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cherienymphe · 4 years

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Til Death Do Us Part (Bucky x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, loss of virginity, alluded to Mafia!Bucky, arranged marriage

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: after your arranged marriage has served its purpose, you bring up the inevitable topic of divorce. It is only then do you realize that you and your husband might not be on the same page.

You hummed as the Keurig made that annoying almost growling noise you hated, but it signaled that your coffee was done so you supposed you couldn’t hate it too much. When you turned it off, the only noise in the otherwise quiet kitchen was the sound of your spoon hitting the mug as you stirred. Truth be told, it was the only sound in the entire mansion.

Bucky was upstairs, in his office, doing God knows what. You didn’t make it your business to put your nose in the details of his business. At one point it might have mattered to you, in the beginning – like the first week of your marriage beginning– but you had long moved past that. You pursed your lips as your thoughts ran rampant, confusion and impatience starring in them.

You took a sip of your coffee and glanced upwards towards the ceiling. The inevitable conversation to be had had been weighing on your mind for weeks. You and Bucky hardly talked, husband and wife in name only, but you figured that now was as good a time as any. With a sigh, you glided out of the kitchen and made your way upstairs.

The house you lived in was obnoxiously grand and much too ostentatious for your tastes, but you’d known what kind of life you were marrying into when you walked down the aisle. You’d known when your parents had told you his name, it all having been arranged for you without your consent or knowledge. For a year you’d lived a life that made you just a bit uncomfortable. Jewels, fancy parties, private jets, etc. It just wasn’t for you, never had been despite growing up around that. It didn’t matter now though. Soon you’d be free of it.

You knocked on his office door without hesitation. Despite your loveless marriage, Bucky was never cruel to you, just indifferent, and you were the same. Anyone else would have been worried to disturb him but considering the two of you talked maybe once a week, you knew he’d be more curious than anything else as to why you were seeking him out. Although, there was really only one reason and you were positive he’d been expecting you at some point.

“Come in,” his gruff voice carried through the wood.

You strode inside with a small smile. He didn’t return it, but that wasn’t unusual. He hardly ever smiled. You found yourself frowning a bit as you registered the slight confusion on his face.

“Hey. Sorry to disturb you…”

“No, it’s fine. Sit down,” he softly replied, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

You settled in, fingers trailing over your mug.

“I didn’t think to bring you a cup,” you suddenly said, apologetic.

“It’s fine,” he waved you off, pushing whatever he was working on to the side. “What’s the matter?”

You cleared your throat, sitting up straight, and his eyes narrowed at you.

“I… I just thought I’d-we’d address the elephant in the room.”

His brows furrowed, and he dropped his pen on the desk before leaning back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.

“What are you talking about?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, Bucky. I’m talking about the ‘D’ word here,” you chuckled.

His expression did not change, and you found yourself getting irritated with him, something you hardly ever did. You didn’t hold in your scoff, and you took a sip of coffee before continuing.

“Divorce,” you deadpanned.

His blue eyes widened, and his face fell as he registered your response. You were confused yourself now as you watched him hastily sit up, leaning on his desk as he stared you down.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

A sinking feeling festered in your gut, and it was beginning to hit you that maybe you two weren’t on the same page after all.

“Oh,” you quietly murmured as you looked down.

“Y/N, what the hell are you talking about?”

Your eyes met his as your shoulders sagged.

“Bucky, this marriage was arranged in every way a marriage could be, purely so you could inherit your grandfather’s money. He passed two months ago, so I thought the topic of divorce was coming any day now,” you told him, speaking as if you were talking to a child.

He merely blinked at you, so you continued.

“From the beginning I knew that this marriage had a purpose, and while I might have hoped it would be something more, I learned fairly quickly that we were both just…waiting it out…”

He finally moved, rising to step around his desk and sit on the edge of it, facing you. He pressed his hands into the mahogany as he shook his head.

“That’s…that’s not…,” his words died off as his frown deepened, something in his eyes that you couldn’t name yet.

“We’re husband and wife in name only. Its only true on paper,” you chuckled. “In the entire year that we’ve been married, we have never slept together. The only time you kiss or even touch me is when we’re at some event with hundreds of eyes watching our every move.”

His shoulders sagged too as he looked at you. You smiled at him.

“I don’t blame you for anything you may have done outside of our marriage. I don’t care,” you honestly told him with a shrug.

His face pinched at that, and you watched his jaw tick as his eyes narrowed.

“Why not? Have you been doing anything outside of our marriage?” he demanded.

You reared back at his harsh tone, never having been on the receiving end of it.

“No,” you scoffed. “…because our marriage is a farce. I don’t feel like your wife in any way, shape, or form. Not even close! I don’t feel like you’re mine just as I’m sure you don’t feel like I’m yours. We’re two strangers who live together, so I couldn’t care less about what you do and who you’re doing it with.”

You stood.

“We were both just biding our time. Besides, your family went through a great deal of trouble to make sure you married a virgin, so I wasn’t just going to sleep with any man that smiled at me if that’s what you were thinking. It never mattered much to me before, but I do still at least have the chance to make sure it’s with someone I love. I suppose I can thank you for that,” you whispered.

He was quiet, and while this wasn’t out of character for him, this silence felt different. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I…I really thought we were on the same page-.”

“No…we are. We are,” he said with a nod.

He held your gaze, and you finally placed that look in his eyes. It was a look of realization, as if you were pointing something out to him that he’d never noticed before.

“You…are absolutely right. About everything,” he breathed.

“I really am sorry for springing this on you-.”

“You didn’t,” he quietly interrupted. “You’re right. It was a conversation that needed to be had.”

You nodded, and an awkward silence descended over his office as you two eyed each other.

“If it’s any consolation, you were a good husband,” you told him.

The corner of his lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

“I mean it. You were always nice to me, and I mean, look where I am,” you gestured around. “I’ve never had to want for anything, and you never demanded of me what husbands expect from their wives. Not once in an entire year, and I’m grateful for that.”

He swallowed, nodding.

“I’ll draw up the paperwork,” he said as you turned away.

“Alright.”

He called your name when your hand was on the door, and you looked over your shoulder at him.

“There’s an event I need to attend tonight,” he suddenly said.

“Okay,” you sighed. “What’s the attire? Anything I should wear in particular?”

He eyed you, blue eyes darkening in a way you’d never seen before.

“Wear the green one,” he eventually murmured. “You always look great in that.”

You eyed him for a bit with a frown before eventually throwing him a small smile.

“Will do,” you chirped before closing the door behind you.

The expensive emerald fabric clung to you like a second skin, and you smoothed your hand down it for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. Bucky pressed his fingers into your waist, pulling you closer as his lips grazed your ear.

“You look wonderful. Stop it,” he quietly admonished.

“You know I’m not fond of these soirees. Nothing more than a dick measuring contest,” you scoffed.

You felt his eyes on you, but you were busy looking around. The only upside to these events was reuniting with Nakia and Pepper. Occasionally Nat would be here too, but that was rare. Nat never did anything she didn’t want to do, and this wasn’t really her thing either.

“Looking for someone?”

You turned towards your husband, finding his blue eyes entirely focused on you. His tone was…odd, but you shrugged it off.

“Just Pepper or Nakia. I usually meet up with them whenever you’re off with Steve and Thor and whomever else,” you distractedly answered, smiling over his shoulder as you spotted familiar auburn hair.

You pulled away from him and briefly laid your hand on his arm as you moved to go around him, but you were halted when he reached out to grip your wrist. Confused, you turned to look at him and watched as he sent you a small smile, a rare sight.

“Why don’t we stick together for the evening…”

Your brows rose in surprise as your lips parted, at a loss for words.

“Uh…sure. Okay,” you slowly replied.

He pulled you closer, and your eyes widened. You glanced down when he started to rub circles into your wrist with his thumb.

“I just…really want to enjoy your company tonight,” he explained.

You finally shook yourself out of your stupor, chuckling.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Bucky. I was just…a little surprised is all,” you said, allowing him to pull you along.

The grand building was full of people with money and impure intentions, networking, scheming, or looking for a bedfellow for the night. You smiled politely whenever your eyes connected with someone else’s, unsure if you’d ever get used to the constant stares that always followed your husband, and for the past year, you as well.

However, you felt a genuine smile creep along your lips when you spotted familiar blond hair. An equally familiar blond was standing next to him, his booming laughter reaching your ears. They were chatting amongst themselves, waiting for Bucky no doubt. Steve was facing the two of you, and his smile widened when his eyes met yours. Thor followed his gaze and jumped to action before Steve did.

“Y/N!”

“Thor,” you greeted when he pulled you into a hug.

“I feel as if it has been ages since I’ve last seen you,” he said as you pulled away.

“I’m pretty sure this is the first time she’s remained at Bucky’s side after getting through the door,” Steve teased as he pulled you into his arms.

You laughed and heard your husband grumble behind you.

“That’s hardly true,” Bucky defended.

His arm returned to its place around your waist when Steve finally let you go. A server passed you carrying a tray of flute glasses, and Bucky reached out to grab two. You sent him a grateful smile as you took it from him, turning away to listen to Thor before he had a chance to return it.

As the night wore on, you found yourself lost in thought more often than not. It wasn’t that Thor or Steve were boring, far from it in fact. Occasionally, you added something of substance to the conversation, pulling laughter from the three men, but all too soon you felt yourself drifting away again.

It was the first time you and Bucky were ever together during one of these soirees, and you wondered what had changed. You felt yourself growing uncomfortable with his close proximity, his body heat mingling with yours, the tightening of his arm around your waist. Downing the rest of your drink, you gradually pulled away. Bucky’s eyes were inquiring when they met yours.

“I just need some air,” you quietly told him, handing him your empty glass before walking away.

It was a warm night, but the air inside felt hotter and stuffier than that of the balcony for some reason. You took a deep breath, placing your hands on the railing as you looked out over the city. You’d grown up here, but the city life was never for you. You hated the noise and the fact that you couldn’t see the stars at night.

After the divorce, you’d move somewhere more remote. Not a backwoods town straight out of a horror movie, but somewhere quaint. Somewhere far away from Bucky’s, and your parents’, lifestyle. You’d probably meet some nice guy with a boring job, but it was what you wanted. You had nothing against your husband, but you didn’t want to end up with someone like him.

You glanced over your shoulder as the noise from inside briefly reached your ears. You smiled at Steve as he closed the door behind him. He had two drinks in his hand, and you shook your head when he offered you one.

“No, thanks. I’m not much of a drinker, and I’ve already had one,” you told him.

He chuckled.

“You and Buck are so different,” he said, standing beside you.

“Well, you know what they say. Opposites attract,” you sarcastically replied.

He didn’t respond right away, but when he did, he took you by surprise.

“Bucky told me about the divorce.”

You looked at him, blinking.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually said, looking at you.

You let out a soft chuckle.

“I always knew you two gossiped like school children,” you joked before waving him off. “Trust me, there isn’t anything to be sorry about. I’m sure you know by now that our marriage was hardly real anyway.”

Steve frowned at you, leaning against the railing now.

“How do you mean? I mean, I know it was arranged, but…”

“Then I’m sure you know it was only so he could inherit his grandfather’s money,” you told him.

“Well…yeah, but I’m sure that’s not the only reason,” Steve tried to argue.

You almost pitied Steve. He was such a romantic and was clearly struggling with the knowledge that his best friend’s marriage was a sham.

“Steve,” you spoke like you were talking to a child. “Bucky and I are practically strangers…”

He blinked at you, shoulders sagging a bit.

“You’re kidding,” he whispered.

“No,” you sadly replied, shaking your head. “We’re husband and wife in name only. There’s literally nothing about our relationship that would indicate we’re married.”

“Nothing?” Steve wondered in disbelief.

You shook your head with a small laugh.

“I figured you knew all of the details. Bucky tells you everything…”

“Apparently not,” he mumbled, taking a sip from one of the glasses. “…and you’re…okay?”

There was concern in his eyes when they met yours again, and you threw him a reassuring smile.

“I promise. Since the beginning it was obvious what this really was. His grandfather has passed, and Bucky has his millions,” you said with a shrug. “There’s no reason for us to stay together.”

“This is a lot for me to process,” he whispered, looking dazed. “So…you’re just going to do what? Leave?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “This lifestyle was never for me. I’m not sure where I’ll go yet, but…it’ll be somewhere quiet, I know that.”

“It’s a shame. You grew on me,” he said.

You glanced at him.

“You too…and Thor, and…as much as I hate to admit it…even Loki,” you reluctantly confessed.

Steve laughed.

“He’s such an ass, but he’s the funny kind.”

“Depends on your taste in comedy,” Steve argued.

“Well, I think he’s funny,” you defended.

Steve chuckled into his glass.

“Better not let Buck hear that,” he whispered with a teasing grin.

“What? Why?” you questioned, leaning in.

Before Steve could answer, the noise from inside traveled to you, and you both turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway. His blue eyes flickered between you two before he threw you a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Ready to go?”

You straightened up.

“Sure,” you said, glancing at Steve. “I’ll see you around, Steve.”

“You guys drive safe,” he said. “You should probably let Y/N drive, Buck.”

“Like that will ever happen,” you threw over your shoulder. “Bye!”

Bucky was quiet when you both made it back inside. That wasn’t unusual, but his silence tonight was stifling. It put your nerves on end. Before you could even think to question him, his hand was on your arm. You almost stumbled in your heels as he pulled you along.

“Hey,” you protested, but it was as if he didn’t hear you.

He didn’t wave anyone goodbye on the way out, and he was incredibly short with the valet as soon as you made it outside. When you finally stopped, you attempted to pull away from him, but his grip only tightened. You winced and glared at him.

“Bucky,” you called, but he ignored you.

With a huff, you looked away from him as you both waited for his car to be pulled around. It had started to grow cooler, and Bucky’s hand on your arm felt like a heating pad. When the boy finally pulled the car around, your husband wasted no time in dragging you towards the passenger seat. His haste caused you to stumble, and you gasped when your heel broke.

“Bucky-!”

“Get. In,” he harshly interrupted, practically shoving you into the car.

You barely slid your foot inside before he slammed the door. You blinked at it in shock, eventually moving to pull your seatbelt over you. You glared at him when he slid into the driver’s seat, yanking the door out of the valet’s grip to slam it shut.

“What the hell is your problem?” you demanded just as he sped off.

He didn’t reply, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. You stared at him, waiting for an answer, and when it was apparent you weren’t going to get one, you looked away with a huff. The silence in the sporty car was thick and filled with tension. Only, you didn’t know why.

You knew that in a line of work like his, it required Bucky to do certain things or act a certain way. You knew that he wasn’t as docile as he seemed with you, but that was just the thing. You’d never been on the receiving end of it. Not once in your entire year of marriage.

You were the first out of the car when he pulled into your driveway. You clutched your heels in your hand as you stomped into the house, not even bothering to look back. You didn’t hear the door open and close until you were in the kitchen, staring sadly at your ruined shoes. You would love to get them fixed, but Bucky was so wasteful. He’d tell you to toss them and then get you a new pair.

They hit the bottom of the trashcan just as he strode into the kitchen. You barely spared him a glance as you made your way to the fridge. As much money that goes into those useless black-tie events, you’d think they’d be able to provide decent food.

“What…”

You paused at the sound of his voice, turning and looking at him from beneath your lashes.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

You frowned at him before straightening, slamming the fridge shut. His jaw was clenched, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at you, blue eyes the coldest you’d ever seen them.

“Excuse me?”

You were positive you’d heard him wrong. He walked towards you, pressing a hand into the island in the center of the kitchen, staring you down.

“The divorce papers haven’t even been written up yet, and you’re already batting those long lashes at Steve,” he quietly spat.

You reared back in shock, mouth parting as you registered his words and the fact that he was entirely serious. You raised your hands in surrender with a humorless chuckle.

“You’re drunk, and I am not entertaining this,” you said, moving to walk past him.

He yanked you to a stop, and you pushed your arm against his hold, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Let go of me,” you demanded.

“Am I wrong?” he sneered, breath reeking of alcohol.

You finally escaped his hold, stumbling into the fridge from the force. Your eyes were wide and filled with confusion as you glared at him.

“What is wrong with you?”

Bucky slammed his mouth shut, staring at you for a painful amount of time before glancing away. He swallowed, jaw ticking as his eyes met yours again.

“I don’t want a divorce,” he quietly admitted.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you stared at him in shock. You must have heard him wrong…you had to… You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you let out a soft disbelieving scoff. You blinked a few times.

“I’m…sorry… What?”

Bucky’s eyes softened.

“I don’t want a divorce,” he repeated with more confidence this time.

Again, you stared at him in shock, mouth gaping like a fish before shaking yourself out of it. You frowned at him, looking at him as if he’d just grown two heads.

“No,” you cried, shock coloring your tone at his audacity.

He blinked, clearly taken aback.

“What?”

“No,” you firmly repeated, moving to leave the kitchen.

He was suddenly there, hand on your arm and blocking your path.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

You stared at him as if he were crazy before eventually crossing your arms over your chest. Your face was entirely serious.

“Bucky…I’ve wasted an entire year on you,” you deadpanned.

He flinched as if you’d slapped him, brows furrowing.

“I’m sorry if that hurt your feelings or offends you, but…just because I haven’t been miserable, it doesn’t mean that I want to continue with this.”

He didn’t respond so you continued.

“You have what you want. We did our part, and you have your money.”

“I know that…”

“Well then…what is this? What’s happening, right now, because I am extremely confused?”

He reached for you before thinking better of it and pulling his hand back. He looked you over, blue eyes the most emotional you’d ever seen them. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before speaking.

“I… I want to know you. I mean, we’re married, and…I don’t even know you-.”

“You’ve had an entire year to get to know me. An entire year!”

“I know that,” he whispered, looking away.

“Then where the hell is this coming from?”

He opened and closed his mouth, eyes almost desperate as you shook your head at him.

“God, you’re drunk. You are so drunk, right now, and had I known, I never would’ve let you drive home,” you whispered, moving past him. “You could’ve killed someone!”

He followed.

“See, this, this is why you can’t leave,” he frantically whispered, grabbing your hand, and turning you to face him.

You frowned at him.

“You’re nothing like me. You’re not selfish and you care about people and…”

He reached up to cup your face, and you swatted his hands away as you stumbled back.

“Bucky, you’re drunk!”

“That doesn’t change anything! You are still my wife!”

“In name only! In the entire 13 months that we have been married, you’ve hardly looked at me, acknowledged me, hell, you have never even touched me, given any indication that we are a couple! N-now all of a sudden you don’t want me to leave? Are you kidding me?”

He placed his hands on his hips, staring you down with tears in his eyes, nostrils flaring.

“So…so what? You’re just going to leave me, and then run off with Steve?”

“Oh, my God, not this again,” you groaned, placing your hand on your forehead. “I can’t believe this right now…”

He pointed a finger at you, a dark strand kissing his forehead.

“I saw how he was looking at you! The minute you told him that our marriage wasn’t really a marriage, at all-.”

“You were listening?”

“The minute you told him that, he looked at you entirely different! You are his dream girl,” he mockingly whispered. “You want a nice picket fence in the country with a dog and a cat…”

“Stop it. That is your friend,” you reminded him.

“Who apparently has been eyeing you for a while if it took almost nothing for him to start eye fucking you the minute he realized you were never really mine!”

You reared back, realization hitting you square in the chest.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “That’s what this is about…isn’t it?”

“No-.”

“It is,” you sneered. “You don’t want me…but…you don’t want anyone else to have me.”

He reached for you, and you stepped back.

“That’s not it. I do want you,” he slowly said.

“Yeah, now,” you scoffed.

“No,” he shook his head. “That’s not…”

“When I came into your office, you were completely taken by surprise… You had never even thought about divorce. Not once,” you said, more to yourself than him.

“Y/N…”

“Did…did you just expect us to continue like this forever?”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“No! Never,” he said, resting his hand on your arm.

“Are you sure? Because that’s…that’s what it’s looking like,” you tearfully said.

Bucky’s eyes were pleading.

“Everything you said to me that day was true. All of it was completely true, but the worst part was that...I had never noticed. I had never paid any attention, but the more you talked, and the more I thought, I realized that you were right, and that somehow, I’d let an entire year just slip by. Hell, even tonight, Steve noticed that we never stick together at those stupid events!”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“How does an entire year just slip by?”

“Y/N…I want us to stay married. I want us to be husband and wife in every sense of the words-.”

“Yeah, now that I want to leave,” you scoffed, pulling away from him. “Now that you’ve run around with God knows who.”

“I never-! Y/N, it isn’t like that,” he said, following you as you made your way towards the stairs.

“Isn’t it?” you threw over your shoulder. “An entire year, you’ve done whatever you want and acted like I don’t exist, and now that divorce is on the table, suddenly, clarity hits you and you want to pay attention to your handy dandy little wife whom you realize has been perfectly waiting around just for you.”

“Y/N!”

“It’s the perfect situation for you.”

You gasped in shock when he gripped your dress, and the sound of tearing fabric hit your ears. You turned to look down at him, eyes meeting his own wide ones before he stared at the fabric in his hand in shock. You looked down at the ruined dress and sighed.

“Y/N,” he whispered, apologetic.

You held your dress together as you turned away from him, ascending the stairs.

“Sleep it off, Bucky.”

“No, not until we resolve this,” he spat, following you.

“There’s nothing to resolve. We’re getting divorced and that’s that,” you said, heading towards your room.

“Y/N!”

“Leave me alone, and go to bed,” you yelled, picking up your pace.

He did the same, and soon you both were running through the hall of the large mansion. He reached out to grip your hair just as you went to turn the corner, and you yelped in pain as he pulled you towards him. He turned you to face him, and you pushed against him.

“Bucky, this isn’t funny,” you cried, pushing him away from you.

He stumbled, but he righted himself with a vengeance, slamming you into the wall. You winced, opening your mouth to talk sense into him when his lips met yours. You yelped against them, eyes wide as he ran his hands over your trembling frame.

“Stop! Bucky, stop,” you begged against his mouth.

He wrapped one arm around you while his other hand gripped your neck.

“I know I never paid attention to you…touched you, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but let me touch you now,” he whispered against your lips. “Let me touch you like a husband should.”

His words sparked fear in you, and with reluctance, you bit down on his lip. Hard. He pulled away with a yelp, and you slipped from in between him and the wall, rounding the corner to get to your room. You were in the process of closing the door when he slammed against it. You knew you were no match for him, even while drunk, so you pulled away from the door and let him fall inside.

You ran to the phone as he pushed himself to his feet. You were on the first 1 when he snatched it out of your hand, his other hand gripping the back of your neck. You winced as his fingers dug into the tendons, hurting you.

“Bucky,” you brokenly pleaded.

He walked you towards your bed, and you had no choice but to let him. Your feet knocked into each other, tears skipping down your face, but he didn’t care. He shushed you when you started to sob, shoving you onto the bed. You struggled to catch your breath as you bounced against it. You sat up as he joined you, pushing against him, but he slapped your hands away and pushed you back down.

As drunk as he was, he was quick in getting his pants undone, his free hand dragging up your leg, sliding under your torn dress. You tried to pull his hand away, but he was determined. You pushed against his chest again, but one hand was suddenly tightening around your neck as he settled himself in between your legs.

You were shaking now, sobs wracking your frame as he pressed his lips against yours. He slid his knees underneath your thighs, forcing your legs apart as you felt him grip your underwear, yanking them to the side.

“Bucky-.”

Your last plea was interrupted by your shriek as he forced himself inside of you. He let out a choked moan against your lips, breath shaky as he sheathed himself to the hilt. Pain filled you, and more tears fell. He let go of your neck, one hand pinning a wrist down while the other reached up to brush his thumb over your cheek. His forearm rested beside your head, and he gently shushed you, wiping your face as he stared down at you.

“It’ll pass,” he murmured, chest heaving.

“I h-h-hate you,” you tearfully spat at him.

He sighed, eyes softening, looking as if you’d hurt him.

“That’ll pass too,” he whispered.

You pushed your free hand against his chest, but he simply pressed his forehead into the mattress, completely caging you in before pulling his hips back. It stung, and you whimpered, fingers pressing into his button down as he began to thrust into you. His groans filled your ears, and you turned your head away to stare at the wall.

Bucky didn’t like that.

He let go of your wrist and gripped your chin. Your terrified eyes met his calmer ones as he hovered over you, and he seemed more sober now. He brushed his thumb along your skin as he curled his hips into yours again and again.

“Eyes on me, honey,” he whispered.

You squeezed them shut, and he huffed.

“Come on, doll. Don’t be like that,” he quietly pleaded, picking up his pace.

You refused to open them, more tears slipping out. You heard him sigh and felt his lips brush over your cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

You felt like someone was pressing a heating pad in between your legs, and you hated that you liked it.

“I haven’t been treating you right…have I?”

It was taking more effort to keep your eyes shut, and they slowly peeled open. Your vision was blurry, but you could see that his dark hair was brushing along his forehead now, no longer so neat. He kissed you, and your lips trembled.

“I’ve been such a horrible husband. I neglected you,” he whispered, and he sounded pained. “…but all of that’s going to change.”

You didn’t like that you could feel every inch of him as he slid into you, your own body making it easier for him. Although, you suspected that all of it wasn’t just arousal. There was still a dull ache that mingled with the pleasure. His hips stuttered, breath hitching, and your eyes widened. You pressed your hand to his stomach, in hopes to stop him.

“Bucky, you can’t-.”

He swallowed your protests with a kiss, and you grew panicked. You weren’t on anything. You’d never had a reason to be. You were a virgin with regular and bearable periods. There was no need for you to be on any type of birth control. You turned your head away, catching your breath.

“Bucky, stop,” you pleaded, pushing against him. “Please…”

He gripped your hands, pinning them beside your head just as he came inside of you with a groan. You threw your head back, more tears spilling over as he panted above you. He buried his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling.

“You’re mine, and I promise, I’m going to start acting like it.”

tags: @xoxabs88xox @darkficreposter @mcudarklibrary @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @readermia @jtargaryen18 @notyourtypicalrose @nickyl316h @opheliadawnwalker3 @captainchrisstan @coconutqueen21 @nerdygirl8203 @hurricanerin

#dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #Dark Fic #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years

Text

Selfish Part 2

Pairings | Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader (kind of?)

Warnings | angst, crying, swearing

Word count | 1669

Summary | y/n and Bucky struggle to deal with Steve's selfish choice

A/n | I'm thinking of writing a part three? Let me know if you'd want to see that!l

Masterlist | Part One | Part three

"Oh god," Bucky groaned the second he entered y/n's room, lifting his arm to cover over his nose teasingly as he walked in, "you know I love you, Doll, but it's starting to smell as if something's died in here." Bucky over exaggerated, pacing quickly to the windows and pushing them open.

The man let out a long sigh when he finally faced y/n after she made no response. He was so used to her quipping back to his and Sam's jokes that the past week felt as if y/n was gone, too. And in lots of ways, she was.

It had been a week since Steve left, and y/n hadn't moved much since. Bucky had sat down at a table three times a day with her, refusing to leave until she finished her meal and a cup of water. But apart from that, she'd done nothing but stare into space.

As much as he was still grieving, Bucky was used to this. Losing people, that is - not his best friend leaving him and their girl for someone they loved 70 years ago. No, he was out of his area of expertise on that one. But Bucky was used to losing the people he loved. And by now, he'd managed to cut his dazed and broken phase of grieving to a few days, so by now he was only really upset at night.

