in your life. You wondered how he could have fathered someone like her. He was round, with cherry red cheeks, and a jolly smile. He wore a black peacoat, but you could see the red trousers beneath it. On his feet were black boots. Atop his silvery white mane of hair, he wore a red Santa hat. As he made his way through the office, he wished everyone a happy Christmas. Until finally, he was at your door.

“Mr. Claus,” you said respectfully. “Thank you for taking time to see me today.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he replied. “This whole business is really throwing off my schedule. And this is a very busy time of year for me.”

“I imagine so,” you returned. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” he said kindly, and he sat in a chair across from your desk.

“Tell me a little bit about your case,” you said.

“Well, for most of the year, I teach primary school,” he explained. “But of course, the closer the holidays get, the busier I get. So, I told the children this and why I was so busy, and then some parents got upset and the next thing I knew, I was fired.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “Well, we’re going to try and get you your job back, sir. Only, we have to prove that what you’re saying isn’t proof of diminished capacity, which is what the headmaster is claiming.”

“I don’t understand all these legal terms,” he said with a shrug. “I just know that after delivering the presents this year, I won’t have the usual children to look forward to.”

“Mr. Claus, have you ever seen this man before?” you asked, pointing to Roger.

Mr. Thomas laughed heartily. “Well, of course I have! But not since he was a boy! How are you, Roger?”

“Um...fine?”

Roger raised a concerned eyebrow at you. He clearly had never actually met this man in his life.

“Mr. Claus, do you know Mr. Taylor from his band, Queen?” you asked.

Mr. Thomas shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Roger stopped writing to me when he was ten, and of course with all the new children, we lost touch.”

“Mr. Claus, how many children does Roger have?” you asked.

“Why, he’s got two!” Mr. Thomas said excitedly. “Little Felix and baby Rory. Both very good children who will be getting sweets in their stockings this year!”

Roger’s eyes went wide as an owl’s. He looked over at you again.

“I’ve never shared my children’s names publicly,” he said. “Ever.”

“And of course, there’ll be another next year, though he hasn’t got a name yet,” Mr. Thomas added with a twinkle in his eye.

You froze as you absorbed those words.

“I...I’m sorry, what?” you squeaked with shock.

Miss Thomas looked at you like you were an idiot.

“You’re pregnant, Y/N, didn’t you know?” she snapped.

“How could I possibly know, I haven’t even missed a period!” you protested.

You looked desperately at Roger. The color had drained from his face. You gaped at each other, in complete disbelief.

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” Mr. Thomas said. “Your son?”

“M-my son?” you sputtered.

Was that the little boy you were seeing? Was that why he resembled Roger with that little piece of you?

Mr. Thomas’s eyes sparkled again as he winked at you.

“I...I have been seeing a boy, but I didn’t…” you trailed off, brain muddled with everything you were experiencing.

“He’s trying to get your attention, Y/N,” Mr. Thomas said. “Have you spoken to him?”

“I’ve tried, but he always disappears,” you admitted, unsure what made you comfortable enough to say it.

“He’s telling you he’s on the way,” he continued. “You ought to schedule an appointment with your doctor.”

You still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. You had no anticipated Mr. Thomas knowing about Roger’s children, much less the one that might exist in the future. And yet, to think that you might be carrying Roger’s son made you happier than you could recall feeling in years.

“Mr. Thomas, I will take your case,” you finally said.

“Hold on, this must be a trick,” Roger interjected. “I’m famous, he could have known -”

“Not if you’ve never shared their names,” you cut across him.

“What if he’s a journalist who could somehow gain access to -”

“Roger, he’s a schoolteacher,” you interrupted again. Then you looked at Mr. Thomas. “And so much more.”

You smiled at him, which he returned. Roger was still struggling.

“This is crazy,” he said. “It’s absolutely mad.”

“There’s only one way to be sure,” you said.

You had Jane schedule you a doctor’s appointment that afternoon. An at-home pregnancy test would not do for this occasion. Roger insisted on coming with you, so before you knew it, you were sitting on an exam table, swinging your legs with anxiety. Roger was pacing in front of you. The results of this would mean Mr. Thomas was telling the truth, but it meant even more for you and Roger.

“Rog, if we are pregnant,” you began with a sigh. “What...what would you like to do about it?”

He looked at you and his brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

Tears started to well up in your eyes. “I mean, would you want to keep it, or…?”

“Oh, my love,” he said gently, striding over to pull you into a hug. “Of course I want to keep it. It’s our child.”

“I know, but we’ve only just got back together, and we aren’t married,” you went on.

“Would you like to be?” he asked.

You blinked. “What?”

“Married,” he said. “Do you want to get married?”

“Is this a proposal?” you returned.

“It might be,” he replied.

You frowned. “Roger, I don’t want to get married just because there might be a child. I want you to marry me only if you really want to marry me. And if you are going to propose, it can’t be in a bloody doctor’s office.”

He chuckled. “Don’t get upset, it was just a way to start the discussion.”

A beat passed and he became serious again.

“Y/N, I want to marry you because I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone,” he said. “The only thing more foolish than getting married would be not getting married because we have wasted so much time already.”

Your mouth began to fall open as you looked at him.

“And no, this isn’t an official proposal,” he said. “I know the one you’ve always dreamed of. But this is where my heart is and I want you to know - I’d marry you right this fucking second, baby or no baby.”

“Rog, I -” you began, but then the doctor walked in.

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, it looks like you are pregnant,” she said.

The words washed over you. Pregnant. With Roger’s baby. The dream you had always wanted since before you even knew who you were.

