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stxleslyds · 3 years

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What do you think about the theories that Jason was sexually abused as a child? Or even possibly while he was comatose after his resurrection?

Implications of this theory include his conversation with Mia (Speedy) and Bruce's message (Battle for the Cowl). In addition, when he was Robin he expressed what was then considered uncharacteristic rage towards the perpetrators of sex crimes.

Garzonas - unrepentant rapist who got no consequences

When a woman killed her sister's rapist and murderer (because Batman's evidence was not admissible in court), Batman said that she went too far with murder. Jason's disagreed with "Good riddance". Good for you, Jason.

His recklessness when dealing with a child sex trafficking ring.

I highly doubt that DC would ever confirm this theory. I would rather they leave it ambiguous because I don't trust them to not botch Jason... much less respectfully address the subject matter.

I have read so many thoughts on Jason that they're starting to blend together. So I apologize if you've already answered this before.

Hello friend! Aside from the fact that I took way too much time to answer your ask, this was also a hard question to come up with an answer to, I wanted to remain respectful of the subjects at hand even though I don’t second this headcanon. But before we keep going, let me put some trigger warnings in this post.

trigger warning: mentions of sexual abuse, child abuse, rape.

First, I would like to bring up these two concepts because I oftentimes mix them up when talking about these “ideas”.

Theory: a supposition or a system of ideas intended to explain something; an idea used to account for a situation or justify a course of action.

Headcanon: Headcanon generally refers to ideas held by fans of series that are not explicitly supported by sanctioned text or other media. Fans maintain the ideas in their heads, outside of the accepted canon.

I think the idea of Jason having been sexually abused at any point in his lifetime is a mix between a theory and a headcanon. Why I am saying this? Because as you have put in the ask, there has been instances where fandom has found pieces of information that they have considered the base of this idea.

So, if we say that there is a piece of text that might support that idea and they build from that to justify a course of action we would be looking at a theory. In this case Jason having been abused would the reason as to why he acts in that strong and violent way towards cases of sexual abuse/harassment.

In the other hand those pieces of text might not support that idea so fandom headcanons that idea in order to build another layer to a character, in this case Jason having been abused would also justify his actions towards certain criminals.

The “text” (panels, issues, mentions) are most of the time ambiguous, which makes readers have different perspectives in what is being written and what then is made into a theory or headcanon.

Personally, I don’t like this theory or headcanon for various reasons (which I will explain later in the post), and I have read and understood those moments mentioned as Jason just having survived Crime Alley as something general, I don’t think he suffered that kind of abuse but I think he was made aware of that type of behaviour every day that he spent alone in the streets and that why we saw Jason in Batman #408 saying that he had “graduated a long time ago from the streets of crime alley”.

Having said that, I do understand that some of the moments mentioned can be seen as ambiguous and that’s what leads people to theorize/headcanon that idea, because of that I would like to show the panels mentioned in your ask so everyone can read them and make up their own conclusions and then I will talk about the reasons why I don’t like this particular theory/headcanon.

As Robin:

Batman (1940) #422

In these panels we can see Jason as Robin jumping in to defend a woman that was being attacked by a man. There I only see Jason acting like a vigilante would, maybe he was hitting too hard or whatever but Batman has hit people as much as Jason was doing it this time around, plus I, personally, don’t see any kind of problem with Jason beating a man that was harassing and threatening a woman with death.

Right beside we have Jason being on the side of the woman that killed her sister’s attacker. He didn’t see any problem with that woman seeking justice for her sister on her own when the police, Batman and himself couldn’t get the job done.

Here I see Jason having a big problem with authorities and justice system, which is not something new, in Batman #408, Jason says very clearly that he doesn’t trust the system in Gotham (the police, social workers and such), and he was also shown in that comic talking very fondly about his mother and about how much he cared for her when she was at her worst. Let’s remember that Jason loved his mother, he took care of her and resented his father for being abusive towards her and even introducing her to drugs.

Instead understanding these panels as Jason having been abused himself, I see it more as Jason having a humongous understanding of how much women and others suffer in Gotham due to the justice system’s lack of action. I also see Jason as the kind of boy that respected all women and could not sit and do nothing when people were hitting and abusing women just like his father did to his mother.