That's when he would cry into his pillow, feeling more and more alone. Sam was still running missions; just because aliens had invaded didn't mean any human threats had warned off.

It'd been him and y/n for a week in the compound, and it was now that Bucky realised that the girl hadn't even been capable of washing herself. Yikes, she was taking this bad.

"C'mon, Doll. You gotta shower at some point. Or I could run you a bath?" Bucky suggested, huffing another long sigh when y/n looked straight through him. Bucky's jaw clenched and he carded a hand through his hair, blowing out a deep breath before putting on a kind face.

The next thing y/n new, she was sat in the shower. She vaguely remembered Bucky throwing her over his shoulder and walking swiftly to the bathroom, telling her how she still needed to look after herself even though Steve was gone.

God, those words hurt. As in that Steve was gone, of course. Although Bucky telling her she needed to actually clean herself every-now-and-then because she smelt like somebody had died stung a little, it didn't hurt her.

The water pricked at her skin, slates of chilling droplets pelting down on her. She'd been sat there long enough for the water to run cold and her thoughts to run dry.

The only thing y/n could picture was Steve's lifeless body. His eyes void of life, that amused sparkle that'd glint beneath the baby blue when he'd tease her, make a joke, burnt out into emptiness. The bright smile that used to grace his lips when he'd see y/n the fist time after a mission, no matter the length, gone.

She'd also thought about how he died. Did Thanos murder him himself? Had he been saving someone? Did one of Thanos' cronies get to him? Did he fall, or get crushed? The possibilities were endless, but one thing was certain: Steve was gone.

A soft rasp of knuckles against the bathroom for momentarily pulled y/n out of her daze, her red eyes shifting upwards for a moment as she followed the noise with her sight through the steamed-over glass shower door.

"Doll? You haven't drowned, have you?" Bucky's gentle voice sang from the other side. Y/n could physically feel her muscles relaxing at the sound of his thick voice, her mind relaxing, too. Although she hadn't spoken in days, it didn't mean she didn't want Bucky to talk to her.

No, it was quite the opposite, really. Y/n was thankful for Bucky's mindless chatter and conversations, his caring questions and constant check-ups. It grounded her, gave y/n a reason for still being here if someone wanted her company.

Sighing, the girl pulled herself to her feet. She stumbled out of the shower, having to poke her head back in and turn the water off after forgetting initially. She picked up the fluffy towel that Bucky had left folded up for her and patted herself dry before wrapping the cloth around her body. Y/n ran her fingers through her now-damp hair before heaving another sigh.

"She's alive." Bucky smirked as y/n stepped out, clutching the towel to her chest. He was perched on her bed, facing the bathroom door with his hands bracing the edge of the mattress. "I thought you'd never come outta there, it's been over an hour, doll." Bucky explained as she hastily walked over to the drawers on the other side of her bed, pulling out a pair of panties and some shorts before tossing them to the bed.

She bent down more this time, pulling a t-shirt from one of the lower draws and throwing it to join the other clothes on the bed without really looking at what it was. She let the draw shut with a snap, turning to the bed and picking up the panties.

Bucky kept facing away, wanting to give y/n her privacy as she pulled the clothes on under her towel. Bucky could sense y/n still the second she reached to grab the shirt, her hand stilling mid-air.

"You okay, doll?" Bucky mumbled, not wanting to turn and face her incase she was still not fully dressed. Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat thickly, her mouth becoming dry as she hummed.

"Mm hm." It was short and cut off, the affirmative noise the closest she'd come to speaking in a week. She turned around again, pulling out another shirt before putting it on.

Y/n walked around the bed again, patting her wet hair between the towel. Bucky's eyes followed her the whole time, cerulean blue watching closely as she dumped the towel in the hamper.

"Do you want me to leave?" Bucky murmured as she climbed into bed, his weight pinning the duvet down on one side. Taking y/n's silence as a yes, Bucky moved to stand up.

"Wait." Y/n's voice was a meek thing, disjointed and hoarse from its only use for seven days being sobbing against her pillow. Yes, the one that still smelt like Steve. "Can you-" y/n took a breath as Bucky looked at her, a happy glint to his eyes. "Would you stay with me? Tonight? I don't know if I can be alone again..."

Bucky's lips tugged into a small smile, the super solder clambering into the bed beside y/n. He nestled in beside her, pulling the girl to his chest as he laced his hand with hers. Their intertwined fingers lay over his chest, his metal arm wrapped around her shoulders.

For a moment all that could be heard was the soft whirring of the metal plates in his arm, and the controlled breathing of the two people.

"Bucky?" Y/n asked, swallowing her fear as she looked up at him. Bucky hummed in acknowledgment, playing with y/n's fingers as he waited for her to speak. "How did- h-how did Steve...you know, die?" Y/n bit through the building tears.

Bucky felt his stomach drop at her question. He didn't expect that right now. Eventually, yes. But not whilst they were curled up on her bed. The words seemed to get stuck in his throat, sticking to his skin as he tried to pry them out.

"I-" he couldn't lie. He couldn't. It would be cruel, to do so. She loved Steve, so she deserved to know the whole truth. "Y/n, Steve didn't- he didn't die." Bucky grated through gritted teeth, tongue like a weight in his sandpaper throat.

"W-what?" Y/n mumbled, eyes widening with shock, fear, hope, anger. She sat up, turning around in his grip to face Bucky. A scowl had settled across her features, plaguing her gorgeous eyes with a hue of hurt. "Then where is he?"

Bucky sighed, his eyes sliding closed as the words fell from her mouth.

"Bucky. Where is Steve?" Y/n spat, her tone morphing into something harsh, something unlike her. Bucky swallowed thickly, but it seemed to do nothing. Y/n watched as his Adam's apple bobbed, arms coming to fold over her chest.

"Steve left, doll. He's not- he's not coming back." Bucky breathed, his face dropping into his hands.

"What do you mean?" Y/n whispered, voice cracking with a bubble of pain. "Why isn't he coming back?"

"Because he left to be with Peggy, okay? He left us, y/n! For some fucking dame that he loved over 70 years ago!" Bucky had finally snapped, his own tears collecting against his flushed cheeks now. Maybe the grief hadn't quiet passed.

Y/n's face dropped into one similar to the day bucky first told her Steve was gone. But, the subtle hint of difference was menacing; this time, rage fuelled her emotions.

"I-I don't understand, why would he-?" Y/n couldn't bring herself to finish her question, the answer already dancing around in her mind.

"I don't either, doll. I miss him, and yet I hate him for what he did. To me, to you, to us." Bucky's voice was barely above a murmured mutter, eyes downcast as he picked at the hem of his shirt.

"I-" y/n opened her mouth before closing it, a croaked sob interrupting a hiccup as she fell back into Bucky's embrace.

Steve, her Steve, had become a selfish, selfish man.

Part Three

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 12

Masterlist

Winding down from the frenzy of the last chapter... Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤

Word Count: 5.9k

Recommended song: "I Don't Care" by Fall Out Boy

“Mon amour, wake up.”

Pierre’s sleep-heavy voice rouses you from the best sleep you’d had in a long time. You’d fallen asleep to the sounds of his even breathing under the soothing touch of his thumb tracing patterns on your side.

You crack your eyes open to see him silhouetted by the white light of the waning moon, his bare chest left uncovered by the blanket slung low over his hips. The sight alone has your mind instantly jumping into overdrive, fighting the need to sleep with the need to continue ogling the bare skin a foot from your face.

“I let you sleep as long as I could,” he says softly, reaching behind him for his phone. “We have to be on the M1 in about half an hour.”

“Mmmph,” you groan, snuggling back under the blanket and closer to him, chasing the warmth radiating from him. “The sun isn’t even out.”

His chuckle shakes the bed. “I figured you would say that which is why I made you breakfast and picked out your clothes. All you have to do is brush your teeth and get dressed.”

You hum appreciatively and press a kiss to his bare sternum. “Is this how you’re going out today? Because I won’t complain but you might cause a few heart attacks.” A kiss to your temple is a small reward for your comment, as well as a concession.

"Don't worry, this is reserved only for you." He stretches an arm above his head, grinning when your eyes immediately are drawn to the way the muscles ripple and pull under his skin. You stare shamelessly as he flexes a little for your benefit, the action going straight to your head.

"As it should be." You bite your lip and let your fingertips dance over his chest, memorizing the way it rises and falls so predictably with each deep breath. Against your better judgement you trail kisses up over his pectoral and spot them along his shoulder, dragging another light chuckle from him.

"My love," he warns, voice tinted with mischief, "we don't have time."

"Oh I think we do." You continue your path over his collarbone and to the hollow of his throat. Taking advantage of his biggest weakness, you flick your tongue over his prominent adam’s apple. The move has his hand engulfing your upper arm, giving you a warning squeeze.

"As wonderful as this is" -he sucks in a sharp breath when your teeth graze his neck- "if I'm late Horner will kill me."

"What's new?" You say, but draw back. The mere mention of his name made you see red and shattered the moment. "Do you really want to go back to Red Bull after how they treated you?"

"No," he admits, slipping an arm around you and tugging you up and into a sitting position, taking advantage of the momentary lapse of lust. "But if I want a shot with a top team when my contract is up, I don’t have much choice."

"Where do you see yourself going?"

Pierre studies you as you slip into the clothes he had selected for you. Nothing fancy, just an AlphaTauri branded navy and white hoodie and some light wash jeans. You don't miss the way his lips twitch upward when you notice it's his hoodie, his last name embroidered in block font on the cuff a dead giveaway even if the hoodie hadn't been ridiculously oversized on you.

Cheeky bastard.

"I think I would look good in sunshine yellow," he remarks. You make a show of looking him up and down under the pretense of imagining him in a Renault branded hoodie or their signature black race suit. Truthfully it was just another excuse to drink him in like the fine wine he was and recall how he had tasted on your tongue last night.

He would look good in any color on the grid but you don't grant him the satisfaction of pointing that out. Instead, you lean forward to toy with the waistband of the jeans he had hastily buttoned seconds earlier. "You and Daniel get along just fine." You snag him by the belt loops and yank him forward back onto the bed. "I think you should go to McLaren.”

“I’d still look good in orange.”

You wind your fingers under his waistband. “I think you’d look best wearing nothing at all, actually.”

“The time,” Pierre protests lightly when you pop open the button and undo the zipper. He groans when you yank the denim down around his thighs, finally submitting to your touch and lacing his fingers in your hair. Your lips explore the planes of his abdomen, any and all thoughts of speed abandoned on your end. "If you don't hurry up we're gonna be late."

"Maybe you'll just have to drive fast. I hear you’re good at that."

**********

"So how is it that they got your car all the way to London?"

"It's got its own private jet."

You roll your eyes and smack the hand resting on your thigh. His response is a light squeeze and a chuckle before he continues, "They've got a few spares they keep around for when drivers come to town. I can't be seen in a Mini or it would cause a scandal."

"Oh yes it would be quite tragic." His hand charts a dangerous path along your thigh. He knows exactly what he's doing as he slots a thumb between your legs and presses it tight to the apex of your thighs.

You snap your knees shut, effectively trapping his hand "Now you're just being cruel."

"Only dishing out what you did this morning," he points out and wiggles his hand free to rest on your knee instead. The message was clear: he had shaken you well enough for his liking and was perfectly content to leave you frustrated until he could get you home.

“So catch me up on what I’ve missed,” you say, determined to distract yourself from Pierre’s slight teasing. “What’s new in the life of the rising star in Formula 1?”

“Rising star,” Pierre mumbles and rolls his eyes. “Not yet, my love. Getting there, but not yet.”

“Please, you’re too modest. Last night when you fell asleep- you were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow, don't give me that look!” Pierre picks his jaw up off the floor and shakes his head as you continue, “I read plenty of articles that called you the next big thing, right up there with Max.”

The comparison didn't seem to sit right with him. He shifts in his seat, rolling words over on his tongue. “I’m sure you’re caught up then. I haven’t done anything really besides train and race.”

“I did notice you’ve beefed up a bit.”

“Yet another reason to thank Pyry.”

“At this point I should send him a fruit basket for his trouble.”

“Maybe you should.” Pierre grins, hand leaving your thigh for a split second to upshift. “What about you? How’s year four treating you?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” you groan. “My senior project is already killing me and I’ve only just started it. We have to design a building from the ground up- I mean I like architecture but I’m trying to be an engineer, not an architect. I dunno why I have to be the one to design a building! At this point it’s just a brick box.”

“Sounds challenging,” Pierre notes, flooring it when he merges onto the highway. Though the speed makes your stomach flip, you don’t miss a beat.

“My team doesn’t do much either, I’ve been doing most of it. I could rant for hours about it.”

Pierre glances at the clock, then back to you. The blue of his eyes is blocked by his signature purple tinted sunglasses, shielding them from the rising sun that casts him in a warm orange glow. “Humor me. We’ve got time.”

The hour and a half drive was by no means dull with Pierre's teasing touches and endless string of questioning along the way. He asked after every aspect of your life that had transpired in the last four months, only stopping you once in a while to interject with an opinion or anecdote. He didn't stop at your life either, even asking after Ben's relationship. You'd been happy to report that he had indeed wooed his crush and had officially asked him to be his boyfriend.

"Those secret French lessons paid off," Pierre jokes as he pulls up to the imposing glass fronted building that served as Red Bull Racing's headquarters. The sweeping curve of the entrance was flanked on either side by two-story red and yellow bulls; proof that the team's dramatics extended far past the track. Anyone approaching for the first time would have been intimidated by the sheer size of them that suggested they were ready to stomp on their competition at a moment’s notice.

“Guess it’s time.” You sigh and undo your seatbelt and fiddle with the buckle, doing your best to stall. There was no reason to be this nervous. You were no one to these people; the focus would be entirely on Pierre. You would be an afterthought, not that you minded because it made it easier to fade into the background.

Pierre picks up on your hesitation in a heartbeat. “I’ll keep them off your back,” he promises and you nod, the single sentence taking the edge off. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You reach for the door handle but Pierre tsks and you pause.

"You know better." You bite your lip to keep back the grin fighting its way to the surface as he comes around to open your door. He offers you his hand and you gladly take it and are pleasantly surprised when he threads his fingers through yours and heads for the entrance.

The atrium serving as the lobby is breathtakingly gorgeous. You had to hand it to the interior designer; they knew what they were doing. Sleek white marble floors are accented by red and yellow leather chairs scattered in small groups throughout the grand space. A tiered circular modern interpretation of a chandelier hangs above to offer guidance to the accountants, engineers and artists that weave through the lobby on their way to their respective wings or offices.

A waist high, glass front cabinet of drivers helmets serves as the reception desk. The unmistakable scent of a fresh cup of coffee hits you as you approach and the secretary hands a steaming paper cup to someone before they scurry off, presumably to a private office if they were important enough to warrant special attention. The first rays of morning sunlight glint off the silver Red Bull logo inlaid in the black marble behind the woman at the counter, making you squint.

"Bonjour Monsieur Gasly," she says in perfect French. "Ça va?"

"Bien," he says simply and switches to English for your benefit. "Has Christian come through yet?"

"He has," the woman says, glancing sidelong at you. Whatever conclusions she draws about you are insignificant enough that she writes you off immediately, angling her body towards Pierre and resting her chin in her hand. The posturing puts her ample chest on display, nearly spilling out of her billowing blouse, but Pierre's eyes don't wander. "He's not expecting you yet. Voulez-vous un cafe?"

"I'm good." The woman may have been determined to alienate you but Pierre was having none of it. Pierre turns to you, a grin playing on his face. This was your first test as an official couple and he intended to see how you handled it. "How about you, my love? Coffee?"

The woman's eyes slip to where your hand remains clasped in his. She cocks her head so slightly you think you might be imagining it until Pierre's grip tightens, a silent encouragement. Your confidence soars. If this was how Daniel's girlfriend felt when the two of them were out, you finally understood why they didn't hide. It was a rush knowing that everyone wanted Pierre but he only wanted you. No matter how blatantly women threw themselves at him, there was no doubt in your mind that he would never give a single one of them the light of day.

It was about damn time you afforded him the same unwavering commitment as he had shown you.

"No thank you," you reply sweetly with a mocking smile directed to the woman. You lean in and drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You might want to fix your shirt though, it’s… slipped. I know I'd hate for that to happen to me and no one tell me, especially at work. I don't think I'd ever recover from it."

Her face immediately turns scarlet as she stands straight and folds her arms over her chest. "If I were you-"

"Let Horner know I'm here," Pierre interrupts and it's somehow the hottest thing he's ever said. His purely commanding tone leaves no room for argument.

"Of course," she replies with a sharp smile in your direction that makes your spine stiffen. "Good luck. Christian is in rare form this morning."

"Just ignore it," Pierre murmurs and sweeps his thumb over the back of your hand as he leads you across the cold marble and down a carpeted hall. "You handled that well.”

“I may have gotten a few pointers from Daniel’s lover.” Your soft smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The short interaction had sapped most of your confidence, leaving you on uneven footing. “I would rather not have to deal with that again soon though.”

“I can handle the women easy enough when I know I’ve got you to come home to.”

The tightness in your chest eases further when the hall opens into another startlingly white space, this time packed with rows and rows of navy cubicles. But that's not where your attention is drawn- instead, your gaze is immediately snagged by the case of trophies towering high along the back wall. Cups of every shape and size shine within, each one representing a different podium for the team achieved in various years and tracks.

"There must be over a hundred," you breathe, mesmerized by the glinting silver and intricate craftsmanship. The case was easily thirty feet tall and you had to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of the ones in the top row. Each one told a story of blood, sweat and tears, each one earned by a driver who had made countless sacrifices to be where they were and finish on a podium.

"A hundred and eighty five to be exact," he counters, laughing at your amusement. "Your inner architect is screaming isn't it?"

"Only a little."

Pierre laughs outright at your white lie and tugs you along. "You can stare on the way out. I'll even show you which ones were Max's."

"Did you memorize what all his trophies look like?"

"Hey, meetings with engineers get boring. It's one of the more interesting ways to occupy your time when they are going on and on about fluid mechanics and thermodynamics- you know, stuff you understand but not me."

"Oh whatever, you enjoy those meetings and you know it."

"Only a little," he quotes.

People recognize him as you pass and some nod or give a simple greeting as they go about their morning but no one stops him to chat. The air feels a bit hostile, like no one knows what to do with him now that he's walking through the building after a nearly two year absence.

"Do you miss it?" You ask after he smiles at someone for the millionth time.

"I miss the team," he admits, "but not the management culture. My team was great- they supported me any way they could but it didn't help that Horner didn't exactly encourage them to believe in me. It's hard to crank out results when there's no one on your side."

"I'm on your side," you point out, nudging him with your hip. "You've got me forever, no takesies backsies."

"I'm grateful for it," he murmurs and gives your hand a squeeze. He hadn't let go once; not when he had to open a door or the two of you had to walk single file to let people pass.

The building was a labyrinth and if it wasn't for Pierre you'd have been lost the moment you set foot inside. He navigates the twisting halls with ease, having no need for the countless signs posted along the way.

He leads you up a set of steel stairs after what seems like ages. When he knocks on a heavy oak door, his grip on your hand turns possessive like he suspects the office’s occupant would try to rip you away from him.

“Morning.”

God, even the one word makes rage simmer in your veins. The voice precedes the man and Christian Horner swings open the door, a plastic smile splitting his face. He doesn't bother acknowledging you with a greeting, instead addressing his driver directly.

“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a guest.”

“A pretty face was needed around here,” Pierre snaps back without missing a beat. You bristle, free hand curling into a fist. If there was one person you didn’t mind teaching a lesson to, it was Horner. He had little respect for anyone he viewed as disposable- up to and including “underperforming” drivers.

Christian raises an eyebrow. “Sure. She can wait out here- you and I have terms to discuss.”

Fine, Horner wanted to play dirty? So could you. When it came to staring him down, you became fearless. He was the one person you refused to let intimidate you.

Drawing on your newly minted confidence you smile up at Pierre and silence the protest forming on his tongue with a grin. “Gimme a kiss, race winner.”

Pierre doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours. Cupping a hand to the back of his neck you draw him in and nip at his lower lip. The hand on your hip tightens at Christian's scoff but Pierre makes no move to break away. You linger a moment longer than necessary to drive your point home: you didn’t care what Horner had to say about you, you were here to stay and he would have to get used to it.

Pierre gives you a small, blissed out smile before dropping your hand and following Horner inside. The door clicks but doesn't shut all the way, Pierre leaving it cracked for your benefit.

Uninterested in eavesdropping on small talk, you lean on the metal railing to observe the research and development garage coming to life on the floor below. Hybrid engines in various stages of disassembly dot the space, small teams of mechanics and engineers tweaking components to reduce weight or increase horsepower. Pistons and valves are scrutinized and exchanged before being placed under stress to test their strength.

An FIA official in a red jacket wove through the garage to observe and jot notes down on a clipboard. He looks over the shoulder of an engineer pouring over formulas on a whiteboard, startling him when the official asks a question. Someone calls your name from below and you search for the origin, finally spotting the woman and waving back at her.

Management may have their qualms with Pierre but it was clear there were still some within the team that had his back. They were likely the same ones that knew he would have to leave the Red Bull umbrella to find any semblance of success. They may not have possessed the guts to stick their necks out for him when Horner had cut him but they were at least happy to see him back around headquarters.

"You sure you'll rise to the challenge?" Horner's question drags you back to the mezzanine.

"I'll take seventh. I'm only a few points away and we have plenty of races left."

He had five races to catch up to be exact. Pierre currently was comfortably ahead of the pack in ninth, Sainz was only three points ahead in eighth, and Norris ten points beyond in seventh. It would only take a DNF or two from his rivals and a few podiums to pass them up.

"Right," Horner starts. "There's a reason you've done so well this season and it's not luck. You've been racing exceptionally well and I don't want that to change."

"If there's something on your mind just get on with it." Pierre's voice is calm and collected in a way yours wouldn't be if you had been in his shoes. You've been dying to rip into Horner since the day he wrote Pierre off.

"There's been a fire in you the past few months since she has been gone-"

"Leave her out of this."

The tone sends a chill down your spine. It maintains the same level headedness that Pierre had perfected over the years and you had come to expect when he was backed against a wall, but it was laced with an unspoken threat. The intent was clear: he would walk out and abandon his chance for a seat at Red Bull if it meant protecting you.

You creep to the door to peer through the crack. Horner crosses his arms, a sly smile on his face. "You would sacrifice your chance at a championship winning seat for her? Everything you've worked so hard for, gone in a flash, because of her?"

"Without question," Pierre answers immediately. The conviction and commitment behind it nearly makes you stumble. "I'm sure there's plenty of other teams that would love to have me after the season I've had. She’s not going anywhere, so either you stop disrespecting her or I walk out."

You clench your fists, ready to burst in and demand Pierre stop being a fucking idiot. His long term plan saw him at another top team that would take care of him and nurture his skill- a long stint at Red Bull Racing was never in the cards. It wasn't an environment for everyone. Some people like Max thrived in it, letting the toxicity roll off their backs but for Pierre it was a cruel form of punishment. However, a seat at Red Bull for the 2022 season could mean the difference between an offer from Alpine and an offer from Haas when his contract was up for renewal.

The idea of seeing his number stickered to the floor in a Red Bull garage excites and intimidates you. Last time he hadn't been given the chance to prove himself. Would they still hold that against him? Knowing Christian, he probably would. On the other hand, it meant that they admitted their mistake in cutting him mid-season, whether they said it outright or not.

Pierre's redemption day was on the horizon and you couldn't wait to see the look on Horner's face when he finally won. And the longer Christian stays silent, the more potent the urge to throttle him grows.

Christian gives a slow clap. "Now there's the unwavering commitment that was missing during round one."

Your heart hammers in the dead silence as papers are shuffled. "Here's the contract. Terms are as discussed, you secure seventh in the world championship in 2021 and the second seat at Red Bull Racing is yours for the entire calendar in 2022. No demotions, substitutions, or shuffling of drivers unless medically necessary or mutually agreed upon by all affected parties."

"And the same spec car as the number one seat," Pierre insists, spine straight. "Same strategy."

Christian waves a hand. "Yes, that's in there too. Feel free to take a moment and read it over."

He does, allowing Christian time to pour a knuckle of whiskey and set the glass before Pierre. He pours himself an identical glass and waits until Pierre signs and initials all the boxes before raising it in acknowledgement.

"Congratulations. Welcome back to Red Bull- conditionally."

Pierre leaves the glass untouched and remains silent, staring his potential future team principal down. He gives the man no margin to question his abilities further, conveying all he needs to with a look that would have had you shaking at the knees. Even if you can't see his face, wrath radiates from him in waves and you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it when it explodes.

"Right then." Christian lowers the glass, his fake smile vanishing. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."

"Don't worry. I'll deliver."

You step back and allow him to set the mood as he exits the office and slams the door behind him. Pierre sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "You heard all of that right?"

You nod. "You wouldn't have really walked out, right?"

"I almost did."

He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like you should know that he would choose you over all of this, that all of his dreams and everything he had sacrificed to achieve them thus far meant less to him than you did. How many times did he have to prove his unwavering commitment before you realized it was true?

Pierre laces his fingers through yours, the heat welcomed by your ice cold skin. It was as much a comfort to you as it was to him. "I just have to grab some things from Max's office and then we can head out."

His jaw is still set after his stand off with Christian and you want nothing more than to ease his mind. Publicly comforting him with a touch to his chest or a kiss to his neck was out of the question so you settle on temporary distraction.

"Hey, you know what I want to see?"

"What's that?"

"That room full of all the old chassis. You know, the one that they hold all the fancy virtual events in? I wanna see those."

"I think I should be able to get you back there." He veers down a hall and you yelp, pulled along by his momentum. His attitude brightens a little at your laugh. The grin he throws your way is your own personal sun, warming your soul.

"Hey- hold on." You pull him to a stop and lead him into an alcove. The inch of space between your chests is charged with electricity, begging to jump from one to the other.

"Can I help you?" He asks and grins down at you.

"No," you say nonchalantly. "Just wanted to be selfish for a second."

You rise up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. He melts into you, one hand coming up to cup your jaw while the other finds the small of your back. You side your tongue over his lower lip and he presses you against the door leading to who knew where and opens his mouth to you. You sigh into the kiss, arms winding around his neck and losing yourself in him.

Now that you had gotten over your anxiety, everything was so much easier. You know there's press roaming about the building and any number of them could pass by at any moment but you genuinely couldn't care less. Let them talk; you were over caring what anyone thought or said.

All that mattered was the man beneath your fingertips. You would endure a lifetime of insults if he was the one to soothe the wounds afterwards. As long as you both were happy, no one could come between you ever again.

Pierre pulls away when someone passes by and coughs quietly. "You're trouble," he murmurs, leaving an arm propped next to your head and effectively caging you in.

"And you're dangerous," you tease, tugging on his hair and exposing his throat enough to nip at it once. "Together we're the perfect pair."

He groans and leans away. "Keep that up and I might have to stay in London an extra week."

You slip out of his grasp and give him an unrestrained grin. "Don't threaten me with a good time." You spin on your heel and set off down the hall, swaying your hips a little more than necessary.

