#it is sad that it takes the possibility of them dying or held captive for him to get it but eh men I guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

danger-noodle-uwu · 3 years

Note

I'm new to tumblr so is this how you do request? May I request the brothers forgetting mc's birthday and later remembering it. How would they react? Maybe they were busy or something. Your choice if you wanna do the dateables too.

Trigger warning

Mentions of Angst/sad/slight comfort

Lucifer

Busy almost all the time, the first-born barely spent time with our dear Mc. He would try to finish the work only for more to be slammed on his desk.

Never would his brothers acknowledge his efforts or the sacrifices he made for them. Instead they'd mock him. Mock him for being absent at all family times. Mock him for doing what he does.

It was once again such a time, such a day. They didn't bother to care what the day has held for his beloved. It was their birth.

The birth of the one who truly changed his life along with his brothers. It was such a blessing yet he forgot about it. Entirely.

The Avatar of pride was strong, Lucifer wasn't. He was weak. Vulnerable. Especially against his brothers whom he adored with his entire being.

And the mocking words had stabbed him deeply, which made his current state as to how it was. Drunk. Wounded. Crying.

Rubbing his eyes, he awoke to a mess of his office which screamed the need for cleanliness.

During the process, he found the calender. A sweet calender gifted him by his doll.

A smile had crept on his face as he lifted it for what? Perhaps to calm the unsettling feeling in his bones that told him to run but where he didn't know?

While their lover was, Mc wilted much like a delicate flower would if the sun stopped shinning, they were laying curled on the floor of his room. Mc needed him.

How could he forget his own lover's birthday?! even after he promised... it hurts.. so much...

Yesterday. The poor human cut the cake wished themselves a happy birthday when he didn't...crying...in pain...

The realization hit hard. He ran to Mc's room as fast as he could. A shiver ran his spine and the horror in his stomach grew as each and every step was taken.

Yet could not find them, so he went over to his office expecting a fuming Mc.

He was once again not right, for his beloved was breaking down as he took them into his arms. Consoling.

He apologised and comforted them. Reassuring them over and over again. Reminding them his heart still is with them and no-could ever take it away.

He later threw a party, just like how you wanted. You. Him. And the growing fragrance of the candles surrounding you both.

Though late as it may have been, it was the best birthday the innocent human had. Smiling while he kissed your knuckles, he asked for your hand in marriage.

Never had you expected this...

"I Found the reason for my smile, the day I found you. Will you let me be the reason for your smile and marry me, my love?"

Mammon

As most had expected, he forgot your birthday due to witches or the modeling gig, he did not.

Instead he forgot about preparing your birthday gifts. His excitement had always gotten the best of him.

The Avatar of greed did not have enough budget to prepare the gift you dearly wished for, therefore multiple part-time jobs and skipping RAD became more often.

Despite the scolding, he didn't bother and worked on, just imagining the smile you'd make once you saw what he got you.

''I'll make Mc smile. Just one more hour extra and the budget would be*chef's kiss* '' he thought as his co-workers packed their belongings up.

It was late night and the moons shined brightly over the streets of devildom however he wasn't much worried because it was not like your birthday the next day. (it was)

Stretching his arms, he woke up around 1:35 pm due to his fucked up sleep schedule, only to be greeted by your excited figure cuddling him.

Grey-haired demon thought it was the Delirium before the day itself. He was wrong.

At first he acted totally oblivious to the fact any special day was just around the corner. He knew that surprises even more better!!

And then your great mammon ignored you for a while to rid of the risk of you following him to the destination.

Though his plan was to get your hopes down, he ended up making you cry. It hurts a lot especially when the love of your life forgets your birthday afterall you gave him everything he wanted on his.

The visit was successful. He even had extras left to treat you!!!

The was big achievement for someone who hated working to the slightest, to work for 3 weeks and multiple jobs!!!

But before he left, the seller mocked him about being a damned day late for this gift could have been sold at a better price if not booked.

That is when it all clicked and he panicked. Today was your birthday! Oh shit!!

He rushed home back to you. As he ran, he planned how to ask for your forgiveness.

" Oi Mc I'm sorry!--Oh hell no!!" "Mc I fucked I am sorry, please forgive afterall I'm your first man.--fuck this shit imma just play smooth."

Panting, he paused right before the door of your room and knocked lightly. Seeking your permission to enter.

You lazily opened the door for him, tired after shedding many tears for him.

Mammon instantly knew what to do. "Oi Mc I'm sorry for not wishing ya' a happy birthday earlier but I was busy buyin you somethin', here darlin' close your eyes."

Hearing his apology, you felt oddly happy and followed his request. Soon you felt a soft cold metal cling to your wrist. A bracelet, huh.?

"Open y'er eyes, human." On your wrist was bracelet that said 'His human' and another matching one was on his wrist which said 'Their stupid' . (Now isn't that adorable?)

"I was savin' up for this, so ya' better appreciate it. Hmph!" Giggling you yelled 'I love you' at him making him blush immediately.

However, when he spoke, he spoke genuinely and not in tsundere.

"Ya' make my life worth living. You bring smiles to my face, and y'er touch shows me how much you love me and care for me. Y'er my friend and my lover. Happy Birthday!"

Leviathan

With envy filled to the brim, Leviathan was very focused upon you and having your attention only for himself. To not let anyone snatch you away for they could better be than him, he'd make notes to treat you like royalty and improve his guilt-tripping habits.

Guilt, regret, shame. His heart screamed within the confines of his chest, as he rubbed your back assuring you that he still loved and will continue to do so.

It was his envy. It had always been his envy. Who always held him captive like a bird in a cage, he struggled to break free. He just couldn't.

The fault was his for if he hadn't given in to the jealousy named poison, you would be happily celebrating your birthday rather than crying in his embrace.

The fault was his for if he hadn't screamed at your friends who just came to congratulate you about getting in a relationship with the demon you very much loved and to wish you a birthday.

They left because of him. Not because he humiliated them but he forgot his own lover's birthday and called them a pathetic cheater, as they didn't feel like reminding of what the day was. They had left off with their friends, returning at HOL at night only to get yelled at.

Caring friends as they were, they tried convincing Mc to leave which his love refused. So, they left pitying the poor human.

No-matter how much Mc begged her companions to stay, they didn't.

Oh the suffering for His Normie, they ran upto him vulnerable-ly and started hitting him weakly, breaking down. Why was he? Why was he like this?! Why must he always leave you crying due to his envy?!

"Hey easy...calm down please, I'm sorry. I really am sorry, please forgive me and I promise I will make everything right. Please." "How..?" "Please trust me. My love." "Are you sure..?" "Yes...yes...I love you..."

Could you really trust his statement? You wondered. He could forget his word much like how he forgot your birthday.

The great admiral of hell's navy was true to his word, and successfully united you again with those who almost abandoned you or it seemed like--but no they were just disappointed. They were never going to do such a thing.

The meet went smoothly, and soon the the sun was setting casting shadows along with dying light, it was a dreamy sight for anyone.

Leviathan had known that he still had to make upto you properly and therefore, he took you to the cosmos of frodane.

Red, blue, yellow, any colour you could possibly think of was there, shining as brightly you were.

Taking in a shaky breath, the Avatar of envy gave you a bouquet, each flower consisting different scent which complimented the other.

The shimmer in your eyes gave you away and he gave you a sweetly addicting kiss while mumuring...

"I always cause some mess. It is never your fault. I’m sorry for making you feel unhappy. I cannot believe that I cause hurt to you. You are my only hope for my life. I promise you that I will do my best to make a better version of myself for you, my 3rd waifu~"

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

And here we go... the pain and the suffering. Lol

Hope you like it and stay safe everyone. ♡♡♡

Have a good day!

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mochikeiji · 3 years

Text

Come Home

↠ Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

↠ Warning: anxiety attacks, pregnancy, manga spoiler! chapter 91 (for those who have not read)

↬ Word Count: 2k

If death was giving you a sign at this very moment, it would be the cold ticks each second the clock on your empty apartment room echoed. Each second comes an outbursts of numerous emotions. On the first tick sent shivers on your skin, the second felt like small pricks of hair slowly rose up as goosebumps followed after, third was the frantic tapping of your foot on the carpeted floor as you bounced your leg.

On the outside, you would've been labelled as overreacting. On the inside, you were slowly dying.

As of now time felt like a never ending torture. It was a tug of war between trust in your husband or the one in your gut; a battle between mind and heart, to whom should you choose to believe in? How long do you plan on standing at the edge of the cliff not knowing the faith that has been laid out for you and the most powerful shaman? To whom do you concede to?

A critical position for you to be in. If Gojo were here beside you, not only would you have to wince at the feeling of his finger flicking your forehead, but also a round of uncharacteristic scolding about how bad it is to be stressed out or anxious because of the growing life inside of you. Well, none of this wouldn't have happened if he didn't left. But as all married couples are out there, you are one of the majority that did not want to tie their partners down from what they were meant to do. Especially if your partner is the most needed person in the world.

You couldn't tell him not to go out. Not out there on the field you've come to grow as a sorcerer yourself. The deaths of your fallen comrades and innocent civilians, the demands of the elders and powerful clans. Most of all, being part of the theatre death had directed. No one knows who'd be next to live another day or to be at forever slumber. And your husband was one of the main casts in this scene. Someone who'd always be near death's door only to keep taunting the horrifying God.

It was all fun and games before. It was either ride or die with Gojo during your youthful days. But as time progressed, and the upcoming family you both had dreamed of was at its peak, from that moment every thing came crashing down. It wasn't hormones anymore. It wasn't simple.

You were beyond terrified.

"Please come home."

Not even realizing you were already kneeling down from the couch you were seated, hands clasps together hard, the veins prodding out as if they were going to pop. A silent mantra of pleads to the unknown world you were stuck in. Chest heaving harshly, tears and snot mixing as they fell down the cushions. You didn't feel them. You couldn't see anything.

There was no way to describe the gaping hole that had swallowed you to your deepest depths of fear.

"Come home, Satoru.."

Was the last thing that had been uttered out from your lips before the dark hushes turned into soft cooes. The once imaginary prickly like nails that was scraping your body changed into gentle strokes on your back and onto your bulging stomach.

If there was no way to describe your fears, what is there to be said for the immense heart break of your own husband coming home to see you knelt down with cascading despair written all over your features? The image of the cheery, and powerful woman he's had of you now haunted by what he had came home to.

Though Gojo never had the brightest personality to everyone, he would trade every thing he has if it meant for you to be pulled out from where he had dragged you in.

He knew from the start loving you would mean a lot. You were every thing he wanted and yearned for in life. The love he always came home to. Cursing his naive self of erasing the fact that you were only human.

You had your limitations and this was it.

"Hey, wifey, shhh." the warmth of his breath next to your ear made you choke a sob. Having his body shield your smaller one from behind with his hands now trapping your still clasped ones. "I'm here, I'm not going any where. Not now or ever." his white hair tickling the side of your cheek as he rubbed the side of his face onto the your tear stained ones. If there was one thing everyone knew he was good at, it was being overly affectionate. Not that you'd complain.

His thumbs massages the back of your hands, smoothing down the veins in hopes of easing your grip. He should probably thank Yuuji for passing out hours ago, if not he'd be still stuck training the young lad and have you deal with this torment possibly longer. Even so, he was glad he had manage to finish up early. At your 7 month of pregnancy he wouldn't dare take longer. He didn't like being away, he never did. Always cursing at those who demand his presence. All he wanted was to stay home with you.

Home where everything is safe.

"Let's get you up, kay? May I carry you?" it was a shock on how uncharacteristically cautious he's become ever since your pregnancy. No one knew the Gojo Satoru knows when to tone it down on situations. It was all heart warming, you wanted to cry.

You gave him a small nod, feeling your body hoisted up from the floor and nested on top of his lap with ease. Never failing to amaze you how you managed to marry this man. The man you'd devotedly pray to the heavens would come back to you alive.

As his arms finally settled on your waist, moving at an upward then downward motion, he rubs your sides. Slowly coming to the globe of your stomach with a soft hum, he watches you deeply with a soft gaze behind his interfering blindfold.

Sighing shakily, you shifted your position a bit to the side, allowing yourself to lean your cheek on his left pectoral, listening to the rhythm his heart beat, sobs died down into sniffles and hiccups. You twiddled with his fingers placed on your stomach. The anxiety inside you barely disappeared, but tamed for the moment.

A light peck on your forehead was placed, snapping you back from the little world that had consumed you, down back in the arms of your beloved husband as he smiles and wipes away the left over tears, "Hi there, honey."

Focused on the warmth his palm emits, you reached out over his covered eyes, sliding away the blindfold, freeing the captivating azure gaze he possesses as they held nothing but love piercing back to your teary ones. His hair framing his adorning features, yet so perfect and lively he was smiling at you. The image of this man you wanted to wake up to every day. To welcome, to smile with, to live, and to love.

"Satoru.."

Cupping your cheeks in worry, the serene peace disappearing from him when his brows furrowed with his lips frantically hushing you. Parental instincts kicking in as he eyed your stomach in wonder how your dear child was holding up with the mountain of negative emotions crowding you, "Honey, you need to stay calm. Our little bun in there might have trouble baking you know?" he whispered close to your lips, foreheads leaned onto yours.

"Oh, Satoru." a broken smile formed from your quivering lips, "You're home, you're home." thumbs coming close to stroke his lids softly down to his cheeks. Fragile, that's how you'd describe yourself in touching your husband. Every day from the moment you lived with him are days you two cannot be separated from each other's lingering touches. Even so, on those days it still felt like it was too good to be true to have each other embraced away from the terrors of the world.

"I'm home, I'm home." sealing away your sobs with his lips to yours, letting you feel all of his emotions and unspoken vows within the action of only you two could share forever. The love he never knew he was capable of only for you and your child to be gifted of.

"I'm scared." pulling away as you shut your eyes. The dark hushes returning, coming back to haunt you of what is in store for tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and so on. The strings attached upon you two, unknowing who was in control of your faiths. "Satoru, I'm scared. Please don't go anymore."

Confessing all of your troubles, he tightens his hold around you. Not a chance, he curses in his head would he allow himself to be defeated so easily and submitting himself to the awaiting gates of death.

"What if you don't come back to me anymore?"

Not a chance, was he going to die after happiness is just within his reach. Longing for something so surreal his entire life. He wasn't going out without having a taste of the sweetness of he now calls home in his life. Not ever. Not when he knows he's the strongest and will continue to reign as he is.

"Honey loves, I'll always come home to you." a vow he seals with the gaze he has locked with yours. The golden band that was proudly worn on his finger from his left hand above your stomach, "I'll always come home to you both, my sweet loves." a vow for only the two people in his life that kept him going. He will always keep his word by heart.

Though it was known that it wasn't enough to fully assure you. The comfort of today was much appreciated and needed for you to finally sigh out one last bit of the sadness, and giving him a teary smile.

"I love you, Satoru."

A melodic sound his heart would crave for every day. Definitely another thing worth coming home if he could hear it again and again.

Smiling mischievously, he reciprocates the feeling by stealing another one of your kisses whilst cradling your body and stomach. He wonders how long would it take for your baby to come meet him. He could hardly wait anymore.

"I love you more."

Was the last thing he had said before his eyes shut close to bask in the warmth and safety of his domain. His and yours little domain. One day to be shared with either a mini you or him between your arms, erupting small giggles into the air.

He couldn't wait to come home to that very day.

Not to wake up another second.

Or was it a minute?

An hour?

He couldn't tell. For time was unpredictable inside the realm he was kept imprisoned.

"Oh, another dream."

An old memory he has with you over months ago.

A breathy chuckle comes out. Was it another thing to mock him of his moment of weakness? Where he could do nothing but lay down and wait for he knows nothing of what could and what was happening?

His bones were on fire. The caged rage inside of him waiting to be freed as he could hear the cackles of his own enemies having to won over him.

"Come home to me."

No, they have not.