“I...I am?” you asked. “Are you sure?”

She chuckled and then turned the paper in her hand to show you.

“I’m sure,” she said. “How did you know if you hadn’t missed a period?”

You looked between her and Roger, scrambling for an answer.

“Father Christmas told us,” he said simply.

She blinked and looked at him like she hadn’t heard him right. “Father...Christmas?”

He nodded. “Father Christmas.”

“Well, I can’t exactly argue with that, can I?” she teased, smiling again. “So, we should start you on a few things to keep you and your baby healthy…”

She went on, and you tried to pay attention, but the only thing you could think of was the life you now knew existed within you. You looked down at your stomach, thinking of how it would look in nine months. You were having a baby. With the man of your dreams. You looked up at Roger, who was listening intently to the doctor. You were so grateful that you had found him again, you felt your eyes get warm with tears.

“Y/N?” the doctor said, looking at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Yeah, um, could we just have a minute?” you choked out.

“Of course,” she agreed. “Just call me if you need anything.”

She stepped out of the room and you looked at Roger through your tears. A shaky smile formed across your lips as you met his gaze.

“We’re having a baby!” you sobbed.

You slid off the exam table and threw yourself into his arms. He laughed as he caught you. Giving you a squeeze, he closed his eyes to the feeling of you against him. This was everything he had ever wanted as well. To be with you. To have children with you. To love you for the rest of his life.

“I love you so much,” he said, choking up himself. “I’m so happy.”

“Me too,” you returned. “Happy Christmas, Roger.”

“Happy Christmas, Y/N.”

You went to dinner that night as planned, only without the champagne. While you were originally intending to celebrate your promotion to partner, you were thrilled to celebrate a more important promotion - to mother. You felt this was the one that would change you the most, and you couldn’t wait to see how.

As you and Roger walked back to your flat, you passed some carolers. Among them stood the little boy. He had a mischievous grin on his face that made you look at his father and smile. The boy looked at you and waved before running off and slowly fading out. The wave didn’t feel like a goodbye. It felt more like “see you soon.”

You were dragged to a stop because Roger had halted on the sidewalk.

“Rog?” you asked. “What is it?”

His eyes were fixed on the spot the boy had just disappeared from.

“Was that him?” he wondered, looking at you.

“You saw him?!” you cried.

“I did!” he returned excitedly. “He just waved and ran off! Was that him?!”

“Yeah!” you told him. “That was the boy!”

You took a giddy moment together and clasped hands.

“I’ve got the feeling we won’t be seeing him again,” you said. “Until, y’know, he’s actually here.”

“This feels so surreal,” he replied. “I can’t believe we’ve seen him.”

“It does all seem to be so magical,” you agreed. “But I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. I know you’ve done this already, so -”

He cut you off with a sweet kiss.

“Y/N, no matter how many times I’ve done this, the thrill of being a father again doesn’t get old,” he said. “And to have a baby with you….well, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. I am just as excited now as I was with Felix. Maybe even more so.”

You beamed at him.

“I love you, Roger Taylor,” you said.

“I love you more, Y/N Y/L/N,” he returned.

You kissed there in the street, caring nothing for the busyness around you. All that mattered was the man in your arms, the baby in your belly, and the future before all three of you.

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor imagine #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #queen x you #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #BoRhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #just like a woman series

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years

Note

I heard you were looking for prompts, what do you think it would look like if Steve were around during Agent Carter (s1), like maybe by the Iron Ceiling episode

So, it’s been a loooong while since I’ve seen the Iron Ceiling or any Agent Carter and I don’t have the spoons to watch the show, so we’re gonna improv. So not historically accurate because I am not researching stuff.

This is a full-fledged fic And probably not what you wanted either because this is so rushed out. Rip me

“You sound exhausted.”

Despite that Steve was over the phone and given the sound of it, somewhere where there wasn’t much insulation due to the wind in the background, she could tell he was giving that sappy smile. It was combined with a small laugh and the shift of the phone line as it crackled when he held it closer.

“What’s new?” He sighed instead of commenting on Peggy’s statement. It only made her worry more. When she remained silent, he sighed louder. “Pegs, I’m fine. Okay, yes I’m a little exhausted, but so are you on your end given everything. We’re both strained and I...miss you.”

His voice dropped down to the last two words, how desperate it sounded, made her heart drop. She wanted to crawl from this warm bed and wrap her arms around Steve and tuck his cold face into her neck to let him warm up. She wanted to protect him from not just the elements but the aftermath of a war that the public had no idea was about.

He whispered the last two words because he was forced to - not because he had anything to hide, so Peggy told herself this despite it tugged on her in almost a jealous means. They were both professionals, they could remain professional over the phone and in the rare times they got in person. It was the only few times they got to be in private did those veils drops.

Steve being rescued had been nothing short of a miracle, an act of God or whatever deity was out there that was looking out for them. She had been the one to pull him from the ice, one of the first faces he’d seen when he woke up in one of Howard’s private hospitals. She’d been by his side his entire recovery, from learning to walk again and to have some cognitive function. The fact she refused to leave his side [see here: Philips had ordered her under the SSR’s watchful eye to keep an eye on their prized specimen] had resulted in them getting much closer in their relationship.

Not only that, but it had caused her to start the American Branch of the SSR later than she had intended. While the boys in the office had no idea Captain America was alive [as they would all see to it], they knew of her history with Steve and used it against her as much as they could.