"You know where you're going?" He calls after you.

"Someone will point me in the right direction, I'm sure."

"Someone like me." He catches up to you and once again takes your hand in his. He was enjoying showing you off almost as much as you enjoyed hanging on him.

"Maybe we should head right to Max's office and hurry home, huh?"

"Maybe-"

"Pierre, there you are."

You both turn to a woman hustling up the hall after you. She’s slight and her brown curls bounce as she jogs to where the two of you pause at a bend. You glance up to Pierre to see if he's just as confused as you are.

"Hey Mary," he says cheerily. "How are you? Sorry I didn't check in with you when I got here."

"Oh it's fine- why aren't you in the Alpha samples I sent?” The woman props a fist on her hip and tips her head to the side. “I think I got your size right now that I’ve laid eyes on you. I was hoping for a shoot today since you've finally come by."

It takes you a moment to register that she's addressing you. You shoot Pierre a look and he offers you a tentative, closed off smile. "Um, what Alpha gear?"

The woman's chocolate brown eyes go wide. "The ones I've been sending to Pierre. Hoodies, dresses, jackets. All the stuff from the new line. They have been sending the samples to you, right?"

"Um, yeah I've gotten them," Pierre says, rubbing his neck. "I haven't given them to her though."

"Oh, I see!” Pink tinges Mary’s cheeks. “I must have missed a memo. I just thought that you'd want to do a shoot with her today, since we already had a quick one planned for you. After all, you talk about her all the time."

"He does?"

Mary nods. "Oh yes, we've all heard plenty about you. You're lucky to have someone so enamored with you. I just dropped off some more samples in Max's office as a little thank you for letting us steal him so often-"

"Okay, thank you Mary," Pierre says abruptly. "I'll get back to you on that."

Pierre steers you away and down the hall. "What was she talking about? Why would they want me to come by for a photo shoot?"

Pierre runs a hand through his hair and pauses outside Max's office. The Dutchman must have been away because Pierre pulls out his key and fits it in the lock. "I just- come on."

He waves you inside and you obey, letting him close the door and grant you some semblance of privacy before continuing.

"I never formally told anyone that we broke up. Most people came to their own conclusions once they didn't see you around for a while. Some people didn't get the message. Obviously Mary was one of them. I would still talk about you, I couldn't help myself. There was one shoot where Yuki and I were together and he mentioned off hand that you'd be a good brand ambassador. I tried to explain that it wouldn't work but Mary wouldn't hear it and she just kept sending me more and more samples.”

You draw a breath and interrupt his rambling. “But where-”

"I had it all in a box in my office but I struggled to concentrate with a reminder of you hanging over my head. I sent it over here to Max and that's where it's sat ever since. I used the excuse that Max was in town more often than I was and no one read too far into it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You whisper. "I would've taken them. I'm sure you got an earful from Mary."

"Would you have?” Pierre pauses, your silence in the face of his frustration speaking volumes. “I waited four months to hear from you. Tell me that sending you thousands of dollars in unreleased merch wouldn't have made you even more hesitant to come back to me."

Not knowing what else to say, you let your gaze fall to the carpet. Sending you expensive things would have felt something like a bribe, like he was trying to influence you with fancy clothes.

Pierre shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past now. We can take it home today and you can wear it when I take you for dinner and Alpha will get the press they’re after. Everyone will be happy.”

He wasn’t happy. That much was plain to see. He hadn’t been able to stomach seeing something intended for you, even that minute of a reminder had been too much for him to bear. God, you had thoroughly wrecked him. You were lucky that there were still enough pieces of him left to heal.

“I didn’t realize you were hurting so bad,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you cross the cramped space to him, stepping over piles of strewn paperwork carefully so as to not disturb whatever random order they were placed in. You don’t dare reach out to touch him as his shoulders slump, any and all forward momentum he’d gathered suddenly sapped.

“It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever gone through.”

Unable to let him suffer alone with his thoughts, you wrap your arms around his middle and let your cheek rest between his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to alienate you. I was waiting for you, too.”

“You needed space and I gave it to you.” His hand rests on your arm with a gentleness you’ve come to expect when he lays himself bare like this. “There were so many times I almost gave in to the impulse and just messaged you but I made myself wait. I didn’t want to rush it and make things worse. You always need time to think things through- I knew you would come around eventually. It didn’t make it any easier though.”

You rub soothing circles on his side as you blink back the tears that spring to your eyes. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I took so long and I’m sorry I made you wait. It had to have been torture-”

He turns in your embrace and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The pad of his thumb sweeps across your cheek, the metal of the ring on his middle finger biting into your flushed skin. “It’s alright. You had a lot to sort through and I had to respect that.”

“We lost so much time-”

“Hey,” he says softly, ducking his head to meet your eyes. “We’re together now. If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that you can’t let missed opportunities control you or else you’ll never be happy.”

You nod, swiping your sleeve under your eyes. “What did they send?” you ask, nodding towards the box overflowing with tan and navy threads.

“Pull up a chair,” Pierre suggests, “there’s a lot.”

You roll over Max’s desk chair and tug on Pierre’s arm. Once he gets the picture and sits, you settle in his lap. He winds an arm around your middle, the close contact already soothing your frazzled nerves.

“That better?” he murmurs.

“Much better.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

#my writing #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf #pierre gasly fanfiction

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geekwritersworld · 4 years

Text

Wait for her

pairing:Henry cavill x Ginny

warnings: teeny tiny bit of angst, fluff towards the end. mentions of mental abuse.(its not detailed)

summary: Henry fell for her, really hard. But there isn’t much he can do when she’s already in a relationship.

Requested by : @1960memories Hope you like it!

It never made sense to Henry why she defended the man she was with. Nobody understood what she saw in him, and everyone saw what she didn’t. Or rather what, she refused to acknowledge. The lies being covered with even more lies became more obvious by the day.

Over the course of just a year, Ginny had become a shell of a woman she once used to be. Her once contagious laugh now resonated sadness. She didn’t speak much. The calls she once answered immediately , now remained unanswered.

It hurt Henry to watch the woman he met at that bar 7 years ago, become someone he no longer recognized.

He’d fallen for Ginny not too long after he met her, but he never said a word to her. The fear of of loosing her even as a friend held him back.

But her sitting here in their living room, wrapped in another man’s arms , made his heart drop.

His brother had thrown a huge birthday get together for his wife, and he’d invited Ginny as well, because she’d become such a huge part of the Cavill family’s lives.

Ginny had introduced her sister to Charlie’s wife, and the two had become quite close friends. And despite her sister, Elena , being late to the party, Ginny didn’t even notice her absence.

Faking smiles and forcing laughter had kept her quite busy. Ginny wanted nothing more than to leave, she wanted to leave him, the party, the city; everything. She wanted to go somewhere and start fresh; Forget that the only man she loved didn’t feel the same about her; instead she was sitting on his brothers couch in the arms of a man she couldn’t stand.

But it was all mindless dreaming. Henry watched her smile falter, when Matthew leaned in and murmured something to her. Yet his arms remained tight around her torso.

The party had only just begun and the seconds were already crawling. It wasn’t because he didn’t enjoy his sister-in-law’s birthday party, but because he couldn’t help but stare at Ginny from afar, with his drink in his hand. Every second passed with him wanting to go over and tell her he loved her, but every second brought him pain as well, knowing she wasn’t his.

It physically made him want to throw up. Henry found the man Ginny claimed she loved, to be physically repulsive. Henry knew of the mental and emotional scars and bruises she hid. They shouldn’t have even been there in the first place.

It angered him, to see a woman be mistreated. He’d heard the words her boyfriend uttered to her, but Henry couldn’t intervene and defend her , because he wasn’t exactly supposed to be standing behind the large and neatly trimmed bushes when Matthew verbally abused her.

His stomach twisted, when he saw Matthew grab Ginny’s elbow, thinking no one was watching.

“If you decided to hand his ass to him, I'm just saying, I’d side with you” Elena rest her elbows on the cold metal railing of the balcony, as the summer sky turned a soft shade of blue.

“Can’t fucking stand the way he treats her” he despised the way Matthew held her , the way he talked to her and the way he’d manipulated her. “I truly don’t understand why she’s still with him” He sighed , turning around, he faced the ocean that the balcony overlooked. He wanted to be holding her in his arms right then, standing on the balcony with his arms wrapped around Ginny.

But she was being held by another man, a man who did not hold her gently.

Ginny could feel Henry’s stare. She knew he was watching. Which was why, holding up her smile, was getting harder but all the more necessary. She was so close to breaking. She no longer wanted to be in this relationship, where she felt like it was a test of how long till she would completely break.

The only reason she ever said yes to going out with Matthew, was because she had to get her mind of off Henry. She’d found herself falling in love with him, and each time she saw him with some girl, it hurt her.

She thought she was saving herself from the heartbreak of losing Henry , but she didn’t realize she’d thrown herself into the arms of someone who made her lose herself.

And she’d tried to get out, but she also knew that Matthew wouldn’t let her go easy. She knew Matthew would harass her family and her friends the moment she tried to get away. She knew because he’d done it the last time she left.

“I'm going to go get some air” she pushed Matt’s arms off of her.

“Be fucking quick then” The tone of his voice frustrated her, but the last thing she wanted to do was create scene at Heather’s birthday party.

Ginny didn’t head to the balcony. She knew Henry and her sister would try to start a conversation about Matt and she did not want to talk at the moment.

So she rounded the corner of the room, pretending somebody called her, because she knew Matthew had his eyes on her.

As soon as she knew he couldn’t see her anymore, she quickly went downstairs, through the first living rom and pushed the sliding glass door and walked out on to the portico, and sat down. The tears inevitably started rolling down her cheeks. Everything had become so messy, and she didn’t know what to do.

The music from inside the house seemed muffled, and the sound of the ocean waves and the summer air, calmed her a little.

But the calm didn’t last long.

Watching from the balcony, Elena watched Ginny sit down on the couch and break down. Her heart broke for her sister, but she knew that the only person who had the slightest chance of talking some sense into her little sister was Henry.

“Henry, talk to her, please” she nudged his arm, making him turn around and take his rage filled eyes off of Matt. He’d seen Ginny leave, but didn’t know where she was going.

“Wha-” he saw her small figure , on the couch. “fuck” he handed his drink to Elena and walked inside, through the small crowd of people.

As he walked past Matt; who had some random girl sitting on his lap, it took everything in him not to punch him.

He pushed open the door and stepped onto the portico.

It hurt him to see her looking so utterly defeated and broken. It made him angry, but most of all he felt helpless. His chest tightened when he heard Ginny sniffle.

And the moment she heard him walking, her shoulders tensed and she quickly wiped away her tears. She didn’t look up though.

“Matt I was jus-” she was quick to get on her feet ,“Oh Henry” looked up and plastered a smile. If he didn’t know the woman in front of him as well as he did, he would’ve fallen for all the false smiles and laughter she’d learned to master over the course of the last few months.

But he knew her like the back of his hand, he noticed everything she did. He’d always been so smitten with her, and she didn’t even know it.

“Ginny” he whispered, taking slow steps towards her.

“Yeah?” she raised her eyebrows, she tried to play it off, but both of them knew the effort was pointless now.

Henry didn’t know how to proceed “why” the only thing he could get out. The only thing that made sense to ask.

“I don’t fucking know anymore, I don’t” It took him by genuine surprise when she’d openly said that. He expected himself to be shut out the moment he asked her why. That had been her immediate response to anyone who brought up her relationship with Matt. She’d shut them out and close herself off.

“I hate him. I hate him so much” she breathed out. She didn’t let out any tears, because now the long ignored anger was starting to get to her.

“then let us help, Me and Elena, we can help, Ginny.” He felt confused but relieved at the unpredictable outcome of their conversation.

“There’s nothing you can do, but I can. I’ve done it before-”

“wait, if you’ve got out before, why’d you get back with him?”

“i didn’t, he started harassing my family. threats and all that. I couldn’t let them get caught in the whirlwind of my issues.”

“no”

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and turned towards the broad built man that stood next to her.

“no ?what do you mean?”

“you can’t stay with him any longer. He’s fucked up and he’s ruining everything for you. Alright? We can all see it!” she let Henry’s words sink in, looking down, but she didn’t expect to hear what she did next “he’s ruined it for me”

Ginny whipped her head in his direction “for you? what the fuck could he have possible ruined for you”

“nothing” she was obviously not supposed to hear that.

“No what the fuck is that supposed to mean Henry?”

He was terrified now. There was nothing he could say to get out of this. Or maybe he didn’t want any other way ? After all these years and months of thinking of her in crowded rooms and watching her being held by someone else from afar, he knew there was no other woman he’d love like he loved her. He wanted no one but her in his arms.

“I-Ginny, I may or may not have liked you for quite -uh-for quite sometime now ” he could not look her in the eyes, He wouldn’t. He knew she was going to turn around and leave. And he couldn’t watch. He couldn’t watch his world just leave.

Sweat sheened his palms, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“wait what?” The air seemed thicker, and she kept wondering if this was some cruel joke he thought was ok to play on her , “I- no you don’t. Fuck off. Stop fucking around with me”

he didn’t expect that “I'm not messing with you. I do , and if you don’t that's” he breathed out “ that's fine”

“Henry” she lifted his face to look her in the eyes “ Are you telling me the truth right now?” and that's when he saw it. For the first time in months, he saw some hope in her eyes.

“I am”.

He felt nervous, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this anxious or nervous, but he knew if he didn’t take a chance now, it would never come back around a second time.

She was soft, as she always had been. Her lips were warm and tasted of the whiskey she’d just drank. But they molded with his perfectly.

He was a big and burly man, but his hold was gentle and loving. He held her with absolute love, and his hands were warm as they slowly slid around her head. Both his hands held her head, his thumbs keeping her hair out of her face. She slid small hand around his warm neck, she stood on her tiptoes to reach him properly, but she held him like as if she was holding on for dear life, because she was.

His presence brought with it a sense of tranquility , she’d forgotten the feeling of.

“What the fuck!” She let go. She didn’t want to, but she needed to.

“What the fuck are you doing!” the anger that seethed in his words, made Ginny flinch. But she soon realized that this was her way out. She could finally get away from him.

Before she she could respond, Matt lunged forward to grab Ginny by the arm , but she was quick and moved out of his reach. She knew him all too well.

“Do not touch me, You’re nothing but an asshole, and I will not take your shit anymore” she yelled. Ginny was thankful that the music inside the house was too loud for anyone to hear what was going on outside.

“You know you’ll come back , you fucking know it” The anger in his face made Ginny feel even more infuriated. He had no right to to be angry. He’d made her life miserable for months.

“No she won’t ” Henry stepped in front of Ginny. Protecting her wasn’t the only thing on his mind. Matthew needed to understand that he didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as Ginny, leave alone go out with her. And Henry would make sure that, that point got across to the vile man in front of him.

He wouldn’t watch from the sidelines anymore. He wouldn’t watch Ginny get hurt anymore.

He glared at Matthew. His fists clenched, taking deep breaths. He had his left arm stretched outward slightly to keep Matthew away from Ginny.

“She’s fucking belongs me to Cavill!” Matthew screamed.

“she’s not a fucking object!” He’d really pushed Henry too far. Henry hadn’t punched someone in the face before. It was never a necessity. But he soon realized that there was no way matt would leave her alone if he didn’t let him know that he would be right there , ready to hand his ass back to him each time. “ and she does NOT belong to anyone”, Matt lay on the floor. His nose bleeding. Henry was much bigger built than him, and Matthew knew he wouldn’t win a fight against Henry at any point.

“stay away from her” Henry clenched his teeth.

“are you alright” Ginny knew it would take her a while to actually be alright. It would take her a while to be herself again, it would take her a while to find herself , but she‘d find it. She’d find herself, as long as she had Henry’s support. she’d slowly find her way.

“I will be”, she smiled and held his left hand , and guided him back into the house.

She gave her sister a smile, a knowing one , as she passed by her, and opened the door to the bathroom.

“Here” she held his hand under the cool water, under the tap.

But Henry paid no attention to it. He just kept staring at her . Turning off the tap, he further ignored Ginny asking him why he turned the tap off, and kissed her.

This was what home meant, he realized. She was the only thing he wanted, she was the only thing that mattered to him , besides Kal of course, She was who and what he needed. And she could absolutely destroy him, and he wouldn’t care, because he’s so smitten with her.

there were no words spoken , just the two of them holding each other. And when they had to break their kiss, she held her forehead to his. The two of them just looked into each others eyes, which didn’t last too long, because Henry attached their lips once again. They couldn’t help it.

“I’ve wanted this for far too long” his warm breath hit her neck, sending small tingles down her spine.

Ginny didn’t respond. She simply just hugged him tight, her arms around his neck, Henry’s big arms around her torso. Her eyes were teary when she gave a small chuckle.

“me too”

“Fucking FINALLY!” Elena stood in the doorway, she dramatically rolled her eyes. But didn’t fight off the smile that graced her face at the sight of her sister being truly happy.

She shook her head and turned around to leave Henry and Ginny to themselves.

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fluff #herny cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill request #henry cavill reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill

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oddsnendsfanfics · 3 years

Text

Unraveling in the Sheets

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, NSFW

Rating: M

Length: Short Story

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Spoiler Alert, there is smut. Be warned. It's there.

Also, I am no longer doing tags on posts. Since my list exceeds the tag limit. Please feel free to join the chat in place of the tag list.

Henry Cavill Master List

“How did you do it though?” Gliding the car into a free parking space, Henry glanced at Nell in the passenger's seat.

“How did I do what?” Eyeing him curiously, she tried to hide her gloating smile. She could be a terrible winner, even if she wasn't the winner, she had came ahead of Henry.

“You know what I mean, Nelly.”

He looked so silly, his new mustache curling when he laughed or smiled. Nell had to admit, if any man could wear the 'stache Henry did it well.

“Oh, you mean how did I suddenly leave your ass behind and finish nearly 50 positions ahead?” She laughed, crinkling her nose. “I told you, I've been working hard for this. Besides, you're too big. You move slower than I do. It's that simple. Maybe next year, you will finish ahead of me.”

“You're impossible.” Unbuckling his seat belt, Henry hurried to get out of the car and around to the other side, before Nell could open her own door. Nearly there, he frowned when she opened the door, stepping out of the Aston Martin. “You were supposed to let me open that.”

“I am supposed to do a lot of things that I do not.” Nell grabbed her hand bag. “I'll let you open the door, next time. You big dork.”

Henry was always the gentleman, even when Nell would rather rip his eyes out than speak to him in a civil manner. Not that she ever felt the former much, but on the rare occasion. Sometimes that's how things went for ex-lovers. The mid May air was growing cool, leaving a few goosebumps on Nell's exposed arms. She had expected to be back before now, which is why she'd left her sweater in the hotel.

“Well, happy late birthday. It was nice having dinner with your family. I've missed them.”

“They've missed you, too. I could tell that dad was happy you came along. He hasn't talked that much during a dinner since the last time you came over.” Henry smiled fondly. "I'm glad that you came, Nelly." Hands in his pockets, Henry sauntered along beside Nell. Approaching the main entrance, he held the door allowing her to enter.

When he'd invited her for the weekend, he wasn't confident that she would come. Wrapped up in work, Nell didn't take too much time away from Dublin these days.

"It was a nice break from work." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Nell bit her bottom lip. "I know that you are busy, but do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"I always have time to talk with you." Scanning the hotel lobby, Henry tried to find a spot for them to sit and chat privately. "Should we have a seat at the bar?"

"We could, but I would really like to change. Do you mind coming up with me? We can just talk in the room. It's probably more comfortable anyway."

"Is this about the wild boy?"

"Isn't it always?"

Laughing, Henry pushed the call button for the elevator. Their son was truly something else. One day he would surely take over the world; Henry could see that coming from the day he was born. To say Ivan was Henry's pride and joy would be a massive understatement. He lived for their son. This weekend having Ivan, and Nell, in Jersey had been fantastic. A short glimpse of what life could have been. The ding of the elevator brought Henry back from his brief fantasy.

He and Nell had split up several years ago, there wasn't much chance she would feel the same as he did. Lost in the thoughts of happy little family. Allowing Nell to step onto the elevator first, Henry stood silently with his hands clasped in front of him.

“So, Ivan has been doing well in school?” He may as well get this under way.

“Define doing well,” Nell snickered. “I get a call nearly every day from his teacher. The woman is impossible, but knowing our son, he isn't making it easy for her.”

“I was like that in school. Right up until the day I left.” Henry shrugged. The elevator gently bumping to a stop, he stepped forward to hold the door for Nell.

Muttering a thank you, Nell dug for her key card, leading the way down the hall. She loved this hotel, it was the only one she stayed in, if she could help it, while visiting the Island. A great view of the water on one side, the other dazzling with a fantastic look out into the city. The first time she'd ever been to Jersey, she had stayed in the hotel and fell in love with the charm. There were days when that felt like a life time ago.

Opening the door, Nell paused to allow Henry in. “Have a seat. Anywhere you'd like. Sorry it's kind of a mess. I'm going to change.”

The hotel room was anything but a mess, minus the few sketch books that Nell had dropped on the bed. Always working. Henry took a seat on the edge of the king sized bed, casually glancing at the colour coded notes and designs that Nell had in one of the open sketch books. Costumes. A few notes detailed leather armor and Viking era clothing. She'd done well for herself, since he'd met her. The same shy costume apprentice hiding out on set of The Tudors, was now helping drive forward the details of Vikings.

In the bathroom, Nell pulled off her dress. The fabric had became clingy after a while and she needed to be more relaxed. Running shorts and a tshirt would do the trick. Sighing at her reflection, she bit her bottom lip glancing down at her top. The worn coral Nike tshirt was her favourite, it was showing the love and wear in a few spots. Perhaps she should have picked something less frumpy? She was a busy, single mom she didn't have to look the part. Ah fuck, who cared. Henry certainly wouldn't.

He was here to discuss their son, not flirt with her until she gave in to that smile. Or got lost in his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes – the left with the flecks of brown. His charm alone was enough to make anyone weak in the knees. Damn it, she needed to get over it. He had moved on. She needed to do the same.

Blowing out a breath, Nell reached for the door, pausing when she heard Henry talking. His tone told her that he was speaking to Ivan. Quietly slipping out of the bathroom, she smiled.

“Hold on, just a sec.” He pushed the screen of his phone, allowing the speaker to connect. “Alright, wild boy. Say goodnight to your mum.”

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan's voice filled the room. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ivan. Are you being a good boy?”

“Uh huh. I love you. Good night.”

“Good night, wild boy. I love you.”

“Night dad.”

“Good night, I love you. I'm going to be back soon, you go to bed and I will see you first thing in the morning.”

“Okay. Oh, dad, can Kal sleep in my room tonight?” Ivan was fond of the large black and white American Akita. Henry laughed.

“Of course he can. You and Kal go to bed, now.”

“Okay, bye.” A little too quickly, Ivan hung up the phone. Henry laughed at the eagerness, he would talk to his mother when he got back to the house. Making sure that Ivan and his dog had gone to bed as they were told, with no fuss.

"Can you believe he is growing this fast? My god where has that time gone?" Henry rubbed his hands against his face. His mustache and subtle stubble scratching his palms.

"Time is a cruel mistress." Rubbing her hands on her shorts, Nell stood. "Drink? I have a bottle of Johnnie Walker."

"Of course you do." Smirking, Henry shifted on the side of the bed. “I had a look at some of these designs, by the way. They're magnificent. My god, Nell, you are so talented.”

“You're saying that to be nice,”

Shaking his head, Henry accepted the glass, resting it on his knee. “No, I am saying it because its true. You are one of the most talented costumers that I had ever met. Are you enjoying the job?”

“I love it.” Nell smiled, leaning against the large wooden desk in the corner. “The work is great, the people are amazing, and Ivan is really enjoying it. I'm glad we went.”

“Good, that's good. He talks about it, a lot. He really seems to love being there. I'm glad. Once things settle, I am going to try and come visit. I kind of miss it, Dublin.”

“You should.” She smiled fighting the urge to scoff and roll her eyes. Henry was always busy. He'd make it to Dublin, when Hell froze over. “So, how is work coming on this new character.”

“I can't say much, but I can say that I will be happy when I can shave.” He rubbed the mustache expertly. “It's not as bad as some of the beards that I've had to grow, but it's not my favourite look.”

“You look good with a beard. I know you hate them, but you do.”

Leaning forward to set his glass on the bedside table, Henry licked the whiskey off of his lips. “I'm glad to have that compliment.”

“Sure.” Nell nodded, tipping her glass to finish the drink. “Another?”

“Uh, I'm good.” Henry motioned to his glass. Rubbing his hands across his jeans, he furrowed his brow. “I've been thinking, since I am fairly busy the next few months, what if I keep Ivan for a few extra days? Once you leave, I will take him back to London with me, until I have to go.”

Shifting on the bed, her face warm from the second glass of whiskey, Nell sniffled and cleared her throat. “What about school?”

“What about it? He isn't going to miss much, is he? They're nearly finished up and I don't know how long it will be, until I see him. Possibly not until Christmas.”

All he wanted was to spend a little time with his son, was that so hard? His next move would have to be calculated, Nell had been known to stat arguments over less. If Henry wanted to avoid a shouting match, he would have to go about this carefully. Reaching for his glass, he downed the remaining contents in one large gulp. Sighing.

“I want to hang out with him a little. It wouldn't be more than three days extra. Then you get some time alone, as well. Nell, I know that you need a bit of a break. You work so hard and take care of Ivan, please.”

“If you want to, then I suppose I can't really say no. What kind of mother would I be, if I didn't let you see him?”

“Don't say things like that, please.” Henry reached out, his hand taking hers. Gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “You are a wonderful mum. You know that.”

“Sometimes, I feel like I could do better. I really do.” Nell shrugged, allowing Henry to continue holding her hand.

“All parents feel that way, I am sure. I know that I feel like that, all the time. I guess it's natural, always wanting to do better, to be better, for our children.”

There he went again. There were times when Nell could not stand to be near him, other times she wanted to be as close as possible. Damn it. Watching him talk about Ivan and the few extras days they would be together, Henry's eyes lit up. His smile broad and the enthusiasm in his voice was one that dictated proud father. Nell nodded, only because she felt it was appropriate to the conversation.

Henry continued to chatter about how he wanted to take Ivan to a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum, in London. Leave it to the father and son, finding a day at the museum to be high on the list of fun. Nell sighed, continuing to half listen, half gaze at Henry in awe. One thing she loved – well love could be a strong word – adored? Enjoyed? About Henry was how much he loved Ivan.

Mid sentence about some Sir David Attenborough documentary that he'd watched with Ivan; Nell couldn't help it any longer. Leaning in, without warning, she grabbed Henry's face turning it to her and kissing him. Lips connecting, she stopped and jumped back as if hit by an electric shock.

Clearing his throat, Henry rubbed the back of his neck, but not pulling back. “I didn't know that the National Geographic was that exciting.”

“I'm sorry.” Hiding her face in her hands, Nell shook her head. Oh that had been a mistake. She had absolutely no right. None. Henry was crazy, if he didn't get up right now and walk out. If he was angry, then she deserved that.

Blushing, Nell shook her head. “Henry, I shouldn't have.”

“I'm certainly not going to complain.” He shrugged, leaning in his arm sliding around her shoulder. Nell glanced up, getting the nerves to look at him. Oh she had fucked up. “Next time, I would like some warning though.”