Batman (1940) #424

This issue starts by saying that Jason jumps into action as soon as he hears someone scream but that he wasn’t going to be prepared to see what was happening. This is the issue where all of us meet Felipe Garzonas, the abuser and rapist of many women. At first Jason doesn’t know what Felipe was doing but after he and Batman “defeat” Felipe, he goes to the room where he finds Gloria in a bed badly hurt and scared. Jason is shocked when he first finds her and after hearing her story in the police station, he becomes more and more happy about the fact that by having caught Felipe, he and Batman would be able to offer some peace and justice to Gloria after he goes to jail, but that doesn’t happen.

They had all the evidence to put Felipe in jail and the police could easily see that Gloria was the victim but because Felipe had someone to back his made-up story up, he was able to not be arrested and jailed.

Jason once again is baffled at the lack of action by the police or simply justice not being able to be made in favour of the true victim. Batman even says that he has noticed that Jason “had become to emotionally invested with the case” which could favour either idea (Jason having suffered sexual abuse or not), in my case I see this once again as Jason not being able to remain calm after doing everything to keep that woman safe and the justice system not being able to do it themselves in a more permanent way (jail time, or whatever).

But that’s not all because Jason being too emotional with that case was brought up as a way to show that Jason couldn’t see that Felipe had been under the influence of drugs, which is something that Jason can see in people very well (do to experience with his mother and his training with Batman). So, Felipe is now a rapist, an abuser, he does drugs and he also has a market for it.

Because Felipe was allowed to go back to his “normal” life he had Gloria be killed, and he kept abusing drugs and women, when Jason finds Gloria’s dead body and that Batman still seems to abide the justice system he snaps. He goes alone to see Felipe and that’s were this iconic panel comes from. The moments before Jason made his first kill and felt no remorse about it. I know this is kinda soft topic because Jason was a teenager, but good for him, kill that bitch. Gotham doesn’t need more people like him.

Batman (1940) #226

This is the issue where Jason attacks the men that were involved with some very nasty stuff involving children. Batman narrates and says that him and Jason had been working on this case for three weeks. Jason jumps into action suddenly and “recklessly” even though Batman considered their investigation wasn’t over, he also says that he thinks that Jason had been “acting oddly” and that he was very “moody, resentful and reckless” and that that attitude could “get him killed”.

This could be used as to add more proof of the abuse idea but I actually see it as build up to Jason’s death, that happened two issues later. Let’s remember that Jason found out of his birth mother and was desperate to find and save her from Joker, because he was a good son but also because he didn’t feel like Bruce loved, cared or appreciated him anymore. Ever since Jason made it clear that he didn’t see the world and justice in the same way that Batman did back in issue #422, Jason and Bruce’s relationship suffered, they just couldn’t see eye to eye on some subjects and Bruce’s neglect or lack of care for what Jason believed in drove Jason to act the way he did in the case involving his mother and the Joker.

Jason obviously has major issues with kids being abused and put in dangerous situations, he as the Red Hood (Winick’s Red Hood) is the same, he really wants kids to be taken far away from drugs so they cannot be manipulated, used and abused by Gotham’s Drug Lords. Here I can see some of the same thing, Jason being protective of those kids and getting fed up with how much time he and Batman had to wait to do anything about the subject, along side it I bet Jason wasn’t seeing the police or the justice system doing anything about the whole thing so that could have probably fuelled his desperate attack of those horrible people.

As Batman/Red Hood:

Batman: Battle for the Cowl #3

Battle for the Cowl… yeah I am going to be brutally honest about this, if anyone thinks that this is someway or somehow proof that Jason had been abused in the past then I think we have very different ways of thinking how survivors must be treated or written in comics and other media.

This to me is pure bad writing, this is some of the worst things I have seen being written in comics. Whether or not this implies Jason being abused or not, Bruce’s message is absolutely disgusting and not at all helpful, it is even worse when you realise that Dick, a canon sexual assault survivor, is the one playing the message to Jason even though Jason explicitly said that he didn’t want to hear it again. That Book, issue, page and panel are extremely badly written and is one of the most terrible Jason and Dick characterizations ever.