Steve’s existence, his being founded was kept under wrap and key. The only few people who had known about it were her, Phillips, and Howard. And of course, by now a recently rescued James Barnes and the Howling Commandos. As soon as Steve was stable enough, they sent him straight back to work, and given his contract with the SSR, they figured him pretty much property of the government.

It sickened Peggy to her core.

She was used to hiding her relationship and being professional in other’s eyes, but keeping Steve at arm’s length so he could be the government puppet in a whole new meaning was not what she wanted for her beloved.

“Peggy?”

“Hm?” The woman blinked, aware Steve had been on the other end, breathing noisily against the cold climate he was in to stay warm. “I apologize, darling, I was lost in my mind. As I was saying, I think our earlier appointment of meeting up to compare notes will be scheduled earlier.”

Underneath it, she was by all legal terms, still his liaison. Not only that, but she had been tasked with collecting information from both the Commandos, and that included at least monthly meetings with Steve. They might’ve been professional where they could share longing looks behind professional’s backs, but at least it was something to look forward to.

Steve knew everything going on with Howard and the SSR and her recent suspicions that there was a mole within their sights. Not just that, but Peggy was suspecting her phone lines had been bugged due to her involvement and friendship with Howard.

“Is it now?” Steve asked, turning his head to give a strained cough. It tugged on her heart. That didn’t sound too good. “Should I tell the boys?”

“Please do. I’ll wire in the details you’ll need. Anything you boys need on your end?”

“Dugan would kiss you if you brought him his usual stash. Pinky needs more fuses if you could snag a few. Oh, Bucky needs another set of binoculars and some more gloves.”

Despite he wasn’t here, she was nodding. Her hand worked without watching what she wrote on the paper. Steve knew of her suspicion of being bugged and had agreed code talking would keep the guys on edge and keep their conversations safe.

“I’ll see what I can do, no promises, darling. Please get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peggy sighed as she got off of the phone, looking down at the pad of paper on her bedside table. Someone has been trailing us, be on the lookout and keep your weapon on hand.

And Dugan? Dugan just wanted his alcohol.

“Peggy, Dugan forgot the password again.”

Knowing that voice anywhere, she smiled despite her reserve as the familiar faces of the boys she had called family appeared out of the bushes. If she was concerned about a missing familiar face, then it didn’t show. Instead, Peggy found herself suddenly staring at the gray sky above them. The ground was cold and hard beneath her, but the body colliding with hers to knock her off of her feet was not.

There was a split second of silence before the Howling Commandos erupted into a field of laughter much to the rest of the stoic men’s confusion. Well, not so stoic now that the shock had runoff. Including the face tinted pink above her.

“Hello to you too, James,” Peggy laughed, Bucky slowly getting off of her chest and smiling in that boyish way that made her both jealous and loving.

“I didn’t believe ‘im when he said it, but I’m glad to be wrong.” Bucky was still as Brooklyn Boy as ever despite not having been home in months. He climbed to his feet and pulled her to hers, brushing the snow off of them. He pulled her into a proper hug, finding the Howling Commandos hugging her.

“You served with Captain America.”

Her heart clenched at the awe in their tone, looking at Jack who looked at her still with disbelief, as if she had lied this entire time about her connection to the Howlies. She shared a look with Bucky who looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon, standing near her left side. Dugan looked down at her too and he nodded in her direction.

“Not as long as she has. You good, Carter? Ready?”

Jack’s mouth opened, perhaps to dismiss Dugan treating her of all people like she’s the leader of this mismatched band of guys, but it was well ignored when they started to march through the snow. She watched as Jack hesitated as if debating on not following them before he scrambled not to be left behind.

“Pegs, you’re with me. Barnes, you too because I won’t have you pouting again.”

Peggy laughed, despite herself as she pulled herself up into the jeeps with Bucky’s arm thrown around her waist to help assist her. Bucky, for all his childish needs, stuck his tongue out at Dugan before the vehicle rumbled to life and they started to roll out. The quiet didn’t stretch on long, just enough for the loud engine to cover up any whisper talking.

“How is everything?” Bucky asked, his silver eyes wide with worry. “Steve has told us...everything that he could.”

“Same as ever,” Peggy sighed, shaking her head slightly. She glanced back to watch Pinky distract the SSR boys with a quick history chat. Good. “Howard’s still in deep shit and every step forward feels like one back. How’s Steve?”

Bucky frowned because they both knew that’s not what he was asking. “Exhausted. He never knows when to admit defeat. He was denied again to be stateside. He was told again his presence is needed out here.” The man rolled his eyes with a huff. “He’s one more bad night away from going AWOL, not that any of us blame him, poor guy is doing the job for all of us, plus whatever shit ya’ll send him to do.”

His tone told Peggy that he didn’t blame her, he was as frustrated as she was. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. I’m sure some sense will be knocked into him sooner or later.” Her mouth opened to ask a question but a look from the jeep across from them caused her to close it.

Jack was watching her and closely.

“Carter!”

Peggy heaved a heavy sigh as she repositioned her grip on the logs for their fire tonight. They were well enough hidden in the trees to ensure that no one should see the smoke with the light dusting of snow and gray skies around them. Stopping their conversation, she gave Jones a friendly smile and passed the logs off to him. She didn’t miss the annoyed look Jones shot Jack as he marched their way.

She wanted to snicker at how he was forced to walk, almost waddling like a toddler in this new environment. A comment was on her tongue, but to play fair, she bit it back and raised her chin. “Yes, Jack?”

“I don’t remember Dooley giving you command of our mission. You may disrespect his orders in the office but you will not disrespect me here.” He towered over her, a twitch in his jaw telling her that he’s been thinking about this far too long. She wanted to laugh, honestly because it almost sounded like he was jealous of her and her involvement with the Howling Commandos.