“Warning? Next time?”

“Hmm, yes. Kind of like this, close your eyes.” Henry instructed pulling her closer and kissing her. Nell sighed her body melting against him. She loved the way his lips felt on hers. Soft, with a slight force.

Straddling his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, Nell's fingers laced together. Her lips leaving his, tracing along his jaw, nearing the sweet spot below his ear. A slight nip and he was an unraveling mess. Henry nuzzled his face into her hair, she smelled amazing. Comforting and warm. A groan erupted from deep in his throat, as predicted she had gone straight for that spot.

“Nell, Nell,” Henry cleared his throat, holding her at arm's length, “Janelle, stop.” Looking for any sort of sign that she truly felt that this wasn't a good idea, he sucked in a breath. “Are you sure about this? Because if we continue, I won't stop until...”

“I am.” She nodded firmly, “I don't want you to stop. I don't want to stop. Oh god, Henry. Please.”

“I need to know that you truly, absolutely want to do this.”

“If you don't stop talking and bend me over, I am going to kick you out and do this myself. Please, stop talking. If I didn't want this, I wouldn't have started it.”

A deep rumbling laugh followed, Henry rolled his eyes. God, she was something else. Who was he to deny a gorgeous woman what she wanted? Would this come back to haunt him? Probably. Did he care? Not much. Come morning they would once again go their separate ways, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, he could pretend that he had everything he wanted. And what he wanted was her.

Pulling her to him, Henry kissed her hard. Nell moaned, the force of the kiss was nearly dizzying. Arms around his neck, she rubbed her body against his, trying to grasp the friction that was created when she started to grind herself against his thighs.

“Henry,”

“Hold on, you need patience.” He brushed a bit of hair out of her face, “all in good time.”

Nell squealed when he stood, her legs desperately scrambling to hold onto him. In a futile attempt she huffed, when he let her go, standing in front of him pouting. Unbuttoning his shirt, Henry smirked giving her a heated stare. “Well, are you going to get on the bed or make me do all the work? Shorts off.”

Sliding the mesh shorts down her ass and along her legs, Nell made a bit of a show letting them pool at her feet. Stepping out, as slowly as possible, while lifting the old tshirt from her body. Allowing it to go where it would, as she dropped it. Sitting back on the bed, she could feel her heart in her throat and her stomach where her heart should be.

“Lie back.” Henry instructed, kneeling at the edge of the bed. Arms around her thighs, guiding her to him, he studied her for a moment. She was trembling as his fingers slid across her thighs, positioning her in just the right way.

“Oh god, Hen-Henry.” Nell's mouth was suddenly dry and her voice hoarse. His hot breath between her legs was tormenting her, in unimaginable ways. In anticipation she bucked her hips forward, trying to clench her thighs. Holding her knees with his shoulders, Henry chuckled.

“Eager.”

“Please.”

“You are...” He lingered, kissing the inside of her leg. “Gorgeous. Look at you.” He brushed his thumb against her. Nell whimpered trying to push further. “Hold on, hold on.”

“Why are you teasing me?”

“Because I want to enjoy the view, for a moment.” He shrugged, her legs lifting gently. A hand on her lower abdomen, as if holding her in place, he used the other to gently tease and trace along her calf. Without warning, his lips attached to the most sensitive part of her body with his mustache adding an extra sensation, Nell bucked her hips hard, shoving his face further between her thighs.

Nell's head was swimming, it had been a while since she'd felt this good from such an act. Sure, she'd had the odd date here and there, semi-serious relationships, but nobody could do this the way Henry could. He was a fucking magician, she was certain of it. Humming against her mound, Henry couldn't hide the laughter in his eyes, when she began to squirm and wiggle against his face. She was desperate and he was going to prolong this as much as he could.

Sucking her clit, his tongue generously lapping at her, he thoroughly enjoyed the show. Pushing his head as far down as she could, Nell was nearly in tears each time he leaned in, his mustache tickling in just the right way. Oh god, she gasped trying hard to find release. Henry was cunning, backing off at the right moments.

“Henry,” She whined, threading her fingers through his hair. “Don't tease me, I really need you to finish.”

“Stop being so impatient.” He was teasingly stern. Pushing her hands away, he locked his fingers with hers, holding them at her side. Lifting his head, he smirked, kissing up her body ending with another dizzying kiss. Nell sucked on his tongue, freeing her hands from his, she tugged him closer, pulling at fistfuls of hair.

Cleaning herself from his tongue and lips, she sighed. “I'm going to need more than that.”

“You're sure?” Henry paused, holding his weight on his forearms, resting above her. His jeans still on, he could feel the strain against the denim.

“Jeans, off.” She demanded, sitting up to watch. Shivering against the slight chill, her breasts on display giving him the perfect view of her erect nipples. Nell blushed under his gaze. She was not the tight, toned, and perky body she once was. She wasn't out of shape, by any means, but compared to Henry...

“You are gorgeous.” Henry complimented, his jeans on the floor, boxers being pushed down to join them. Stepping out of his pants, he stood at the side of the bed, in all his glory.

Nell licked her lips, reaching out to take him in her hand. Hissing under her touch, Henry involuntarily bucked his hips forward into her hand. Rubbing the head, Nell intently watched Henry while she leaned in taking him fully in her mouth.

“Fuck, Nelly.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, sliding her head back along his length. Hand wrapped around him, stroking in place of her mouth. Bobbing her head back down, she swirled her tongue around the base. He nearly choked her the first time she'd ever gone down on him. Oh how long ago that felt.

Dragging her tongue against his length, she felt her core tighten, with each moan Henry gave. His slight salty taste mixed with the aftertaste of the Johnnie Walker, Nell inhaled deeply through her nose, hollowing her cheeks around him. Gripping the back of her head, Henry tried to not force her too hard, as he began to guide her movement.

Happy to go along with what he needed to feel good, Nell allowed him control over her guidance. Her finger nails grazing the back of his thighs, she mentally checked the small victory when he threw his hips forward at the sensation of her wrapped around him and her nails on his skin.

“Good girl,” Henry mumbled, his head lulling back, his chest rising rapidly. “Keep it up, just like that. Oh shit,”

Nell's chest swelled a little, she could still make him feel good, even after all of this time apart. That was not something she would take lightly, even if this shouldn't be happening. Oh fuck, who cared? They were two consenting adults. Henry's legs quivered, his hands unsteady stroking the back of her head.

“Nell,”

“Hmm?” She glanced up at him. His face soft and his jaw slack, she could feel him tightening. The perfect time to stop her actions. “Not yet,” She smirked, wiping her hand across her chin, drool gone. “Fair is fair.”

“Jesus,” Henry grumbled. He had been so fucking close, the knot in the pit of his stomach clenched Slowing his breathing, he took a moment to think of anything else. Laundry? Running? How much longer until he had to renew his passport?

“Henry?”

“Yeah?” He snapped his head to look at Nell.

“Are we going to stand here all night, or...” She shrugged, a devious smirk on her face. Laying back on the bed, she curled her finger beckoning him to her.

“You're still sure about this?” Henry asked. His eyes on her, waiting to see if she had any hint of doubt or hesitation.

“I don't have a condom, but I'm clean. It's not like I'm getting pregnant, so....” If she were to get pregnant, there was going to be on hell of a hefty lawsuit against that surgeon.

“You're sure? I know that I'm...but I don't have.”

“if you don't want to, then I understand.”

“I do, though, but...”

Nell shook her head. “No buts. If you want me, then I'm yours.”

“Fuck, you're making this hard.”

Giggling, Nell glance down. “I think we're beyond things being hard.”

His body betraying him, Henry cleared his throat, she certainly had a point. Fuck it. What did they have to lose? Unless this, some how, came back to bite them. No, no he had to stop that. Give in, enjoy what was happening. It had been too long since he'd been able to watch her in such bliss. Bliss that he was responsible for.

“You're sure?”

Nell nodded siting up, opening her arms, “Come here.”

On the edge of the bed, Henry sighed, his large frame leaning into her. Nell held him for a moment, stroking his hair, the feel of his warmth against her sent shivers through her spine. Pushing him back on the bed, she bit her bottom lip, waiting for the go ahead. Henry gave her a slight nod, adjusting himself on the bed to get comfortable. Straddling his hips, Nell lifted herself to slowly take him.

Sheathing him inch by inch, Nell groaned at the fullness. This was her favourite part, taking him to the end, feeling him stretch her. Rocking her hips forward, she countered the motion sliding them back in the same tantalizing pace. Henry held her hips, pushing his up to meet her. Nell squeaked and giggled. She loved the way he hit all the right spots.

“You can touch me, don't be shy.” Nell winked, lifting her arms and crossing them above her head, allowing him a full view of her breasts. “Go on.” She encouraged.

His large hands cupping her breasts, Henry softly rolled her hardening nipples between his fingers, giving on a slight flick when she moved herself up on his length. Close to letting him slide out, she moved back down, her ass grinding against him.

The way her body moved against his was mesmerizing. Massaging her supple skin, from her breasts down her sides, one hand settling on her ass and the other on her hip. Henry loved the shape, even if she had changed a little since having Ivan. God she was stunning.

Hastening her pace, Nell rocked back and forth, up and down. Henry closed his eyes feeling every bit of movement, each clench. Taking in the sounds of her breathing, mixed with his, her small moans not going unnoticed.

“Henry,” She whispered, biting her bottom lip, leaning forward to touch her lips against his. “Please,”

Without having to be asked twice, he moved swiftly, turning them over to pin her beneath him. Nell sighed and stretched her arms over her head, the pull of her muscles caused another shiver. Her head now against the pillow, she reached, tracing the lines of his face with her fingertip.

“I don't know that I can be as slow as you were.” Henry nipped her finger. Holding back on his desire to pound her into the bed.

“Then don't.” Nell batted her eye lashes at him.

Somehow that was all he needed, that tiny bit of permission. Picking up the pace, Henry grunted. Nell moaned drawing her knees upward, allowing him an even better vantage to this position. As if the pent up emotions from the last few years, hours, minutes had been released the couple were lost in the sensation of skin on skin. The feeling of sparks and electricity coursing through them. Connecting them.

“Fuck, Janelle.” Henry hissed, his arm locked into position on either side of her head, keeping him from tumbling on top of her.

“Henry,” She squealed splaying her hands against his chest, tugging at the soft hairs. “Oh god. Please, don't stop. My god, oh fuck.”

“You are fucking amazing. Fuck, look at you.” Kissing her roughly, he sighed, steadying his pace. His hips slapping hers, Nell shook slightly her soft sobs of pleasure were enough to send him to an end.

Shaking with pleasure, Nell gasped trying to bring herself down from the high. Henry moaned, his head back and chest heaving. It had been a while since he had felt that good. Nell laid with her legs hooked around his thighs, no desire to move. Collapsing with his head on her chest, Henry allowed his body to rest. Sweaty and sticky, they laid tangled together. Neither one wanting to break the feeling.

Dosing in and out, Nell was the first to move. Her body growing heavy with Henry still on top of her. She needed to move, before seizing up. Pushing his head to the side, she giggled and kissed the tip of her nose when he lazily looked up.

“I need to pee,”

“Hmph.” Henry nodded, slowly rolling over. Allowing her to escape. Laying flat on the bed, while she scurried off to the bathroom, Henry pushed himself up off of the bed. He should be getting back to his parents, back to Ivan.

All thoughts of moving were squashed, when Nell came back, climbing in beside him. Her clothes still on the floor. Her body was comforting against his. “Hi,” she whispered, sliding in under his arm.

“Nell?” Henry laid with his arm around her shoulder.

“Huh?” Nell grunted, her face buried in his chest.

“I should head back.”

“If you want to. You can stay, I don't mind.” Nell yawned. Her eyes closing.

“Okay, but only for a little while.” Henry agreed, closing his eyes. In a few minutes, he would get up, shower, and head back.

With a start, Henry woke, a loud banging noise rattling him. Looking around the dark room, he squinted to find the source of the noise. Hearing someone whispering at a distance, Henry laid in bed, listening. Against him, Nell stirred, but didn't wake. Someone in the hall was talking, no doubt they had been the source of the banging. He had fell asleep, Nell wrapped against him.

Looking at his watch, Henry frowned. 4am. If he left right now, he could be back before anybody woke. If he left now, he risked Kal barking and waking the house. If he waited, he would risk walking in and having to explain himself to one or more person. Of course he could tell them that he'd ran into some old friends, had some drinks and stayed on a sofa somewhere. Too drunk to drive.

Shifting in bed, Nell sighed, her arm around his waist she snuggled in closer. She was content, who was Henry to try and disturb her sleep? He would wait an hour or two, before he made his departure. So what if he waltzed in, being faced by one of his brothers, or even his mother. He was an adult, if he wanted to stay out all night enjoying the company of a fantastic woman, then he would do just that.

Kissing the top of Nell's head, Henry smiled, sinking down further into the covers, closing his eyes.

Tag List Chat

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #oddsnendshenryfics

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dmcvergillament · 3 years

Text

Bedtime Stories [Part 1]

Fem!Reader x Vergil

Summary: Unable to sleep, young Nero requests a bedtime story. You happily oblige and weave a tale that Vergil recognizes. Nero falls asleep to the legend of the dancer and the dragon and Vergil remembers how he fell in love with you.

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Tucking little Nero in for the night, Y/N kisses his forehead. "Sweet dreams, my little angel."

Vergil picks up toys off the floor.

Nero catches Y/N's hand to stop them from leaving. "I...can't sleep without a story."

Vergil looks up from studying a blue bird plush he found. It looked oddly familiar...

Y/N smiles and sits back down on the bed to brush aside Nero's bangs. "Alright. What story shall I tell?"

Nero snuggles up to his chin in his comforter, eyes shimmering with curiosity. He waits for his mother to begin.

"Ah! I know: how about the legend of the dancer and the dragon?" suggests Y/N.

Vergil pauses as he sets the bird down alongside a black cat on a shelf. His interest is also piqued. What fantasy is Y/N spinning now?

"In a land far, far away in a time long, long ago..." begins Y/N, twirling her hands.

'There they go again with that dramatic voice,' thinks Vergil. Still, he cannot deny how his lover never fails to spark wonder in their son's eyes. Only a few words in and she has Nero's full attention.

"...there was a dancer who could mesmerize entire palaces with every step. When they moved it was like watching petals on the breeze. The soft colors of their clothes twirling around their long legs. Stories spread across many kingdoms of not only their unrivaled skill but also that of their bewitching beauty. All that bore witness to their dance were charmed. It was like a magic spell only they could use," continues Y/N.

"Were they as pretty as you, Mama?" mews Nero, tilting his head in that way that always melted Y/N's heart.

Y/N reaches over to stroke their son's ivory hair, before opening her mouth to say---

"What a foolish question." Gliding over to the bed, Vergil sits opposite of Y/N. His eyes flicker to Y/N before he continues, "Do not compare a rose to a field of dandelions."

Nero seems satisfied with this answer.

Y/N gestures for Vergil to not interrupt before she adds, "So one day the dancer gets invited to the royal palace to perform. Afterwards, the King becomes so enthralled, he begs them to stay and marry one of his sons. The dancer politely refuses and leaves. This was not the answer the King had hoped for and so he hired a famous knight to find her and bring her back to the palace."

Rubbing his chin, Vergil wonders, 'Why does this sound oddly...familiar?'

"This knight always wore brilliant, scarlet armor, so the people called him the 'Crimson Knight'. Legends spoke of how he could slay any monster and of the sword he carried upon his back. It was a grand sword said to be enchanted with an ancient magic that allowed it to cut through even dragon hide," explained Y/N, waving her hands like she was trying to make the sword appear.

"He was a dragon slayer?" asks Nero curiously.

"No matter how tall or dangerous the monster may be, he was always victorious. While many claimed to have been witness to such a feat, no one knew for certain if he had slain a dragon. After all, dragons were the most powerful of foes. They were cunning, proud, and equipped with immense magic," answered Y/N.

"Could he beat a dragon?" questions Nero.

"He most certainly believed he could. After all, he was the Crimson Knight: the warrior of all the human kingdoms. Whenever a monster appeared, he was called in to defeat it," replied Y/N with a nod.

"Sounds like someone I know," grumbles Vergil.

"Shhhh."

"But here he was faced with a strange request: to hunt not a beast but a woman. A woman armed with only an aptitude for dancing. This was not a job for the Crimson Knight. The King---afraid he'd decline and she'd slip away---lied. He told the knight that the dancer was harboring a curse set upon her by a demon. That if she was not found and brought back to the palace to be purified, she would die. Now this resonated with the Crimson Knight. How could he let such a beauty wither and wilt from such misfortune? So he set off to find her," continued Y/N.

"How could he lie? She's not really cursed, is she?" asks Nero with a frown.

Vergil interrupts, "People lie because..." He clears his throat. "Sometimes they lie to get what they want."

"She's not really going to die, right?" whispers Nero.

Vergil glances at Y/N. "No, she won't."

Y/N nudges him with an elbow. "Shhh, no spoilers."

"So without even knowing she was being followed, the dancer hopped from town to town to perform. Rarely did she stay for more than a few days in the same area. Her heart was set on adventure and she enjoyed the journey even if it was tedious without a horse or carriage. She felt as free as the birds in the sky. With her spirits soaring, she set out for the neighboring city. However, along the well-trodden path, a man appeared. Whipping his cart into a frenzy, he was approaching fast. Spotting her, he jerked on the reins and nearly fell off the bench. 'Young lady! Young lady!' he gasped. 'Turn back now! Only death and hellfire awaits at the end of this road!' Stunned, the dancer asked him to explain. 'A dragon has appeared! He has built his den inside the ruins of the castle and he strikes down all who disturb him! The people are terrified! Protect yourself and run while you still can!' Then with a crack of the reins, his cart was disappearing down the road in a cloud of dust. The dancer stood there flabbergasted. How can there be a dragon of all things? Were they not creatures of myth? Not believing in the danger, she continued onwards despite the warning."

"No! Don't go! You'll get eaten!" gasps Nero, burrowing deeper into his comforter to hide.

Vergil snorts. "Depends on what you mean by 'eat' her."

Y/N shoots him a look. Luckily, she seems to be the only one to catch it. Nero is oblivious as he is too busy trying to blend in with his pillows.

"Anyway..."

"Our heroine reached the city and was hit by a startling revelation: it was quiet. Walking through the marketplace, she found stands of fruit abandoned and carts of goods unprotected. Where was all the hustle and bustle? Where were all the people? Further up the road, shutters rattled and there were hints of movement. The dancer wondered if she'd even be able to perform here if there was no one to be the audience. Then an idea stuck her: what if she could coax the people out with her talents? If not dancing, then maybe a lute or harp would soothe their spirits and rekindle the city's vigor. So she sought out the very reason she had come to this territory specifically: the grand theatre. There all kindred souls of music and art showcased their passions. She had hoped to connect with other performers here who were as dedicated to their craft as she was. Spotting the gold rooftop shimmering in the evening sun, she scurried towards it with a renewed excitement. Throwing the doors open, she gleefully announced her arrival."

"Only to be met with silence."

"How can a place of boisterous joy be silent? On hooks and shelves, all the instruments sat idle. Not a single string was singing. Even the tables were vacant with not even a crumb set out for the mice. 'What is going on?' she wondered. Still, she was even more determined now. Picking up a lute, she played a few notes. Testing its voice, she listened to the hearty tones and wondered how anyone could have put it down. Jumping into an energetic melody, she smiled to herself. This hall echoed the sound perfectly: each note complimented each other rather than drown in a sea of cacophony. Erasing the silence eased the chill that had settled in her chest. That is, until someone snatched the lute from her hands. 'Are you mad?!' hissed a man, 'You'll draw the beast right to us!' Confused, she asked him to explain. 'Music attracts him. If you keep playing, he'll come back!' She asked him if he was speaking of the dragon she heard about. 'Yes. He has settled into the castle on the hill. Both the castle and its lord perished many years ago. The city has never been quite the same since. Now this monster has taken over and the peace in our hearts have been shattered.' The man's words sowed worry in her heart. Yet, something struck her funny: if this dragon was so vicious, then why did it only attack, when he heard music? Did music have some kind of power over him?"

"Did the dragon not like music? Why?" Nero peeked around the edges of his blanket.

Y/N fixed her son's hair behind his ear. He was already nurturing the start of a bird's nest.

"The music made him remember..." Vergil's eyes were glossed over. Y/N could tell he was somewhere else. "Remembering was...painful for him."

Not expecting a co-narrator, Y/N waited to see if he would continue.

"See, the dragon was cursed: his memories stolen from him. Hearing a melody sometimes brought those memories back in bright flashes. Remembering what he had lost pained him more than the sharpest blade. Rather than endure his past, he silenced the melody any way he could. Even if it was...cruel," explained Vergil, his voice dry.

Was that a twinge of guilt Y/N could hear?

[Continued in Part 2...W.I.P.]

#Reader x Vergil #DMC #Devil May Cry #Nero #Vergil #Dante #Nero's mother #bedtime stories #knights #dragons

101 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Text

Love is a Bundle of Contradictions.

This artwork was a piece I commissioned from @shimmeryspark!

... There is no explanation for this other than my friends encouraged me to write Valentine’s Day Raven and Jade fluff, since the main saga is a bit lot of angst right now. (Special thanks to @twstpasta since they let me borrow their twstsona for plot reasons :9)

Imagine this...

“You WHAT?!”

“Ehehe~ Sorry...!! I guess I went and made a bad decision, heehoo~” Mac stuck out their tongue and lightly bonked their own head with a fist. “Silly me~”

“Making a deal with Azul is the very definition of a bad decision,” Raven groaned, slapping a hand to her face. “I... I cannot believe you. Dare I ask what the conditions were?”

“I gave him my taste buds! He said he’ll give them back if you help out with stocking up on supplies for the Mostro Lounge.”

“That’s... suspiciously simple. And you really just handed over your taste buds just like that? You can’t taste your beloved cheese anymore.”

“I know!” Mac pouted. “It’s so sad, so you’ll help this rataroni out, right?”

“I find it odd that Azul is demanding my assistance, seeing as how I am not the one that made the deal with him to begin with. However... I cannot turn my back on a friend in need. I will lend you a helping wing—er, hand.”

“Sweet, sweet!!” Mac clasped Raven’s hands happily. “Just remember to show up this Sunday afternoon. Meet up’s in the town square. Oh, and be sure to wear something cute!”

“Something cute? Why would...”

“It’s part of the deal—so you just gotta, okay? That’s what Azul said!” Mac paused, before adding, “Oh, oh! And bring some homemade choco in a heart-shaped box!! That’s another contract condition!”

“Oh... O-Okay...?”

Raven leaned back against a lamp post, anxiously winding a finger around the string of small pearls at her collarbone. In her other hand was a bag, and in that bag, a heart-shaped box of homemade chocolates—just as Mac had told her.

A silver heart-shaped charm dangled from the necklace, lying still against her real hammering heart. Rarely did she venture out into the local town—and, standing there by her lonesome, the raven felt out of place and awkward.

An addendum to a story that had already been penned.

She watched as her silver charm caught a wink of sun and guided the light down its curve. Reflected back in the charm’s surface was the raven herself.

Today, her inky hair was cast up in a high pigtail and secured with a cobalt ribbon. She had traded her usual outfit for a pale blouse with billowy puff sleeves, white stockings, and a high waist skirt in a plaid pattern—cobalt, like her ribbons.

I hope this satisfies the conditions of the deal.

Raven checked the time on her phone; any minute now, Azul would be showing up, and they’d get this over with. Then she could return to her attic to roost, and Mac could return to feasting on cheese and inhaling poison—

“Oya. Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you, Miss Raven?” a silken cadence called out to her, rising above the hustle and bustle of the town.

“... You,” she responded flatly, narrowing her eyes at a certain eel as he parted from a crowd.

Ah.

Jade, too, had abandoned his typical uniform in favor of casual comfort. He wore a pair of dress pants and a grey turtleneck—and over it was a brown trench coat, unbuttoned to show off how snugly that sweater fit against his lean, muscular body.

Raven squinted. His earring was slightly different today as well. Rather than three diamond shaped sturgeon scales dangling from his ear, there were heart shaped ones. Blue and glassy, like the calm sea after a storm.

His hands were polite folded behind his back... hiding something. Whatever that something was, petals of pink, red, and yellow-orange were poking out.

If she didn’t know any better, she would have said he looked handsome—and innocent—enough. But she did know better.

“What are you doing here?” Raven demanded, no longer playing with her necklace. Her hands went to her sides, curling into balls.

“Fufufu. The town is a public space. I am free to come and go as I please, the very same as you.” Jade tilted his head to one side. “Although today, I am here on an errand. The Mostro Lounge is short on centerpiece supplies, you see. I have been sent to restock.”

“What a coincidence. I’m also here to help the Mostro Lounge restock,” Raven said, a bit of bitterness slipping into her voice, “as per a contract.”

Jade attempted to appear sympathetic—but he allowed a cruel chuckle to escape him. “I see now. I was not aware that you were the one indebted to Octavinelle, Miss Raven. Had I known sooner, I would not have hesitated to summon you to fill in for Kon-san’s morning shift.”

“I’m not a waitress for you to order around.” Raven jutted out her chin defiantly. “I’m here strictly on business, so if you would kindly leave me be...!!”

“I believe you said you had to assist the Mostro Lounge. Would it not be prudent, then, to go about tending to that duty rather than standing about and looking like a lost lamb?”

“Sh-Shut up! It’s not my fault that Azul is running late...!!”

“You were waiting for Azul?” Jade said, his brows pinching together briefly. “You are terribly mistaken. It is not Azul who is assisting you with the restock, but myself.”

“... Beg pardon?”

Wear something cute, bring homemade chocolates, Mac had said. And it has to be you, Raven, not me! But why? Slowly, slowly... The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

A thought dawned on Raven:

I’ve definitely been tricked.

“Well!! That’s all fine and dandy, but I think I shall be on my way home now. I really must be having a chat with a friend of mine,” she babbled, turning on her heel. They’re going to be buried in tomato sauce when I get to them.

“How cruel of you to abandon those in need, Miss Raven. And to think that Mac-san shall be without their taste buds... and I, burdened with the task of restocking by my lonesome. What a tragic way to spend Valentine’s Day,” Jade exhaled deeply and wiped at an imaginary tear. “Shikushikushiku...”

Raven’s left eye twitched. “Don’t you paint me as the bad guy here...!!”

“Aren’t you?” Jade challenged, a smile still plastered on his face despite his mocking tone.

“Grrr...!!” She whipped around, thrusting an index finger at him. “Listen here... Leech!! The only reason I am even here was to help someone out of a contract your shady boss roped them into!”

“If you are as selfless and loving as you claim to be, then you should have no issues with shopping with me,” Jade countered smoothly. “After all, they say that actions speak louder than words.”

The little bird vibrated with irritation, her cheeks puffed out in a pout. Her stomach coiled tight, uneasiness brewing. As much as she hated to admit to it, he was right.

Raven clenched her teeth and sent a glare his way. “Fine...!! But I will be keeping an eye on you to ensure that there is no funny business!”

“Then by all means, ‘keep an eye on me’, and do not let your gaze stray for even a single moment,” Jade chuckled, somehow sneering through his smile. “I welcome it.”