The fight was still going. He knows deep down as his faith on his beloved students remains strongly as his love and promises to you. Somehow, some way, he will get out. Like before, time is the enemy. He could only hope that you're holding up for the mean time. It was only matter of time you would be giving birth as well.

And he wasn't planning on missing out the biggest part of his life.

Nor was he planning on letting his enemies run free easily. They were going to pay.

He was going to pay.

"I'm coming home. Wait for me."

Thus begins the string of faith as every thing is set into motion.

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo imagine #gojo scenarios #gojo fluff #gojo headcanons #jjk x reader #satoru x reader

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mystic-shadows42 · 3 years

Text

Holding Out Hope

A/N: This was just a simple quick write so there are probably mistakes.

Pairing: Clark Kent x reader

Warnings: Language

Summary: Clark has a hard time trying to find his place in the world but when he takes a job he’s unlikely to stay in for long, there’s an unexpected person there that he can’t simply walk away from.

Joe.

That’s what he said his name was. When you first met him, you didn’t think it suited him. He was a tall dark-haired, muscular, blue-eyed man with a gentleness to him.

Right away he stood out.

Joe was brought onto the crew by your father, the captain. He was quiet but observant. He always listened and remembered things that other people would long forget about.

He wasn’t the type of man you’re used to seeing on your father’s crew. He was actually nice and not handsy like the others.

You met him on his first day and told him of the small shop you worked at and he made it a habit to go whenever he was back from his fishing trips.

During his visits, you’d both make small talk. He was private about his life but was definitely curious about yours. You wanted to respect his privacy so you told him the truth of yours.

You were the youngest child of four. All of them had left to start their own lives elsewhere but would call occasionally. The home life wasn’t too great. Your mother had left and your father was a drunk. He would only stop drinking when he had to work and needed more money for it.

There were times when you’d ramble on and sneak a look over at him to see he was hanging on to every word.

Occasionally, you’d treat him to lunch but even then you could tell he was still putting up a front as if he couldn’t simply relax. Sometimes he’d even leave abruptly after apologizing profusely.

It was understandable but after what seemed like the umpteenth time you started to think it was because of you. Perhaps you weren’t as good company as you thought.

Joe must’ve noticed your uncertainty because he would sometimes surprise you with gifts. Needless to say, it didn’t take much for you to fall hard for him.

There were obvious signs there for something to flourish between you both but he was always the one to pull away.

So when you were on your break outside the shop with him you asked him what you’ve been dying to know.

“So, I have to ask. Why have you stuck around doing this job? Most people leave after the first week.”

He looked away and smiled then looked back at you. At his expression, you nudged his arm playfully.

“I find that staying here a little while has its benefits.”

You gave him a look which he knew what you meant. He didn’t give you much to go off of.

“My dad doesn’t pay you enough to think like that.”

“It’s not always about the pay.” He threw you a look that simply melted your heart. “Would you believe me if I told you the best part of my day is coming into the shop and seeing you?”

You slightly tilted your head not expecting the deemed quiet man by the crew to actually say this to you. Joe was far too handsome to be into you. Just by looking at him, you knew he didn’t belong in a less than ideal place with nothing to offer him whatsoever.

“Well, I don’t actually believe you.”

He had a faint smile on his face. “Open your hand.”

You held out your hand and he took something out of his back pocket and placed it in your hand.

“A gift?”

He nodded and gestured for you to look at it. You opened the small bag pulling the strings apart to see pearls inside.

They were beautiful and bigger than any you’ve ever seen. You inspected them more closely.

“These are South Sea pearls. I only know because my father obsesses over finding some one day.” You looked up at him astonished. These pearls were worth a good amount of money. “There’s no possible way you found these fishing.”

He put his hands over yours covering the pearls.

“I’m going to be leaving soon. Use these to get out of here.”

Your heart sunk at the news of him leaving soon. He was the whole reason you got excited for the day and dressed up.

Just seeing him affected your whole day in a better way.

“I can’t. This is too big a gift to have.”

“They’re yours now.”

He said it so calmly as if obtaining them wasn’t a big deal. Even though you knew people would kill just to get their hands on them.

“How’d you get them?”

“I flew,” he said, a small smile gracing his face before he turned his back to you.

“Joe.”

Even as you said his name he didn’t react. He hardly ever responded to it. You always suspected he was hiding something. Nobody simply ignores their name when called.

“Wait!”

He turned and you ran to catch up to him.

“At least tell me your real name.”

He sighed and you knew then that he wouldn’t. It did hurt a little that after all these months of knowing him that he didn’t even trust you enough to know his name.

It made you sad that nothing significant ever blossomed between you both though you knew he could feel the connection too. You didn’t think it’d hurt this much to lose a person you hardly knew anything about.

He lowered his head when you started to drop yours in disappointment. He looked genuinely concerned. It was hard to determine if he would even miss you or even thought of you the way you did him.

“I promise you that one day when I’m not running anymore. When I find out who I truly am, then I’ll find you and tell you my name.”

You shook your head. “That’s impossible. How will you ever find me?”

“Don’t lose hope.”

He moved closer to you and leaned down a little to be leveled with you. Your lips parted and your heart started to race at how close he was. He had his eyes closed already so you closed yours as you moved forward.

You were finally going to kiss.

“Hey, dipshit! It’s time to go!”

You groaned and opened your eyes to see he already opened his and was watching you.

“I have to go.”

You reached out for his hand and saw him smile down at your joined hands. He gave yours a small squeeze in reassurance.

“Captains tired of waiting! Hurry it up!”

His hand slowly slipped from yours. He smiled sadly and turned his back to you as he began walking away.

****

In your time of finding a place, you were tracked down by a determined reporter named Lois Lane. Her presence took you by surprise especially when she shared her story with you.

He was going by the name Liam. She told you briefly of her findings and how he saved her life with his ‘abilities’ yet somehow you began to think over your encounters with him.

The constant short meet-ups with him weren’t excuses. He was actually going out and saving someone’s life.

It just all seemed fitting for him.

A savior.

Lois had questioned you explaining that his time fishing was the longest job he stuck with and she suspected it was because of you. She kept smiling at the stories you’d share of her with your encounters with him.

There wasn’t much to go off because he was so discreet but it was the way he made you feel that made it seem everlasting. That much she could tell in your eyes and words alone.

Before she departed her last words to you were that he’d definitely find you again.

The idea lifted your spirits but you certainly missed his company.

After about a month and a couple of weeks you still hadn’t found a place to settle in. Nothing ever seemed like home to you.

You felt like a ghost going from place to place. Seeing a new area was nice but there was still that never-ending feeling of being alone.

The thing you missed from your old town was the view of the ocean. So that’s what led you here, to the beach.

You were walking aimlessly on the shoreline when you looked up after a huge sudden gust of wind hit you.

You gasped at the sight of ‘him’ standing just a few feet in front of you. He was smiling once he saw your reaction. He looked the same, only he was clean-shaven and he seemed more relaxed.

He began making his way to you still having his bright smile on his face. You immediately dropped your sandals and ran into his arms. He hugged you to him feeling his deep chuckle rumble through his chest.

“I told you I’d find you.”

You pulled back but still stayed in his arms.

“Now I know how you got here. You flew,” you chuckled remembering his words from before. He brushed the hair in your face back and smiled.

“Yeah, I did.”

“So are you going to tell me what your name is or do I have to keep calling you Joe?”

“My name’s Clark. Clark Kent. As you may have heard, I’m not of this world but raised into it.”

“I’ve heard some stories.”

You didn’t quite know what he was or how he came to have these abilities but all you knew was that you cared for him deeply. Nothing else mattered.

“How are you liking your new life?”

“I felt like how you used to. Not really belonging anywhere. Going from place to place. Missing you and our annual strolls.”

He rubbed your arms once you started to get goosebumps. His touch felt safe and warm. Something you could get used to. Everything about him captivated you in every way.

“Close your eyes.”

You took a deep breath and closed them.

After a couple of seconds, he told you to open them. All you did was stare at him admiring just how handsome he truly is. He chuckled seeing your entranced state and told you to look down.

Confused, you looked down and saw that neither of you were on land anymore. You were both floating and had a vast view of the landscape.

Naturally, you gasped wrapping your arms around him thinking you were going to fall. You could hear him laughing but the thought of being so high up had overtaken your thoughts.

To capture your attention, he turned your face to him and looked down at your lips as if silently asking for your permission. You nodded and that was all he needed to kiss you.

His lips were soft but the force was rough. You both had been desperate for this moment. It had been put off for far too long.

“I’ll never let you go. Never fall, never get hurt, and never leave you all alone again.”

His words were tender and sweet.

“Would you like to come to Kansas with me?”

This time you were the one with the permanent smile on your face chuckling. You had unshed tears in your eyes at how happy you were.

“I’d love to go to Kansas with you, Clark.”

#Clark Kent #Kal-El #Superman #Clark Kent x reader #Kal-El x reader #Superman x reader #Henry Cavill characters #Henry Cavill #Man of Steel

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free-pool-trash · 4 years

Text

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision x reader #wandavision spoilers #x men x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #mcu #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader

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midearthwritings · 4 years

Text

Wings wouldn't help you

Lindir brings you back to life.

Words Count : 1,321

Pairing : Lindir & Reader

Warning : Depression

Author's Note : Request sent by @jojo-javabean24 .

If anyone reading this is suffering from Depression, or think they might be Depressed, please reach out for help. You are not alone and it does get better.

Beneath your cheek, the pillow is hot, and wet. It is uncomfortable but you cannot bring yourself to move. The tears won't stop falling, they burn and bruise your skin mercilessly. The room is dark, blurry. Your eyes are wide open but you cannot see, the emptiness of your soul infecting your body, taking your senses away. It has been days since you had last left the comfort of your bed, and it would probably take even longer for you to leave it again. The smell coming from you is unpleasant, and you know a bath would be more than welcome. But you cannot bring yourself to care. The smallest movement hurts in a way you didn't think was possible. Would you even be able to reach the door?

The night is quiet, beautiful. Through the window, the Moon stares at you. She mocks your sick figure. While you feel empty, incomplete, she's whole and wonderful, steals everybody's attention. She even has yours, as you stare back. How you envy her, broken hearted and dying slowly in your bedsheets.

"I wish I knew how to ease your pain." You had forgotten his presence, and his voice startles you. His hand, gentle and barely touching you, caresses your arm reassuringly.

You want to answer, to let him know you are still here and that you too, would love to know. The words get stuck in your throat and you choke on them. If you try harder, you know you are going to throw up.

He does not force them out. He just stays there, by your side. It is nice, in a way, to know you are not so alone. If only it could be enough to end the tears.

When the weight of his palm disappears, you feel cold. A brutal winter wind, destroying everything and leaving nothing.

Soft notes rise, chasing the cold away. The chants of a harp. It is low, a whisper, as if he was playing from afar. But you know he's close. In the dark, you imagine his slender fingers tickling the cords, bending them to his will, making them sing for you.

The melody is new, something you have never heard before. The pounding headache is not enough to stop the pictures to form themselves in your mind. There are no words, maybe not even a title to the piece, but it is about hope, about love.

The words pour out of his mouth like the clear water in Rivendell's baths. They fall into your ears, a foreign song of which you do not understand all the lyrics. You can only catch a few words, here and there. He talks of flowers, and birds, of the sun and other stars illuminating the sky. Breathing quietly, not to disrupt his reading, you trace invisible patterns on the silky sheets. You draw the curves of each syllable, paint the rhymes as they leave his lips. The symphony of his verse warms your heart. Somewhat, it soothes the pain.

Lindir too, is beautiful. The brown cascade flowing down his shoulders, adorned with a delicate tiara makes him look divine. He reminds you of the trees basking in the pale moonlight. Perhaps one day you will have him sit for you, get his portrait done.

Slowly, his voice dies down, and with it, the beautiful words. Already, you miss them and wish for more.

"Was it to your liking?" The uncertainty of the his question makes you smile. His eyes reflects the turmoil inside him. Never had you wished for him to suffer from the sadness devouring your soul. Guiltily, you take his hand in yours. The smooth skin reminds you of an infant's.

"It would be, if only I knew the meaning of it." A light shade of red colors the tip of his ears, and your smile only grows bigger.

Many moons had passed since the first time you spoke to one another, and you still find it easy to embarass him. You know the path is still long before he feels entirely at ease with each word you say, before his shell breaks completely. Even if it never does, the love you have for Lindir will not fade.

With a soft caress of your thumb on his hand, you silently apologise for your mockery.

"Lindir, Mellon Nín, read to me again." Shutting your eyes, you listen as the soft-spoken elf lulls you into unconsciousness.

Written, the words look as beautiful as they sound. For the hundredth time, you read them, your eyes lingering on each curve of Lindir's handwriting. Although reading it yourself is not the same as when he did it for you, you never get tired of it. You know the poem by heart now, and the translation he provided is not needed anymore for you to understand.

Wildflowers and discarded feathers fill your mind. You can imagine the sun peeking through the clouds so clearly, it feels as if you were currently watching it. As a soft sigh escape your lips, the windows calls for you. The green leaves waving, pleading for you to come outside. This bed held you captive for so long. You laid there, drowning in your own sorrow, waiting for death to take you away. Now you miss the gentle wind, the birds chirping happily amongst the trees.

Quietly, the door opens and closes. He does not knock anymore. He stopped when he realized you never answered. You don't mind.

"Mae govannen, Lindir." You greet him, folding the parchment in your hands. Soon, the strong scent of sugar assaults your nostrils, sweet and enticing, making your stomach groan. "What is it that I smell?"

The bed shifts as he sits down next to you. On a silver tray lies a dozen of delicious looking pastries. It is only as you look at them, mouth watering, that you realize you are hungry.

"I baked them myself." To say you feel privileged in this instant would be an understatement. You will forever be grateful for the way he is taking care of you. Even when mortality finally parts your ways, your gratitude will remain.

Shyly, you take the smallest looking one. As you bring it closer to your face, the smell fills your nose. It is sweet, intoxicating. You take a bite and let a pleasantly surprised noise. It looked good, but once on your tongue, it is exquisite. It tastes of fresh fruits, a little bit of honey and perhaps, of mint. The ingredients balance each other perfectly. When you swallow, there is no bitter aftertaste, and you pop the rest into your mouth.

As you eat, his eyes never leave you. The worries slowly faded, replaced with hope. For a second, you look at him as if he was a mirror. Days had passed, and with it, the heartache and crippling emptiness. In your heart is now a new feeling of joy, peace.

"I did not know you could bake so well." You point out. You lick your fingertips, cleaning the sticky remainders of sugar.

"Neither did I." He replied with a smile, visibly satisfied with your words. Or maybe is he simply relieved to see you so eager to eat?

And you, too, are relieved. The harp is still standing proudly in a corner of your room, the one on which he played the softest songs as you cried. In your lap, the folded poem still lies, waiting for you to read it once more, for it was written for you. And the many little desserts he spent so much time baking, never before had you tasted something that good. Without Lindir, without his love and his care, this flicker of hope would have died down long ago. Now, the flame burns, big and strong in your heart, promise of better days to come.

Perhaps it is time to welcome the Sun back into your life.

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit reader insert #lindir #lindir x reader #lindir x you #lindir x y/n #lindir imagine

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fanficsrusz · 4 years

Text

I WANT TO KI__ YOU - FINAL CHAPTER

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dub-Con, Non-con, Stockholm Syndrome, Being Restrained, Breeding, murder, everything bad.

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF YOU FIND ANY OF THESE WARNINGS TRIGGERING, THEN DO NOT READ. BY CONTINUING TO READ FROM THIS POINT ON, YOU ARE AGREEING THAT YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH ALL OF THE ABOVE WARNINGS. I DO NOT ACCEPT ANY RESPONSIBILITY IF YOU FEEL TRIGGERED BY THE FOLLOWING CONTENT SINCE THERE HAS BEEN PLENTY OF WARNINGS. IF YOU FEEL LIKE ANY OTHER WARNINGS SHOULD BE ADDED THEN PLEASE POLITELY DM ME AND I WILL ADD THEM.