“He didn’t,” she replied in an equally cool tongue, shrugging her shoulders. “If you’ve been paying attention, Agent Thompson, I’ve been pulling my equal weight around here just as everyone else has.”

“Your involvement is this is only because of your pestering Dooley and your connection with the Commandos. Remember your place, Carter. You spent far too much time under Cap-”

A gloved hand clasping Peggy’s shoulder and making her knees buckle caused Jack to turn almost white as the environment around him. Despite knowing the situation, she had almost hoped the gloved hand belonged to Steve, but given how tightly it gripped her shoulder and the freehand that pulling on the strap of the rifle, she knew it was Bucky.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, eyes boring into Jack’s. He stood a little taller due to the boots, but it was enough for him to use his height over the agent.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Bucky mused, raising an eyebrow. “Peggy spent too much time where? Pegs, you wanna head back to camp, Pinky and Morita have a trick they wanna show you.”

Jack huffed, giving a roll of his eyes as Bucky’s arm pulled her closer to his chest. “Nothing, Sergeant. Carter and I were having a private conversation that you butted in.”

“If it’s nothing, then you won’t mind if I pull her away to help start the fire. You know us Howlies, too busy spending time worshipping the ground Steve walks on to know any survival skills. Only way we survived was cause of her.” He dug into his pocket and tossed Jack a small flashlight, nodding his head. “Go find us some more firewood, will you? It’s gonna be a long one.”

The look in Jack’s eyes told her that this conversation wasn’t over yet and honestly Peggy was looking forward to that.

“You know he’s going to think that you’re only protecting me because of Steve,” she sighed, shrugging his arm off as they walked back towards the distant camp. “Thank you, Bucky, but I can handle myself against Agent Thompson. It’s not the first time he’s been a right ass to me.”

“I know,” he grumbled, satisfyingly stomping on a branch to break it in half. “Steve has told us some things. He almost seems jealous of your connection to us - like you spend a whole war keeping our asses alive and you wouldn’t want to befriend us. Jackass. I think he’s waiting for us or you to slip up. They still think Steve’s a frozen capcicle?”

Snorting, Peggy gently smacked the sniper’s chest. “Yes but don’t let him hear you say that. Where is he?” She was used to being professional, keeping Steve at arm’s length in company but the fact he wasn’t around for her to assess with her eyes made her wary. If something had happened, they would’ve said something by now, especially Big Brother Barnes.

Bucky’s tongue clicked on the roof of his mouth, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s close by. He wanted to keep an eye tag tailing us, be sure we’re not being followed.”

That did sound like Steve, alright. He wanted to defend all of them, keep an eye on the stragglers, and be sure no one was planning an attack. Peggy got the feeling he kept distance because neither of them was sure this charade of professionalism could be kept up if he was here. Then there were the SSR boys and their belief Steve was dead.

“So how are you here?” Li asks, breaking the soft chatter that had been happening around the fire.

Peggy swallowed the rest of the bourbon down, passing the canister back to Dugan. She didn’t need to see who Li was directing the question to, she could feel Bucky tensing up beside her. He’d been a little tense since Jack stomped back into camp, dumping the mood uncermonsely and sitting far back away from them.

“Yeah, Buck, how are you here?” Juniper snickered, nudging his friend with his elbow. “You kinda just showed up one day.”

“And you adopted me like the straggly, little pup that I am,” Bucky huffed, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for the scrap, Carter.”

He nudged her slightly but behind the bright silver eyes and the need to make jokes and defuse the situation, he saw the curiosity in Li’s eyes.

“It’s just...we all read the reports. You died. You fell off the train,” Li pressed, not reading the situation. “So, how are you here?”

Sharing a look with Peggy, Bucky shrugged again. He opened his mouth but Dugan spoke up before any of them could. He knew of Bucky’s time in HYDRA, they all did, they had pulled him out of HYDRA, but he didn’t need to relive the past because of some curious agent who couldn’t tell his left from his right. Certainly not one who didn’t bother to spend two seconds respecting Peggy.

“We found him,” Dugan grunted. “What those files didn’t tell you was Phillip’s, Captain Rogers’, and Agent Carter’s insistence on finding Barnes’ body. No one can survive a fall like that, but God above decided Barnes was too annoying to let die. And the fact he still owes me ten bucks.”

They all laughed because it wasn’t far from the truth. She watched Bucky sigh in relief and Dugan clasping his arm in solitude as he passed by them to dig through the bags.

“He only fell because Captain Rogers couldn’t hold on. Bet that guy rather polish his shield and shiny belt buckle -”

“You want to say something?!” Bucky snapped, the almost relaxed atmosphere had turned tense as he turned to glare at Thompson who had been sulking on the edge of the camp. “If you got something to say about Captain Rogers, then say it.”

“James,” Peggy breathed, squeezing his arm. “Let Jack be if he wishes to express his dislike of Captain Rogers, that is on him. Not for you to fight everyone who sees’s fit to voice their negative opinion.”

Not that she didn’t want to sock Jack in the jaw for that comment. Bucky’s death had torn through Steve, it ripped out any part of him that remained human, that clung to humanity. He was a changed man from that day on. He was reckless, rash, and only survived because she interveined and made him see that he was human, serum, or not.

Bucky grunted as he sat back on the log and shoved his half-eaten bowl of stew at Peggy’s feet. “Eat. I ain’t hungry. I’m gonna go take a piss and set up for the first watch.”