The eel held out a hand to Raven. “We’d best not be separated while on our errand.”

She stared hesitantly. Her eyes flickered between his eyes and the hand he offered. Subtle changes in her expression occurred in rapid succession—the raising of her lids, the tremble to her lower lip, the tinge to her cheeks.

“... Yeah. We’d best not,” Raven finally agreed, her grip on her bag—the bag containing her chocolates—tightened. “Which is precisely why I will follow you at a safe distance.”

“Ah, but that would ruin the surprise.”

“What, the bouquet? You’re not exactly doing a masterful job of hiding it.”

“Nor are you doing well to hide your little surprise, Miss Raven.”

“I was deceived. This chocolate is not meant for you.”

“I didn’t say that it was, now did I?”

“... I’m going to eat them myself, then. That’ll show you!”

“Do with it what you wish, for selfish purposes or not,” Jade laughed, revealing his bouquet—all the colors of the setting sun. “These flowers, on the other hand, are meant to be gifted...”

He pushed the bouquet toward Raven. Up close, the flowers seemed even more vibrant and beautiful. Their warm hues enveloping the raven, enchanting her senses. Mesmerized, she reached out to accept the flowers—when Jade suddenly clicked his tongue and pulled them away.

“But alas—not to you,” he teased, pressing a finger to his lips. “Do try to keep up with me now, Miss Raven.”

Jade turned and dove into a sea of townspeople, leaving a trail of sunset-colored petals in his wake. And, like the fool that she was, a fuming raven stormed after him—chocolates still in hand. Heart quivering.

Terrariums—the flowers were meant for terrariums all along.

Jade had taken his sweet time leading her down a winding path and to an art supply store tucked away in a corner, and even longer to observe the shape and feel of each terrarium container. Spherical, cuboidal, prismatic... Holding up the bouquet every so often to compare how the flowers would look in each.

In the end, he had gone wild with his purchases, electing to buy a selection of shapes, along with other supplies—just to keep himself amused. Jade had paid with a platinum card embossed with Octavinelle’s logo. Mostro Lounge Master Cash Card, it read. Azul’s property; do not steal! Sign the loaning form if you must borrow.

It was all for the terrariums, for business as usual.

I should have realized sooner. Stupid, stupid, Raven scolded herself.

She grunted, struggling to carry the bagful of terrarium supplies that Jade had saddled her with, while he carried one of his own without any trouble. The eel cast her a mocking glance over his shoulder.

“Are you in need of a break, Miss Raven?”

Bite me, she wanted to snap back—but a bark of pain shot up her arms, silencing her defiance. “... M-Maybe.”

He sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Very well. I see a café up ahead. We can rest there for a few moments, though it may require the purchase of a food item if we wish for a table.”

“Sounds peachy.”

Together, they swept through the café doors. The duo was immediately greeted by the smell of sugar and the hum of the other patrons, many of them couples.

Raven stiffened at the sight, turning a deep shade of red. Suddenly, she was very, very aware of how she—and Jade—looked.

“I think I changed my mi—“ Raven was cut off when he grasped her hand and held fast. She jolted back, her skin turning clammy. “Eeep! Wh-What are you...”

“Table for two,” Jade requested of an employee. “We do not intend to stay for a large meal, so just an ice-cream parfait will do.”

“Certainly, sir. Right this way.” The server quickly seated them, and with a bow, departed to retrieve their order.

“... You can let go of my hand now,” Raven hissed, attempting to free herself. To no avail, initially. She tugged again, and finally broke free, aggressively rubbing at her hand to ward off the residual eel cooties.

Jade chuckled, tucking his strand of black hair behind his ear. His earring glimmered in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through wide windows. “Play along. You are aware that today is Valentine’s Day, yes?”

“Yes, but I do not understand what that has to do with... physical contact, especially seeing as how we are not engaged in that kind of a relationship.”

“It is simple.” He laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them. With the most serene of smiles, Jade purred, “We should take advantage of the couple discounts being offered at eateries such as this. An excellent way to save on spending, especially after that particularly large purchase made on the Mostro Lounge’s coin.”

“You’re a shrewd one.”

“Why, thank you.”

Raven’s hands curled in her lap. Her lips pursed, she found her gaze trained on the white lace of the tablecloth, rather than on her dining companion.

Time and time again, she has been tricked today, told white lies. Teased and deceived. It was simply how he was—and though it did irk her in some ways, it also never made a moment dull.

Hot and cold. Push and pull. Bitter and sweet. That was Jade Leech.

“Your parfait is here!!” The server from before popped up in her periphery, startling the raven from her thoughts. They set it down and stepped back. “Here you are—enjoy your date!”

“Thank you. We certainly will,” Jade reacted before Raven could and dismissed the server with a wave. “... Well, let’s dig in.”

“You didn’t correct them.”

“We won’t get the discount if they don’t believe this farce,” he replied calmly, nudging the parfait and a spoon toward her. “Now then, less talking and more eating. You need your strength if you plan on helping me haul all the supplies back to campus.”

She let out a huff, but dug her spoon into a frozen mound. The parfait was massive, composed of several scoops of pink, blue, and green ice-cream, flanked by chocolate wafer bars. With a smattering of sprinkles, a crown of whipped cream, and a maraschino cherry on top, the dessert looked absolutely picture perfect.

Raven steadily brought a spoonful of pink goop into her mouth, allowing a sweet bubblegum flavor to spread across her tongue. Her eyes cut to Jade, who had not bothered to sample any for himself. He smiled back, gaze half-lidded as if recalling a fond memory.

“Have some, too. I feel weird eating it alone—and you must be hungry too. I know how big your appetite is.” Raven pushed the parfait glass toward him.

“If you insist.”

The head of his spoon sunk into a green scoop with shards of chocolate chip weaved throughout. It pulled away cleanly with a large mound, which was soon consumed. Then another bite, and a third, a fourth... Before Raven knew it, a good third of the parfait was missing.

Jade patted his mouth with a napkin, eyeing her expectantly.

“Are you still hungry?” Raven asked, eyebrows raising. She retrieved a scoop of blue this time—vaguely flavored like a medley of fruits.

“Perhaps... though I do not plan on taking more of the parfait for myself. Were I to, there would be none left for you.”

The fruit seemed to sour in her mouth. It was true that she was hungry, yes—but at the same time, she did not wish for Jade to be left dissatisfied.

She frowned, setting her spoon down and reaching into her bag. Seconds later, she produced a heart-shaped package and shoved it at him.

“Here, chocolates. They’re yours now, since I have no other use for them,” Raven mumbled insistently. “You can eat them now, or save them for later. Just hurry up and take them before I change my mind.”

“Oya, it is rather bold to profess your undying love to me in such a public space.” Jade teased, chuckling lightly into his hand.

“B-Be quiet...!! We... We can’t get that couple’s discount if one of us passes out from hunger.”

“Fufufu. I doubt that either of us would.” His mismatched eyes twinkled with mirth. “... Thank you for the sweets, Miss Raven. I will be certain to savor every last bite.”

The town became even busier in the late afternoon, filing with the sound of street performers and spectators. A monkey in a vest and a small hat barreled by Raven’s feet as she and Jade exited the café, nearly causing her to double over. A chorus of children’s laughter chased after the monkey—and she, the raven, stumbled on her recovery.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to reconsider my offer,” Jade suggested, a hand on the small of her back to support her. That same hand trailed around and tickled the back of hers. “It would be a shame if we lost one another in this crowd.”

Raven regarded him with a pointed look, but slipped her hand into his without further resistance. “... Only because I have to.”

“Of course, of course.”

Together, they braved the bustling streets.

A new world unfolded before Raven’s very eyes. Costumed performers of all kinds paraded about, garnering attention from passerbys. Some tossed confetti and candies, others brandished instruments. Brass, strings, percussion—all their notes floated up into the festive atmosphere.

There went a dancer, leaping like a lithe deer, limbs outstretched and the flowy fabric of their uniform like a curtain of smoke. And here was an artist perched on a stool, sketching the outline of a woman posed on a wooden crate. A young man jingled a tambourine, trying to catch coins in his cap.

A number of food carts patrolled the roads, calling out their wares. Crepes, sandwiches, sodas... Families, friends, and couples lining benches, exchanging bites.

Love was truly in the air and oozing out of every pore of the community.

Raven couldn’t keep her head still. She turned this way and that, trying to soak up every last sight and sound. Her golden eyes sparkled with wonder.

Jade, of course, took note. “Excited, are you?”

“It’s very different than Night Raven College,” she replied shyly. “Almost like a magic kingdom.”

“Magic kingdom? You can be rather melodramatic at times.”

“Yeah? So can you and Azul and Floyd, with all your fake tears...” Her wandering eyes caught something bright red as she spoke. “Oh...!! Look.”

Raven tugged on Jade’s hand, urging him to a halt. Her gaze was transfixed on a lamp post with a multitude of red strings. At the other ends of those ribbons were heart-shaped balloons, as red as blood.

His eyebrows pinched together in mocking sympathy. “You truly are fascinated by the simplest things. Is it true what they say? That ravens are attracted to shiny objects?”

Her mouth flew open to protest, but she was interrupted by a woman by the balloon-bearing lamp post “You there!! Sir with the earring and ma’am with the blue ribbon! Care for some balloons?”

“Er... What are they for?” Raven asked.

“For love, of course,” the woman laughed. “Today’s all about appreciating one another, right? This is my way of spreading love.”

She separated three balloons from her bundle and offered them with a flourish. Raven eagerly accepted them, staring up in wonder at their floating bodies.

“Oh, and one more thing!!” The woman produced a red ribbon from her jacket pocket and nodded at the duo. “Your pinkie fingers, please!”

Raven held out her hand as directed, letting the woman secure the ribbon in a neat little knot. The balloon bearer extended the length of the ribbon, glancing to Jade. Raven, too, looked at him expectantly. Jade expelled a quiet sigh and allowed the red ribbon to be tied to his pinkie.

“There you go!” the woman declared triumphantly. “You’re all set now! Enjoy the rest of your Valentine’s Day, folks!”

“Thank you!” Raven shouted over her shoulder—even as Jade started to lead her away. The woman waved and waved until she was out of sight.

“... It has been a while since I have seen you this enthusiastic,” Jade remarked with a glance to the balloons. “I do suppose it is a departure from the monotony of daily life, but to think that such little things bring this amount of joy...”

“It reminds me of a story a little birdie once told me,” Raven chirped with a small giggle. “The story of the Red Thread of Fate.”

“Oh?” Jade raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“The Red Thread of Fate is said to connect ‘destined people’. It can tangle, twist, or stretch, but it can never break. From the moment you are born, you have an unseen thread flowing from your pinkie finger, tying your fate to that of the person on the other end,” Raven recited, her tone turning solemn—her storytelling voice.

“Someday,” she said, “you will cross paths with the one that shares your thread, and your lives will be forever changed by the encounter. It could be a meaningful battle between rivals, the loss of a loved one, the promise of marriage... but the course of their stories will never again be the same.”

“How sentimental. And what, pray tell, does this red thread of ours mean, Miss Raven?” Jade questioned, lifting his end of the ribbon—the crimson shining in the sunlight.

“How would I know? I’m not a god,” she huffed. “It’s just fun to imagine the possibilities.”

“It is, indeed. Even so, surely there must be one favored conclusion to the story of the Red Thread of Fate in that pretty little head of yours.” He brought a hand to his mouth, yanking Raven toward him.

She glanced up with a glare. “I’d have to have a bird brain to tell you that.”

“Is that not the duty of a storyteller? To stand on stage and tell the tale until the curtain closes. Your adoring audience awaits.”

“You’re being booted from the metaphorical theater before you get to hear or see the ending.”

“I would like to see you try.”

Jade slowed to a stop, Raven following suit. They were back in the town square, by the lamp post where they had met up. Ending where it had all begun.

He pulled out his phone and consulted the time. Jade unlocked his device, quickly wrote up a message, and tucked it away again. “I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Besides,” Jade cast a pitiful look at Raven’s trembling arms, “I doubt you would be able to haul those supplies the remainder of the way, and certainly not in an efficient manner.”

“... Then what was the point of stating in the contract that you needed a helping hand?”

“I am afraid that even I am not entirely privy as to Azul’s intentions,” he chuckled, gently prying a bag from her hands. “I will be certain to let Azul know that Mac-san’s end of the contract has been fulfilled.”

“Eh...? But—“

“You have our thanks for lending the Mostro Lounge your time. You are free to go now, Miss Raven. I’ve already summoned Floyd in your stead to assist me.”

“Th-The ribbon, you fool! I can’t leave if I’m still bound to you!”

“Oh? You don’t say.” His singsong held no concern whatsoever, only amusement.

“S-Stop playing dumb! You know very well what you are doing!!”

“You said it yourself, Miss Raven. Our lives have been forever changed since our encounter. There is no going back now.”

“Stop manipulating the narrative to suit your needs.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean. Jade smiled, feigning innocence. “You’ve resigned yourself to spending the rest of the day with me—at least until Floyd arrives to relieve you of your burden. Ah, but given his moodiness, who knows when that will be.”

“Just because your surname is Leech doesn’t mean you need to suck the life out of me like one,” Raven snapped. She reached for the red ribbon, intending to undo it—

—only to be met with a bouquet a second time. Flowers the color of the sunset, smelling like the drip of sunshine and a cut of meadow.

“For you—no strings attached this time.”

“Those are for the terrarium centerpieces.”

“I can easily replace them,” Jade insisted, “and I must repay you for your kind chocolate gift. Consider this... ‘favors for favors’, so that neither one of us is left indebted to the other.”

“... Alright. I’ll take them, but only because they might be useful for brewing some new inks.”

“I’m glad to see that you are being agreeable.” Jade slipped the flowers to her. “Take good care of them.”

Raven leaned against a lamp post, cradling the large bouquet in one arm. Her heart fluttered, and her limbs felt as light as air. Warm and floaty, like the balloons in her hand.

Favors for favors—but it still counted as a gift from Jade, and that very thought sent her mind spiraling. She took a shaky breath, and focused on the confetti and laughter in the distance, the song and dance of the street performers.

Waiting and waiting for Floyd.

“Miss Raven.”

“What now? Haven’t you bullied me enough for today? Are you still not satisfied, you sadist?”

She dared to lift her eyes to meet Jade’s—and her heart stood still, for he looked back. His sharp eyes soft and shrouded by long lashes, his lips pulled into a tender smile.

“Contract or no, I always enjoy my time with you—I enjoyed today,” Jade murmured. “I hope that we are able to do this again sometime.”

“... Shut up. J-Just shut up already, i-it’s embarrassing listening to you speak...!!” She buried her head in the flowers, concealing her pink face. Still feeling floaty, like a balloon, high on happiness.

“Fufufu. Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Raven.”

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Jade Leech #Raven Crowley #Jade Leech thirst #something no one asked for

189 notes · View notes

batarella · 4 years

Text

3 birds 1 stone - BLUE

From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

WORDS: 7785 WARNINGS: Sexual Content

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

Dick:

It was concerning how at the moment he stepped into the narrow elevator, he wasn’t the least bit surprised at the pile of animal shit at the corner. It wasn’t until the doors closed when he noticed it, or rather his nose did, and he had to clog his nostrils just so he doesn’t pass out on the floor.

“Gar!?” he yelled just as the doors opened. No one was there, save for Raven with a book sitting at the couch. She didn’t glance at him. “Gar, I swear if you took a shit in the elevato-“

“That wasn’t me!”

Gar’s voice came from the kitchen, panting and occupied with something unruly. Then he heard plates falling to the floor, breaking, then there was a whimper. Not one that came from a human.

“Then who was it!?”

His question was soon answered, when a dog, a brown-furred mutt, sprinted out into the living room with a strip of bacon lodged in its teeth. “Gar!”

“I told you!”

Gar came out of the kitchen with a leash that had been ripped. “It wasn’t me!”

“You brought a dog into the tower?!”

“It was hungry!”

The mutt had finished off the bacon and headed straight for Raven’s lap. She gave it a scratch under its ear.

“Not on the couch,” Dick said.

“But Dick-“

“You’re not allowed on the couch either,” he told Gar. The boy murmured something Dick couldn’t hear, and after a second, no longer was he a boy but a green parrot. It squealed against Dick’s ear before it flew to Raven’s book.

“Jesus-“ he rubbed his ear. “I’m not in the mood.”

“SQUAWK-,” the parrot said. “WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?”

Having some coherent answer to that would only cement it as some grueling reminder. Hell, even thinking about it hurts more than the coward’s way out of pretending the past year never even happened. But then again, here he was, back in the Titan’s Tower to escape from the love of his life he could never be with and force himself into this infernal damnation of having forever to get over her. Here. Thousands of miles away. Where he’d only have his thoughts to battle and nothing else.

But all he said was: “Nothing.”

Dick should have told her, at least. Given her that kind of closure instead of his current disappearing act without so much as a note or a text or even a notice memo at the manor’s announcement board, which Alfred insisted with there being eight kids around.

But being away will be good. For her. For him. The first step to moving on. And with that, cutting all ties. Make it hurt less for both of them.

Maybe not all ties. He’ll have to go back to Gotham soon enough. But at least he was trying something. Not like the past five, six, seven years. God, has it really been that long?

She was probably over at Tim’s office, or Jason’s apartment doing whatever. Thinking about it won't do him any good. Doesn’t mean he subconsciously won’t.

It was apparent, and out into full consciousness, when he pulled out his phone and saw her name in five missed calls, with voice messages she’s left behind. A whole lot of minutes of them, too, it seems. She’d called while he was on the plane.

He could listen to them. Hear her voice one last time. Let his mind trail away. God, he was pathetic.

Dick put it up to his ear, his other hand stuffed to his pockets as he went out to the tower’s highest balcony so at least the air wasn’t so stuffy and he wouldn’t choke so much.

He wasn’t even nervous when he heard her speak. “Hey, Dick.”

A plane. A helicopter. Some folks over at the apartment building nearby partying it out. At least he’d have something to look at. He was exhausted, too. It was eight am over at Gotham. Shouldn’t have taken the overnight flight.

“You weren’t at the manor. I tried calling there first. I wanted to see you. Call me when you get this?”

He might. After he listens to the four other messages she’d left behind.

“Hey. I know it’s only been an hour. But please call me.”

Another one.

“Dick, where are you? I hope you didn’t change your phone. or I’ll look stupid leaving all these messages behind, which I’m not about to stop doing. Call me. Please. No one knows where you are but no one’s panicking either. It’s worrying me.”

Next one. From another hour after. He’d been gone a little over ten hours since he left. If Bruce didn’t have a tracker on him, they’d have called the police by now. But he highly doubted Bruce would take the time to announce his little trip to the West Coast to everyone in the house.

“Dick, if this is you ignoring me, you’re doing a hell of a good job at it. Did I do something?”

He heard her huff over the phone. No one else seemed to be around her.

“Please, I just wanna talk. Call me.”

The last one. Sent just four hours ago, which meant she’d been awake at four in the morning.

And, on top of that, the last one was five whole minutes long.

A call to tell her she was dating Tim again? Explaining how there are no hard feelings? Catch a movie sometime? An ass of him to think she’d be that cruel, but he was jetlagged and exhausted and the smell of dog shit still hadn’t left, which could be explained because that mutt had made a home just a few feet away from where he stood.

Dick played the message despite all that. Even if she called to tell him she’s getting married. He’d answer it.

“Dick…”

He could hear the rain, sheets shuffling under her feet.

“I’m sorry…” she said. “I… I probably took too long… I guess, if you’re ignoring me, you still deserve to know. I hope you get this message. I’ll tell you now, I guess. So you won't have to respond if you don’t want to.”

Tears. He could hear her wipe them off her skin.

“I kept you waiting for… I wanna say months but it’s a lot longer than that. Years… God, and I didn’t even see it… I took too long trying to figure this all out for myself, and you just kept waiting for me. No one should be worth waiting for that long.”

He was laughing as if it were one of her god-awful jokes. Funnily enough, it was worth it. Even when it sent him nowhere in the end. All that waiting was worth it. Somehow.

“Which is why I don’t blame you. Because you shouldn’t have taken this long. I thought even if I took another few weeks before I’d have enough courage to finally ask you to be mine, you’d still be there waiting for me. Selfish as it is, but I guess that’s your fault, too. Spoiling me and whatnot. Now my expectations for men are out of hand. Sorry.”

She even fucking laughed all the while he could hear her biting back her sobs. If he were there, he’d hold her by the shoulders and squeeze the fucking sense back into her and tell her yes, I did wait for you, and I’d wait for you for a hundred more years if I had to but I know you love someone else and-

Wait.

Backtrack.

What the hell did she just say!?

“I mean, I’m…” she continued, completely ignoring his panic. Was there a rewind on this thing??? “The past two days all I did was read your letter. Over and over again, trying to find something I could have missed. I memorized it by now. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry. I know it’s all so complicated, but I can't stop thinking that if the timing had just been good to us the past few years, all this would have been so different.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, is she actually saying she-

“I’m so sorry, Dick…” she sighed. “I kept you waiting. But even if… even if you’re not anymore, I already made up my mind. I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love yo-“

Something hit the back of his knees.

Which, unfortunately, with him not in some defensive stance, caught him in a rather vulnerable position.

And with that, Dick tumbled off his feet, almost fell off the railing, and failed to catch his phone from slipping right off his hands.

“NO!”

“DOWN BOY-SQUAWK!” Gar the parrot cried and followed the obnoxiously unruly dog running around the terrace. “SORRY, DICK!”

The dog kept running around and almost crashed to his feet twice with it being too fast even for Gar's supposedly swift wings, and if he wasn’t so frozen and horrified, watching his phone descend from almost a hundred stories above ground, he would have grabbed that mutt by the neck.

“GAR, I SWEAR TO GOD-“

“I’m sorry!” He turned back into a human and caught the dog. “It was him!”

“My fucking phone just fell over the railing!”

“Want me to go get it-“

A car alarm. He could hear it even from above. Or Gar did. Because he went to look over and caught sight of his phone breaking a car’s windshield below. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“I have to…” Dick pulled on his scalp. “I have to go call her.”

“Call who?!”

“Give me your phone!”

“I don’t have a phone!”

“Give me Raven’s phone!”

“She talks to people with her mind,” Gar twirled his finger against his temple. “She doesn’t need a phone!”

“Just get- UGH!”

He stormed back into the building. “Where the hell is everyone else!?”

“They’re all out of town!”

“So it’s just you and Raven in here?! Without adult supervision!?”

“Why do you think we got a dog into the building?!”

Said dog stuck his tongue out at him like it was just so awfully adorable.

“Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok.” He can do this. He can calm down. “I have to go back. Or call her at least.”

“You’re going back to Gotham now?!”

She said she’ll wait. But to hell with keeping her waiting. “Yes. I do. I’m going back now. As soon as I can call her and tell her I’m on my way-“

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Raven didn’t even look up from her book, legs up on the couch as seemingly relaxed as if the whole wreck of a home they lived in wasn’t a mess at all.

“Next flight to Gotham’s in an hour.” She levitated an apple to her mouth and took a bite. “And the one after that’s in two days.”

“Two days!?”

“Airline shutdown. Some strike is happening,” she pointed at the TV playing the news. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“God fucking dammit-“

“Good luck.” Raven took another bite.

Of course. Of course, this would fucking happen.

But, fuck, he didn’t know if he should just leap out the window to keep up now that everything he’s ever wished for had finally come to be. Because, to his own beliefs up in the clouds, he could probably fly with just the flap of his measly arms.

Y/N chose him.

He left for the elevator, just before Gar stopped him for leaving his wallet, then he was sprinting his way back to the airport.

You:

“I already made up my mind,” you said to your phone as if there were anyone else on the other line. As if he was there, listening to you. And that in a few seconds, he’d respond.

“I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love you, Dick.”

Quite haunting how easy it was for those words to just roll off your lips, because as much as you thought all this to be so complicated and difficult, it was the easiest thing you’ve ever had to say.

At four am, alone in your studio with all your lights off and your sheets in an unkempt mess. You stuck your knees so close to your chest, trying to conceal at least some kind of warmth against you. But even with it so easy, it didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting.

“I can't,” you stuck your palm to your forehead. “I know things are so hard between us… and this past year is just…”

You breathed, longer than you’d hoped, just to get enough air into your lungs just so you wouldn’t collapse.

“God, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore. It all just… It feels like it’s too late. Everything went so wrong between us and I can't stop but think maybe it’s the world saying we’re just not meant to be,” you swallowed. “And the scary thing is… I don’t even care.”

The blue rose you painted, staring back at you once so bright, but as the passing days of you still wondering if were brave enough to do this at all, it had dried up and was now blank, patronizing even, that maybe it just wasn’t right, even when you wanted it to be.

“I don’t care if it’s so complicated, I want you…”

On the bed, just by your feet, you locked your eyes onto Dick’s beautiful handwriting, some that had been smudged with the sweat from your hands with the paper now crumpled up after all those months of reading and rereading.

You closed your eyes.

“You sent me an awfully painful, heart-breaking letter,” you said. “This is my awfully painful, heart-breaking reply.”

‘I usually just say all this in my head. That’s when I get poetic. Sometimes I write it down. Most of the time, I try to paint them. I think of galaxies and meadows and skies and flowers and all that, metaphors as they are, but I’ll say everything I’ve got. Right now. Because you deserve to know that all those years of you thinking nothing could ever go how you wanted, that it could end being just that.

Dick:

“Hey.”

Hands on the counter, the attendant looked startled at the least.

“I need a ticket for the next flight to Gotham.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, after taking a while to look at Dick’s handsome yet frantically uneasy face. “You just missed it-“

“I know, I know, I missed the last one.” The one that left just five minutes ago because of fucking California traffic. “But I need to get on the next one. Please.”

“All flights from San Francisco after the next hour are canceled I’m afraid.”

“Any connecting flights? Anything that leaves before that?”

“Sir, I-” she stretched her fingers. “I’ll look for something.”

His fingers, tapping onto the counter until the tip of his nails started to hurt.

“The best option’s a connecting flight to Denver, then to New York.”

“New York!?”

“Then there’s the railway transits to Gotham. I can book you a ticket for that, too.”

From a seven-hour flight to a seventeen-hour trip with layovers and a crowded train.

But as soon as he heard best option he pulled out his wallet quicker than when they told him his rent was three months overdue and that if he weren’t to pay the doorman that very instant they’d evict him.

He rushed to the first plane, closed his eyes, and prayed she hadn’t said anything in her voice message too important for him to miss out on.

‘The universe, or whatever it is out there that has a say in all this, they didn’t make it easy for us at all. If they did, we would have met long before we went too far into this mess. We were friends, sure, and you have no idea how much I value our friendship.

But I guess not even that friendship’s strong enough for us to deny what’s really going on. And that’s why it’s all so hard. I can't even look at you without thinking about kissing you, or holding you, or touching you. I can't hold your hand without wanting to never pull away. I can't even be in the same room with you and not stare, even when you’re just reading a book or talking to someone else. You are… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re just as beautiful within, which is why it was so easy to love you, and so hard to keep it in.’

You:

Morning. Eleven am at that. You slept before the sun was up, at least. But you were up all night.

Nothing. Not a call, not even a text from him.