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Summery: After failing to fulfill his contract, John takes a liking to y/n and his liking soon turns into a dark obsession

Aesthetic Playlist

A/n: After a billion years, a billion mental breakdowns and just about everything else, I have finally mustered up the courage to finish this series. I don't know how to feel.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I look forward to reading all your comments and feedback. If you liked this chapter then please reblog it. That is how writers like myself are able to spread out work to other people, especially because there have been a lot of issues with tags lately. Thank you ❤️

<< Previous Chapter

The taste of his lips was something that she should hate. It's something that she should crave to loaf. But even after everything he put her through, he was the sweetest poison.

John was like an elegantly bound book but in a language she couldn't read. Y/n never thought she would love all the bad things about someone but there she stood, staring out into the openness of the forest through the front door.

The door was there as if her dream had become solid, as if it had grown upon the hinges and blossomed into a comforting hue. An exit. A way out of the nightmare she found herself in. In all the time she had been trapped in the house, the door had remained a mystery to her. Not that she didn't know what laid beyond it, but the idea of what she would do when she saw the day it was held open for that long.

She realised in the air that had been so still on the previous days had suddenly gained a slight movement, as if it had discovered its direction yet was content to meander at its own pace. The autumn breeze that carried fine drops, each one a promise of the rain to come. Newly chilled air that moved the clouds, streaks of brilliance breaking through from a patient sun.

Y/n let her eyes rest for a moment, feeling the ambiance of nothing, hearing the sounds, taking in the aroma, letting her brain process what laid ahead.

John came behind, his lips grazing her hair as he pressed a chaste kiss upon her head.

"I need an answer."

His voice came as a whisper but had a firmness to it as he waited for their fate to be sealed.

Choices were rarely a fork of two pathways, yet with eyes a little wider open, many pathways appeared before her. The right path for one person can be different from another and only the inner compass of love and passion could illuminate it for that soul to walk upon.

"I-" her lips parted, the single syllable falling from her mouth before she stopped. Her eyes clenched shut, images of her past life flashing through her mind, her heart thumping as the emotions of what she had lost pumped through her.

Before she could even register her own existence in her new life, her feet had pulled her from John's hold.

She could feel her heartbeat… every single pound in her chest. This great pounding, this great pressure; every beat. She could hear it, she could feel it. It remained steady with every step she took closer to the door, it remained through what little breaths she could shove down her throat. It remained when she stood and swayed at the threshold. That dark beating remained, as she waited for her own choice to take hold of her body.

With a shaky hand she took hold of the new wooden door, a sigh leaving her as she pushed the door shut, sealing her inside the house and sealing her fate with no other exit. Just like that any glimmer of escape faded away coldly into infinite darkness. Y/n's skin shuddered and she could feel her brain starting to defocus, searching for new hope. She should have gone … out there, to the forest where the paths ran in every direction and she could be free. But one thing and one thing alone stopped her.

Aurora.

John's hand creeped up her arm, offering her a caring touch.

"Thank you" he whispered, breath hot on the back of her neck.

"For what?" her voice came out hostile, sadness prominent in her tone.

"You chose me -" he smiled, "you chose us. You chose Aurora. You chose love." his arms circled her waist, pulling her closer to his icy warmth. "I can't believe you finally recognised the importance of what we have. You've finally learnt to appreciate it all and that's all I ever wanted from you".

Sadness sat an inch below Y/n's face, eyes remaining dry, expression impassive. She knew that if she even let a fraction out that the rest would follow, a never ending torrent of grief. She moved nothing but her eyes, her mind racing while every muscle stayed rock still against John's hold.

"I just needed you to see it with your own eyes, to have you understand that this could be a wonderful life, that we can build a perfect, loving, family" John let his mind wander within the walls of his own fantasy.

"Just think about it. Think about all the good things we can do together here. We can be happy, we can enjoy each other as much as we want without having to worry about the world out there and all the bad things it brings -" he placed a heated kiss onto her skin, his teeth nipping lightly.

That warm, raspy voice that possessed his cords, sent nerves dancing up her spine. Normally his smile sent her mind into an uncontrolled, captivated spiral and his light touch lingered, it branded her soul with a simple mark: infatuation. To call it love would be a mockery of her heart, a symbol of her dying innocence. But every tempered word he spoke invaded her mind, like ivy tendrils seeking any point of weakness to enter; they wrapped her body in a blanket of comfort and consumed her soul in the heat of lust.

Y/n remembered that night John took her in a soft, painful haze. It was the night that taught her the difference between love and infatuation. Love is unconditional, eternal... Infatuation? It dies.

Y/n had become infatuated with John to some degree. The sense of protection that he provided was something that she had never known. What else did she have other than John? But Aurora? She deserved better. Y/n loved her more than anything and she wasn't about to let her daughter live in four walls. Captive. Her beauty hidden away from the world.

That wasn't a life she wanted for her.

"-I only needed to know that you were convinced, that you had it in your heart" John continued, his lips peppering her skin with soft kisses.

"well now you know" y/n whispered, eyes still glued to the closed door.

"You know-" John gently turned her body, forcing her to look at him as his soft brown eyes studied her features for a moment, "-keeping you chained in that basement for the rest of your life was a possibility but that wasn't enough for me"

Y/n felt the pad of his thumb rub against the wet skin of her cheek, rubbing away a few tears that had managed to quietly escape their fortress.

"I wanted you to be here with me, so you could enjoy this life of ours without being kept like an animal." his eyes softened, eyebrows dipping kindly. "It was all necessary at first. Just a training process and I only kept you like that because you needed it"

Y/n knew it was wrong what he did. But why did it hurt to know what she would do?

"I understand" she whispered, her own hands wrapping around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. With a deep breath she took note of all the musky sweet notes of his scents. John rested his head on top of hers, his smile uncontrollable.

"it was like the medicine you needed to take" John let out a small laugh as he thought back. "you were this small little disobedient puppy. It was cute honestly but it was just something you needed to go through to get stronger. And now look at you!" he pulled back, holding her at arms length so be count admire her perfect face. "you're so beautiful and So loyal"

John kissed the droplets of tears from her lips, and she felt his lips smile against hers. He swept her hair aside and kissed her just over the collarbone. He nibbled at her ear, and then sank himself into her arms. She hung her fingers on his waistband, dragging him closer and he buried his face in her shoulder curve, his hands flexing around her back. John gave a reduced groan before whispering “I love you,” into her hair.

"So do I" she mustered back.

"I can't believe you finally see me for what I really am. Your family. Your soulmate. Your world. Of course that world includes Aurora. Her future brothers and sisters. We will have all we need right here" he placed another kiss onto her forehead. "we can build something new, something perfect and you are the one who made it all possible. You - you have no idea how special you are to me my love."

John stepped back, extending his hand for her to take and Y/n slowly took it into hers.

"I will never let you go. No matter what happens, I will always find you."

Three days later

The perfect life for the perfect wife. That's what Y/n told herself daily, over and over.

Y/n had been baking for a few hours and as the moments passed, tune by tune as the radio sang along, the piles of cookies, buns and breads grew. It was the same as mess, only the good sort she supposed, the edible sort that made people happy. That would make her happy.

Aurora sat in her highchair, cooing softly as Y/n plated a few cookies and turned slowly, smiling as she watched her daughter stare up at her.

She placed the plate on that table and kissed Aurora on the forehead.

"No matter what happens. I love you" she breathed heavily and pulled back when she heard John step into the kitchen.

"Good morning" Y/n smiled, wiping some of the drool from Aurora's face.

John rounded the table and kissed y/n on the cheek before kissing Aurora's head.

"Good morning my loves".

For a moment there was silence in the large room and y/n shifted on her feet.

"What are you going to do today?" John finally asked, pulling a glass from the cupboard and filling it with some water.

Y/n shook her head slowly.

"I don't know. Maybe clean. Play with Aurora. I baked some cookies already" John's eyes lit up as he walked over to the table, smiling as he picked up a warm cookie.

"You made these?" he asked and y/n only hummed.

"Mhmm"

John kissed her cheek and Y/n savoured the feeling of his lingering touch before she turned around to face him.

"Try it. Tell me how it is".

John smirked before lifting the cookie to her mouth.

"oh no. I've already eaten so many of them. I made them specially for you"

"Such a good wife" John smiled. The cookie skimmed his lips before he shoved it into his mouth, letting the buttery goodness explode against his tongue.

"Wow" he exclaimed, "This is really good". Y/n’s eyes lit up with excitement as she watched him eat a second cookie without hesitation.

"Good. I'm glad you like them".

John lifted his glass of water to his lips before he felt something wash over him. Something he hadn't felt… Ever.

His hand extended towards Y/n as he tried to grab her, reaching out for support but she only pulled away, the smile she wore still on her face as she watched him intently.

John breathed heavily but the air just wouldn't go in, like his lungs were surrounded by metal bands. Next came the rising panic, the dizzy feeling and the need to get low to the ground. The exertion brought on more breathlessness, like the air around him was devoid of oxygen. His ribs heaved up and down but no benefit came.

"Y.. Y/n…" his wheezing voice called out to her but she only stepped back.

The poison was made to mimic an efficient virus, to kill the host fast. A few drops here and there and the decay set in, a sort of race to the bottom. The best part? She didn't even know what it was. She just read the bottle that John had stashed away and shoved it into the batter. If there was one thing she learnt from her mother was that love was the best blindfold for any plan.

Y/n picked up Aurora, cradling her in her arms as she watched John gasp for breath. In his glassy eyes that stared up at her, she saw her reflection and she saw that what she was doing was the right thing.

"You were and always have been a - monster" the words seemed to burn her tongue but she ignored the pain it caused. "You will never be able to find me or her again. Goodbye John"

As the blackness finally began to consume him once and for all, he watched as his love pulled open the front door, her shadowy figure slowly fading into the darkness as he also did.

3 months later.

"Thank you, detective" y/n pushed the papers into her handbag before placing the bag back onto that handle of the pram. Aurora laid asleep in her arms and y/n slowly stood up.

"No worries" the detective smiled kindly before reaching out over the table, stopping y/n from moving any more. "-and just so you know, I'm sorry. I know there isn't anything I can say that can fix everything that happened to you but You're safe now. We won't let anything else happen." y/n smiled softly and placed her hand on top of his reassuringly.

"It's okay. You searched and you couldn't find me. There isn't anything anyone could have done. He… Was different. He was smart".

The detective shook his head and pulled his hand away, burying them in piles of paper.

"he was a monster for what he did".

Y/n felt the tears well in the back of her eyes as she felt her throat turn dry.

"I-" before she could even think of anything to say, Aurora began to cry and y/n laughed, shaking the pain of her aching heart away. "-I should really get her home".

"Of course". He led y/n to the door, holding it open for her as they began to proceed down the corridor.

"There's still quite a few reporters out there so it's best you take the back exit. Officer Hughes will swing by your place later on to check in"

"Oh. Terry? He doesn't have to. He's been doing that everyday for the past three months -"

"Nonsense. It's the least we could do".

Y/n smiled and looked down at her watch.

"Thank you so much detective. I'll see you later"

"see ya".

Y/n left the building and sighed as she heard the loud noise of the city and wind around her, the warm sun warming her body just as the first few drops of rain fell from the sky.

"Let's get you home" she whispered to her daughter, pushing the pram towards home.

The cafe that y/n lived above laid ahead, just around the corner and y/n couldn't wait to get her feet up. It's royal blue paint glistening under the closed sky was definitely a sight for sore eyes. She could just about see the large sign, decorated with droplets of water that hung on like glistening jewels. "Gloria's."

Outside the sidewalk that would bustle in a few short hours was quiet, the concrete oblivious to whether it was midday or midnight. Y/n’s face smirked upward at the sight of the flower planter to the right, the city has put in new blooms that will give flashes of sunny yellows and hot pinks through the springtime. If she stopped walking right now she could almost hear the heartbeat of the city, quiet, like the ticking of an old Grandfather clock.

Her mind was too preoccupied with the world around her and y/n didn't notice the figure that hid under the umbrella that she nearly ran over.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" y/n exclaimed, extending her hand to steady the person. Y/n waited patiently for the person's response, waiting to make sure she didn't hurt them.

Then she heard it, the dark, low chuckle that made her spine tingle.

"You're just as polite as the first time, Princess"

The end.

Tags

@gwenebear @celestiaelisia @blondieee-me @harrisongslimited @wittysunflower @persephonehemingway @derangedcupcake @wholelottatiffy @babygirltaina @doodooloo700 @keanu-fics @drunkonyellow @xxinvisiblexx @krazycags01 @sgt-morgan @futuristic-imbecile @assassinscross @sanctuarygirl @beyond-antares @92lnbr @imblackmagicwoman @iloveconstantine @tnu-ree @lea-6 @keanuarch @urlil-brat @whatcolourisanorange @moonlit-raven-haven @keanuchillz @thehoundking @madprincessinabox @lovelypapug @lunilate

@luckyfiction17 @kinlovecody @xo-dragonette-xo @nicimixerxoxo @a-really-bi-girl @curly-minnie @daniallh @ddl9819 @blondekel77 @plaidshirtsandpizza @marvelsbitch123 @bluelunam @reddhead95 @sagekeanu @scarletmoon83 @mrspeacem1nusone @paanchu786 @the-thighs-of-betrayal @mary-ann84 @messingniall @awessomness @angelic-kisses13 @gian-giannina @keanureeefs @dr-kayleigh-dh @ficsnroses

(rest of tags will be added in reblogs)

#Keanu reeves #John Wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick #john wick imagine #keanu reeves oneshot

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rainhalydia · 3 years

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Something I would love to read more in fanfics about the Theon/Robb relationship is about the negative aspects of both of them and explore how they can make their relationship work. He loved Robb, but he wasn't a cinnamon roll. He had a temper, didn't always admit when he was wrong, and blamed someone else. And we already know about Theon's complex issues. I think about how interesting a fic would be where they explore his perspectives on Ned Stark and talk about it. They really need to talk about it at one point before they have a relationship.

That said, it also makes me wonder about the thoughts/feelings Robb had about his father. I mean, Ned held a 10 year old boy captive and threatened to be beheaded and Theon is obviously resentful and sad that he was taken away from home, and at one point in the books Robb acknowledges that Theon has been a hostage half his life, and still saved them. We know that Robb idolizes and promises himself to be like Ned, and perhaps it is not until after he becomes king that he is aware of Theon's situation in the North; because he realized what he would have to do now as Eddard Stark's heir if Balon rebelled. And I think it would be interesting if Robb sees his father from another perspective, especially from the perspective of someone he loves very much and his opinion is important to him.

Hope you have nice day 😊

A nice day to you too anon!

You know, you put in words one of my favorite things about Throbb for me: it's not politically smart for Robb to love Theon. From the beginning, he could just be attaching himself to someone fated to die, or later to someone who has all the incentive to turn on him (as it happened). And yet he does, because that's how he is, and apparently he does so against all advice and example from the parental figures in his life, that he deeply admired, respected and cared about. I think it's @janiedean who has some wonderful meta on that.

Robb is privy to, or at least smart enough to intuit, that being a hostage has made Theon suffer. As you said, he pointed that out to Cat, and they were very close. But on the other hand, I doubt he ever thought his parents were wrong to do it! It's just what you do in his society, he later does it himself, resulting in his kid hostages dying, and he's more bothered by the political costs than about the kids themselves. Obviously he'd feel differently if it was Theon being killed... but I think that in his mind, that was never really a possibility. Sure, being a hostage sucks, but I don't think he was ever cognant of how Theon had to deal with the possibility of death every day, with some moments being more acute than others. Like, no one is worried about his behavior when he kicks a decaptated head away and laughs. No one takes that as a sign that Theon has issues, they just think he's being an ass at most.