There was no point in arguing. Jack had sullied what had almost promised to be a relaxing night [as relaxing as they could get in this environment]. She laid out her bedroll after being sure the surrounding area was clear. She almost hoped she could see Steve. Almost.

“If Barnes is alive, any chance of Rogers being alive?” She heard Rameriz whisper to Li as her head laid on the pillow.

“A crash like that? There’s no tellin’. Barnes was extremely lucky but I dunno...fall from that height? You’ve seen the tracks…”

Their voices faded as Peggy listened to the sound of footsteps near her. She opened her eyes to see Bucky above her, thanking him as he laid an extra blanket over her before silently nodding and dawning his rifle. She would argue with him over him getting rest later, right now, she was exhausted and selfishly wanted to sleep.

In the morning, a fresh wave of snow had covered any tracks that surrounded the camp. It blanketed around them and put out their fire in the middle of the night. Despite the fresh snow, Peggy could see faint outlines of thick boots that stood near her bedroll and as she sat up, waking up before anyone else in the dark forest, she felt something heavier fall off of her than just the extra blanket.

A thick jacket that was too big for Bucky and even Dugan.

Steve had been by.

Unfortunately, the new jacket didn’t bypass anyone, not even a blurry-eyed Thompson.

“Whose coat is that?” He grumbled to her as they packed their bags for the mission ahead. “I didn’t see anyone wearin’ that last night.”

“It’s mine,” Jones grunted, passing Peggy to take the extra layer from her shoulders with a small nod from her. “Does it matter, Agent?”

“No,” the man grunted, a frown still on his lips. She knew what he was thinking - she was far too comfortable with the Commandos. When they got back to the office, this would bite her in the ass, she was sure of it, not that it stops her. “Just curious, is all. Not like Carter to wear a man’s coat. Thought it might’ve been her sweetheart.”

Peggy made a face, throwing her bag harder than necessary over Thompson’s shoulder and towards the pile they made for the jeeps. “The only sweetheart I have is my gun, Agent. Now if you’re done worrying about my lack of love life, we need to get moving if we want to use the snow to cover our tracks.”

“Don’t blame me, you’re the topic of gossip when it comes to office blabber,” he snickered, raising his hands in mock defeat even when Peggy rolled her eyes.

“If you must know,” Montgomery spoke up as Peggy stalked away to join Dugan and Bucky pouring over a map. “She’s all our sweethearts. Try having that for Valentine’s Day.” His wink didn’t go unnoticed nor did Peggy slapping his hand away and arguing with Bucky over an advantage point.

Jack huffed out in annoyance. This was his lead and Commandos or not, he was taking back control.

Peggy could feel the tension building up in her jaw, resisting the urge to rub at it. She could feel it twitching out of tension from clenching her jaw so tightly her teeth might snap in half. It was the only way she could distract herself from not wanting to yell at Jack who ‘stepped up to the captain’s plate’ and started to give orders.

Any argument had been instantly shut down with the argument that he was in charge, reminding Peggy of an older kid in charge of his little siblings. Any argument was useless when Jack was determined that he was right and they were wasting precious time.

“Barnes, keep a distance with that gun. Carter, you’re in the rear. Keep a lookout.”

The order made her roll her eyes at the back of Jack’s head. No matter how much he tried to take control of the situation, to put on his best I’m in charge voice, he was no Steve and had very little regard for people’s safety. Just the end task ahead of getting them in and out with the Doctor in tow.

It was a bad idea, but fine, if he wanted to stick her in the back to keep out of his hair, then she’d easily take this opportunity to keep away from him. Dugan and Jack lead them and despite Bucky was somewhere in the trees pretending to be a spider monkey, Jones fell into step beside her. Despite his larger size than her, he was quiet. He was the more reserved out of all of them.

“You could stay,” he mused softly, nodding his head to Dugan’s bowler cap. “We could always do with you back in our lead. Especially that one. God knows Steve misses you, Pegs. You’re much better off here than with these jackasses.”

A small smile twitched on Peggy’s pale lips, adjusting her hold on the gun. “I know, Gabe, thank you. I do miss you guys. It’s not against you or even Steve, I am needed back on stateside. Maybe I’ll consider the offer another time.”

He laughed, the laugh rumbling in his chest like promised thunder. “Perhaps that is best, hm? Steve needs to rest anyhow and if you were with us, he’d be far too worried about you, no matter how much he denies it.”

Peggy’s reply was lost to the sound of something falling in the forest. Something heavy. James. “Bucky!”

There’s no way Bucky could miss these branches, they practically made a sturdy bridge. He had sure enough footing but the sound of a bullet whizzing past her was enough to tell her he’d been shot at. “Gabe, disperse the others. Spread out. They’re-” She looked up when another flew past her, seeing movement in the trees. “They’re spread out. Treetops. Below. Take cover. I’m going after James.”

There was no point in arguing with her, the Commandos knew that well. She slid in the snow to avoid the flying bullets, using the shelter of the thick trunks to get to where the figure laid. He was breathing, grunting in that manner that told her he was in pain but he was alive.

“James,” she breathed, dropping to her knees. “Hey, hey, look at me. Can you walk? We need to get out of here.”

The man’s eyes were glazed over, most likely a concussion but he was no stranger to those. He nodded his head and moved to sit up, moving his left arm to grab at the gun. They both watched as it just twitched, the arm not responding to his movements. In the limited light of the rising sun, she saw the nasty break in his arm and his green complexion.

“If you vomit on me, James, I will be very cross with you. I’m going to splint this best I can with what we have, then we need to move. You can curse me out on the way, deal?”