Everything shattered, and you were still half asleep. The next thing you did, and the next thing to do, was wrap yourself up with the thickest layer of your blanket and hide in the dark, even with it such a lovely day.

Another message wouldn’t be such a good idea if he still hadn’t opened the last five, which seemed highly unlikely with him gone for almost a day now.

A day. It had been a day.

But nothing on GCPD’s notices reported a missing person’s file of an utterly gorgeous, half-Romani hunk of a man in any of their websites. You called the manor, again. Still, there was nothing.

Twelve at noon. All you had for lunch was a bagel from three nights ago. It stuffed you, at least.

You sat at your dining table and stared at your phone.

If there was a moment for so much love to come crashing at once, it would all have been too great for that to be possible.

But the moment you realized it was there at all,

A few weeks ago. Steph’s birthday.

A party at the manor. It wasn’t much. Just a little get together with everyone at the parlor.

Everyone was talking, laughing, and frankly you wished you’d joined them. It looked like fun.

But instead, you were looking out the window, at the gardens white with melted snow and winds strong enough to knock the leaves out the branches. But you couldn’t hear any of that, which made it peaceful. It was the trees that danced, birds instead of planes that hovered over the sky, not a star above but perhaps it was because it was so full of clouds. It looked cold. Cold always looked so beautiful when you were looking out from the warmth of the inside.

Dick walked up to your side, just a reasonable distance away so he wouldn’t touch your shoulder, but close enough that you’d smell the jasmine from his neck.

“You’re just gonna stand out here and watch the glass fog up?”

You remembered laughing, probably at something else he’d said after that.

“It’s pretty when you look hard enough.”

And all the while, he didn’t pull your arm and drag you over at the crowd. He didn’t tell you to join them, to loosen up and have fun or have a drink or in any way stop you from what you were doing.

He just stood there and joined you, instead. Ditched his family. Didn’t even speak much.

He stood there because he wanted to. Because you staring out the window was more interesting to him than a whole crowd of kids doing whatever.

When he balled up his fist, covered it with his sleeve, and wiped the window right in front of you to rid it from the fog so you could see the gardens clearer, you knew you loved him.

Such a small act that was, but it was the finality of everything else that built up to that moment.

Then, you remembered what you told him last night, in a voice message that lasted way too long and sounded far too painful.

‘I don’t regret what I had with Tim… but I do regret not saying anything the past four years when I had the chance. You were there. You were there and I could never have had it any other way. When we’re not trying so hard for everything to be alright, everything’s at its best. I’m not even your girlfriend, and already I think about every minute I spend with you and laugh before I’m off to bed. I think about your jokes way too long than they should ever last. And your smile, god your smile, saying that that it’s all I could ever think about wouldn’t do it any justice. You have drawn out the ugliest laugh out of me that never should have come out of any human in existence. And frankly, I’m glad you do. Because just when I thought I could never smile again, you made me the happiest I could ever be.’

Dick:

Of all days. Of all times.

His survival rate at that point, rushing through Denver Airport with just a fifteen-minute layover period, with his shoelaces undone, probably wasn’t one he should have relied on. He was starving, but he had the appetite of a mammal in hibernation with the horrible airplane food costing a hundred dollars and everything else taking too long to prepare.

With just thirty seconds to spare, he fell to his too-narrow coach seat, shuffled along so his large ass-damn this cursed asset-would fit through the aisle and breathed just as the air hissed into the cabin after they closed the service door.

Head against the back of the seat, eyes up the ceiling, at the smoke that blew in through that gap outside the overhead locker, he ignored his dried skin, his dry mouth, his feet that were close to standing on a thousand knife tips, his eyes so close to just shutting out, his wallet painfully thin with this whole trip costing the equivalent of a round trip to Shanghai, and his whole body about to collapse. He hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours. It didn’t look like he was ever going to sleep at all.

And he hasn’t even called. God, what was she doing at home? Is she okay? Is she eating okay? Is she worried about him, staring at her phone wondering what she did wrong when she was nothing less of a perfect creation of all the gods that existed, an angel the earth didn’t deserve?

He really, really had to call.

Someone just sat next to him. A child. And next to him was his mother, who just put down her phone from a call.

“Excuse me.” Dick put on his award-winning smile, pretended he wasn’t sweating his balls off or that he was in any way close to psychological death, and hoped he looked the part as well.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I, uh, borrow your phone? I have to make a call. It’s sort of an emergency.”

“The plane’s about to take off.”

“It won't take long. I promise.”

He probably didn’t look as charming as he’d hoped. His hair was a mess not even a bird would settle into. The woman looked at him quizzically, up and down, and shrugged. Like it was handed to him on a silver plater, she gave him her phone.

The aircraft was about to take off. He only had so long.

He called Y/N’s number that he didn’t even know he memorized and settled back. It started ringing.

“MOM!”

The kid beside him. He was tugging on his mother’s shirt.

“MOM, I’M BORED.”

“We’re in a plane,-“

“I’M BORED. I WANNA PLAY ROBLOX-“

“Not now, we’re in a plane. Sit down.”

“GIVE ME YOUR PHONE-“

“That man has my phone.”

Fuck.

Y/N, fucking pick up.

“HEY, GIVE ME MY MOM’S PHONE BACK-“

“Kid, I hear ya. But you have to give me this one-“

“GIVE ME THE PHONE-“

That kid, a chubby one not older than six, stood up from his chair and was wild enough to grab Dick’s hand away from holding the phone up his ear. If he weren’t so desperate, he would have let him have it.

But god almighty, he’s never been as desperate as a starving man in a desert.

“Kid. Just one minute.”

“NO, GIVE ME!”

The mother put on a sleeping mask and faced the other way.

“KID-“

“GIVE ME MY PHONE-“

Back and forth, both grabbing onto the phone and the kid having the strength he did not at all expect, they ended up wrestling it out in the cramped-up economy seats until the kid was screaming out his ears.

He’s never looked so ridiculous but jokes on everyone else if they thought he could care less.

“Excuse me.”

An attendant, bags under her eyes and giving both of them, not just the kid, a dirty look.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the other passengers have complained about the noise. I’m gonna have to ask you to take your seat.”

“NO!” the kid screamed.

“DID YOU JUST BITE ME!?” Dick cried out.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”

“I NEED TO CALL SOMEONE!”

Dick grabbed the phone off his hands, palm to the kid’s face to stop him from reaching out to his outstretched arm. “Don’t you have some kind of coloring book you can give him?”

The attendant smiled, albeit forcefully, and walked back over to the back of the cabin. The kid did not stop trying to grab it off Dick’s arm.

She gave the kid a bag that probably had books and crayons and whatever stuffed inside. It looked so old. It had to have been in storage for the past ten years.

But as if some miracle heard him, the kid shut up, took the bag, and settled on his seat. Then he was as quiet as a mouse.

Fucking finally.

He held the phone up his ear and closed his eyes, fingers easing the tension on the nerve on his forehead.

“And sir?”

The attendant smiled at him. It didn’t look so much of a smile as it was a death threat.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to turn off your mobile device.”

To say he wanted to squeeze the life out of everyone in the whole aircraft, including himself, wouldn’t cut it.

And he didn’t even have it in him to protest.

“Hello?”

Her voice. At the other end of the line. That word was all there is to it, the only thing he heard.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes, counted to three, then ended the call after just two seconds.

The next thing he heard, for the next three hours, would be the screams of the child at his side, kicking on his seat like a fucking soccer ball.

‘That call from a year ago. The one about Kori. Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin. I overreacted. By a mile. Did some stupid shit to make up for that guilt and masked it over as another heartbreak when really, it was me refusing to have to go through all that again. I had to see you with that woman when I was in love with you for three years. Of course, it hurt. But I shouldn’t have an excuse. It was so stupid. Just thinking about it makes me want to break. I’m so sorry about that, Dick. I know we’ve already been over that months ago, but I just want to clear everything while I still can. God, I don’t even know if you’d listen to all this. I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I put all the blame on you when I had my share of mistakes. A whole lot of them. I’m sorry. I love you. And I’m sorry.’

You:

Hung up after two seconds. All you heard on the other end of the line was breathing and huffing, and nothing else. Whoever it was, they’ve been calling the past two minutes, just as you stepped out of the shower. And you almost cracked a rib flying from your bathroom to your kitchen table with just a towel around you, hoping to see his name on the screen. But alas, your luck just wasn’t at its peak.

You put your phone down, still with nothing to do, nothing else you could think of doing, than to just wait on that seat, stare at your phone, and hope Dick hadn’t hurt himself going after some goon alone the night before. Still no missing persons report. Nothing from the rest of the team, either.

Maybe just once more. You could call him. It wouldn’t annoy him too much. It had been hours since the last one.

You called, put the phone up your ear.

No ringing. It went straight to voice mail.

You opened your mouth, thinking you had something to say.

But you didn’t have anything to say. Not anymore. Not after you poured your whole heart out on the last one and now your throat was as dry as your palms were sweating.

You put your phone down, facing away from you, then you sank to your arms, burying your crumbling face away even with no one to see you.

‘That’s why I hate myself for not caring if this was difficult. Because I know, somehow, that’s it’s all still gonna be worth it. With you. Just thinking about the things we’d do, you’ve been the light of my life, the one person I look for not just because I need it, but because being with you makes so much of my day, every day that I see you. I look for you in crowds. I turn to your face when I want to look at something pleasant. I stare at doors, constantly hoping you’d be the one to walk in. I seek out for your voice, call you even when I know it’s a bother, find the most ridiculous excuses and the most stupid questions just so I’d have a reason to stand close to you, to have you talking to me, wanting all that everyday. I’ve never met anyone like you, Dick. I’ll never get used to you, and there’s no way in hell that I’d ever get tired of you. And maybe that’s the price to pay with all this being so hard. As complicated as it is, the troubles aren’t half the worth of the happiness it comes with.’

Two flights, three within the past thirty hours, jet-lagged far beyond a night’s repair, and his stomach in so many knots that even the bag of peanuts from the plane was too much to digest. And it wasn’t from poisoning or hunger or whatever it was. Everything in a whirlwind, one he can't even track.

He got to New York before it was dark, and he wanted to kiss the floor.

But he wasn’t at Gotham yet. This trip wasn’t over.

And if it weren’t for the half a million people crowded over at the airport, he would have been in Gotham right at that second.

Past the crowd, fumbling and running for whatever life he had left that wasn’t a spirit descended into something infinitely better than this, he made it over to the other side of the terminal, with his pits sweating his shirt off and his legs made of cooked chicken drumsticks and dough.

He got to the railway station, over at the attendant behind the counter.

“Excuse me,” he panted, and just like the one at the San Francisco airport, it startled her. Except now, there was no using his charm or his looks when he looked like he crawled out of a swamp.

“To Gotham,” he said.

“Ticket?”

He reached for his wallet, hands shaking so horribly it was worrying if he hadn’t known it came with his mind being as much of a mess as a wrecked ship from the 1800s.

And all the more did they tremble, down to his sorry knees, when he opened every flap there was on his wallet to find every pocket empty.

No.

No. no. no. no. no.

He searched his pockets. His jacket. His pants. His fucking shoes. If he had a hat he’d probably look into that too.

Nothing. Not a stub. A tiny stub that would have easily been blown by so much as a gust from a fan, let alone running a marathon in three airports in a single day.

“I,” he swallowed. “I seemed to have lost my ticket.”

Yeah. He wasn’t getting out of this one. The attendant looked at him and snarled like the annoyance he was.

“All the trains are sold out. And I’m afraid you can't board the train without a ticket.”

“Ma’am, I really, really, have to get to Gotham-“

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to step out of the line.”

Like every force in the universe was out to get him.

“Do you have a phone? A payphone at least? I really need to call someone-“

“Sir, please step out of the line.”

“Please, ma’am, there has to be some way you can squeeze me into one of those trains-“

The attendant waved at someone behind him.

Two security guards were at his side before he could even turn around.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” he huffed. “You guys don’t happen to have a phone I could use?”

Both guards ignored him, set him aside against a pillar.

And, with the excruciating exhaustion finally crashing into this one blow to the face, he stuck his back against the column, head up to the ceiling, then fell on his ass.

God, what does he even say to her after this?

If he actually gets to talk to her, that is.

“Final call for boarding!”

That light. One, single light. Or two, if he focused his eyes. The headlights from outside the revolving doors, from a bus that just opened its doors. It was a light, because it had GOTHAM in bold letters pasted onto its windshield.

And a line of people stepping inside. Kids and adults, old people alike.

He sat up from the floor, hungry, tired, and in pain.

But this was all going to be worth it. Every minute of this.

He just knew, that one last push, after this tormenting, inferno of a day, would all come to an end he’d dreamed about since he first laid eyes on her that day at the Wayne Manor’s library.

Dick got in line outside the bus, told the conductor he’d pay when they get inside. And after he did, he had just a quarter in his wallet to spare. No one sat beside him. The others were at the back. The one across was fast asleep. He couldn’t call her.

He’ll just have to hope, that whatever worries she had waiting for him to come up, that she’d forgive him enough for all this to end the way he hoped it would.

Three hours on a bus.

Didn’t even sound like it was remotely a long time.

The moment he took his seat, the bus doors hissed closed, and the air so silent, so did everything else calm.

He’s waited so long.

But he just had to wait for another three hours. In a bus. Then he’ll see her.

He closed his eyes.

‘I don’t even know why I rambled so much about all this being so complicated.

Because even if I had to walk up to the sky, I know there’s a galaxy waiting for me at the end. You are worth it. You are worth everything. I’ve never been so obsessed with anyone my whole life. You are, with my whole heart, my greatest love. And you are so beautiful that I never want to look at anything else ever again. And I never thought I’d get know beauty the way I do when I talk to you. You are everything I could ever want. And so much more.

And that pain, that hurt we both had to go through after all those years. That pining and waiting, and the heartbreak just because I was too stupid to understand that it didn’t have to be so hard after all, it doesn’t even matter, when at the end, I get to be with you.

I’d go through all that again if it means I can be with you.

You are the man I’ve dreamt about since I could first dream, and I’m lucky enough to have you in my reality. It’s you I want, Dick.

So I’ll wait for you. As long as I have to.

I love you so much.

Please, for the love of God, call me.’

You:

That message.

The longer you stared at your phone, the more you wondered if it was the right thing to do at all.

It was four am. You were tired. And worried.

And it was four am now, a whole day after.

Not a single call.

You’ve done it this time. You tripped at the finish line.

You were selfish enough to keep that man waiting for so long hoping he’d keep going, just as he had been for years.

And now, this is what you get.

You have yourself alone, in your apartment, one you haven’t cleaned in a week, and your heart in the same shatters as it often had been.

Your phone rang. You weren’t so excited to pick it up. Rightfully so when you saw it was just Bruce.

“Hello?” you said, your weight against the table’s surface, also surprised that it hadn’t broken.

“Y/N,” Bruce said. “I heard you were looking for Dick.”

“Mhm?”

“Sorry I haven’t called. Anyways, the last location I can point him to was at the Titans Tower in San Francisco.”

Okay.

You’ve had your heart broken before.

But it wasn’t just that that had broken right then.

Everything else, every bone, every bit of flesh there was, it was this numbing buzz you couldn’t even fight.

“What?”

Just then, someone knocked on your door.

And it wasn’t just a knock. They were pounding against the wood.

The ringing in your ears hadn’t even subsided, and you were breathless, muscles stiff. You just let the pounding go on until you heard Bruce hang up on the other line.

Life didn’t even give you so much as a second to process all that, of what he could be doing there, who he was with.

Your walked to the door, and without looking into the eyehole, you unlatched the lock and opened it.

Some glitch there was if all this were nothing but a simulation.

But it was as if the last five minutes-no-the last two days hadn’t happened at all.

Dick never looked like such a mess.

But, nonetheless, the way you stared at him was as if he was as beautiful as he ever was.

Everything that had broken, the moment you looked into his eyes, had fallen right back into place, into an entity far stronger than any quake could knock it out of.

Dick shut the door behind him.

He grabbed your face.

Then he kissed you. Without words. Without letting so much as a speck of time, however it worked now that it’d stopped, pass and waste away.

Dick:

Whatever she told him in that message he never got to hear, everything she ever had to say, the instant he felt her kiss him back, it was like every word flew out of her lips. How she wanted him. How she chose him. How in love she was with the mess of a human being he could be. How all the trials they’d been forced to go through, all the misunderstandings and the fights and the long months of this troubling, awkward place they wanted nothing more than to climb out of. He got all that with the way her lips molded so wanting and harsh, pressed so hard against his dried, chapped pair that have never witnessed anything more beautiful and so awfully perfect.

No more time to be wasted.

Not another second.

He had her. He finally had her.

He got the girl.

Not a chance that he wasted so much as another second.

He pushed her against the wall and the gasp that came out of her wasn’t at all out of pain, but at the sheer desire that had sparked at such impact that only knocked her into the same place he’d long settled in. And he could just feel, how much she wanted so badly to speak, to tell him what was raging in her head that was as much of a mess as his. But they’ll talk. Eventually. After.

All he wanted, right then, was to have her. Love her. Love her. To send her off to some paradise that long surpassed oceans and mirages and heavens that stood on clouds, to culminate that seemingly endless torture into a reward so great, that to say it would have been worth it would be so much an understatement. To play every instrument there was and let the song resonate into her body, and make it last for the rest of his life for so long as he could touch her. All that, he was going to give her tonight. Tonight. Right then and there.

Grabbing her legs up to his hips, her hands pinned to the wall above her head, it was too much of a flash for him to rush into this beautiful thing that shouldn’t be rushed at all. But he couldn’t slow down if it meant that he lives. Even if he died right after, he just couldn’t hold back.

He was pushing himself into her and the sounds that he earned out his lips were more than any songbird could cry out. After just having her against that wall, he finally got the sense to take it to the bed. It was dark. Not a light was on. And it was raining outside the one window she had near the bed and just the streetlight outside was enough to make him see her face. Dick placed her on top of his lap, on which she enjoyed herself to her own pace. Her hips were like waves, the ocean that rocked about, and the stain on his pants that she’d left behind was just as wet as so.

At that moment even she didn’t want to wait and talk any longer.

He took off her clothes, lied back.

Then he hoisted her up so the sweetest part of her body was just hovering over his mouth, her strong, beautiful legs, one of skin and the other of metal, on either sides of his head.

You:

You were made of gemstones. You were shimmering.

Of diamonds and rubies and emeralds, of the most precious rocks that could be found on every soil on earth.

Everything. That pain. That darkness. All the troubles and hardships, the disputes and every tear you’ve ever had to shed. Gone. Gone when he drew out this wonderful melody of sensations from his sweet, sweet tongue quivering you to every core. You were rocking, shaking, trembling, barely keeping yourself up. Not long after you screamed, and like the skies heard you it screamed back with a thunderous roar.

Then Dick shed his own clothes and moved inside you, rolling your hips with your two bodies now this one, beautiful entity, like you were holding his hand, just as you did right then, as you both ran through the darkness of a cave that has long haunted you, with creatures and bats and ghosts flying about, just to reach the end that was a light so close and so bright, you chased yourselves, chased that very light.

And once you reached it, that blinding, flashing white light that shone with this painful, glorious sting to every bit of your flesh, to say you found that end would be wrong. It wasn’t an end. It was this continuous, tantalizing aroma that would last a lifetime. It was beauty. You felt beauty. And it was in ripples you couldn’t see. A blur you couldn’t comprehend.

You had so much to tell him and ask him about.

But just as that wonderful night showed you, you had the rest of your life to do just that.

Epilogue

Dick:

Life could only ever be so cruel.

But life gives its niceties. Sometimes, to the people so used to it that they take it for granted.

But it’s even more so of a nicety when it’s the people who’ve long deserved it.

Not to say he deserved the world, but it was just that he’d gotten. From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

Watching her from his car’s driver seat, from where he had a perfect view of her looking at the wondrous scenes flash by outside the window. It was even more beautiful, more than ever before, now that he could take just a second off his time from the steering wheel just to kiss her.

Just a little over six months together. Never has there been anything so rewarding in his life. A rainbow, ten of them at least, that filled what was once this depressingly grey sky. He always knew it’d be worth the world. But even he surprised himself.

When they parked the car, got out into this wide, orange field, a farmland just outside of Jersey with a valley at the farthest end, the only thing that battled the brightness of her smile was the sun itself.

“It’s beautiful, Dick.”

Her voice, even more so.

He set up her canvas, all her paint, and her brushes. They found a spot on the grass that was clean enough for them both to sit on. She didn’t use her easel. Instead, they both laid on this plaid red and white sheet over the grassy soil, her using her own knees to hold it up. And Dick sat beside her, watching her as the hours ticked. Without looking away, no longer ashamed when she’d catch him.

Just before the last of the sun had set, he pulled out from his pocket a ring, one with a diamond a shape of a white rose on top.

He got it a week after they got together.

Her face, her lips wide open as she realized what came in front of her, then he asked her to be his. Forever.

She said yes, just as the sun fell.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

@idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @lucy-roo, @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

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#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #tim drake #jason todd #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson smut #batboys #batfam #batfamily #3 birds 1 stone #3 birds 1 stone series #batarella #batarella series

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alwaysbeliev · 4 years

Text

Same as the Last

pairing: Arthur x Reader

summary: Mary Linton has summoned Arthur once again, and he has dropped everything to see her. You're left at Shady Belle to wonder what is going on and what it means for your relationship.

word count: 1,782

notes: you can find this on AO3 under the same username, if you wish to give it love there, too! it’s been a long time since i really got into writing, so i’m taking baby steps. it might be small, but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

Curse that Mary Linton.

Pacing, pacing, all you could do was pace. The others were getting tired of it. Mrs. Grimshaw had already given you several chores, all of which you completed at haphazard speed. The laundry was still dripping on the line, puddles forming underneath in the already soaked ground. It was gonna take a thousand years to dry. But you had other things on your mind.

“Is that from your secret lover?” you had teased Arthur earlier. A letter had arrived for him, brought from the post office by Pearson, and he had scarcely looked at it when you asked. He chuckled at your joke. But as he studied the writing and unfolded the paper, his smile fell, replaced with a strange mixing of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“No, it’s…” His voice trailed off as his eyes scanned the words before him.

“Arthur?” You tried peeking over his shoulder, but in a defensive move, he turned so you couldn’t see it. “Is everything okay?”

Your mind started racing as you wondered what it might be. As far as you were aware, the outlaw had no outside obligations. None of the gang did. Quickly, you started cycling through any recent or semi-recent events, wracking your brain for an answer, anything that might help solve this weird and uncomfortable puzzle. Maybe it was some kind of summons? You’d heard of the law issuing letters. But if that were the case, then the gang’s pseudonym at the post office was compromised. Was it related to unfinished business in Valentine?

It suddenly clicked. Right as Arthur finished reading, you said, “Mary.”

“I, uh... “ At least he had the decency to look sheepish. He nodded.

Immediately, your mood had soured. And it had only gone downhill from there. The letter arrived this morning, Arthur had read it after breakfast, and offered it to you to read after he had finished. It was from Mary, alright. She was in Saint Denis, and, yet again, she was begging for Arthur’s help. You tried not to be angry, but you were. Mary was long before you and you knew that, and yet, you were still strangely jealous of her. Despite existing long before you in Arthur’s life, she was still receiving so much attention, so much of his time, so much of his… You couldn’t think of what it was exactly, but it was infuriating.

And now, here you were. Mid-afternoon. Roaming aimlessly around Shady Belle, getting on everyone’s nerves. Pearson, who was usually one to nag those who were bored into helping prep the food, was avoiding you like the plague. You had taken to practicing your aim, your volcanic pistol in your hand, squinting at the glass bottles you had lined up on the end of the dock. It was cruel, but you imagined each one was Mary and Arthur. Bang! There goes the engagement ring. Bang! Their stupid faces kissing. Bang!

You jumped about a mile in the air as the last gunshot came from behind you. Whirling around, you found yourself face to face with Arthur, lowering his revolver. He was smiling, just a slight lift to the left side of his mouth, and he pretended to blow smoke from the barrel of his weapon, spinning it poorly around his finger before replacing it in his holster. He approached you with his thumbs hooked in his belt to admire his work.

“Always were a strong shot,” he commented, nodding his head towards the bottles.

“You’ve been doing this a long time,” you grumbled. Arthur chuckled.

“Not me, I was talkin’ about you.”

You could only half shrug. You didn’t want to look him in the eyes, though you knew he was searching for yours. He sighed deeply and shuffled his feet.

“Look, can we- Can we talk? I don’t want this to be turned into a, a big thing.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your eyes and met his. The look on his face was begging you to have pity on him, exposing a strange vulnerability you had been seeing more from him lately. It tugged at your heartstrings and you finally caved. You tossed your head back, staring at the sky for a second as you exhaled sharply, drawing strength from the clouds above you.

“Fine.”

With a flourish, you extended your arm in a sweeping, “Right this way” motion, indicating he lead the way to a quiet spot. He stared at you a moment before stepping past you, walking towards the house. You trailed behind him, your mind returning to its tumultuous state it had been in most of the day. He had been gone so long, the sun was starting to go down, painting the campsite in orange hues. What could he have been doing all day? Mary hadn’t said what was going on in her letter, just hinted at it. You had spent an hour looking over it and scouring it for information. Man, your stomach hurt from the anxiety.

The two of you ended up in your shared room on the upper floor of the former plantation home. Arthur had held the door open for you, and you found yourself unable to sit down. Behind you, Arthur tried to encourage you to sit, but you could only shake your head. He edged past you to take a seat instead.

For a long while, you just stared at each other. Arthur removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. You couldn’t bring your mind to form any words for him. All the anger you had had that morning started to drain out of you at the sight of him. There was a sad air around him, something had happened, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear what. He finally broke the gaze you had each other trapped in and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“How’s Mary?” Your voice finally broke the silence. You cut him off preemptively, scared of what he may have been about to say.

“She’s just fine,” he answered, apparently relieved to hear you speak. “So’s her father, the bastard.”

“It was about her father?”

“Yeah, no good asshole spending money he don’t even have.” The venom in Arthur’s voice made your skin crawl. It was easy to forget, in more tender moments, that he was an outlaw. The fire in his eyes lasted less than a second, however, rapidly replaced by the strange sadness from before. “He, uh… He tried to sell her mother’s brooch. For his.. Hell, I don’ even know, whatever he keeps spending money on. Same shit it’s always been.”

You were frozen, watching him carefully. He didn’t look up. Thinking there was more, you allowed the silence to continue, but the air was still heavy and you needed the weight off your chest.

“Was that all?” you finally asked. Your voice came out soft and fragile. You had your answer when Arthur turned his head upwards, the slightest guilty smile tugging on the corner of his mouth, and the churning feeling returned to your stomach. “Well, did you-- Did you kiss her?”

Arthur let out a bark of laughter. Suddenly, you felt very silly for even asking.

“Darlin’, no,” he said. With a whoosh of air, your shoulders relaxed, and you even felt a smile approaching your own face. “I didn’t kiss her. But I’d be lyin’ if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind.” The tightness returned as quickly as it had left. Anger bubbled upwards, rushing hot to your head, and you opened your mouth to accuse him, but the look in his eyes registered: it was pain. Pain?

“Arthur,” you whispered, “what happened? Please tell me.”