Besides all that, I think Robb just might have thought, sincerely, that Theon was better off with them. Again, he admires his parents, respects them, thinks highly of them... so why wouldn't they be better guardians to Theon than the dad who wrote, like, twice in ten years, or the uncles who scared him shitless, or the brothers who tormented him? Because we know Theon opened up to Robb about his home life - and he's quick to make fun of his brothers with Patrek too - but we know from his pov that it was not all terrible. It's pretty telling that he had old friends to seek out when coming to Pyke... and yet he doesn't seem to have talked to Robb a lot about the positives of his home. Maybe because it would be too painful to think of the good things? I don't know, but my read is that Robb does not think highly of the Greyjoys, except for Theon.

If his parents were cold to Theon... well, his mom was the same to Jon, and that's just how things are. They're still family, despite the tension, so why should it be different with Theon? Who, by the way, makes a point of calling Ned a second father in full view of Robb, so I don't think Robb ever made the connection to think "hmmm, my dad sucks for doing this, actually."

Later on, when he's been betrayed, he tells Cat that he should have kept Theon hostage, so I think it's a given that his image of Ned was never tarnished.

It's a pretty interesting topic to exploit in fanfic, though! I'll leave you with this rec, about the only thing that could have changed Robb's mind on the subject, imho.

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kylo-renakin · 5 years

Text

Death in Star Wars, and How Ben Solo Was Shafted: A Mini Meta

Something has been bothering me about Ben’s death in The Rise of Skywalker. While I’m upset that he died, I echo the sentiments of other fans that just as offensive was the way that he died and how his death was treated in the context of the film. It bothered me because death has always been a part of Star Wars, but usually handled much better.

And so this meta was born.

I will be doing a brief analysis of significant character deaths from the Star Wars movies. I don’t want to touch on all of them because there are simply too many, so I’ll focus on the ones that were either major characters (i.e. trio billing or main villain) or narratively important (i.e. Shmi Skywalker).

This list will be approached chronologically within the Star Wars universe, beginning with:

Qui-Gon Jinn; portrayed by Liam Neeson

Personal feelings: I cried like a baby. Qui-gon holds a special place in my heart. His death was both epic and sombre. It hurt to watch other main cast celebrating their victory after defeating their respective challenges and then cut to Obi-wan cradling his master’s head in his lap, crying.

Mode of death: Killed by Darth Maul at the end of The Phantom Menace. His actual death takes a few minutes of screen time, an outburst/scream from another main character (Obi-wan). He has last words to say to the person he has the closest on screen relationship with.

Aftermath: Held by a visibly devastated Obi-wan while he died. Sombre funeral pyre. Death discussed on screen by the council and Obi-wan.

Narrative purpose: To enable Anakin’s training under Obi-wan, which is pivotal to the overall arc of this trilogy. To provide a tangible loss and character growth for Obi-wan, who failed to save his master from a Sith--later mirrored by Obi-wan’s inability to save Anakin from becoming a Sith in Episode III, thereby providing a narrative ‘tail-end’ to Obi-wan’s journey in the trilogy. To cement the master/apprentice relationship as loving, emotional, familial, which then adds narrative depth to the bond between Obi-wan and Anakin. To introduce a cohesive theme of death, failure, and loss at the hands of the dark side that would pervade this trilogy.

Overall response: This death is both emotional and narratively important. It’s given the weight and time it deserves to have an impact on the characters.

Shmi Skywalker; portrayed by Pernilla August

Personal feelings: Rough acting aside, watching a person die in their family member’s arms is always sad. It’s an extremely dark moment in a film that otherwise leans heavily into romance, action, and detective-mystery storytelling.

Mode of death: Tortured by Tusken Raiders. Died from her injuries. Again, her actual death takes a couple of minutes of screen time. She is able to say some last words to her son, the most important character relationship for this character.

Aftermath: Dies in the arms of her visibly devastated son. Anakin murders the Tuskens for revenge. On screen funeral where she is mourned and memorialized by her family/loved ones.

Narrative purpose: To drive Anakin further to the dark side by taking advantage of his love and compassion and turning this into anger and hate (revenge against the Tuskens). To plant the seeds of Anakin’s inability to save the ones he love. To emphasize his failure to keep his promise to return to his mother and free her. (Despite being freed off screen, she essentially died in captivity anyway, and Anakin was not the one to free her.) To further the cohesive themes of the trilogy: death, failure, loss, the power of the dark side.

Overall response: While not as moving for me personally as Qui-gon’s death, it has a very relevant thematic purpose and furthers the story. Shmi’s death is given adequate time on screen and we are able to observe the responses and aftermath of that loss.

Padme Amidala; portrayed by Natalie Portman

Personal feelings: We make jokes about how she lost the will to live, but her funeral was beautiful and Natalie’s delivery of the line “you’re going down a path I can’t follow” feels extremely important in this story.

Mode of death: Up for debate. She has lost the will to live after giving birth to Luke and Leia in the wake of Anakin’s fall to the dark side. Some have theorized that her life force was taken (or given?) to keep Anakin alive, but this is not made explicit in the movies. She dies beside Obi-wan Kenobi, and has the time to say last words--words of hope for Anakin’s eventual redemption. Her death itself takes several minutes and is followed up with screen time for a funeral where characters acknowledge her death.

Aftermath: The gorgeous and enormous funeral, mourned as a queen and a senator and a good woman. Anakin (as Darth Vader) mourns with a devastated and poorly acted “nooooo”.

Narrative purpose: To fulfill the themes of death, loss, and failure (Anakin’s failure to keep her alive) at the hands of the dark side. To provide a character loss that mimics the loss of democracy, freedom, and goodness that has fallen to Palpatine’s control. To provide a visual and narrative parallel between the death of Anakin (through the death of his love) and the birth of Darth Vader.

Overall response: While this death was definitely poorly handled it did have narrative significance and it was arguably necessitated by having to have this trilogy line up with the original trilogy. Her short funeral was one of my favorites in the series.

Obi-wan Kenobi; portrayed by Sir Alec Guinness/Ewan McGregor

Personal feelings: I feel weird having an opinion about this one because this movie was made well before I was born, and so I didn’t feel a real connection to/nostalgia from these characters the way I did with the prequels and sequels. Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan was a huge part of my childhood, so watching A New Hope in retrospect makes this death sad for me.

Mode of death: Killed by Darth Vader/becomes one with the Force. Essentially sacrifices himself so that Luke doesn’t try to come after him.

Aftermath: Luke shouts “no!”. In a later scene, Luke further acknowledges his death--”I only wish Ben were here”. Ben is later seen as a Force ghost in Episodes V and VI, continuing to acknowledge his character’s death and ongoing influence on, importance to, and relationship with Luke.

Narrative purpose: To provide growth for Luke’s character as he grapples with losing a mentor and surrogate father figure who was also the last person (he believed) who was a link to Luke’s (supposedly) dead hero father that Luke looked up to--and setting us up for this narrative complication in VI. To demonstrate that the Jedi/good guys of the film win through self-sacrifice and not through anger, hate, or fear, which is very thematically resonant in this trilogy.

Overall response: Narratively meaningful, and the character’s death is immediately recognized. We get to see the response of the characters who he has the closest relationships with.

Yoda; portrayed by Frank Oz

(I just love The Last Jedi, okay??)

Personal feelings: It was kind of sad, in the way any person dying of old age is. It did feel more overtly spiritual than Obi-wan’s death.

Mode of death: Dies of old age, in his own home, in his own bed, with Luke beside him. His death scene lasts a few minutes and he has some last words.

Aftermath: We see Yoda again as a force ghost, which we are expecting as an audience since his body fades like Obi-wan’s did. There is sufficient closure. Luke is present for Yoda’s death and, at this point in the films, is the only character relationship Yoda has left alive--therefore this is the most significant his death can be to someone. Luke doesn’t look overly upset but this is not painted to be a sad death, as death by old age is usually more a fact of life and a nice reprieve from untimely losses.

Narrative purpose: Honestly, it’s been a long time since I watched the original trilogy so I’m kind of stretching here. I’m going to borrow from The Last Jedi and say that Yoda’s death allows Luke to grow beyond his master and stand on his own two feet as a fully autonomous agent of goodness. He no longer has the crutch of wise older men to lean on and must make his decisions on his own. Yoda’s death frees Luke to be the master of his own destiny, now knowing the truth of his parentage and no longer being guided by others to do what they think is best (kill Vader).

Overall response: One of the less impactful deaths in the series, but I do appreciate how it adds to Luke’s growth as a character and transition into Jedi Master.

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader; portrayed by James Earl Jones, Hayden Christensen, and Jake Lloyd

Personal feelings: This is the big one™ of the trilogy, and it shows. Watching Luke trying to literally drag his father to safety is raw and heartbreaking. Seeing him unmasked for his son is chilling. The funeral pyre is beautiful. This definitely made me feel the feelings.

Mode of death: Sacrificed himself to kill Palpatine. Death lasts several minutes. Dies in Luke’s arms and Luke cries as he dies.

Aftermath: Funeral pyre. Force ghost Anakin bringing peace to Luke and cementing his redemption.

Narrative purpose: Too much to list! Reinforcing that good guys sacrifice themselves to protect the people they love. Bringing balance to the Force by killing the Emperor (thanks JJ for messing that up by the way). Finding peace with Obi-wan as a force ghost. Showing that the belief that people can be saved from themselves is validated. I’m sure there’s plenty more besides but this one is so narratively rich that it would take forever to mine.

Overall response: Extreme narrative importance. Basically ties together six movies. Emotional, beautiful, resonant.

Han Solo; portrayed by Harrison Ford

Personal feelings: Ouch, ouch, ouch! This was... this was angsty. I love angsty. I cannot possibly find adequate words to describe how well done this scene and this death was. One of my top three moments of The Force Awakens.

Mode of death: Struck through the chest with a lightsaber by his son, Ben Solo (under the alias of Kylo Ren), after an attempt to save him from the dark side and bring him home. His body falls into the pit on Starkiller Base.

Aftermath: So. Much. Rey screams “no!” Finn is visibly upset, too. Chewie roars in agony and shoots Kylo Ren with his bowcaster. Leia can be seen feeling Han’s death and cannot find the strength to keep standing. Kylo/Ben looks immediately shaken by what he has done. Rey and Leia share a sad hug at the end of the film. In The Last Jedi, reactions continue. Luke is shaken by the revelation of Han’s death and spends a quiet moment in the Falcon mourning him. Kylo/Ben’s reaction continues to spiral. Snoke, in one of my favorite lines in the film, announces that “the deed split [his] spirit to the bone”. Rey grieves Han and accuses Ben of hating him. Luke warns Kylo that he will always be with him, “just like [his] father”. Han’s shadow is felt all over The Last Jedi without him being present. Even without the further reactions in The Rise of Skywalker (Rey saying Ben is haunted by him, the literal memory scene on the Death Star), the impacts of Han Solo’s death are the most significant in the entire franchise.

Narrative purpose: To advance both internal and external character conflicts. Kylo killing Han provides an external conflict between him and the heroes--particularly between him and Rey as Rey yearns for parents who love her and Ben (seemingly) rejects/kills his that do. It also provides a meaty internal conflict for Kylo Ren/Ben Solo, who is the most nuanced villain I have ever seen in film. While Han’s death doesn’t seem to serve a main theme in The Force Awakens (it is my perspective that JJ does not have cohesive overarching themes in his two entries in the saga), it does blend in pretty well with The Last Jedi’s preoccupation with killing the past. The thematic takeaway from The Last Jedi is that you can’t and shouldn’t kill the past, you should learn from it and move on--and Kylo killing Han neatly fits into this theme by showing that Kylo tried to kill his past by killing his father, and yet he was unable to move on because of it.

Overall response: Poignant. Purposeful. Well-crafted. The effects are long lasting and felt throughout the trilogy. This is not a meaningless death. Of the entire saga, this is the death that is given the most acknowledgement.

Supreme Leader Snoke; portrayed by Andy Serkis

Personal feelings: I was on the edge of my fucking seat. This is not emotionally resonant because we don’t care about Snoke but it was huge and shocking and had these enormous narrative implications moving forward.

Mode of death: Cut in half by Kylo Ren while he narrates his own death.

Aftermath: The Praetorian guards spring into action to avenge their master. In a later scene, we see Snoke’s severed legs topple to the floor. Hux is visibly shaken and angry. Kylo Ren acknowledges the death (by blaming it on Rey) and takes Snoke’s position as Supreme Leader (”the Supreme Leader is dead”, “long live the Supreme Leader”). I’m... going to ignore how The Rise of Skywalker handled Snoke. It was unnecessary to have Snoke clones from a storytelling perspective. It added nothing to the narrative, just used as a clumsy way to justify that Palpatine was really pulling the strings all along.

Narrative purpose: To deepen the perceived conflict within Kylo Ren and showing his unwillingness to kill Rey. This further complicates their relationship moving forward as we’ve established that the new head honcho powerful villain has no real desire to hurt the hero. The narrative implications of this moving forward were so rich. Pity JJ ignored them. Additionally: To show Kylo Ren symbolically surpassing Darth Vader. In Episode III Anakin claims he will overthrow the Emperor and rule the galaxy with Padme. He never achieves this. But Kylo Ren does (minus the Empress by his side). To deepen the theme of Kylo Ren trying to kill/bury the past in order to become stronger (and ultimately failing). To add Snoke to the list of characters in the movie who embody the theme of failure. To shake up an expected narrative trajectory and provide new pathways for future storytelling. (Again, JJ, looking at you.)

Overall response: Loved it. Loved it. Not as resonant as some of the other deaths but by far to me the most shocking.

Luke Skywalker; portrayed by Mark Hamill

Personal feelings: Okay, this is a big one. Here’s the thing. I did not grow up with the original trilogy. I never really cared for Luke (didn’t dislike him either, just ‘meh’). But this movie. This movie. I went on a journey with Luke. I saw him as fallible. As human. Making mistakes. Failing. Falling into depression. And overcoming it. I cried when Luke Skywalker died. I did not think that would happen. I did not think I would ever love Luke so much.

Mode of death: Force projects himself across the galaxy to face his nephew and save the Resistance; the effort kills him. Luke’s death takes a couple of minutes of screentime, and it is gorgeous. Hamill acts his ass off. The music, the visuals, everything combines to make this the most emotional death in Star Wars--a fitting end for its first hero.

Aftermath: Leia and Rey feel his death in the Force. They speak to each other quietly about it. They know it was peaceful. Luke, knowing he was going to die, came and saw his sister first and gave them beautiful closure and a message of hope. Just before Luke dies, he warns Kylo/Ben that he’ll always be with him. Just like his father. Luke fades into the Force and we know we will see him again as a force ghost (which we do, but JJ managed to trash even that). The boy on Canto Bight and his friends are inspired by the legend of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. He ignites hope throughout the galaxy once more.

Narrative purpose: Multiple. As above, inspiring hope throughout the galaxy once more. To serve the theme of self-sacrifice. Achieving victory without violence (pacifistic). Preventing Kylo Ren from killing more people he cares about (Rey, Leia, Luke) and thereby protecting him, at least a little, from himself. Also serves a similar purpose to Yoda’s death--with both Luke and Snoke dying, Rey and Kylo Ren are without masters, the arbiters of their own destiny (thanks again JJ for fucking that up too).

Overall response: I can’t decide if this or Han Solo’s death is more emotionally impactful to me. They are both so, so moving, and so essential to the narrative.

Leia Organa; portrayed by Carrie Fisher

Personal feelings: This is hard. I don’t think her scenes in The Rise of Skywalker worked. They were cut from The Force Awakens for a reason--and then cobbled together like some kind of Frankenstein’s Monster for this movie. As much as I love Leia and Carrie, I couldn’t feel emotion for her death because it was so wooden and artificial.

Mode of death: Uses the last of her energy to reach her son (it is unclear exactly how she is reaching him. Force projection? Did she create the Han memory? Who knows.) Even with so little to work with, they still managed to focus on her death with her lying down, her hand falling to the side--trying to give this some weight.

Aftermath: Chewie mourns. Ben and Rey both feel her death and are clearly devastated. The Resistance gather around her body in mourning. Her body fades at the same time as Ben’s (wtf, JJ) and then we see her as a force ghost with Luke (but not Ben because fuck him apparently).