She’d take that grunting as a yes.

Using the strap from both her gun and Bucky’s, cut with a knife, she placed his broken arm between two sturdy pieces of branches. It wouldn’t do for a permanent fix but it was better than nothing. Bucky did his best not to curse or shout in pain, hearing him whimper and gag. By the time she was done, he looked like he was about to vomit up their cold breakfast. Throwing his good arm over her shoulder, she steadied his weight to lead them into the denser forest.

“Carter! Where the hell have you been?!”

Jack almost seemed worried, but Peggy didn’t have time to consider it, dropping Bucky down on an overturned log. She was sweaty and pissed, worried. The bullets had stopped coming. That never stopped unless ordered to. They’d been found. This was going to make it all the more difficult.

“Getting Barnes before we let him die from your carelessness. His arm is broken. Dugan, any casualties?” She breathed a sigh of relief when the man shook his head. “Good. They’re still out there. How long have they been quiet?”

Jack’s jaw gritted as he looked down at his watch. “Three, four minutes now. Why?”

“I’m going to handle them before they expose us any more. We’ll be lucky if we’re not met with retaliation at the door.” Snatching her gun back, Peggy stood up, taking Bucky’s and laying it in his lap. “You’re still a decent shot even without your arm.”

She got maybe two yards away, returning to the trail before Jack ran up to her.

Jack’s hand snatched her rifle from her, his temple throbbing now. “You will not! That’s exposing yourself and us to danger, letting them know we’re holed up here. We don’t even know where we are, we ran off the trail because of them. We need to spread back out, find the trail. We’re sitting ducks.”

“All the more reason for me to go into the trees, Agent.”

Peggy tried to snatch her gun back, a bullet striking the trunk next to her head. Her breath lingered in the air for a split second, jerking her head back out of shock. She pushed Jack out of the way when she heard the next one, preparing to feel another bullet tear through her body. Her eyes closed, body tensed, but no pain came.

Her eyes opened when she heard the gasps, seeing a familiar figure dressed in a dark blue suit and holding up the end of a shield. He towered over her, using his larger body to shield her from the spray of bullets.

“Everyone out!” Steve snapped, waving his hand. “Agent Thompson, get your ass off of the ground and help Pinky with those explosives. One stray bullet and we don’t have to worry about who’s in charge. Dugan, Jones, get Bucky and get him on his feet. Dugan, give him a splash of your liquid courage. Buck, three, six, and nine o’clock, are the worst of our fire. I’ve taken most of what I could out. Morita, Montgomery, and Juniper, you get these SSR boys further in the woods. Thanks to your little leadership, Agent Thompson we will now have to wait for nightfall and pray we’re not found.”

If anyone had any questions about his skills, to what Steve wanted, no one questioned it. Everyone instantly charged into action.

Steve’s arm wrapped around Peggy’s waist, holding her close for a fraction of a second too long as he set her back on her feet. “You were hit,” he murmured, baby blue eyes that she’s forgotten how soft they were looking down at her shoulder. “Grazed.” He touched the wound and she flinched, having been unaware a bullet had been that close to her torso. “I’m fine, Steve. I can handle it once we can breathe.” She paused, watching Dugan pick Bucky up and raise the rifle in his direction before firing. They made a good team, odd, but good.

“We need to get going too, can’t be on Thompson’s bad side, now can I?” Steve mused, raising his brow in a way that told Peggy he didn’t care regardless. “I got my bike. We can lead them on a wild goose chase while they escape. You ready?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“He’s alive?”

The words were spat at her when she’d later arrived at their makeshift camp miles and miles into the dense forest. Peggy calmly dismounted from the bike with Steve’s help even if she didn’t need it. She wanted the excuse to feel his hand in hers while she ignored Jack’s bulging look.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers, for the assistance and ride,” Peggy hummed giving Steve a polite nod and a firm smile. She turned back to Jack while he started to unpack the bike, rolling her eyes. “Unless we are suffering from the same hallucination, then I will dare say that yes, he is alive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get this wound looked at.”

At least the man had enough sense to let her brush by him, still standing and looking after her and Steve in shock.

Steve was ever the gentleman as he rolled Peggy’s sleeve down, enough for her to pull her arm out of the sleeve. It was cold in their little spot in the dense woods, not wanting to risk lighting a fire. Bucky was already asleep despite the rough ground beneath them, his head in Pinky’s lap. His arm was set in a better-made splint, but still rough for their situation.

“This is going to burn,” Steve murmured, pouring a little alcohol on her wound. She hissed in pain and ignored the looks she and Steven were getting. This was strictly professional despite how she was straining to not jump his bones right then and there. “I warned you.”

“Seconds before pouring,” she huffed. “Though, I suppose a little pain is needed to be kept in my senses.”

If Steve had anything to say, it was lost to Jack coming back into camp and sitting beside Li. He rubbed his hands together, blowing hot air between them. “It’s going to be a cold one,” he grunted. “We’ll need to watch in shifts, two per shift, we-”

“We’ve already planned that,” Dugan grunted, his mustache ruffled as he tossed his bowler hat on their bags. Or what was left of them. “Pinky and Li are taking the first shift while we all rest. Yes, that includes you, Steve.” He pointed his thick finger threateningly at Steve’s chest who just pouted at him. “You need to sleep. Pegs, tell him.”

“Yeah, Carter,” Ramirez snickered, “tell him.”

Rolling her sleeve back up and adjusting the gauze, she thanked Steve in a small voice. “Captain Rogers isn’t a child. He doesn’t need to be told what to do but if you’d like my advice, Captain, sleep while you can.” Her eyes told him the rest before I make you.