Making eye contact once again, the cowboy shifted on the bed and gestured for you to sit beside him, this time closer to a command than suggestion. Hesitantly, you joined him. Your hands were placed gingerly in your lap. He returned to his previous position, elbows on his knees, and he barely looked to you as he recounted everything that happened. He started with Mary shouting to him from the balcony, to their almost argument about the what-ifs of their past, through pursuing her father and chasing down the brooch. They had gone to the theater together. A date? And, finally…

“Mary… Mary asked me to run away with her.”

The range of emotions running through your head was making you dizzy. Too much to process, too much to consider, so much anger at her, anxiety towards Arthur’s thoughts. You stared hard at your fingers, picking absentmindedly at a loose thread on your clothes. You wondered at what the conversation was like, what Arthur had said, what his expression had betrayed. Did Mary mean it? Was she truly still thinking about him all these years later? Would she ever stop trying to take him away?

“Say somethin’.” His gaze turned to you, the worry clear in his voice. His piercing blue eyes were burning into the side of your head. Without enough time to compose a kinder phrasing, you spluttered out the first thought you had.

“So why didn’t you?”

“Why--?” Arthur chuckled, a low rumble deep in his chest. Relief, you realized, was the cause for his sudden change of tone. “Mary has played me for a fool more times than I can count. We was just kids, then. We’re… Well, we’re grown now, things have changed. Besides, I love you too much to disappear like that.”

Every other thought left your mind. I love you. I love you. I love you… He had never said those words to you. They were spoken every day through action, sure, but out loud… They were almost taboo. Tears filled your eyes as you looked up into his face. His eyes widened in alarm.

“You love me?” you managed to say, your voice strained by the tightening of your throat.

“I have, for a while,” he said. “I-I’m sorry, I jus’ didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but it’s the truth. I do love you, darlin’. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Relief in the purest form of ecstasy washed over you. You threw your arms around Arthur’s neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. He stiffened for a moment before returning the embrace. His warmth filled you up and washed out every bad feeling and thought you had that day.

“I love you, too,” you said softly, burying your face in his neck. He still carried the smells of Saint Denis with him, but you didn’t care. He didn’t smell like Mary Linton, and he never would. He was yours.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 reader insert #arthur morgan reader insert #gender neutral reader #angel writes

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lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

So this is an angst request about Erwin! To basically lay it out Erwin and reader are childhood friends and she has always been pretty attached to him, as they grow up he goes into the survey corps and she goes with him as well, and she eventually develops a crush on him and he does too just that he keeps it private to himself.

okay! i hope you like it and sorry for the waiting!! 💖

continuation to the request:

Over time they start falling apart. Either way during an expedition the reader ends up passing away and since then one of the reader's best friends has been passive aggressive with Erwin even when he became commander. So the night before the retaking of Wall Maria he calls that friend into his office and he asks them why they have been acting that way ever since she died. The friend confesses that the reader loved him so much that she didnt care what happened to them and that. The friend confesses that the reader loved him so much that she didnt care what happened to them and that she didn’t care when he fell into the arms of any other woman because she just wanted him to be happy. And that's why the friend was always so mad at Erwin because he never even spared a glance at her. So then Erwin dies and he meets her again and it can end on either fluff or angst if you want to. You can do it in any POV you can! Thanks!

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❁ erwin x female!reader

❁ spoilers! some cursing also, one mention of suicide word, original character introduction, non-canon events and deaths.

❁ a/n: sorry, anon! it took longer than I expected to write this because i kept editing it :’) i hope you like it <3 sorry for any errors and for making this so long :’’) also, i’m not following the manga exact events!!!! also sorry if i messed something up :(

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“You’re what?”

“I’m joining the Survey Corps.” Erwin looked at you, his blue eyes fixed on yours. He left the papers on the desk, getting up. Even knowing he’s just a teenager, he’s pretty tall. But, after all this years, it doesn’t intimidate you.

“You’re not” He says. You raise an eyebrow, looking at him.

“You’re not my father to decide what can I do and what I cannot do. If you’re joining, I’m joining.” Erwin sighs and looks at you fiercely. You keep your gaze in his.

“I have the same possibilities to die as you have, Smith. So don’t fucking dare to tell me not to join.”

Both of you passed the tests to enter the Survey Corps. His intelligence and your strength made the two of you stand out. You cared for Erwin, always checking on him on your training expeditions, and being there when he rans out of gas or needs assistance. Even when he tried to convince you not to, you joined anyway the elimination squad. Erwin joined as well, but his strategic brain made him talk to the heads of the army. Lion waited for you after an intense training. Erwin was entering the Commander’s office. Lion sighed.

“He’s always so occupied with high class men...”

“I’m happy for him.” you say. Lion was cleaning his boots.

He has been your friend since both of you entered the elimination squad, and he’s like a big brother to you now. He rolls his eyes.

“Because you love him.” He says. He was not wrong: A little teen crush on Erwin evolved to the point that you love him. You know he doesn’t feel the same for you, or so you think. He always treats you kind of cold, and more since he entered the Corps. You know he feels responsible of you joining because of his ideas, but you where totally free to join. That doesn’t excuse his new cold attitude towards you. Lion sighs again and gets up, his boots now totally clean.

“He doesn’t look at you that way, y/n” He says. Maybe he’s right, totally right, but the heart doesn’t choose who to love. That’s why you’re deeply in love with him. And because you know him better than anyone. His fears and his goals. The way his blue eyes soften when he talks about something he loves. "But, I do understand you." he says. "Love is just a fucking problem and a headache if it is one-sided" He palmed your shoulder before going out of the tent. Sighing, you stand up and follow him. Erwin comes out of the Commander’s tent at the same time. You look at him and he looks at you. You smile at him, a little smile that he is silently adoring, silently wanting to kiss, to feel it against him.

"Come on, Erwin." The Commander makes Erwin walk behind him, and his expression keeps being the same as usual towards you. You decide it's time to stop making him notice you. He doesn't want anything romantic with you, so just let him be. If he wants to search a cute soldier to get married or a girl to have fun is his decision. You're out of it.

But you didn't know how much he cared for you, how deep in love he was. Just watching the corners of your lips making a little smile makes his heart beat faster, the way you are so close to him even when he is treating you like that hurts him. If he wasn't a soldier, he would ask you to go out with him. He would take your hands sweetly and make you dance to an invented song just to see the way your lips curve in a smile of joy. He would take you to long walks and give you his jacket when you're cold. He would ask your hand in marriage and kiss and nude your body with care and tenderness. He would marry you happily, have maybe a couple kids, if you want to. Live a easy and quiet life.

But he decided to be a soldier.

That means he's risking his life every time he puts his feet out of the walls. As you do. That's why he wants you to leave and search someone who cares for you and loves you deeply. He wants to be that one, but knowing that maybe he'll die in the next expedition, leaving you alone and heartbroken, scares him. He knows you're brave and strong, but a close loose is not a easy thing. Even for you. So he decided to keep a cold attitude towards you.

Years passed by and your crush for him was still there, as intense as always. He is candidate to be the next Commander, as he always wanted to. His desire for knowing why humanity has to be in the walls while the titans can be free out there. Lion knocks on your room door.

"Did you heard the news?" he asks, entering. You shake your head. "We'll go on an emergency expedition tomorrow." Lion sits near you. An emergency expedition. There was a rare type of expedition, the emergency ones: they're made when a strange titan comes around and takes a lot of normal titans with it, near a town or village. "We're leaving tonight at 5. Be ready." You nod. "And try to sleep a bit, yes?" you nod again. Lion leaves silently and you prepare yourself to sleep some hours. You know that going without sleeping will make you an easy prey for titans. At five o'clock, you're all marching towards the entrance of the wall Maria. The Commander assigns your squad to the front.

The expedition starts calmly, even when the atmosphere in the soldier’s files seems tense. Lion rides a horse near you, in silence, and you know Erwin goes behind, with all the high soldiers. You can’t feel titans near, even their steps. That’s why the Commander yell scares you.

“There’s a sparkler!” he yells. You look at both sides, finding easily the black colored flame. “Elimination squad, go and find that damn thing and kill it. Rescue squad, find survivors and take them to the barricade.” You nod, following your squad leader. After a long time riding, without finding signs of a titan near, you start to think that maybe it was just a bad joke of one of the juniors.

That changes when the girl next to you yells, suddenly trapped in a big hand. A strange titan, with an enormous mouth, smiles at her, as if it were trying to tell her that it is going to enjoy every bite of her body. And it does. You saw comrades die because of titans. Smashed, eaten in a bite or even suicides. But you never, never, saw a titan split a comrade in two parts. Her waist bleeds while the titan swallows her legs. The scene is truly gross, how the blood stains the mouth of the titan, dripping to the ground, making the daisies turn red in a cruel metaphor of life and death.

“Eva...” Lion whispers. All the color has left his face. You’re incapable to look to other side, just to the horror expression in Eva’s face, freezed forever while the titan eats her. Then, it’s gaze searches new victims. That’s how you react, when its bloody smile is pointing on your direction. Lion yells.

“y/n!”

Your ODMG goes fast and reaches a near tree, where you hang. The titan looks around. You have it’s neck really close to you. It’s just having it distracted and attack him.

“Lion, distract him!” You yell, hiding behind the trunk. Lion starts to move on the ground, the big eyes of the titan following him fast, his hand trying to reach the fastest soldier of the army. You point with your ODMG to its neck, the perfect angle for attacking it. Once your hooks are well placed, you take two blades and jump.

The attack is one the trainer show you. It’s almos infalible, it has a 0′1 margin of error. It’s impossible to fail. You speed up, trying to reach its neck. But you found its teeth before.

Your expression is surprised when the titan opens its mouth, taking you into it. Your blades made cuts in its mouth because of the speed.

“y/n!” Lion yells, taking out his blades. He goes fast in your help, but maybe it is too late. You feel how the titans’ teeth part you in two, as you saw it did with Eva before. It is instant pain. How you body gets split in two. How the titan parts from your body, to pull the part it has between its teeth far from the other part of your body, using two fingers to hold your upper part. You’re still conscious about what is happening. You can see other titans fighting against your comrades. You can watch them die, as same as you’re about to do. There’s no way to save you.

This is not a romantic book. Erwin is not going to appear in his white horse, just in time to save you. He’s not going to leave the army to take care of you. He’s not going to kill that titan in revenge, yelling and covered in blood. So, that’s why you close your eyes, leaving your body, without making resistance against the titan.

When Lion killed it, it was late for you. Lion tried to wake you up, to make you open your eyes and look at him. But you couldn’t. Your soul was watching him from above.

The news reached your home and Erwin. He went to your house, to show respect and give the sorry to your family.

It hurt him in ways he couldn’t imagine he would get hurt. It was a continuous reminder in his heart, that now you’re not going to smile at him in the corridors or be behind him when he needs you. He cried. He cried a lot, in private, in his room. He regretted every single cold gaze, every time he ignored you thinking it was the best for you. He regrets all the times you reached him to talk with him, and he ignored you to talk with high ranked soldiers. He regrets not confessing to you.

And now he can’t do anything about it because you’re not longer there.

Lion feels guilty, he thinks he could have saved you, but you jumped on the titan’s mouth. It wasn’t his fault. Erwin knows he was your best friend there, and he knows he should go and show his respects to him too, but he can’t. Not now. He decides to wait. The wound is too recent.

That’s how years passed by, slow, and Erwin got upgraded to Commander. He got new soldiers, new squads and new faces. But he stills think about you. About how you would like to meet Hange. How Lion is training the new ones. How well you’ll understand Levi.

He decided that it was time to talk with Lion. Breathing deep, he started to walk towards the barricade. There, Lion was making a ponytail to a young girl, that seemed like a cadet. The girl made the army’s salute towards her Commander, salute that Erwin made back. Lion looked at him, his face tinted with anger, like every time the Commander walked near him. Erwin knows he feels bad because of what happened to you but, angry at him? Why?

“Can we talk in my office?” the blonde man asks. Lion keeps looking at him with anger.

“Why would the Commander need me?”

“Just a couple of minutes, and then you can go back to work.”

Lion reluctantly agrees, following the Commander back to his office. Once they’re in, Erwin starts to talk.

“I know y/n’s death has...”

“Oh, so now you’re going to talk about her.” Lion says. His arms are crossed.

“What do you mean?” Erwin asks. Lion walks toward him. The two of them are similar in height, but Lion is more corpulent.

“You never talked to her when she was alive. Even knowing that she was there for you every fucking time you needed her. She wasn’t your fucking dog, Commander.” the way Lion spits the word makes Erwin realize that he isn’t his favorite soldier. “She was a girl. A girl with feelings, a girl that loved and suffered. A human. Not your war machine, not your gas station, not your shield. A girl.”

Erwin wasn’t getting where was Lion trying to reach with that conversation.

“What do you mean?” he asks, quietly. Lion let out a little sarcastic laugh.

“She was in love with you, Commander Smith. She told me a hundred times that it didn’t care if you were watching another woman because that means you’re happy.” Erwin’s blue eyes shot open in surprise. “She was in love with you. That’s why she was always around you, helping you and caring for you. It wasn’t luck. It was love.”

Erwin got dizzy. That’s why you were always so sweet to him? Always trying to get closer to him, to make sure he was secure, to make him notice you.

How was he so blind?

“I...” Erwin was at a loss of words. Lion sighed.

“I don’t know why you were so cold to her. Why? She was the sweetest girl out there and you treated her with coldness.”

He asks himself the same. Why? To protect you or to protect himself? Was he trying to make you happy or trying to extinguish the love he felt for you? Was it for your good-being or for his?

Was he being egoistic or abnegated?

Lion left the office without looking again to Erwin.

That night, Erwin’s mind was a mess. He only could think about you. About how you cared all this time for him and how he couldn’t save you. But he had an expedition the next day. Even when he wanted to cry and break things and scream, he needs to sleep. He’s human, after all.

He dreamed about you. About how your smile was always for him, and he couldn’t see it. That’s why there are purple marks under his eyes. Levi looks at his Commander, saying anything. Just his normal silence when he looked to the front again. Erwin survived to a lot of battles, a lot, even when one of them costed his arm. But he survived. Even when he wanted to die, because you’re not longer with him. But he obligated himself to keep going.

“Today, we’re fighting to recover a part of Wall Maria, to recover the district of Shiganshina from the titans. Soldiers, offer your hearts!” all the soldiers yelled back to Erwin. He looked at the sky.

Some hours after, the Commander told all his effectives to offer themselves along with him. He knew it was difficult to win towards the beast titan, the one that throws rocks. He talked to Levi earlier, and the Captain asked him if he had a plan. Levi was sure everybody was about to die. But the Commander told Levi that, risking his life and his cadets lives, there was hope for humanity. That’s why Erwin was looking at the distance without fear, the silhouette of the Beast Titan could be seen from where he is. Yelling to his subordinates once again, he made the army advance. And a lot of stones appeared in front of them. He thought about you, about how you where always brave, even when things were complicated.

That was the last thought he had, before getting hit by a rock.

Erwin didn’t expect to find you again, pretty as always, with your beautiful hair clean and shining. He was there, in front of you. You were also wearing the Corps uniform. His eyes started to form tears.

“Erwin?” You asked. He nods. Your watery eyes understood that if he’s there, in front of you, it means he’s dead. You run, hugging him. His scent is as clear as always, his arm tangled on your waist. You cry on his chest and he cries on your neck.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, y/n...” he says. His breath is irregular and his big hand massages your waist.

“It’s okay, Erwin. It’s okay.” Your hand strokes his hair, quietly.

“I told my soldiers to die for the humanity. I sacrificed them for what?” the shock after commanding a whole army, being aware of all the lives he risked for humanity, made him break. You hugged him, being there for him. "Why are you here, with me?"

"Because I love you." you simply say. "I'm still in love with you, Erwin." you answer. He looks at your face.

"You're not angry at me?" he asks. You shake your head.

"I guess you had your causes to avoid me. Maybe you don't like me even a bit or something, and that's totally right."

He knew he needed to explain everything to you, but, for now, he just need to feel your arms around him.

Now, you have all eternity to be together.

#aot fluff #aot x reader #snk fluff #snk x reader #snk fic #aot fic #aot scenario #aot fanfiction #snk headcanons #aot #erwin snk #erwin x you #aot erwin #erwin x reader #erwin smith #erwin angst #erwin fluff

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sparxwrites · 3 years

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@manoessay replied to your post:

This post activated my brain harder than most so even though you arent gonna make a fanfic i will add, Dream testing how many times you can bring a person back on quackity once he gets out.

(i absolutely fully got possessed by this idea, and then wrote this self-indulgent and weirdly experimental fic feverishly at like 1am last night. this is... probably not what you were imagining, but it’s what fell out of my brain, so! enjoy? written to “innocence” by madeon.)

cw moderately graphic torture / gore, mental breakdown, mind games, temporary character death

[ao3]

“How many times have you died now, Quackity?”

The words flash hot through his skull, but don’t translate into meaning. Don’t translate into anything other than noise. The floor is cold beneath his palms. Russet-brown flakes up beneath his nails when he claws at it, chest heaving, lungs trying to remember how breathing works.

His first inhale gurgles, wetly, makes him jerk on his belly like a worm on a hook. His throat is raw from disuse, from screaming, from the sword that had sliced through his trachea like a knife through so much butter. When he tries to speak, the only thing that comes out is blood.

It goes like this, every time Dream drags him back from Limbo: his ears full of a high ringing, his lungs not working, his body numb. The link between flesh and brain is faulty, sparking wrong – like the battered neurons take a few precious minutes of life to rewire back together fully. It fixes itself a little less each time, the link; he’s permanently numb down most of his left side, now. The fingers on his right hand are going insensate in terrifying inches.

“How many times?”

Crooked mask, ragged voice, cracked porcelain smile. Dream looks better than Quackity feels, but not much – crouched low on a stone floor that’s caked in layer after layer of old blood, watching Quackity like a bug under a magnifying glass. His hair’s a greasy mess, his mask dirty-white and chipped, his clothes spattered with weeks of gore. With Quackity’s gore.

There’s blood dripping out from beneath the mask, though, fresh and hot. His hands shake. The knuckles clenched around the hilt of his sword are white, the skin beneath his fingernails faintly purple-blue.

The eyes behind the mask are just a little too green.

“Can you even hear me?” There’s a giddy slur to the edge of Dream’s words, the manic lilt of a man high off the same shit that’s melting his brain out through his nose. That feeling was familiar to Quackity, in another life. “Quackity. Hey, Quackity. Anyone in there?” He laughs, short and cruel and batshit crazy. His eyes are the colour of battery acid. “Have I finally broken you?”

There’s no response – because Quackity’s still trying to remember how his lungs work, remember what ribs are, remember how to do things that aren’t screaming and curling in on himself and rocking – and the amusement in his voice turns angry, sour. “I said tell me how many times, Quackity.”

Dream stands, unsteady, swaying as he does and leaning heavily on the sword for balance. His hands are still shaking. The blood’s stopped dripping, but there’s a sickly tinge to it, and when he wipes at his chin with the back of one hand it leaves a smear that’s more brown than red.

There’s a flicker of something, as his knuckles touch the half-inch of exposed face – dirty white light, bridging the gap between skin in a static-shock flash. There and then gone, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it.

The eyes behind the mask glow a little brighter. A little greener. A little less human.

The point of Dream’s sword sinks into Quackity’s shoulder, splits open an old scar. Quackity’s covered in them, now, more scar than skin. More ruined than not. He spasms, chokes, bleeds wet and red and fresh over the dried blood that carpets the floor. The noise he makes is animal, leg-in-a-bear-trap high and thin and dying. Barely alive five minutes, and he’s bleeding out again already. It’s almost funny.

Dream laughs, and leans on the pommel of the sword. It pushes in another inch.

“Month!” manages Quackity, forcing the word out through the wetness in his lungs, through the broken-bone grind of his throat. If he weren’t so many shattered parts, pasted back together by unholy power and Dream’s capricious whims, it might have been a howl. As it is, he barely has the energy to sob, the words raw and hoarse and threadbare. “A month, a month– thirty– haha, thirty-six days in, in, in Limbo, fuck, please, please–”

There’s wet on his cheeks. Tears? Blood? Worse? He can’t tell any more. He can’t even feel the left side of his face.

He grabs for Dream’s boots, presses his forehead against them, gasps for air that doesn’t seem to bring any relief from the cold ache in his lungs. One of his hands finds an ankle, a strip of bare skin between shoe and pant leg. Dream’s skin is fever-hot, sickly, bottled lightning gone past its sell-by date.

The shock of the contact knocks him silent for a second, though. They won’t touch him, in Limbo, the ghosts – or can’t, or both, can’t and won’t. Because they’re bastards, because they hate him, because he isn’t one of them. They can’t-won’t touch him, can’t see him, won’t see him, won’t speak to him– and he’s left, alone, in a room full of the faded impressions of people he once knew, once loved, once was loved by. A room full of people who do not see him, and do not touch him, and do not hear him when he talks.

(When he screams, when he swears at them, when he tries to claw their eyes out with unsteady hands that don’t make contact– when he begs, when he pleads, when he wheedles and bribes and bargains to deaf ears– when he wraps arms around himself, when he rocks himself back and forth until the blood rushes in his ears, when he whispers to himself until his voice fades to nothing, and tries to pretend it is the same thing as being loved and held and comforted–)

“Please, don’t– hahah, don’t kill me, fuck– please, look, look, hurt me, please, hurt me– anything, anything, I don’t–” He doesn’t have the breath for this. Doesn’t have the energy. Doesn’t even really have the words any more, after screaming for thirty-six fucking days straight, after talking to himself for so long his vocal cords wore out and left him mouthing silence in a desperate attempt to keep himself company. “Don’t, don’t send me– not, don’t send me back, please, fuck, anything, ha, haha, don’t, don’t–”

“I said I’d make you beg for death,” says Dream, amused, bored, manic. “Not torture. Not that I’m complaining. It’s just kind of funny. Don’t you think? I think it’s funny.”

He pushes the sword in, another inch. Quackity sobs, desperate and pathetic, and feels no shame for it. Presses his face to Dream’s boot, clings to his ankle like a lifeline, and feels no shame for it. Shame was beaten out of him, bled out of him, several lifetimes ago. “But that’s not what I asked, though. How many times have you died now, Quackity?”

The sword in his shoulder twists, and Quackity screams. Something severs with a pop, and then another, and then another, until the joint is little more than a hot ball of pain and wet meat, grated bone. Until he can no longer scream, gasping desperately through the pain, weeping like a child. Another twist, and something else severs, something vital, a second’s resistance before a give and a spray of warm blood.

He bleeds out between one sob and the next, tumbling into darkness, the golden net of the respawn reaching up to catch him as he falls.

He wakes up three feet away, sprawled out on the filthy bed that occupies one corner of his cell, still sobbing. The respawn clings to him like a second skin, like weights around his ankles, frightening and familiar all at once. It fades slowly, reluctantly; slower each time he dies, he thinks. Like it’s getting used to holding him. Like it doesn’t want to let him go.

It’s only barely gone by the time Dream crosses the space between them, two short steps, no time for him to flinch, no time for him to hide–

Dream grabs him by the wrist, wrenches his body up from the bed, and slots the sword neatly through the front of his throat. The broad, well-used scar carved across it parts for the blade like an old friend, swallows it whole – and Quackity dies for the second time in as many minutes, choking on his own blood.

The respawn catches him. Drags him down into darkness. Drags him back up to the surface of reality, deposits him back onto a bed now sodden with crimson. He’s shaking. He should be used to it, but he’s shaking so hard his teeth clack together, so hard he’s not sure it will ever stop.

Dream drags him off the bed, back onto the floor. Back onto the filth, the layers and layers of dried gore, a carpet constructed from every time he’s been slaughtered like an animal in this tiny, lightless cell.

“Dream,” he begs, quietly. “Dream, Dream–”

Even to his ears, it sounds more like a prayer than a plea.

“It’s a simple question, Quackity. How many times have you died now? Properly died. How many times have I brought you back? I just want a number. Just a number.” The mask obscures Dream’s mouth, but his grin is audible. His eyes are so bright, they hurt to look at. “How many times have I proven to you that I’m a god?”

Quackity tries to curl in on himself, but Dream is in the way, one boot by his shoulder and the other pinning his wrist to the floor beneath its toe. He’s not surprised. Dream is everywhere, always, omnipresent. His free hand seeks out Dream’s ankle onces more, curls around that curdled-lightning skin, desperate and needy. It grounds him, touching the only real person in his whole entire world, and he hates himself for it.

“…T- ten?” he tries, and knows as he says it that it’s wrong. The panic rises like the respawn, choking him. He can’t breathe. “Ten, ten times– maybe eleven– fuck, fuck, Dream, please–”

The sword-tip finds his back, finds the space between his fourth and fifth rib. Finds the ropy scar there, beneath the rags, soft from re-use – like a zipper, easy to pry open right down to his weak, wet heart.

“Good guess,” says Dream, quietly. “Closer than before. But still not right. You need a little longer to think about it, I guess. But– hey, you know what? I’ll be nice, and give you a hint.” He pauses, and Quackity’s world stands still. “You’re guessing too low.”

He pushes the sword down. It slips between Quackity’s ribs like an old lover, lodges in the crusted filth and stone below, pins him still against the floor. His heart beats once, twice, a butterfly-flutter around the diamond skewered through it. His body convulses. He falls still.

The blood from his mouth dyes the toes of Dream’s boots crimson, as the light leaves his eyes.

He wakes in Limbo, on his knees, in a room full of people – full of impressions of people, like the ghosts of a faded photograph. He sees them all there, their backs to him, as they move amongst one another, as they talk amongst one another. Tubbo, and Schlatt, and Fundy, and Wilbur, and–

Sapnap, who looks right through him. Karl, whose eyes skate over him. They hold each other’s hands. The rings on their fourth fingers gleam weakly in the strange, nebulous light of the afterlife. They do not hear him when he says their names, ragged and desperate, like a plea. Like a prayer.

And then they, too, turn their back on him. And Quackity – still raw, still bloody, still skewered open right through his butterfly heart – screams and screams and screams.

#manoessay #dream smp #quackity #dream #dsmp fic #dsmp tag #fic #to my ex-y*gs fans: say hello to dirty white source code light and weird respawn headcanons again!#something something stop fucking around with creative mode or the dirty white light will eat you from the inside out like a parasite #it wants to pour the entirety of the universe into your head until there's no space left for *you* in there any more #that's not something you dick around with just to ensure the guy who tortured you in prison is broken down into more animal than human #also i will not apologise for making quackity's limbo so fucking miserable #he's in a hell of his own creation lmao #hc that you get what you think you deserve in limbo lmao :3c #torture //

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remmushound · 3 years

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Curse of the Clan part 59! @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

There Michelangelo stood before Krang, the giant blob of a being rearing up with help of the wires that supported his gelatinous flesh as it spilled over in thick folds. Michelangelo stepped as far away from the alien as he could, ruby eyes locked on the yokai and trying his best not to let fear shine in them. But Krang knew better; he knew Michelangelo was afraid. He could taste it. Immediately he started to poke and prod into Michelangelo’s mind, just as he had with Donatello during their lovely stay in the forest.