Narrative purpose: To bring her son back to the light, something that has been a central struggle of this trilogy. Sacrificing yourself to save that which you love.

Overall response: It has a purpose, but I can’t help but think it wouldn’t have gone this way if Carrie hadn’t died. It doesn’t seem as organic as the deaths of Han and Luke.

NB: I’m skipping Palpatine because his death was literally nothing else than “defeat the big bad”. It wasn’t even fulfilling a prophecy, it had no significant narrative weight for Rey, it was a nothing burger.

Ben Solo/Kylo Ren; portrayed by Adam Driver

Personal feelings: Twofold. In the cinema, I felt nothing. Nothing. I actually laughed in surprise. Like, “what was that”? The next day, at home, I cried. I don’t think I cried because he died. I was open to that possibility. I cried because I was so, so angry at how poorly his arc and death was handled. Like he was a footnote in his own fucking story. I think him living was a much more interesting story, narratively and thematically, but I wasn’t necessarily opposed to his death if it was done well. And it wasn’t.

Mode of death: Uses the last of his life energy to resurrect Rey. Falls over. (Plop, there he goes.) Fades into the force.

Aftermath: Like, none? Rey looks kind of surprised and blinks for a couple of seconds. No words are exchanged. He just tips over and dies. Cool.

Narrative purpose (or failure thereof): I am fucking reaching here because all of the previously established trajectories and themes are dashed by this ending. We could argue that this is a self-sacrifice to save what you love theme point. Which is fine, but like, no one mourns. He doesn’t become a Force Ghost. No one acknowledges his death. Ben fading into the Force is a metaphor for him fading from people’s minds. It’s like he doesn’t even exist in the context of the story anymore. Which is insanely baffling because all three of the original trilogy heroes sacrificed their lives, at least in part, to save Ben Solo. So that he could in turn save Rey? So he’s just another cog in the machine? This was always about Rey and never about the love Han and Leia had for their son, or that Luke had for his nephew? If you think about it, the only other ‘main’ characters to die during the course of their trilogy were Qui-gon and Padme. And both of those characters had funerals, and people mourning, and huge narrative implications. The death of Ben Solo reads like the death of a minor character. It serves one very narrow and already over-represented theme. The death of all of the rest of the Skywalkers had huge emotional ramifications for the other characters in the films. With Ben Solo, the Skywalker legacy fades as well, as if JJ is telling us that this saga was not about this family at all, but their whole story existed only for the point of saving Palpatine’s granddaughter. How fucked up is that?

Overall response: Narratively, this just doesn’t make sense. It’s lazy and not impactful. When a character dies in films, you want the audience to feel something, so you show other characters reacting to it. Are they sad? Then we should feel sad too! Are they elated? We should be celebrating! No one reacts to Ben’s death, so we’re not sure how we’re supposed to feel, either. The people who are devastated by this death are the ones who love the character itself and are upset that he got treated this way--the death itself was hollow and emotionless.

So, there you have it. Ben Solo was shafted. Death is extremely prevalent in these movies, and yet, being the only new Skywalker of the sequels and half the protagonist (thank you Rian), Ben Solo has arguably the least emotional or narratively impactful death in the franchise.

Rian Johnson would never do this to Ben Solo.

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fullmarvelheart · 4 years

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Crossing Lines (1/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 3,322

Series summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, little bit of angst, slight swearing, slow burn (more to be added as the series progresses)

A/N: I’m finally able to post this today! I’ve been counting down until I could get this out😂 This is the first story that I have written and posted on my Tumblr account. I’m a bit nervous but very excited. I have not entirely proofread this story. Though, I would like to thank my beta reader, Lauren, for all the help and motivation she gave me. The GIF is not mine, credit to the original creator! And a big thank you to the @the-ss-horniest-book-club for hosting Mob!Bucky Appreciation Day and inspiring me to post this story.

Series Masterlist

The sharp clicking noise of my heels, followed by the dull thud of several boots, echo on the wooden stairs leading to the basement of my childhood home. I follow the along the long stretch of the twisting hallways until we reach a door that's muffling the slaps and punches behind it.

One of the men that had met me in the foyer, and had followed me down, knocks twice on the door as I tuck my hand into the back pocket of the curve-hugging black jeans I wore for the day. Moments later, the steel door swings open with a low whine from the give of the rusted hinges. The scent of blood and sweat is the first thing I notice followed by the image of the room.

Five men stand beyond the doorway. The man who opened the door stands near the edge of steel, gun hanging loosely at his side. Two bodyguards stand in adjacent corners of the room, making sure it’s possible to guard the others with in. Two others, the two most trusted of the household, including the right hand to the leader of the Manhattan Mafia Empire, stand imposingly in front of a man bound to a chair in the center. By the amount of fresh blood dripping onto the floor, this wasn't just some petty offense against the leader. Which draws my attention to the final man, leaning carelessly on a table filled with painful weapons. Nicholas J. Fury, the leader of this mafia clan, and my adopted father.

"You summoned me from my apartment, Boss?" I say with a smirk while jutting out my hip.

Phil Coulson, father's righthand, gives me a smirk in return while Maria Hill, his enforcer, just sends a half-hearted glare my way. However, father's face remains neutral.

"I did." He spares me a one-eyed glance. "Tell me what you see?"

I hum in thought to myself as I stalk my way around to see the captive's face. The top half of his once light-colored shirt is now hanging open from being cut by a knife or something similarly sharp. But it's cut open enough to view a tattoo resting on his right breast.

A red skull surrounded by a halo of octopus tentacles.

I grunt in distaste. "HYDRA scum."

The man lifts up his bloodied and beaten head to snarl at me. He twists his mouth before lobbing a spit ball at my feet. The glob of mixed spit and blood lands inches from my black, closed-toe heels.

I scoff at the action and brush my hand into the waistline of my jeans. When I feel the slim metal hilt, I maneuver the object into my palm. With the push of a small button the knife of the switchblade extends before I quickly drive it into his thigh. He screams out in pain as I keep the blade firmly in place. When his screams turn into tired wails of agony, I turn towards my father.

"Who is he?" I ask, motioning my head towards the man.

"We believe he's behind the hit on George Barnes. Or at least, is attempting to put the blame on us." He explains in his no-nonsense tone.

My eyes widen in shock, my lips parting slightly.

"George Barnes was shot at? Is this why I've been called in?" The prisoner painfully chuckles, quietly enough for only me to hear him.

"He's dead, sweet cheeks." He whispers with a smirk of victory.

I growl at him before twisting my knife and yanking it out while I stand.

"So, why am I here? I assume it's not to attend the funeral because you know I can't. It was just a risk just to even come here." My father gives me a pointed look.

"I need you to go with them to the warehouse with the prisoner while your siblings and I attend the funeral that's being held in a couple of hours. After the funeral, George's son and I will discuss some business about our alliance with the Brooklyn clan. I'll call you with the details." I nod at his instructions.

"You know the FBI is going to have me all over this case once they receive word of Barnes’ death, right?" He nods.

"I'm counting on it."

"I'll be waiting by the van." I tell him before wiping my knife on the man’s already dirty shirt and tucking the now closed switchblade into the band of my jeans.

I'm escorted back up the stairs towards the side of the house where the cars sit waiting in father's massive garage. Though the reason for the escort is now clear. My safety. My personal bodyguards, some of my father's most trusted men, meet back up with me to continue through the house. The sounds of nearing footsteps draw my attention to another hallway. My siblings, the twins, round the corner with their own group of bodyguards.

Wanda, the youngest, according to her brother, is dressed in all black. Appropriate for a funeral. Her brown hair is in casual waves while her makeup is mostly minimally visible. Her natural eyeshadow pairs well with the red lip tint she chose. Her normal red leather jacket is replaced by a similar black one that's draped over a black dress which is cinched at the waist. Her normal array of colorful and seemingly mismatched jewelry has been changed into a long silver chain necklace and a simple dark color bracelet. And to top off the outfit, she put on a pair of high heeled ankle boots. A surprised gasp leaves her lips when she spots me and soon, she's running to me as fast as she can in those heels. Her brother, Pietro, follows not too far behind her.

Pietro is dressed in a similar fashion. His silver dyed hair is brushed into gentle waves. A black leather jackets lays over a black dress shirt while matching pants and shoes. He also wears a small silver chain with a blue pendant on it. A gift from his twin.

Wanda pulls me into a tight hug with an excited squeal and I laugh, returning her hug with equal excitement.

"Y/N/N what are you doing here?!" She giggles as she pulls back. I laugh while Pietro pulls me into a similar hug.

"What? Can't an older sister stop by and see her two favorite siblings?" I gasp in mock offense once I'm released from the hug.

"We're your only siblings." Pietro reminds with a roll of his eyes.

"Besides, being undercover doesn't really allow time for social visits." Wanda points out. I only sigh. Sometimes she's too perceptive.

"It has to do with Brooklyn doesn't it?" Pietro asks while crossing his arms. As the only male heir of our father, Pietro is often included or informed of current affairs. Again, I sigh in defeat, though I shouldn’t be surprised he knows.

"Yeah, father called me in. This is a real shit show and I have a feeling this is just the beginning of it." I mutter distastefully.

They both nod in understanding, but Wanda looks equal parts sad and disappointed. But this is our life, we're used to it by now. Even though it's not always what we wish to have.

I gently smile before pulling them both into a big hug.

"Promise me you two will be careful out there?" Wanda tightens her grip on me.

"It's not us," She begins slowly. "Who you should be worried about." I chuckle dryly, knowing she's right, as I squeeze her back before pulling away from both of them.

"I suppose not. Still, I do. Now, I need to be going soon. I will see you both later." Pietro nods in acceptance, but Wanda let's her head droop slightly. I give her hand a tight squeeze before me and my bodyguards resume our way to where the cars are.

I climb back into the car that I came here in, and wait patiently for the driver and everyone to clamber in. The car is started but we remain idling sitting. As a way to occupy myself, I reach into the side door and feel for what I hid in there before I went in. When my fingers brush over the leather holster, I grab it and attach it, and the gun it holds, to a pocket on the inside of my leather jacket. When it's secure, I fold the jacket back over my chest, concealing the firearm in the process.

A muffled struggle echoes through the once silent garage.

"You want me to take care of that?" I ask the men who sit with me in the car, my fingers brushing over the spot in my jacket where my gun rests.

"Nah, I'll go check it out." One of my bodyguards, Mackenzie, or Mack as he's called, replies from the passenger seat.

"Of bloody course you'd be the first one of us lot to check it out." The driver, a Brit, by the name of Hunter scoffs.

Mack just shakes his head before he opens the door and leaves. When there's a few moments of silence after the car door is shut, that’s when Hunter speaks again.

"What are the odds of him bringing up something about needing that shotgun-axe again once he gets back in here?"

I chuckle and I see the shoulders of the person next to me move slightly.

"High." May, the bodyguard next to me and the one that I trust with mostly everything, responds with a slight edge of humor in her voice. Then she turns to me. "Boss, I was going to wait until we cleared the property,-"

"A good idea, May. I don't know much as of now, I can tell you that, but I'll tell the rest once we’re on the move."

She nods and the front passenger door opens at the same time.

"You'd think the men would know how to handle prisoners, like that one, by now." He grumbles as he settles into his seat. "I swear, one look at a shotgun-axe would scare the life out of those boys. Maybe they'd actually listen to simple instructions at that point."

We all the chuckle as the caravan of cars begins its trip out of the garage and to the warehouse. As we pull down the driveway, I reach into the pocket behind the passenger seat and pull out the object I stashed there and clip it inside my jacket, not too far from my gun. The gold of the badge reflects the light onto the side door while I begin to put on the mask that's essential for my survival out there in this scary world. The letters of F, B, and I revolve in my mind as I stare out the window at my former home. My life is a dangerous one and every aspect has a devastating risk with it.

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

The warehouse is a dark place. Even if there is daylight present, streaming through the dirty frosted windows, a dark and dangerous feeling surrounds the place. It clings to it like the smell of a cigarette on clothes. For newcomers, like the prisoner that followed us in another van just a few behind our own, it's daunting. It's certain death. To me and my bodyguards, only our hairs stand on end in anticipation of what is to come.

I informed my guards of what I knew about the situation on the way here. A reverent silence filled the air at the mention of the late George Barnes' death. He treated his men well, was honest and loyal to his allies, and was a good man. Brooklyn and all of New York will miss him.

I stand in the empty warehouse floor, several paces in front of the unconscious prisoner, who's slumped against his restraints. Turns out the men are really in an impatient mood today. I cross my arms while I zone out observing him. Why did HYDRA do this? What did they gain? What's the bigger picture that I'm missing?

The faint sound of gravel crunching under tires drags me from my head and has me turning towards the opened garage-looking doors. Three black vans drive in and come to a stop not too far from the entrance. Father and Coulson are the first to step out from the center van. My siblings then file out from the one on the right. The rest of the men who were in the cars climb out and seem to form a barrier between the front entrance and the four people headed straight for me.

"I thought I would be receiving a phone call first." I give father a weary glance, noticing his seriousness about something.

"Change of plans." He answers swiftly, and rather seriously. I begin to grow uncomfortable.

The sound of more approaching vehicles has my eyes widening as I turn my curious and nervous expression on my father who gives me a reassuring nod.

"Fury." I hiss under my breath, not liking the idea of going into a situation blindly. He simply ignores me.

My focus is drawn back to the entrance as car doors closing harshly sound in my ears, though my gaze never wavers from my father's profile. A cadence of footsteps march across the unpaved driveway and into the warehouse, only pausing in front of the line of father's men. It's only when the footsteps draw nearer that I finally look at the party joining us.

My eyes widen, ever so slightly, at the sight of three imposing men nearing closer to where I stand. The man on my left is tall and broad-chested. His shiny blond hair reflects the dim light of the warehouse. His jawline is clean and sharp like a knife, adding to the dangerous air around him. The man in the center is just slightly shorter than the one on his left. A few strands of his long brown hair frame his face while, I assume, the rest is pulled back. However, the stubble on his face and those piercing blue eyes that I can see, even in the dim warehouse lighting, gives me an idea of who I’m dealing with. James “Bucky” Barnes. A man whose reputation for being a cold-blooded killer and a ladies’ man is very well known. However, any idea of seriousness is completely forgotten when I notice the man on my right, James’ left, who’s giving me a hard scowl. The familiar sight of the deep chocolate brown skin, hard eyes, and black hair puts me at ease. I could almost laugh at the situation.

“Samuel T. Wilson.” I chuckle when I see his eye twitch at the sound of his full name.

The trio stops not too far away from my father’s group and me. The sight of those two chocolate brown eyes, that look like they want to murder me, have me smirking.

“Special Agent Y/L/N of the FBI.” He growls, and I feel the tension in the room immediately spike. “I thought I saw the last of ya when I was let go.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way.” Wilson scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. I also notice Barnes shifting in my periphery and sigh to myself as I think of how to reword things. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been let go so easily. There wasn’t any substantial evidence against you, but the other agents were going to keep you locked up to send a message. I let it slip to our boss, and he had a big problem with what they were doing. You were let free not too long after. So quit looking like you want to kill me, and maybe offer a ‘thank you’ instead.”

He goes to speak, but that’s when father decides to step in.

“Gentlemen, we came here to discuss a business transaction, not hash out the past. If you three would, follow me. Agent, you too. Son, keep the rest of our guests some company.” There are a series of soft grumbles and complaints, but ultimately, everyone listens.

When the three Brooklyn boys pass the now awake prisoner, his face turns a scary shade of white. And that’s considering the fact that he was already pale due to blood loss. I feel a shiver begin to creep down my spine, but I suppress it. I tell myself it’s because of the type of fear these men can instill, but deep down, I know that it was a low growl I heard somewhere over my shoulder.