So, I don’t really care if this panel is supposed to offer support to that theory or headcanon, I really dislike that speech and if it is actually referencing Jason as being a survivor of child abuse, then Tony S. Daniel needs to make an apology from today to the day he dies.

“Of all my failures, you have been my biggest” “You were broken and I thought I could put the pieces back together. I thought I could do for you what could never be done for me. Make you whole” “What happened to you as a child… the terror, the pain, the horrors” “You needed repair and instead I gave you an outlet to act out on”

Absolute garbage writing. Me, as Bruce is number one hater, know that that speech is even out of character for Bruce. Listen, if Jason had been a victim of sexual assault or just being a kid living alone in Crime Alley, no one should leave a message like that, telling a victim that they were broken and needed fixing, what the hell? No, thank you, this issue proves nothing except that Battle for the Cowl was a mistake as a whole.

Green Arrow (2001) #72

Judd Winick is clever I will always say that, and while I do see why people think that Jason is making the “child abuse idea” canon I still think that the way that he talks is still fairly ambiguous if not just him playing mind games with Mia.

I know it sounds wrong, but hear me out, Winick, in this arc makes Batman say that Jason distracted him and Oliver just to take Mia as a “hostage” because that was Jason’s way to mess with him. This arc happens right after UtRH and Jason is a bit more unhinged than ever. But he doesn’t harm Mia, he just talks to her, he tries to make her see why he acts the way he does and to do that he talks about how much he sees of himself in her. Do I believe that Jason suffered the same things Mia did? No. Do I think that their past is similar? Yes.

But Jason doesn’t only use the fact that they have similar pasts to make Mia rebel against her “no killing ways” and Oliver like he did with Bruce, but he also brings up the fact that their past is incredibly different to the lives of Bruce and Oliver, and that those differences are of importance.

Maybe it’s just me, but I didn’t see Jason bringing Mia’s past for anything other than manipulating her and kinda make her see Oliver in a negative light the way that he does Batman and Bruce. Jason was at a point in his life where all he wanted to do was deliver the same pain that he had gone through but he didn’t do it by physically harming anyone (Mia was left unscratched), he was just out there trying to play mind games so he could break more havoc in Batman’s name.

Mia’s past is just way too different to whatever we have seen in canon from Jason’s past. Maybe I am wrong, after all, I only read about Mia in that arc.

With all that having been said I think it’s pretty obvious that I just don’t think that Jason’ having been sexually abused as a child actually happened, and I also don’t like to think about his past in that way. His canon suffering could have made him act that violently against criminals involved with sexual attacks and drug-related crimes, but I also think that’s just how Jason was, he really disliked the justice system in Gotham and saw how much it failed to protect victims, so now that he had the training to help those who couldn’t do it for themselves, he tried his best to bring criminals to justice.

And when that didn’t work, he grew more and more frustrated with Batman’s methods which led him to be more unforgiving and violent.

I also don’t like the theory/headcanon as a whole because I think its one of those things that Fandom comes up with just for that extra angst factor in their favourite character’s story so they can make him suffer more and because of that no other Robin or character as a whole can ever understand his pain or whatever. In this fandom there is a lot of “competitive trauma” going on and I honestly dislike it a lot.

About Jason having been assaulted while he was in a coma, I don't really know, he was at a hospital for what I believe were six moths, maybe that idea comes from real life happenings but I have never thought of that happening in Jason's life and I would rather not give it much more thought.

Also, I believe that DC just like fandom would have never been able to handle the subject of Jason having been a sexual assault survivor with the respect and care that it actually needs. We have seen DC treat sexual harassment and abuse as nothing but a side plot or bringing it up in an extremely disturbing way. In Fandom some (very few) people end up glamorising or romanticising these subjects so, I don’t believe the comic world was or is ready to treat a backstory like this with the respect it needs.

Maybe I haven’t even treated the subject with the respect and care that it needs and if that’s the case then I am truly sorry.