She wanted to comment on his appearance, the rugged stubble from his lack of shaving, the longer hair that was starting to sweep off of his forehead. His eyes looked almost hallow, black bags underneath causing the blue to stand out. He looked like complete shit, a hallow version of himself and it ached at Peggy’s heart.

“This stays between us,” Steve grunted to the SSR boys while their bedrolls were rolled out. “No one else needs to know I’m alive.”

“Did you rescue him?” Li asked, in awe, if not astonished whisper as he turned to look at Peggy. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“That’s above your pay grade,” she snapped back, watching Steve kneel by Bucky’s passed out form and tenderly hold his face in hands that seemed almost far too big. She wanted to say more, the more pity part of her that wanted to dig her elbow into the man’s chest and tell him she shouldn’t have to be involved with his hero to have some decent respect.

“Hm,” Jack grunted from where he slouched against an overturned log, “I can see who was on top in this relationship.”

It was clear Jack wore a chip on his shoulder. He had some resentment out for Steve and maybe that’s because he favored her, despite how he tried not to show it. He turned to look at Peggy for advice, not Jack who was once again trying to say he was in charge. He asked Peggy about the situation or would ask Dugan or Li, literally anyone but Jack unless he had to.

This little petty game kept up for two days where they traveled under the cover of night.

Steve had kept his distance as they planned, but they couldn’t help it when the Howlies left just enough room in their camps to sit side by side or when it was Peggy’s turn to take a watch, Steve would find himself awake even if it wasn’t his turn to watch with her. Or his bedroll would be close to hers. They’d find small ways to touch one another and even that got under Jack’s skin.

Due to Bucky being out of commission thanks to the broken arm, it was left up to Peggy. No one objected but Jack’s temple throbbed as Peggy easily took the rifle and lined herself up with a perfect shot of their guard. She silently laid on a few sharp and frozen rocks that were set above them, stomach pressed to the ground and breathing slowly.

One snide comment from Li or Jack had gotten to her, but not her aim. The bullet flew from the rifle and the man guarding the roof fell into a heap. Steve’s hand closed around hers as she was guided off of the icy rocks, the snow crunching underneath her feet.

“Nice!” Bucky breathed, shrugging the left shoulder. “Though, you still twitch your foot when you’re about to pull the trigger.”

“I’ll show you where I twitch my foot if you start that,” Peggy snapped, much to Bucky’s grinning face. “Satisfied?”

The last words were said to Jack, his nose wrinkled just ever so slightly as if to say let’s see.

“Everyone has their plan then?” Steve grunted, looking down at the map. “Three teams. Li, Jones, Montgomery, and Bucky to the west end. Double-check the boiler rooms, any nooks, and cranny. Juniper, Peggy, Pinky, Morita, and Ramirez to the east. Spread out. The rooms look to be larger and some have hidden doorways. Jack, Dugan, and I will take the top floors. We’ll meet in the middle in an hour. Jones, Peggy, and I have our radios, use it only if in trouble.”

“Yeah, Dugan, only if in trouble,” Morita laughed, elbowing the broad man. “Not when we think we’re hearing screaming.”

At Li’s confusing look, Dugan rolled his eyes. His cheeks flushed a soft pink. “It was a frog that I heard. Cap, can we go?”

Peggy caught Steve’s eyes as he rolled up the map. There was no bother hiding the fact that he did this on purpose, separating them to just get alone time with Jack. She raised an eyebrow at him and he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders.

“Steve, let’s go,” Bucky grunted, smacking Steve on the side with the splint and regretting it with a whimper.

Pinky’s arm threw around Peggy’s shoulder as their groups dispersed, leaning far too much into her frame. Not that she minded. Pinky always had a lingering smell of gunpowder on his fingers. “How much you wanna bet he’s gonna make Jack’s death look like an accident?”

“If Steve isn’t rash? He won’t. But then again...I’m afraid he’s never made a not-so-rashed decision in his life.”

Watching the love of your life fall to the floor in front of you seconds after he’s sacrificed himself yet another time to save you changes a person. There’s no radio this time. No radio, no signal blocking them, no interference, no cut-off, and left wondering. She’s staring down at Steve, her heart in her throat. It all happened in a split second, but the second he hits the floor, she’s in action.

A hand is tearing off the bottom of her uniform, pressing it over the bleeding wound where the bullet has embedded itself into Steve’s thigh

He groans at the contact and grits his teeth. “Is this revenge from the alcohol?”

“You wish,” Peggy grunts, keeping her eyes focused on the bleeding wound. She steadied her breathing despite the anxiety welling up inside of her. She wanted a second chance at keeping Steve safe and god damnit, she was going to take it.

The forces of God would not take Steve from her. She’d be damned if they did.

“Dugan,” she snapped into the radio. “We need to extract. Now.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of thundering steps, snatching Steve’s discarded shield to block his body, still pressing on the wound with all her might. She’d never thought she’d be so relieved to see Jack’s pale face. The man looked sick.

“You-you-shit.” His eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sight of the bloodied rags in Peggy’s hand. “Carter, you’re hurt.”

“No,” she huffed. “But Steve is.”

“Fuck.” As if that was somehow worst and yeah, she had to agree it was, even if Steve wasn’t agreeing with it. He was still gritting his teeth and trying to sit up, trying to catch his breath.

“Come here, alright? I need you to put pressure on his wounds.” The guy was in shock and any amount of distraction to keep his hands busy was better than him standing in shock.