Father takes us to one of the few offices in the warehouse and has me shut the door. Barnes sits in the chair across from Fury with both his men flanking either side of him. The only person at my father’s side is Coulson on the right, until I walk up to the vacant spot on my father’s left.

“I think proper introductions should be made before we begin talks.”

“I agree.” Barnes cuts in. “I didn’t realize this meeting would include a dirty Fed.”

I scoff but am interrupted before I can make any smart remark.

“This, gentlemen, is my eldest child. Y/N was the first I adopted and raised in this life. The only reason she is in the FBI is to help us deal with HYDRA.”

“HYDRA is everywhere.” I start explaining. “Like cockroaches in an old building. The only way to make sure every loose end has been tied up is to have all the information. There’s no better way to do it.”

“Hold up. I thought your last name was ‘Y/L/N’.” This time, Wilson interrupts.

“A cover, obviously. If the FBI learned of my ties to the Underworld or to my father, it would be worse than if they thought I was just corrupt.”

“The point is that Y/N will be passing on any information she learns about HYDRA and their plot.”

“I’ll also be keeping a very close eye on anything that may have to do with what happened to your father.” At the mention of him, I see James’ lips twitch slightly while the furrow of his brow deepens. “I am sorry for what happened to him. Your father was a great and very well-respected man.”

The only sign of acknowledgement I get from the new leader of the Brooklyn clan is a slight nod of his head, and I begin to grow uncomfortable in the silence that follows. Luckily, a phone ringing stops the awkwardness from becoming worse. However, it’s not just any phone. It’s my phone. I quickly snatch it from one of the pockets of my leather jacket and glance at the screen.

“It’s my boss.” I inform before answering. “This is Y/L/N. Yes, sir. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” He hangs up. “I’m being called in. Send me the rest of the details later.” My father nods as he motions for me to leave. Before I do, I look over the three new faces and say in the most professional tone I can gather, “It was nice to properly meet you, gentlemen. I look forward to working with you.”

Without waiting for a reply from one of my father’s, hopefully, new allies to say anything, I hurry around the desk and out of the office. Once Hunter receives the word to get the car ready, I tuck my phone away again.

As I leave the warehouse, goosebumps prickle my skin. Not because it’s cold, or because I’m scared, but because of the pressure that’s suddenly fallen around my shoulders. This attack, this changes everything. HYDRA has always threatened the clans, carried out small or petty attacks, but they have never directly attacked the families. The death of George Barnes is only the catalyst.

A war is coming, and blood will be spilled. But how prepared am I for what I expect to come?

Part 2

#hbc bucky barnes appreciation days #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #marvel #mob!bucky #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky x female reader #mobster bucky #bucky barnes au

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seateajessi · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1

Wc: 1.8k

@chokemeanakin request, my very first fanfic hope you like it <3

There it was this familiar feeling of fear, anger, and frustration creeping into my mind consuming my very soul and leave my body frozen.

I failed.

I needed a moment to realize what just happened, a moment I missed to dodge the shot that split my lightsaber in half.

Not that It was of great use to me, now that I was lying on a destroyed federation tank, probably deadly injured and without any support that could turn things for the better.

The stars dancing over me confirmed my worries and slowly a jabbing pain kept me from breathing in more of the burnt air that wavered over the battlefield.

That was it.

That was the end.

The end of a traitor, of someone who left her troops in the middle of a crucial fight only to hunt down a phantom, a specter. There were clear orders to be followed, there was a code that showed a Jedi how to lead, how to live, and most importantly how to survive.

Especially the last part seemed more reasonable to me, as I was dying on that piece of metal junk.

My vision began to blur and the sounds of the battle surrounding me became numbed.

I desperately tried to reach my communicator and I believe more color left my face when I felt the warm blood on my finger.

Tears formed in my eyes as I started to realize what I had done, in what position I had brought not only my troops but the whole galaxy, the republic ... and General Skywalker.

I winced at the thought of Ani, we were friends since we first met as younglings at the temple.

The mission we were sent to was most likely one of the most significant, it held the potential to capture General Grievous and end that monster once and for all. After a defeat of General Grievous and his droids, the Jedi council and chancellor Palpatine were informed by republic supporters that Grievous fled to the Outer Rim.

Palpatine made it clear that two of the most powerful Jedi should execute this mission to ensure certain success. The council was as confused as I was when the chancellor recommended me for this mission, of course, I was a Jedi knight but I was neither a master nor the chosen one, on the contrary, I had never felt strongly connected to the force or was especially skilled with the lightsaber. If it wasn't for the severity of the situation and the lack of available Jedi, the council would have never even considered sending me on this mission.

I closed my eyes and gasped at the pain that slowly numbed my body and my consciousness.

In the Carlac system, we finally tracked a sign, in hindsight obviously way too easy and after we landed on Carlac it didn´t take long and an army had surrounded us. Any communication was blocked and Anakin and I were separated right at the beginning of the battle.

The snow-covered planet made it difficult to keep an overview, heavy blizzards made it nearly impossible to see more than two feet in front of you.

Tiny sobs escaped me when I thought of him being out there alone facing this gigantic army of battle droids. In the Jedi order was no personal attachment allowed and that was the hardest price to pay in order of being a Jedi. He had to be dead by now, yet I didn´t feel any change in the force.

The tears burned in my eyes, realizing that everyone could be dead by now and my weak connection to the force could easily hide it from me.

My thoughts became disorientated and the aching pain had now reached every limb and bone in my body.

My eyelids became heavier and it started to snow again, flakes nearly as big as my hand, they really looked beautiful combined with the fading sunlight.

Something felt so familiar with that picture and for a moment it soothed my pain sending me into something between sleep and unconsciousness.

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

The nightmare that haunted me was the same as I dreamt it almost every night for as long as I could remember.

Usually, I was wandering through a cave until I would spot daylight and hope to escape this hell only to stop before a dead end every single time. A horrifying scream fills the cave, echoes, and becomes louder and louder until I´d crouch on the ground. Desperation and fear would paralyze me until the cave would begin to crumble and collapse burying me.

This time was no different and with a loud gasp I opened my eyes, adjusting to the harsh mechanical lights that were directed on me.

I couldn´t make anything out in the glaring light, apart from the metallic room that surrounded me, and the fact that I was levitating in the middle of this room, held in some sort of slowly spinning electrical captivation.

It was a wonder that I survived the shooting before but there was no way I would live long enough to...my train of thought was interrupted by the opening of the door.

Battle droids of course and behind them a horrendous creature, half a robot and half Kaleesh.

"General Grievous", I stated, trying to sound as unaffected as possible.

His pestering laugh filled the room as he eyed me carefully.

"I´m a Jedi", my voice sounded horrible, an embarrassing mixture between voice cracks and whispering. Why was I even talking to him, I silently cursed myself.

"Jedi scum for sure, but what´s your name little Jedi?"

"Emerald", I answered slowly starting to feel the pain coming back.

"Is this even a name?", the droid next to Grievous chattered, "Never is that a name.", he continued clearly sure of himself, "We found her on the top of a tank, and her lightsaber was broken. I have it right here. Look at it yourself." he proudly held my lightsaber in front of Grievous face.

"What am I supposed to do with it you stupid droid?", the Kaleesh snarled. "You´re soon will look like that saber, Jedi scum. Droids, guard her." with that he stamped out, leaving me with that awful sound of "Rodger, Rodger" echoing through the room.

The thought of Anakin and the clones haunted me, there was no way I would give them up so easily.

This was my chance, a new sparkle of hope gave me life, the moment a somewhat brilliant idea came to my mind.

With my most suffering expression, which I didn't even need to fake that much I wailed "Oh, no. I´m gonna die, I can feel it. If I die now, Grievous can´t kill me. How are you gonna explain to him that you let me die when you were instructed to guard me." I sighed dramatically and slowly closed my eyes.

"Is she dead?", "Hey you, Emerald Jedi.", "I think she is dead", "We need to check, I was just promoted." the discussion continued until I roughly landed on the ground, hearing the two battle droids approaching to check on my health.

I quietly groaned at the aching pain that definitely originated from the left side of my body.

I felt the cold metal hand on my throat, clumsily checking if I was still alive. "I think she is...dead?!"

I calmed myself collecting everything that's left of my strength and grabbed the droid and ripped his head off. "Whaaat the", the other droid screamed in shock, still compensating why I was still breathing, which made it easier to grab his blaster and shoot it.

I gasped again, this time out of physical exertion, this little fight had brought me near unconsciousness again.

Struggling to set one foot before another I reached the door and opened it, trying to be as quiet as possible while sneaking out of the metallic hellhole.

There were only a few other droids, the base definitely didn´t seem heavily guarded, which was somehow strange.

"Grievous, you know that it is of utmost importance that the Jedi girl...", I froze and slowly approached the corner the voices were coming from. "Skywalker has to walk into our trap..." My heart made a little jump when I realized that Anakin probably wasn´t dead. "...Sidious ordered that she is only to be killed when Skywalker watches." I frowned and carefully retreated. The pain became more unbearable by the second and I still needed to find a way out of here.

Still, I couldn´t keep my mind from start rattling about what I just witnessed.

What in the force's name did they mean by setting a trap for Anakin. I wasn´t sure who the other one was, but I was definitely planning on figuring that out.

I needed to get to our ship and contact the fleet, call for help and inform the Jedi council about this.

I looked for something that would keep me alive and my luck had turned at least that's what I thought the moment I spotted a little something above me.

It seemed like there was some sort of container that had a medical sign-on. My shoulder made a terrible sound as I tried to reach for the switch to open it.

The pain that shot through my whole body caused me to abruptly slump down to the hard metal ground.

Before I could hit the ground hard, I was caught by a pair of strong arms that seemed familiar to me.

Could this be... "Ani?", I croaked and turned around, tears once again forming in my eyes as I saw his eyes full of concern and his hurt expression.

"You promised me you weren´t going to do anything reckless", he whispered and tried to sound taunting but his voice broke when he turned me a bit and saw my side.

I tried to form a laugh that sounded more like Grievous coughing, due to the amount of blood that came with it.

"Don´t worry it´s gonna be fine. Help is on its way, we-we contacted the fleet.",

My hand clutched for his that tried desperately to soothe my pain somehow.

"Ani, please hold me", I whimpered holding on to him even stronger. I couldn't read the expression that crept on his face but it scared me.

"They are gonna pay for this, every single one of them." he hissed and my stomach turned.

"Just look at me, Ani, please. It´s not that bad.", I whispered caressing his cheek and tried to smile. His expression softens and he carefully picked me up. "You´re so cold, Ems." I huffed and grabbed his hand pressing it against me, placing a soft kiss on his palm. A sad smile graced his face while he covered me with his robe. "See, I´m here, don´t worry.", he placed in return a kiss on my head.

"Ani, I´m scared." I whispered and I don´t know what hurt more the stabbing pain in my side or how his eyes became watery.

I ran my hand softly over his chest and buried myself into his strong arms. I barely felt the pain nor the burning sensation that had caused his touch.

And once again I drifted into sleep, only this time I felt as safe and warm as I never had before.

#anakin fic #sw anakin #star wars fanfiction #star wars #anakin fluff #anakin x reader #anakin x fem reader #original female character #fluff #hurt #angst

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eclecticmiasma · 4 years

Text

Cold Blood (Bucciarati x Reader)

FS, as I deem you, you are always welcome in my inbox you nutball 😘 Incoming forced Bucciarati x Reader angst.

In the end, even the righteous are nothing more than animals.

NSFW

[Warnings: rape, dead dove do not eat]

Art credit: MIE. on pixiv

When you and Bruno had entered the abandoned hangar, it seemed normal enough. A bit ominous in how massive and empty it was, an impression not helped by the lack of lighting, but nothing out of the ordinary. All you wanted to do was get in, gather some intel, and leave.

That’s when you spotted Diavolo’s henchmen.

“You’ve built up quite a reputation for yourself, Bucciarati. Many loyal citizens even refer to you as the Santo di Napoli…How quaint.”

Bruno’s mind reeled for ways to wipe the shit-eating grin off of the green-lipped doctor that loomed atop some scaffolding near forty feet above you. Even the gremlin that perched next to him on all fours seemed to be mocking in his gaze. Fear etched its way into your features, as neither of your stands were equipped to reach them. Until they made a move, you were caught like mice in a trap.

“My orders were to execute you both, but there’s a small experiment I’ve been dying to try for decades. The world lacks such passionate and honorable men as yourself, and I fear that if I simply snuff out your life now, I might never get the chance to see if my theory holds true.”

Your capo stood in front of you protectively, fingers itching, a cold and calculated look on his features. He was no doubt regretful that he had asked you and not one of his other underlings to help him with this task. His number one goal was to protect the ones he loved, and his love for you ran much deeper than you even realized.

“You see, I have a theory that any man on the planet can be brought to their base instincts with nothing more than a chemical. Humans love to drone on about how civilized and evolved we are. We tout our self-control as though we’re anything more than sentient beasts…The problem has been finding a man virtuous enough to be worth experimenting on. You should be honored that I’ve chosen you, Bucciarati.”

Cioccolata gave Secco a tap on the head and gestured for him to fish something out of his pockets. The boy did so gratefully, worming his fingers through the taller man’s pants until he found what he was looking for. His shoddily held together mask slipped down and revealed a beaming grin as he held up a small pistol for the doctor to see.

“Perfect! Always a reliable boy,” Cioccolata praised, flicking a white cube into his pet’s waiting mouth. He turned his attention back to his anxious captives, “If the experiment goes well, I’ll gladly let the two of you live. Though, I don’t know if you’ll want to.”

It happened in a millisecond. He pointed the pistol straight at Bruno and pulled the trigger once. Something much thinner than a bullet shot right through Bruno’s black and white suit into his bicep. You rushed forward to help him as he cried out in pain, immediately ripping the foreign object out of his arm and throwing it to the floor like it was made of fire. It appeared to be some kind of small, pink dart.

“Stay back!” Bruno shouted at you, feeling warmth spread from the sight of injection throughout his upper body. Whatever was in the dart worked immediately, and as you made eye contact you watched his frantic pupils dilate to the point that you could no longer see a hint of his bright blue irises. Panic flooded through you as you watched him struggle, fearing that he was in real pain. You turned up to shout obscenities at Cioccolata, demanding to know what he’d done, but the doctor’s unhinged look of pure delight gave you pause.

“I wouldn’t take my eyes off of him if I were you,” He said, clucking his tongue. You noticed that Secco was leaned over the edge of the scaffolding, angling a video camera your direction.

Bruno’s heavy breathing brought your attention back. He was sweating bullets, normally kempt raven hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes flicked up and down your body as his chest heaved. Fear gripped you as you realized he looked like a cornered feral animal, “Bucciarati…are you o-”

“[Y/n]…” He practically growled, limbs twitching, drool dripping from his parted lips, “Run.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. The entrance to the warehouse was twenty to thirty feet away. If you could just get outside, you could flag down Abbacchio and Giorno who stood as lookouts for backup.

You got hardly ten feet before something wrapped around your waist and slammed you backwards onto the hard metal floor, knocking the air out of you. Your veins ran ice cold as whatever it was immediately hooked its arms beneath your shoulders and began to drag you backwards. You kicked out wildly and screamed bloody murder, trying to dig your soles into the floor just enough to keep from being taken.

In a last ditch effort to escape, you turned your head down to bite the arms that constricted your chest. Horrified, you realized they belonged to Sticky Fingers.

“Bucciarati, stop!” You cried out, terribly confused. Sticky Fingers stopped and heaved you sideways so that Bruno stood at your feet, looming over you. His breathing was even more erratic, and his hands were visibly trembling. A single tear leaked from his blown out eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered. You tried to jerk out of the stand’s grasp as it suddenly gripped the sides of your shirt and ripped it open in a flurry of movement. Bruno’s eyes pierced your bare chest with his unhinged gaze, and suddenly he was on you like a rabid wolf. Lips, hands, teeth, breath- all of it gliding along your body at once with no regard for your sobs of protest.