Michelangelo whined and clutched at his head when a sensation not unlike a needle pierced through it. His legs lost sensation, and his thoughts were scattered like leaves on the wind. His heartbeat was like the drums of war pounding inside of him but that wasn’t the only thing that drowned his senses because there was something else, something evil, something poking around in his head that shouldn’t have been! The feeling was anything but pleasant, but no matter how much Michelangelo squeezed his head to try and force it out, it wouldn’t go away.

The voice was inside the cavern of his skull, vibrating along his brain and making his entire body shake and his vision go dark.

“You’re more resistant than the purple one…” The voice inside Michelangelo’s head said, and there came a cold tingle up Michelangelo’s arm that settled around his throat like a noose. “I wonder if you’ll last as long as he did…”

“You… hurt… my… brother…” The words were hard to force out, as heavy on his tongue as a ten pound weight, but he refused to let them stay.

“And it was fun.” The voice was in his left ear, and then his right. “And it was easy. Because he was soft…”

“You take that BACK!” With Michelangelo’s defiant roar and a swipe of his flaming kusari, the cold force prodding him was knocked back.

Krang was slammed back into his body with a furious snarl, a scowl creeping over his features as he rubbed his head with a fore-tentacle. Michelangelo’s aura was strong, a truthful passion powerful enough to form a force field around the box turtle. Krang laughed.

“Donnie is just as strong as I am!” Michelangelo growled, his eyes glowing gems.

The darkness closed in again, and this time Krang was braced for the power that the orange turtle radiated, and he was able to penetrate it. His grip on Michelangelo’s psyche tightened, and bit by bit he pulled out everything he needed and weaved it to fit his own desire.

Michelangelo and Leonardo were back in that supermarket, running from the Gumbus as it chased them down the aisles. They were seperated from April and they were alone, well alone together at least, and they needed to hide. They spotted a place, and they both dived for it, but… Michelangelo didn't make it.

No, that wasn’t right. Leonardo had grabbed him and pulled him into shelter! Michelangelo was sure he had! Why was he thinking of this anyway? It wasn’t unlike him to blank out, drawn into the spiraling colors of his own mind, but this time it seemed far more misplaced than usual, and the memory was wrong! Why was it wrong? No no no, Leonardo had helped him, not left him to the beast—

Michelangelo fell to his knees as another nightmare forced its way to the front of his mind. Him and Donatello, together behind the bushes watching Todd’s RV before they knew the friendly capybara. Whispering to each other. Todd sneaking up behind them and scaring them near out of their shells, and what Michelangelo should have remembered was both him and Donatello scattering, but what came forth through like a crudely patched pair of jeans was Donatello shoving his little brother to the ground and leaving him there for the apparent ‘Spine Breaking Bandit’ to seize.

“Your mind is strong…” Krang’s voice came with a rush of nausea, “I wonder: Is your body the same?”

Michelangelo throwing a boat, using all the power he could summon. His brothers should have praised him, but instead came their vicious scolds and hurtful words and the insults made Michelangelo drop the boat and—

“Is your love for your brothers…?”

Michelangelo wanted to go on his first solo mission. Instead of supporting him, all three of his brothers surrounded him like cruel silhouettes, laughing and pointing and mocking the bravery that tried to shine. Their words and faces twisted with hatred spiraled in Michelangelo’s mind and let nothing else through.

“...too little…”

“...too weak…”

“...too dumb…”

“...all heart…”

“...no brain…”

“You need to grow up.” The voices of all three brothers melted into one. Michelangelo was crying. His brothers wouldn’t say that, his brothers wouldn’t be mean, his brothers loved him

“Or your father?” Krang taunted further. “Would you still love him…?”

Now this was a memory Michelangelo couldn’t recall. It was a place he knew, Draxum’s lab, but it wasn’t the way it was when he had briefly saw it years ago. It was different, older yet newer at the same time. Shiny and alive and now dancing with fire that swallowed everything in his path. He was helpless, the smoke choking and burning his senses. And he saw someone there, his father Lou Jitsu, grabbing items from Draxum’s shelves and tossing them into the flames to ensure their destruction. Michelangelo started to cry; he was a baby, what else could he have done? He reached out for the man and for a moment Lou Jitsu had looked his way, the eyes soft and kind as Michelangelo knew them to be. Then came the veil of hatred pulled over as the flames swallowed Lou Jitsu and he disappeared, leaving Draxum’s experiments to burn up. All of Draxum’s experiments.

“No…” Michelangelo said; he was on his knees now and dreadfully cold. “No… that… that didn't happen!”

“Didn't it…?”

Did it…? All of Michelangelo’s memories were so twisted, so mixed up, that he couldn’t tell what was true and what was a lie and what had happened and what hadn’t happened. He knew his brothers wouldn’t do that but they did do that, he saw them, they were in his head! In his head… it was all in his head, it was all a game, all a lie, everything. Did his brothers really hate him? Did his father despise him? Did Draxum and April and CJ and everyone else think so lowly of him?! Did they...

Michelangelo was cold. He recognized it now. The stinging bite pierced through his skin, and that was something he knew was a lie. Though the sensations pricked and burned at his mind and body, he wasn’t shivering. He hadn’t been cold in Japan and he certainly wouldn’t be cold here. That was a lie. He remembered Knight’s words, that Krang could only tell lies. Maybe the truth could hurt him?

“You’re lying…” Michelangelo said lowly, and the truth cut worse than a knife through Krang.

“What…?” Krang’s face distorted in recoil.

“Your name isn’t Krang, it’s… Knave. And my brothers don’t hate me either…” Michelangelo stood a little straighter, bringing his burning eyes to meet Knave’s. “Or my friends. They’re taking down your ship right now…”

Michelangelo’s voice carried a storm, an auditory thunder like a lion’s roar! But both quickly realized that it wasn’t just Micelangelo’s voice that had done it as an aftershock hit the mech hard and caught both alien and mutant off guard.

~~~

It was harder to reach Raphael than Leonardo had been anticipating. He entered the mind meld state just as easily as he had in the forest to find Donatello, but finding someone was so much different than actually reaching them. Leonardo could send out as many thoughts as he wanted, but which ones could reach Raphael wasn’t something he could control, especially at such a distance. It was only getting farther and farther away as Raphael raced off to find his friend. The way Cassandra had been tossed, the sound made when Krang’s claws met her flesh. The blood, the scream. He didn't even think a mutant could survive that, let along a human, but he still had to find just in case she was—

Raph!

Raphael stopped, his feet skidding across the asphalt as he looked around. The city was evacuated hours ago, and even if it hadn’t been, he couldn’t think of anyone who would be this far away from the fight that would know him. Was his mind tricking him, or was that strange, turtle-shaped flicker of blue light staring at him?

Raph! The voice said again.

Leonardo! That was Leonardo’s voice! Raphael raced to the blue light he saw and stopped short, the projection transparent and glistening but most assuredly a visage of his brother.

“Wha— Leo? How are you doing that?!”

“There’s no time to explain, I don’t know how long I can hold this!” Leonardo’s image was flickering like a camera glitch, blipping in and out of existence at random, “You need to get to the back of the mech! We think we found a way to shut it down but we need you to—“

Leonardo’s voice and transparent body disappeared. Astral projection. So that was Leonardo’s new power!

“What? Need me to what?” Raphael searched the empty road for anything to complete Leonardo’s urgent request, but there was nothing. If he was going to Raphael for help, then that meant it could only be one thing. “Smash? You need me to smash you out!”

Raphael didn't have his smash jitsu anymore, but he could still try! Maybe being so close to Leonardo would help his little brother to be able to reach him again! Not a thought against his plan came to Raphael’s mind, and he was already on the way back to his brothers’ aid when he remembered why he had been all the way out here to begin with. Cassandra! She was still out there somewhere and he had to find her! He started to go back to his search, then winced and hesitated when he again remembered the desperation in Leonardo’s voice.

He had to choose between his brothers and his best friend and he had minutes, if that, to make the choice. Cassandra or his family, Cassandra or his brothers, his friends his families his—

Was that a truck?! It was! A semi-truck was barreling down toward him blaring a horn louder than any alarm Raphael had ever heard in the lair. Fear and shock froze him to the spot like a deer in headlights as the truck kept coming, and in the driver's seat was a young girl who couldn’t be more older her early twenties, hair pulled back by a bandana and an expression that told of pure, mischievous glee.

“Cass?!” Raphael gawked, and then screamed and raised his hands to cover his face when he realized the impact was imminent. Cassandra had the brakes on just in time, the back of the semi-truck practically lifting up off the road as the tip of its hood just barely brushed against Raphael’s plastron.

Cassandra leaned out of the window, “Get in, big guy! Haven’t got all day!”

“CJ!” Raphael scrambled to climb into the passenger seat, immediately grabbing Cassandra from the drivers seat and turning her around looking for the injuries that he knew he had seen! Cassandra’s clothes were in ruin, the cloth stained crimson, but no matter how Raphael searched he couldn’t find a single injury! “How…?”

“Don’t question a good thing Raphie!” Cassandra said, pushing against Raphael’s plastron to get him to let her go. “Buckle up. We’re going for a ride.”

Raphael strapped himself in. “I didn't know you had a truck driving license!”

“I DON’T!”

With that, Cassabdra sped away down the road.

#krang vs Mikey #return of CJ #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au

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tiredcath · 4 years

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Zukka Fic Recs

after atla came back into pop culture i found myself falling back in love with zukka which resulted in me reading (almost) every zukka fic on ao3 and here are my favorites

Transference by The_Quatermasters (146k)

In a modern AU, Zuko has to deal with settling in a new school after expulsion, dealing with an angry ex and an abusive father. Maybe his new found friendships and growing closeness with Sokka will help him make it through.

Borderlines by The_Quatermasters (73k)

Three years after the war, the work still isn't quite done and the Gaang is scattered across the continents in their efforts to help the world recover. When Aang and Katara pay visit to the Fire Nation where Zuko is Fire Lord and Sokka acts as Ambassador for the Water Tribe, sparks fly between the siblings over Sokka's life choices.

Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster (47k)

Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?

(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian (54k)

Life can be pretty hard living in a city under a totalitarian regime. Between adhering to the ridiculous curfew, keeping himself from being gunned down by a passing patrolman, and paying his unnecessary tolls to the state for, say, breathing, Sokka has his hands full just getting to work. Add aiding a resistance group on top of that, and Sokka should really be getting paid for this.

Then, one night, Sokka finds an injured patrolman collapsed in the street, who tells him with blood on his lips, “If the patrol finds me, I’m dead.”

Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (21k)

“I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?”

“Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.”

First by HoneyBadgerMole (20k)

Zuko has been nurturing a crush on the jock in his AP Psych class but he has been too scared to talk to him until they get paired up for a project.

the benefits of getting a flat tire by LesbeanLatte (64k)

Zuko makes an impromptu decision to run away from home after a disturbing conversation with Azula. Unfortunately, some plans are better when they're actually, well, planned. Zuko isn't counting on getting a flat tire almost as soon as he's far enough away from the city to really be in the middle of nowhere.

Sokka is immediately taken with the stranger he and his friends find stranded on the side of the road during an afternoon joy ride. However, he has no idea what he's getting involved with and a kind attempt to help a fellow teen in need turns into a massive coverup for a missing person who just so happens to be the son of the mayor of Ba Sing Se.

Azula was just trying to help her big brother - in her own way - by telling him things she thought he deserved to know. Now the situation has gotten wildly out of control. Did she enjoy seeing Zuko upset and afraid? Of course. Had she intended to endanger his life? Not necessarily, but of course, her idiot brother overreacted to everything and that's what happened and now she doesn't know how to stop the chain of events she's indirectly put in place like dominoes.

Operation Leverage by snowandfire (50k)

Sokka's instincts are onto something great. Zuko just wants to serve tea and brood in peace. Ironically, Toph is the only one who can see what's really going on.

The Stingray by Smediterranea (24k)

“You’re not carrying me.”

“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.

“I can just hop over.”

“On sand?”

Zuko will never admit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.

“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”

“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.

“What kind of burrito do you want?”

“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.

“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”

AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.

it's the illusion of separation by argentoswan (110k)

Sokka takes a job washing dishes at the new tea shop in town. It's a great gig, until he finds out his only coworker is his old high school bully. Sokka really should quit, but he also really needs to afford rent.

Also, Zuko is kind of hot now.

People like to think war means something by trying_to_spell_both_our_names_at_once (21k)

Sokka was the first to leave.

Somehow that hurt the most. . . . Not long after Zuko becomes Firelord, forces gather in the South and next thing he knows he's thrown into a civil war with almost no one by his side. Maybe healing is longer and more complicated than it needs to be, but with the right people by your side it is always possible.

a way that will destroy you by anothermistakemade (14k)

In the wake of Ozai's death, Zuko begins to fall apart. Sokka will do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen.

or, zuko might be losing his mind, but he also might just be really sad & traumatized

Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic, VSfic (30k)

After a failed attempt on his life, Sokka fakes his death, dons a disguise, and infiltrates the would-be assassin's ranks in an attempt to bring them down from the inside.

Zuko learns of his husband's tragic death, mourns, and vows revenge.

Words Mean More at Night by DaisytheDoodleDog (28k)

Even ten years after the end of the war, rebellions rise and risk the balance of the nations. Sokka was willing to do anything to protect his people, which is perhaps why he's leading an army against the rebellion, attacking only as a last result. But Sokka's unwinding, it's taking a toll on him, and the only thing keeping him grounded are the letter Zuko and him exchange late in the night when no one can see the messenger hawks. But as they say, nothing's fair in love and war.

another word for wanting by eurydicees (23k)

Sokka begins to dream of his soulmate when he's eleven years old, and it just gets harder from there. Or, 125 moments soulmates share, and none of them come easy.

(In which your dreams are your soulmate's memories, and Sokka dreams of an all-consuming fire, growing and eating at his soulmate until it burns up the connection between their souls. In which they find love anyways.)

It Has Only Just Begun by Kirazalea (39k)

There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring

Zuko had now chosen the path his uncle had been trying so hard to show him; he had someone who believed in him, who maybe loved him; he was travelling with the Avatar and they apparently had a plan to end the war. By all accounts, Zuko should be smiling.

But Uncle was gone (captured by Azula, and Zuko didn't think she would kill him, but he didn’t, couldn’t, know for sure). The Avatar was barely breathing (he could still die at any second and there was nothing any of them could do about it). Azula had conquered the last Earth Kingdom stronghold (all those innocent people who were now at her mercy). It seemed like, for every step Zuko took forward, the world sent him back three more.

But he was determined to push forward anyways. He needed to make his uncle proud, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

aka: zuko joins the gaang at the end of season 2

Nightmares and Reveries by HisMomoness (20k)

Zuko doesn't sleep because when he does, he's haunted by nightmares. Sokka worms his way into a job and makes it his mission to get Zuko to relax. Lots of head pets and one vacation to the South Pole later, Zuko might just be getting the hang of it.

Cue pining, some fluff, and eventual romance.

The One Who Stopped Time by ohhihoney (66k)

All hope was lost to Zuko until one day, his uncle asked a random person at the Jasmine Dragon to tutor his nephew. Gritting his teeth and embarrassed beyond the point of no return, Zuko gave the blue eyed boy his number.

Little did Zuko know how much Sokka would change his world.

Rubbed Off Stars by ohhihoney (2k)

Sokka wasn't going to just sit and watch the boy at the back of the bus cry while trying to rub off pride flags off his cheeks.

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WIP

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought (168k)

After that fateful Agni Kai, Ozai makes a different call. Branded as a traitor and banished to a prison camp, Zuko learns how cruel the Fire Nation can be to its citizens. Three years, a water tribe raid, and an unexpected meeting with a gang of over-enthusiastic idealistic children puts Zuko back in the spotlight. The revolution is coming and it wants another poster boy, but Zuko is not willing to lend his face to the cause.

Another Brother by AvocadoLove (312k)

It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story.

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BONUS : zuko x jet

Something to Hold Onto by Wildgoosery (122k)

Since the day the walls of Ba Sing Se fell, the Freedom Fighters have struggled to protect what remains of the city and its people. Jet and his second command, a mysterious boy named Li, have spent the summer piecing together an army, hoping for a chance to take the city back for good. But Li is also Zuko, and the time for that secret is quickly running out. Soon, he'll have to decide exactly who he is, what cause he's going to fight for, and where his heart lies.

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jarienn972 · 3 years

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Weathering the Storm - Part Four

For a multitude of reasons, it has been ages since I've been able to update this story. I had the chapter all plotted out, but never seemed to be able to find time (or sometimes just motivation) to write. I appreciate those who reached out to me asking if I planned to update it and I thank you so much for your patience! I absolutely plan to finish it and right now, there are 2 more planned chapters to close everything out.

For now though, since it has been a few months, here’s a quick recap of where we left off in the last chapter: Emma braved the elements to investigate the abandoned Sheriff cruiser, and after seeing the dashcam video, knows that her husband is injured after the disastrous traffic stop. She's made the assumption that Killian would try to make his way to the closest dwelling to the lonely stretch of highway - Zelena's farmhouse. We're going to pick up at that same farmhouse as the unrelenting thunderstorm continues.

If you’d like to catch up from the beginning, you can find all of the current chapters on FF.net and AO3. Tumblr: Part One Part Two Part Three

Despite the warm glow from the flickering orange and gold flames in the fireplace behind her chair, the lingering dreariness of the day was wearing heavily on Zelena's mood. The sky was still laden with dull, grey clouds unleashing unholy torrents of rain upon the farmhouse's metal roof and continuous gusts of wind threatened to blow away the fluttering blue tarp which was only barely protecting them from the elements.

Oh, what she wouldn't have given right now if she could still possess the ability to poof them all away from this isolated outpost deep in the forest. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty and rammed that beat up old jalopy of hers into the Black Fairy. She wasn't particularly good at driving the beast but perhaps she could have managed to get into town… Oh, heavens...who was she kidding? In this weather, she wouldn't have made it to the end of the drive, and anyway, the ugly, metal death-trap was still sitting on a lot in town, rusting away as it awaited repairs. It hadn't been a high priority to fix when she'd had electricity and a working telephone to call Regina who'd pop in with supplies and whatever if she needed a hand with something. If she couldn't solve the problem with magic from a distance, she'd drive out to help her sister and niece, but she certainly couldn't do that right now.

At least, she could be thankful for the simple fact that Robin would sleep through almost anything when she had a full tummy. She couldn't recall the exact time she'd put her daughter down for her afternoon nap, but she estimated that it had been about an hour and a half, meaning her child was going to awaken soon and Zelena would have to figure out a way to entertain a cranky toddler in a dark, drafty house. For now though, the exasperated mom was enjoying the quiet reprieve from this stress-filled day before Robin was awake and wanting to play ,and then Zelena would also have to figure a way to keep the baby from bothering their guest.

Their guest.

How long had it been now since Hook showed up sopping wet on her doorstep? Two hours? Closer to three? Surely Emma would have realized that something was amiss if she'd not heard from her husband by now. How long might it take before someone realized that he was lying on her sofa right at this very moment? He was still semi-peacefully slumbering after taking a swig of the children's pain reliever which might have taken enough of the edge off to allow him to rest - or he'd just passed out from sheer agony and exhaustion.

Either way, she tried to distract herself with a little bit of reading by the firelight. The dancing flames cast odd shadows across the pages making the text difficult to see at times, but then she wasn't fully paying attention to the prose before her. She could scarcely recall a thing she'd read from the prior chapter, much less the last paragraph. She just needed something - anything - to keep her weary mind occupied during this brief reprieve. She was going bloody stir crazy, even beginning to believe she was hearing things that weren't there. She'd swear she just heard something rapping on the kitchen window, but quickly dismissed the thought, figuring it was just the swirling wind rattling the creaky door.

Until she was certain that she heard the sound of her name being called over the howling of the storm.

**********

Emma had briefly considered poofing herself right into the center of Zelena's kitchen, but decided against it at the last second, instead materializing from a cloud of pale grey smoke on the front porch instead. While she was somewhat protected from the storm by the narrow extension of the roof, rain water poured over the eaves in sheets. Considering that the gravel driveway leading up from the road had morphed into a shallow, muddy lake, the porch was relatively dry in comparison, although Emma wasn't certain just how protected she was from Mother Nature's fury when a bolt of lightning lit up the darkened skies. The tin roof above her head probably wasn't the safest right now…

She took a long stride closer to the door, wiping away some condensation from the glass with her sleeve as she peered through the window. She couldn't make out much inside the empty kitchen as it was fairly dark with a faint orangish glow in the distance. Zelena probably had a fire burning to provide some light and heat to stave off the chills with the power still out. She couldn't hear any voices emanating from the interior of the house, but it was possible that the noise of the rain striking the metal roof was drowning out any sounds from inside. But in the dim backlight provided by the firelight, Emma could make out a dark mass draped around the back of one of the ladderback chairs - a shape that looked decidedly like the collar and shoulders of a coat. A dark coat that had enough of a sheen on its surface to reflect the warm hue of the flames. Just like a certain black leather coat that her husband had been wearing when he departed for the station this morning.

Please, let that be Killian's coat, she begged of whatever higher power might be listening as she knocked anxiously on the window. Not noticing any movement inside the farmhouse, she rapped again, but this time on the wooden door instead of the glass as her sight fell upon a ruddy stain upon the white paint. Was that blood?

"Zelena?" she shouted, hoping that her voice would carry louder than her knocking. "Zelena? Are you in there?" Well, that was a stupid question...Of course she had to be inside. Most people wouldn't leave home with a fire still burning and where exactly would she go? Even if she'd managed to get her crappy car running, there was no way she would have made it into town in this downpour. She probably wouldn't have reached the end of the driveway… "Zelena!" she cried out even louder this time.

Seeing the familiar hue of the former witch's wild auburn hair through the steamed up glass, Emma's nerves abated momentarily and she let out a relieved exhale as the door was yanked open.

"Emma?" a startled Zelena muttered as she found the drenched, blonde sheriff standing at her doorstep, but her mood instantly lifted. "I am so happy to see you! I was hoping that you'd soon figure out your husband came here to seek help."

"Thank goodness. There weren't many places he could have gone, so I was really hoping he made it here. He recorded the whole thing on the dashcam, so I know he was shot. Is he alright?" Emma tried to keep her nerves in check, but as she rambled on, she knew she was failing miserably.

"He's in on the sofa. He's sleeping right now. Well, at least I think he's sleeping… He's been in and out of consciousness," Zelena explained as she waved Emma inside. Emma brushed past the redhead who closed the door quickly before the wind blew any more of the never-ending precipitation into the kitchen. Zelena continued detailing all she'd done to help, even though she doubted Emma heard half of it. "I've tried my best to get the bleeding under control. It isn't near as heavy as it was before, but he still lost a lot. The bullet that hit him went clean through and I don't think anything too vital was struck, but I really don't know for certain. He's still a bloody mess and a bit feverish. I tried giving him some of Robin's baby ibuprofen to help with the pain too, but I don't have a bloody clue how well that worked..."

Half-listening as she rounded the corner into the living room, Emma made a bee-line over to the sofa where she discovered her husband curled on his side with a woolen blanket draped over him. Even with the golden glow cast by the flames, his skin bore a deathly pallor. "Oh, Killian…," she sighed as she dropped to her knees on the floor beside him. She cupped her palm around his cheek, finding it cool and clammy beneath the warmth of her fingers. A muted, but guttural moan escaped his throat as he stirred at her touch. He blinked twice in the low light but as his sight adjusted, his eyelids parted fully to focus on the unexpected, but magnificent face of his true love.

"Swan?" he mumbled, his muddled brain trying to determine if she was real or just a cruel hallucination.

"It's me," Emma smiled, happy to find him conscious and communicative. "I'm here and I'm going to get you help…"

"Now that you can heal him, it'll all be fine," Zelena spoke up. "I would have already done that if I still had my magic, but now Emma can get you all fixed up," she gave a nod to Killian but the expression that crossed Emma's face confused her.

"Unfortunately, it isn't quite that simple…," Emma groaned in frustration. "Because this situation involved criminals from outside of Storybrooke, I had to have David notify the state police and put out a bulletin to watch for the vehicle. They'll have questions about the shooting, and if the deputy who they can see being shot on dashcam footage is suddenly, miraculously healed, those questions are going to get uncomfortable and weird and cast doubt on the whole thing. I don't even think that saying Killian was wearing a bulletproof vest would hold up under the circumstances…"

"So, what does that mean?" Zelena questioned.

"I'll have to get him back to Whale - transport him directly to the hospital…"

Emma was cut off mid-sentence as the storm unleashed a tremendous gust of wind that blasted through the broken window, billowing out the tarp until the nails could no longer hold and the resulting gush extinguished the fire. Swirls of raindrops, leaves and other debris were forced through the opening as the tarp floundered and flopped about the floor. Without a moment's hesitation, she spun around and raised her hands. In a split-second, a magical wave of bright light filled the room, vanquishing the tarp and all of the storm debris as it repaired the damaged window, restoring it to its original state like its twin further down the living room wall.

Zelena breathed a sigh of relief as the threat of further damage subsided for the time being, even though the room was plunged into darkness without the flames illuminating it. She wasn't going to miss that ugly plastic sheet, nor would she miss the drafts and rainwater that seeped in around its edges.

"Thank you for fixing that awful eyesore," Zelena said as Robin let out a terrified wail after being awakened by all of the commotion. "I'm coming, my love," she assured her daughter but she also gave Emma a quizzical look before heading over to the play yard. "Do you think you're going to have to explain that one?" she asked Emma with a gesture towards the repaired window.

"Hopefully, it won't come to it, but I suppose I'll think of something, if necessary," Emma replied as she turned her attention back to her wounded husband while Zelena scooped up a whimpering toddler. "Okay, one crisis averted," she whispered as she gently squeezed her husband's bicep through the blanket. "Let's get you into town so we can get you fixed up too."

Killian gave a weak nod and allowed his eyes to fall closed again as he steeled himself for teleportation, never knowing how rough the landing may be when they re-materialized. The commonplace of magical transport was something this grizzled mariner was still getting used to.

"Take us with you," Zelena interrupted. Unprepared for such a request, Emma glanced upward into the pleading eyes of the redhead who was still bouncing a teary-eyed toddler on her hip.

"What?" Emma stammered, her brow knitted in confusion. Had she heard that right?

"Please… Will you transport us there with you? I promise, we will be out of your way as soon as we get there. I'll call Regina to come pick us up, but I can't stay isolated out here in this bloody storm with no power and no way to get in touch with anyone. I hate not having magic anymore… I don't want to be a bother, but please…?"

"Um...sure, I guess," Emma responded. "For everything you've done for Killian today, I suppose it's the least I could do."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" the former witch gushed. "Let me grab Robin's things. I'll be less than a minute!" She scurried into the bedroom to collect Robin's diaper bag as well as a jacket for each of them, then quickly darted into the kitchen to grab the baby's pre-made evening bottle, which the little one eyed greedily as they returned to the living room. Her final task was to toss a pitcher of water onto the smoldering remnants of the fire to ensure it was completely out before they vacated the farmhouse. Returning to Emma's side, Zelena gave her daughter a tight hug and exclaimed: "All ready."

"Then off to Storybrooke Hospital we go," Emma stated, swishing her wrist before the magical cloud enveloped them.

#cs ff #cs fan fic #captain swan ff #killian whump #weathering the storm #gunshot wound #i know this update has been long delayed and is a little short #but i needed to break it there

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