With Jack putting pressure on Steve’s wound and the Captain finally stopping his fight, Peggy got back on the radio. She was starting to become frantic, watching Steve’s face pale and Jack was starting to fluster. “Dum-Dum if you don’t answer me right this instant - Steve is hurt. We need extra-”

Her answer came in typical Howling Commando fashion - an explosion on the far wall. The ground shook beneath her, the ceiling threatened to cave in right in that instance. Everyone was piled into the back of the jeep, a crowd of people rushing forward to help her get Steve up to his good foot and rush him back towards the jeep.

“Get Jack,” she snapped at Pinky. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. He’s in shock - have Montgomery give him those tabs.”

Getting a groaning Steve laid out on the floor of the jeep, Peggy laid Steve’s head in her lap. She didn’t give a damn who saw. She was tired, grungey, sick to her stomach with worry for the shivering Captain.

The fact he wasn’t speaking, arguing with her told her the amount of pain he was in.

Bucky and Jones were already on the wound, Steve’s face pinching as his pants were ripped open.

“Steve,” Peggy whispered, stroking her hand through her hair with a soft smile. “Look at me.” Her hand cupped his jawline, the pad of her thumb stroking a scar he’d earned from a shaving incident a few years ago. His blue eyes fell on hers, gritting his teeth and holding her hand when Jones started to dig the bullet out.

“This is r-revenge for...for something,” he grunted, gripping the floor of the jeep tightly. “Fuck, you coulda just talked to me, Pegs.”

Peggy chuckled, only to keep herself from crying. Stress. The strain on them. She was thankful when the jeep emptied once they’d reached their pickup point. An abandoned airport where a plane waited for them.

“Sometimes it’s easier to let others talk for me.” She bent her head down, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s lips. His felt so cold against hers.

Hearing a clearing of a throat, she looked beyond the pair at Steve’s feet, to Jack. He was still pale and shaken, but there was life back to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I didn’t see anything,” he mumbled. “I was just warning you that wheels up in ten.” He hesitated around the jeep, frowning before he was gone.

“Want me to go hunt him down?” Bucky grunted, pulling back from Steve’s bloodied thigh with alcohol in hand. “For sport?”

A fond smile tugged on Peggy’s lips. There was that Big Brother Barnes quality. “As much as that would solve many of my problems, darling, I can handle myself. Jones, you heard the man, what’s the verdict on Steve’s leg?”

Gabe’s small smile tugged on his lips as he pulled back, wrapping the gauze tighter around the wound. “You’re...rather lucky, Steve. There’s no permanent damage, but given your exhaustion and our lack of supplies, you will be slow to heal. You should head back stateside to get some proper R&R, have the wound properly treated. We did what we could, but no promises.” He clicked his tongue, his fingers pointing to Bucky’s chest. “And you are going with him. You got a broken arm.”

Bucky’s full lips pulled into a pout but underneath it, Peggy could see him vibrating. “What a shame that I broke my arm from a jackass’s decision.”

“Are you sure you guys can afford to lose them?” Peggy asked, gently laying Steve back down as she climbed out of the back. “We can send extra men to make up for them.”

“If you staid we wouldn’t need to worry about it,” Dugan mused, tapping on the side of the jeep. “But you’re needed elsewhere to keep those jerks in line. And make sure this one doesn’t try to run a marathon through Brooklyn on that leg.”

“Not much of a runner,” Steve grunted, letting himself be pulled up. He set his weight on his good leg, letting Jones and Dugan pull him to his feet.

As Steve was being put onto the plane, Peggy heaved a soft sigh as she turned back to Dugan. The hug from him was everything she missed - the bear hug that reminded her some things were worth savoring. Pulling away, he patted her cheek and grinned under that thick mustache.

“You keep our boys in line, won’t you? We can’t lose ‘em again,” he grumbled, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “And keep yourself safe. We’ll get to the bottom of this. We’re just one call away, Pegs.”

“Of course I will,” she mused. “Someone needs to. And thank you, Dugan. You’re a life savior. Literally. I’ll miss you.”

Sitting back between Steve and Bucky, Peggy could feel like she could breathe for the first time in a while. Steve was going to be okay. He might need longer rest than others, but he’d be okay. Dugan was wiring the information to Phillips as they spoke. Her head rested against the wall, feeling Steve’s hand tighten in hers in his light slumber. Against her shoulder, Bucky was snoring.

“Marge.” Her name made her eyes open to see Jack in front of her. Her body tensed, coiled, and posed, ready to fight because her boys were in her lap and exhausted, hurt. What more could he want?

“Yes, Agent Thompson? I was hoping we could get some shut-eye before we touched land.”

“I won’t keep you long. You’re...busy.” His eyes fell to Steve, watching the man’s face twitch in her lap. “I wanted to thank you for...assisting me back there. Any other person would’ve left me to my own devices, especially after the decisions I’ve made. You didn’t, you were the bigger person and I’m...thankful.”

Well, that’s the last thing Peggy expected to hear from Jack’s lips. An apology and him expressing how thankful he was for her? Well, that was rare. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to die because you were in shock. I’m glad you’re okay.”

His head bobbed, Steve grunting making him flinch slightly. He still wasn’t 100% okay. “I’ll leave you to it. What I saw...I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good,” Peggy huffed, letting her head rest on the wall and close her eyes. “Because I’d hate to have to kill you because you decided to be stupid.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Agent Carter #Iron Ceiling #This is rushed out #And horrible #And I am so sorry #But its done #7k!!!#Steggy Prompt #gardenroses1

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