Bruno and Sticky Fingers made quick work of your clothing, stripping you naked in a matter of seconds. All you could do was beg your capo to stop as he exposed you to the world, and all he could do was mutter apology after apology. He gripped your hair painfully and pressed his body against you, rutting his clothed, painfully hard erection against your lower abdomen and panting in your ear.

“[Y/n], [y/n]…I have to. I need to…”

“Bucc-Bruno, please don’t do this,” You wept. Bruno bypassed removing his pants altogether by just zipping the top half of them off completely, freeing his throbbing length. It hit your bare stomach with a sickening slap and bile rose in your throat. Sticky Fingers tightened its grip on your arms as you struggled, but you managed to kick Bruno hard in the thigh.

“You bitch,” He shouted, hands moved impossibly fast, digging his nails into your flailing legs so hard they pierced your skin. His voice sounded like it came from another entity altogether. You never even thought it possible for Bruno to get so enraged.

Just as fast as his fury came it disappeared into dust. His face immediately twisted into sadness and he threw himself against you, letting out a slew of apologies against your ear. You stopped struggling and just cried, completely stunned and profoundly conflicted. On the one hand, the man you trusted the most in this world was going to violate you beyond repair. On the other hand, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Bruno. It was the enemies that stood proudly above you, lazily gratifying their own members to your despair.

Like a man possessed, Bruno pushed your thighs apart painfully wide and began frotting against your bare folds. His groveling melted into mumbling incoherently about all of the ways he’s wanted to fuck you ever since the day you met. It pained you deeply to think that your friendship might have been nothing but Bruno biding his time, waiting for the day you would accede to his desire. You tried to shake the thought from your head. It isn’t Bruno, it isn’t Bruno.

From somewhere above, you heard Secco cackle wildly. The tip of Bruno’s cock found its way into your entrance, and the burning stretch immediately brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Bruno pressed on, despite the fact that your body rejected him fully. It was agony, your role model’s thick, dry length impaling you inch by excruciating inch. His lips met your neck and sucked angry red marks into your clammy skin. It felt like he was splitting you in two. Sticky Fingers gripped your arms so tightly one of your shoulders felt dangerously close to popping out of its socket.

“Looks like I was right again, Secco. Even Santo Bucciarati can’t fight nature,” You shook your head violently, feeling the room spin. Stop talking…you thought. Stop talking, stop talking, it isn’t him!

After eons, Bruno finally bottomed out inside of you. Even sitting still, the thrum of pain you felt around his cock was immense. Your eyes wrenched closed, refusing to watch as Bruno took your body for his own.

“Please,” You whimpered one final time, appealing to some part of Bruno you desperately hoped was still lurking beneath the surface of whatever possessed him. You were granted no such appeal.

“Fuck,” He growled, moving inside of you, dick dragging along your walls like barbed wire. He felt your hot, sticky tears against his cheek as his sweat-slicked face leaned against yours, and in his first act of kindness dragged his tongue along them, “Don’t cry, bella…you’re taking me so well…” His hips snapped against you as his hands roamed your body, grasping at whatever flesh was within his reach. Even Sticky Fingers made small sounds as his user canted deep inside of you.

Bruno moaned aloud when your pussy clamped on his length for the briefest of moments as he hit a spot that, under other circumstances, would have felt incredible. Instead, it only made you sick. A cloying feeling scratching at your guts as he fucked you with wild abandon.

His thrusts became more erratic once his lips found yours. You fought as hard as you could, clamping your lips shut and turning your face away from him. Sticky Fingers didn’t hesitate to painfully grab your jaw and snap your head back to center, using its thick digits to pry open your mouth and give its owner access. Bruno moaned into your mouth when his tongue met yours, and it took everything inside of you not to retch as it slid along your throat.

“God, fuck,” He pulled away from you, wrapping his arms around your neck and penetrating your hole at a brutal pace, “I love you, [y/n],” Your stomach dropped, “I love you, I love you, I-” His hips stuttered as his release hit him suddenly, his seed spurting deep within you all at once. You whimpered pitifully at its warmth, disgusted at the feeling of his thick semen coating your walls.

Cioccolata slowly clapped. Secco proudly showed him from what great angles he managed to film the fall of Bucciarati.

Bruno clung to you for several minutes after his orgasm, when all you wanted him to do was leave you alone to mourn. His body trembled against yours. When he finally pulled away, you saw that his eyes, the real Bruno’s eyes, were filled to the brim with tears. You never saw him look so pained. He tried to speak, but no words came. Sticky Fingers faded away, and you collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Bruno pulled himself from you and bellowed into the endless abyss of the hangar until his throat was raw.

Diavolo’s guards held true to their word. They didn’t kill you that night, or any other night. They simply collected their data, and left the two of you to wallow in your shattered new reality.

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years

Text

How to be a Dad 101

Chapter Three - A Single Red Rose

Jasonette July Day 4

Masterlist

He knew his brothers were wondering what on earth was up with him, but he also couldn’t bring himself to care in the least. Jason left them behind without a thought, telling Marinette to direct him to wherever she was staying.

Jason felt restless. The image of Marinette dangling from the ladder, seconds from death, it had burrowed into his mind, sending him more and more panic. He knew she was okay - she was standing right beside him. But the what-ifs were enough to drive him mad.

A large part of him was balking at the fact that he cared so much. What was so special about this tiny French girl?

They barely spoke on the way to the hotel, and after he’d watched her get in safely, he found himself perching on the rooftop of said hotel, safeguarding it from nonexistent threats. Up there, he had entirely too much time to think.

The intensity of his emotions right now was concerning to say the least, but he hadn’t felt so close to losing himself to anger since the first few months after coming back to life. Seeing Marinette safe seemed to be the only solution to the condition, but it wasn’t sustainable. He wasn’t a big enough asshole to force himself and all of his emotional minefields on her but he couldn’t pull himself away just yet.

Jason would never pretend to be any sort of saint, but he knew that Marinette deserved someone better than him. She had an entire life waiting for her in Paris, and doubtlessly a whole host of perfect, non-homicidal men just waiting for her. It wasn’t fair or kind to her to encourage anything more from their acquaintance. She was too delicate to be faced with the things that life threw at him daily, too precious.

If he were truly a good man, Jason would have made his excuses and bowed out of his agreement, or maybe simply not shown up at all. But Jason was not a good man, so he let himself have this one day, a single day to forget his life.

It ended up being a great day. He’d had misgivings at first, but Marinette’s friends were pretty fun. Alya finally got her footage, a frankly impressive video of Adrien and Marinette tag-teaming a mugger – that definitely didn’t help him break his growing attachment to the girl, although it did make him rethink the whole “too delicate” thing.

By the end of the day, Jason had been accepted into the group. He couldn’t remember laughing that much for a very, very long time. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of the motley crew, but they definitely kept him on his toes. It was pure chaos, with moments where Marinette tripped, only to somersault and land perfectly on her feet, holding her hands out like Dick did whenever he pulled one of his gymnastics stunts. At lunch, Adrien got so distracted that he ordered his food in at least four different languages before Nino finally took pity on him and ordered it in English. Meanwhile, despite Nino and Marinette constantly kidnapping her phone, Jason was pretty sure that Alya had already finished an article to accompany her footage of the mugger.

It seemed that Marinette hadn’t told any of them about the incident with Killer Croc this morning, so he forced himself to take every opportunity he could to remind them never to walk around alone.

He was also forced to make his excuses about being gone for the rest of the week for a sudden family emergency. Just the words were almost enough to make him gag.

Marinette looked a little sad, which made Jason feel so weak. But with the same smile as always, she said, “Well, I guess you’ll have to show us the best things today.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She raised her own, putting her hands on her hips. “Is that white patch of hair on your head fake?”

“It’s actually natural.”

Mirth glittered in her eyes. “I don’t believe you, but get a move on! We’re wasting daylight.”

The following day, no matter how much Jason tried to forget, or pretend that it didn’t happen, was ingrained on his very soul. It was the best day of his life, and it quickly turned into the best night of his life. Never before had he… well, Jason laid awake long after Marinette had fallen asleep, wondering if this was what love felt like.

Leaving her was worse than being shot, worse than being resurrected, and worse than dying in the first place. Jason felt like he was leaving that best part of himself with her, but it was the only way he could protect her.

Moving as quietly as possible, Jason collected his things. He couldn’t have known how much he would think of and obsess over this day, this woman. He couldn’t have known that this day would change his entire life, or that it would do the same to Marinette.

We cannot know the future, and the same held true for Marinette in Jason. Almost in mourning, Jason would go on a two-month road trip around the country, trying and failing to distance himself from the memory of her. Understanding that everything about that final day meant goodbye, Marinette would never try to find or contact Jason again – although it would have been nearly impossibly had she tried. She didn’t even know his last name. No, in some ways she was completely alone the mornings she woke up nauseous, and when she finally decided to buy a pregnancy test. She had her friends and family to hold her when it came back positive, and again in the delivery room.

Marinette’s joy would be more than she could have ever imagined, but it would always come with an edge. A part of her mind would always dwindle on Jason with every first word or step.

Years later they would reunite, and together lament their lost time and experiences. Jason would be surprised at how sweet it felt to be called “dad.” But the unknowable future is always held captive by the cruel present, and although it grieved him, all Jason knew was that in the present, it was time for him to leave.

It pained him to think of abandoning her without leaving a trace of him behind, so Jason gave her the two parting gifts he could afford to give her: a kiss on the forehead, and a single red rose.

Taglist:

@jasonette-july-2k20 @ira-sairain @myazael @pawsitivelymiraculous @nik-nak-3 @dast218 @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

Note:

Sorry if you ask to get tagged and I don’t get to it right away, things are super chaotic rn. On that same note, the next couple days might not come out strictly on time, my life is a complete disaster at the moment. I look forward to seeing what you guys think.

#jasonette july 2k20 #jasonette #maribat #mominette #jason x marinette

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hoekaashi · 4 years

Text

Imagine | S.H.

a/n: this isn’t the best but i’ll be damned if i don’t upload it after the shit i went through to write it. also based off the song imagine by ariana grande. pairings: shinsou x reader warnings: death, mentions of blood taglist: @suckersuki, @babydabi, @bakugoustanaccount

As a pro hero, Shinsou had to work long hours and was always on the clock. Even when he wasn’t on duty, he still was. There would be mornings when you woke up and he was gone, not even a note left behind as he rushed out the door to fight whatever villain disturbed his sleep. But nothing had prepared the two of you for those two weeks neither of you saw each other - despite living together. It was difficult, you were working overtime and Shinsou’s schedule was never fixed. By the end of the second week, you had enough. You marched your way into his boss’s office and told him that Shinsou was taking an extra long lunch so the two of you could spend time with each other.

Shinsou still remembered how shocked he was to see you waiting at his desk when he came back from patrol. The smirk on your face was engraved in his brain. He swore he could still feel your grip around his wrist as you tugged him back outside. You took him to a small cafe that the two of you had been dying to try. It was a new cat cafe that opened up and you were damned if you would let another day go by hearing people rave about it without having gone yourself.

It was nice, just being able to spend time with each other and just talk. You told Shinsou about this new project you were working on to help rescue teams better locate hostages in unknown areas and he told you about a new group of villains who had been targeting the families of heroes. Shinsou never held anything back from you. He never understood the point of keeping things hidden and this case was no exception. Without hesitation, he told you about his concerns for your safety. You were a civilian, no formal training with your quirk. These villains had brought the best of the best to their knees due to their cruelty and it terrified him. He recalled the smile on your face when he told you that you were the reason he had been working overtime to catch them. He couldn’t sleep knowing that they were still out there and the possibility of them hurting you was too high.

After lunch, the two of you took a walk through the park. He held your hand tightly as the two of you strolled in silence. Well, it was silent until you squealed and ran out of his grasp. There was a pet adoption fair going on and despite the amount of times Shinsou told you that the two of you didn’t have the time to take care of a pet, it didn’t stop you from constantly bringing the subject up. He sighed and walked over to the dogs. You were playing with two of them and Shinsou couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched the small fur balls attack you with kisses. You moved through all the animals present until you got to the cats. You couldn’t stop yourself as you picked up a black cat with golden eyes. Holding it close to your chest, you walked over to your boyfriend who was already prepared to give you the same, tired speech, but one look at you with the cat was enough to get him to forget everything he was going to say. That night, Shinsou came home early and found you with your new cat playing in the living room.

Shinsou looked over at Shadow who was happily munching away on his dinner. He ran a hand down his face before finishing the rest of the beer in his hand. That took place only a few months ago. He should’ve said no to lunch. He should’ve told you to go home and let him take care of his work. Raising the empty bottle, Shinsou was ready to throw it across the room, but ended up placing it on the dining table. He should’ve done a better job taking care of you. Maybe you would still be here with him then.

A few days after that, he got a text from you.

Except it wasn’t you. It was the group of villains he was chasing. They sent him a picture of you tied to a chair, unconscious and gagged, with dried blood that trickled from your head and down your face. They gave him a week. If he could find them in 168 hours, you would be allowed to live and go home with him. Shinsou found them alright, with your life on the line, how could he not? Unfortunately, he had missed his deadline by a few minutes. He found you, but you were dead. If the villains held their end of the bargain, you would’ve been able to be saved, but they were villains. Your death was a slow and cruel one. Paramedics had to pry him away from your body as other heroes checked for any other victims.

This would never have happened if he never asked you out. You would’ve lived a long life. You wouldn’t have had to deal with the fear of being held captive or the anxiety of whether you would make it out alive or not. Shinsou could only blame himself.

He was selfish. He never needed you. No, he wanted you. He craved you. If only he had better self control. What would your lives have been like if he was a normal person like you? No hero work or fighting villains. Just two regular people who were in love. He would’ve taken you on that road trip you always wanted to go on - cross country, stopping at all the spots you always wanted to visit. He never agreed to it because it would be too risky, just driving out in the open without anyone to call for backup if you two were attacked. But now? Shinsou wished more than ever that he had just listened to you and took you out on a trip.

He missed all the late night conversations the two of you had. It was a tradition that started before you moved in together. A tradition that helped him learn a lot more about you and himself. It didn’t matter how busy he was or what he was doing, when you called for your talks, he would excuse himself to listen to whatever you had on your mind that night. After moving in, those last night conversations felt even more real with your head on his chest and his arm around you. It felt like you were the only two people in the world. It killed him inside knowing that he would never be able to tell you another secret about him or hear your laughter when you said something deeper than he imagined and you saw the look of shock on his face.

Your laugh.

The way your laugh instantly lifted his mood. The way your smile brightened his day. He would never get to experience that again. Shinsou closed his eyes and tried to picture the last time he got to see you smile for him. He felt the tears begin to form as the memory was hazy. It hadn’t even been that long and yet, here he was, forgetting his favorite thing about you.

Slowly getting up, he made his way back to the bedroom you once shared with him. He remembered how he would always have to remind you to clean up your clothes that were littered around the room and how you would always brush him off and forget to do it. When he would come home from work, you would always have dinner ready for him - his favorite takeout - as a thank you since he would always end up cleaning your mess for you. Those nights would always end with you decorating the cuddle corner, as you dubbed it. The cuddle corner was an empty corner that looked sad in the room so you decorated it with a fuzzy throw blanket and pillows. Whenever you did this whole routine with Shinsou, you also spread flower petals everywhere that he made you clean up the next day, and the two of you usually sat there and watched a bad romcom until you fell asleep in his arms. Walking into the room now, the throw and pillows had been packed away. There were actually a lot of boxes filled with your things that were sitting in the room. Shinsou went through your stuff little by little, not able to make a lot of progress before breaking down each time. He taped off a box that said donations.

After your death, he contacted your family to ask if there was anything of yours they wanted to keep. Other than pictures and some jewelry pieces, they didn’t want anything else. They told him to donate whatever he didn’t want to keep around the place because that’s what you would’ve wanted him to do.

Shinsou picked up a picture of you that he had on his nightstand. He remembered that day so well - the day he first kissed you. He knew you were nervous the entire date and when you started rambling about how you never had a real boyfriend before, he pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn’t because he was tired of hearing you talk. No. It was because he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know how your lips would feel against him. The entire date, he kept finding himself staring at them, wanting to know how they felt against his. They were soft and tasted like strawberries. When he pulled away, he heard you take a deep breath. It was from that moment he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

Putting the picture back down, Shinsou looked back over at the closet. Some of your clothes were in a pile on the ground, barely anything of yours still hanging up. After putting the remaining clothes in a box and moving it to the side, he had one last place left to clean out. With a heavy heart, he made his way over to the dresser that the tv sat on. He opened the top drawer, unsure of what you kept in there. You were always adamant about having one place in your apartment that was all yours. Something Shinsou never knew about. And that place was the top drawer of the dresser. His eyes widened when he saw a bunch of CDs sitting in the corner. He picked one up, a date written on it. Shinsou placed it in the CD player and turned on the tv. Your face immediately showed up and Shinsou felt his heart clench. He gently touched the screen.

“Toshi stop!” you shouted at him. He laughed from behind the camera. “Stop it already!”

“Why, kitten?”

You looked away. “The angle makes me look like I have a triple chin.”

“It’ll be the same angle our children see when you feed them so what does it matter.”

You turned around, shocked, and slapped him in the chest. “Hitoshi, knock it off.”

The camera shook as he laid down. You sighed and joined him, resting your head on his shoulder. He turned the camera around so it faced the two of you. He kissed the top of your head and you looked at him, smiling.

“I mean it though.”

“What?” you asked.

“I want you to have my kids one day. Grow old together. Live out all of our dreams with each other.”

Shinsou didn’t realize when, but he found himself sitting on the end of the bed watching. Silent tears were rolling down his cheeks.

Your hand caressed his cheek as the two of you stared at each other, eyes filled with love. “You think you can keep me interested that long?”

“Kitten please, I know you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Bold of you to assume that. A new person got added to my team a couple days ago and he’s been flirting with me like crazy.”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow. “Good for him for practicing his lines with you.”

“I don’t know… If he asks me out, I might say yes.”

“Okay. Let me know if it goes well.”

You sat up, almost knocking the camera out of his hand. “Hitoshi!”

He sat up as well, placing the camera down, somehow managing to show you both in the frame. “Yes?”

“How could you say that?” you pouted.

“Kitten, I don’t care who thinks they have a chance with you. At the end of the day, you always come back to me. Doesn’t matter who buys you a coffee or an ice cream, none of them know you like I do.” He grabbed your chin, making you look at him. He pulled your face closer to his until his lips were hovering over yours. “None of them will ever make you scream like -”

You shoved him away. “We’re in public,” you whispered harshly.

Shinsou sat back, resting his weight back on his hands. “That hasn’t stopped you from doing worse before.”

He laughed as you threw your sandel at his chest. Shinsou grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him. He wrapped his arms around you as you rested your head on his chest. “You can be with any other person in the world, but they will never love you the way I do.”

With his arm over your mouth, the rest of what you said wasn’t caught by the camera, but Shinsou didn’t need to hear it. He remembered exactly what you said. Closing his eyes, the memory came back to him as if this date was yesterday.

“I’m never going anywhere. We’ll grow old together and tell our grandchildren stories about us. I love you so much, Toshi.”

Taking a deep breath, Shinsou opened his eyes. The tv was black. The clipped had ended. It felt like you were still there, in his arms. Wiping his face, he took the CD out and placed it back in the cover. He shuffled through the other CDs you had. Over the years the two of you had been together, you had collected around seventy little home movies. They varied, some of them shot on a camera, some from a phone, and there was a mix of the two of you filming. Gently removing them, he placed them on the ground. He needed to finish packing your stuff up.

The following day, Shinsou gathered all the boxes for donations and drove off to a donation center. Dropping them off had been harder than he expected. The owners of the place gave him looks of pity the entire time, up until he had gotten back in his car. The news about your death had been out for a while, but he hadn’t been working since then. He never really left his house, his friends bringing him stuff he needed, his mother coming to keep him company every so often.

Walking back into the apartment, it felt empty. Not because you weren’t there, but because everything that reminded Shinou of you was now gone. The only things left were Shadow and the ring. The ring Shinsou was going to propose with once those villains were caught. He had been contemplating if he should return it to the jeweler or not. It was sitting in the drawer of his nightstand, collecting dust. He headed over to take it out. Shadow followed behind him, acting more clingy since your passing. Looking at the ring, he felt a heaviness take over him. What would it have been like if he was able to ask you? How would you look on the day of your wedding? Would your first kid be a boy or a girl? He had so many questions, all of them bursting out of him because of one ring. He closed the box and placed it back in the drawer. Shinsou walked back out into the living room and stood out on the balcony. He leaned forward and watched the city come alive as the sun set.

“I’ve never seen your eyebags this bad.”

Shinsou didn’t reply.

“And your hair's a mess. When was the last time you cut it - no! Washed it?” He could hear the disgust in your voice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was all he could get out.

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do this to me.”

He dropped his head lower. “I should’ve saved you.”

“Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.”

Shinsou covered his face with one hand as he felt a sob begin to erupt from him.

“You need to move on.”

“How?” he whispered as his voice broke.

“Go back to your life. Be the hero I know you are.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“I know you can.”

“I miss you. So much.”

“I never left you.”

Shinsou steadied his breathing. “I’ll make you proud.”

“I already am.”

He swore he could hear the smile in your voice, but when he looked in your direction, he realized he was alone. He sat down with his back against the railing and Shadow climbing in his lap. You were right. It was time for him to go back to work. He needed to show the world that the villains didn’t win. He wasn’t defeated. And he knew that you would always be there right beside him until he didn’t need you to be there anymore. Things would get better. He would get better.

#shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou x you #shinsou x y/n #shinsou angst #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha angst #shinsou imagine #bnha imagines

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echo-three-one · 4 years

Text

A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

Apparently, this is the eighth chapter!

Link to the first one here (for the new readers if there are any)

This one's the longest so far!

Reviews and Comments appreciated. It fuels me to keep on writing. Enjoy!

VIII - Samantha

Samantha felt that she lived for a year inside her dream realm. She was aware that this was all a dream because it wasn't possible that Connor was alive, but then again it pains to see how she's fooling herself with fake memories.

Certain moments while she's walking along the beachside with Connor, he would immediately dissappear, and would never come back until a few more days in her dream. She wondered what time it was outside but all she knew was she kept living the same tragic day again and again and again. She found a loophole though, she prevented him from taking that yacht but would find himself a different situation where he ends up dead. It felt like she was meant to feel extreme sadness from loss.

This wasn't what her captors wanted from her. They wanted 'something she accidentally saw on her father's drawer'. Then it dawned on her, those were numbers and dots separating them, almost like an IP Address. Just as she tried recalling it, thanks to the drug flowing in her bloodstream, the numbers began to slowly melt as a faint smell of cheese wafted around her. With one soft gasp, she found herself awake.

Thick oak trees covered the windows as she turns around the room. She's in a log cabin, but fancier. She slowly ripped her dextrose as she quietly made her way down to the living room. She knows where she is, TV taught her that only the evil people could afford expensive things. Grabbing a medicine tray beside her bed, she slowly descended the stairs, readying herself as she attempted to beat her abductor with an aluminum tray.

Following the scent of melted cheese, she tiptoed across the living room to the kitchen, a man was standing behind the sink. Athletic build and arms sprawled with tattooes. He pretty much looked like Alex, but this one reeks evil.

The loud clang of aluminum rang as she hit her abductor square on the head, knocking him down temporarily dazed. Her eyes slowly opened to reveal Alex, who's rubbing his head and wincing in pain.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Alex. I thought I was still held captive!" She quickly assisted him up and grabbed a bottle of cold water for his head.

Alex was too hurt and surprised to talk but as soon as their eyes met, it almost felt like he wasn't hit by a medicine tray just now.

"You're awake!" was all he said as he hugged her tight. Then he realized, he wasn't supposed to do that. Samantha just sat beside him by the kitchen floor, confused. He immediately let go of his arms and pretended to be still dazed. He was just too overwhelmed to see her okay.

"Is your head okay?" She asked, with an expressionless face. Alex nodded.

"Nothing major. I just need ice maybe."

"Got it." Samantha quickly stood up and opened the fridge. Her warm cheeks couldn't feel the cold breeze. She was blushing hard and staring blankly at the contents of the fridge.

"I think we don't have ice. A cold water bottle would be fine." Alex commented as Samantha snapped back to reality. She remembered she had an injured person to tend to. Quickly grabbing the bottle, she plopped herself beside Alex who groggily found his way to the sofa.

The bump was slightly obvious and Samantha can't help but laugh at him. It was a funny mistake but what matters is that she finally saw him again.

"Where are we?" she asked, tilting her head and looking at Alex trying not to laugh.

"CIA Safehouse 110197" Alex mouthed.

"Which is... where?"

"Classified. Even I don't know where we are." he lied.

"And where are the others?"

"It's actually just you and me." he replied, looking down, his eyes rolled trying to see her reaction. Samantha rolled her eyes somewhere else evading to meet his gaze.

"Great. Guess I have to tend to my mistakes." She quickly got up and went up to the bedroom. Alex simply sat there waiting for her to come back.

"This house is complete. There's actually a medicine box by the bathroom sink!" She exclaimed in excitement as she set her kit and prepared the gauze.

"You'd be surprised on what you can find by the sofas." Alex chuckled and immediately winced in pain as Samantha placed a plaster by his bump.

"You could've said something!" he complained, Samantha just laughed.

"I always wanted to be a doctor..." she said.

"Why didn't you?" Alex shifted his seat and placed the water bottle by the table.

"I can't be a professional doctor while on a fake identity, Alex. You probably knew by now that I'm uh.. redacted? You did scan me when the CIA was here right?" She smirked, making Alex amused and clueless was a beautiful view. If only she had her camera, she'd take a photo of it and pin it by the fridge back at home.

"Yeah. That's right." was all he could say.

Samantha placed her hand by the back rest of the sofa and raised her leg comfortably to the sofa. She was still wearing Alex's clothes from the other night and all Alex could think of is why?

"I'm Samantha Coleman."

"Coleman as in..."

"Yes. The daughter of the Head of National Defense, Richard Coleman."

Alex froze in amazement and the puzzle pieces finally make sense. What's missing now is why they're after her and what's with the memory serum.

"So um... any idea on what they want?" Alex asked, his eyes felt intense and curious. Something Samantha can't help but stare at.

"I guess it's a childhood memory... Of my father's office. They're looking for an IP address... Does it ring any bells?" Samantha explained, her hands fiddled on the sofa's fabric, squeezing it and rubbing her thumbs against it.

"No. But I could relay it to those assigned to the case. It could help a lot." Alex's hands slowly trailed to hers, squeezing it a little bit.

"Thanks for cooperating, Samantha. What you just did may save the lives of those missing." A soft smile escaped his lips. Samantha froze in shock. Maybe it's the sincerity of his face, maybe it's the feel of his hand on hers, maybe it's her heart racing so fast. She wasn't sure why she found herself unable to move or speak.

Awkward silence filled the room, neither one of them moved an inch. The crickets outside sounded louder as the silence grew between them. Then burnt toast filled the air.

They both snapped out of whatever trance they were making, eyes quickly diverted away as Alex removed his hand above hers.

"Oh Crap! The toast!" The CIA agent hurriedly rushed by the kitchen and turned off the oven toaster, showing a very burnt piece of bread.

"You're not supposed to put it on an oven, Alex" Samantha giggled as she assisted him. They quickly became cook and assistant as Alex started to learn something from the expert, whereas Samantha proudly taught him how to make basic breakfast specialties.

"How come you didn't know how to cook?" Samantha asked, pouring oil to the pan.

"We don't usually prepare meals." Alex replied rapidly whisking the eggs, Samantha looked worried that he might break the bowl.

"So what do you eat?"

"Energy bars, ready to eat meals, beef jerky, chicken. You know, the simple stuff but filled with essential nutrients." Alex proudly replied.

"Boooring! You know you should try some of life's greatest meals sometime."

"Someday."

***

Samantha became very comfortable around Alex. Despite her judging him at first glance, she actually enjoyed his company. Over the course of the day, they found themselves mostly talking about every possible thing, leaving an impression that he's really good with people.

It felt warm and fuzzy that the idea of them being alone in one roof felt appropriate. She almost wished they'd end up like this forever, but that meant the criminals are still out there. She wanted to be selfish just for once as she literally gave up her life just to blend in. Would it kill for her to have a good time?

Nighttime came and they settled for barbeque, something Alex claimed he's good at. Samantha watched him from a safe distance as he showed off his cooking skills at her.

He was wearing a "Kiss the Chef" apron over his black tank top and camo pants, a sight admirable for her. She found herself a cozy silk spaghetti strap nightgown from CIA's supply box. She just looked at him from the moment he unboxed a dusty grill box until he assembled it fully, asking him questions about his work to which he answers with certain confidentality.

"You hungry?" He asked teasingly as he placed the meat on the grill letting it sizzle as it puffed smoke toward him.

She wanted to say she's hungry, but not for food. But it felt inappropriate, she knew he's with her because it's his job to, but she couldn't help but feel needed. Especially that she spent the last eighteen hours of her life mourning about sad memories.

"So, silence means yes?" Alex tilted his head to meet her gaze. It's that stare once again.

"Uh yeah. Impress me Mr. Chef!" She cheered as they continue talking while they prepare dinner.

As the meat started to become tender, so did their conversation. They slowly diverted the topic to something private.

"Have you been into any relationships before?" Samantha finally asked the question she's dying to ask him. Alex's movements became cautious and his eyes slowly looked at her. He could tell that she's really curious and excited about the question as shown by her widening pupils.

"Yeah. Here and there. They don't last long as I always had to move when reassigned." He replied eating a mouthful of steak.

"So where would you be after all this is over."

"Wherever they'll send me."

"Are you happy with it? Being sent here and there?"

"As long as I could save the world." He smiled. A smile so genuine, Samantha slightly felt goosebumps.

"Cool." She replied, wiping her face with a napkin.

"Thanks for the meal, Mr. Chef. I'll go take a shower and sleep." She stood up, her voice almost felt sad.

"Samantha, wait! Did I say something wrong?" Alex quickly grabbed her hand before she could walk away.

"No. You said everything that I need to know."

Tears start falling out of her eyes, Alex noticed this and wiped it off with his thumbs lifting her chin up to meet his face. She couldn't stare at him, not with those sad eyes.

"Look, I know what you feel, because I feel it too, from the moment our eyes met..." Samantha looked at him.

"...But I can't risk it enough because I know I'll hurt you... I can't show affection to you because after all of this is over I have to leave." Alex stared at her, his words stung more than that needle from yesterday.

"But, you already made an impact in my life. It doesn't matter if we go too far..."

"I can handle the hurt... but you've already lost a lot. I can't let myself be the reason for it." Alex closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

She knew this would happen. Hence the questioning earlier, she wanted to make sure she's right about her suspicions. She was right to resist his charms the moment they met, but then again she took the risk and fell for him. A choice she willingly took.

"I've mourned the loss of my boyfriend for three years. What's a few more for you?" she breathed, almost cracking as she held back a sob. Alex nervously stared at her. She was willing to take the risk of getting hurt, all for s short moment with him.

Alex did the math. If she's true to her words it's a win-win. No more pretending, they'd both be happy and they both accept the impending end as soon as this was all over. What's holding him back is the end of both their promises, but it didn't matter when he let his heart decide for once.

He licked his lips as he slowly kissed her. It was awkward at first but as soon as they both felt comfortable, it felt relieving. Each moan signified the supressed feelings they had toward each other since day one. Each clash of tongue meant hope after years of mourning. It was a kiss that lasted longer than they could remember.

#codmwfic #alex x oc #chapter8 #CARETAKER ALE-#At this point I'm not sure anymore #Let's just fall in love for the hell of it #just keep falling?

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