I had never answered a question regarding this subject before and I really appreciate all the questions you send my way; they do make my brain happy. I am really sorry it took me this long to write an answer to you but I hope the post is good enough for all the time I made you wait!

I hope you have an amazing week!

#jason todd #red hood #robin jason todd #batman #tati writes and is nervous about it #theories and headcanons #dc comics

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lemonsqueezee · 3 years

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Osblaine Week - Day 1

Moment that made you ship:

I don’t really remember the moment I first started shipping them. The first time I watched the show I was stressed out because it’s so dark and I was waiting for something bad to happen. I blame my anxiety for that. I couldn’t relax and ship them immediately because I was worried Nick would turn out to hurt her. Boy was I wrong. It was more of a slow build for me. Looking back I think the moment that all of us, including June, first started really trusting Nick was S1 E5 when he told her he’s an Eye and when he apologized for saying yes to Serena and having sex with her. People in Gilead just don’t do those things, especially men.

The scene that really moved me into shipping territory was when June told Nick that she’s pregnant in the finale of S1. Nick had just broken up with June probably days before this because he was scared, and realistically they don’t know much about each other at this point. June had no idea how he’d react, and the idea of being pregnant, particularly by a man she actually loves, and having to give that baby up to these monsters is terrifying. Nick shocked her by not only being happy about it, but doing what he does best by bringing her hope and peace. He swallowed his fear and showed her that he’s all in. I feel like when he rests his head on her arm, you can actually see him vowing to himself that he’ll do everything possible to get June and their baby out of Gilead and protect them at all costs. This is the moment he becomes a father.

GIF by nickblaine

Favorite scene or episode:

Pretty much every scene of theirs is my favorite. I love everything about these two, even their fight scenes. Nick and June have the most incredible chemistry I’ve ever seen, and their love is just so pure. They fell in love without all the frills and grand gestures we usually experience in our daily lives - they’ve seen each other in their rawest form under the worst kind of circumstances, yet their love is stronger than ever.

My favorite scene is when they tell each other I love you on the bridge in S4 E3. It’s the first time they say I love you at the same time on screen. It’s so powerful because everything that happened between them in the first 3 episodes was so complicated. He had her arrested, and he brought her to a torture facility. She could have easily pushed him away and cut him out of her life forever. But she understands why he had to do it - she understands that good people have to make complicated decisions in Gilead in order to survive. On the bridge Nick brought her the information that Hannah is safe and she loves June, and June gave Nick her vulnerability and her unending trust. If her arrest and torture didn’t break them, nothing will. That’s why it’s so powerful that they tell each other they love each other - they’ve proven to each other that their love is transcendent and it will survive anything. This scene upped their love to soulmate level status.

GIF by nickblaine

My favorite episode is probably S2 E9 - Smart Power. The entire thing is powerful. But the game changer moment is Nick seeking out Luke in the bar to tell him June is ok, and then bringing that info back to June, knowing it’s going to break his heart. He didn’t have to go see Luke, but he did it for June. He risked his life by doing that, and also by bringing the Jezebel letters to Canada and giving them to Luke. He had to listen to June’s husband tell him that he loves June and will never stop, which had to shatter Nick’s heart. But being the good man he is, Nick not only went to immediately see June as soon as he got home (also risking his life), but he told her word for word everything Luke asked him to. He could have protected his heart and been selfish to try to keep June for himself and not relay the message, but he couldn’t do that. His love for her and her happiness is more important to him than his own feelings. This scene proved how strong his love is for her and how selfless he truly is. This scene is the reason why I will never understand antis thinking Nick is a bad person.

GIF by nickblaine

Underrated scene:

One of my favorite scenes that people don’t really talk about is in S2 E10 when Nick comforts June in the snow after Hannah leaves the lake house. She’s absolutely destroyed from seeing Hannah, hearing her daughter express her anger at June for not saving her, and knowing she can’t see her baby again. She had just been horrifically raped by Fred and Serena, and she knows she’s going to have this baby and have to give it up any day now. June is a wreck at this point, and she’s literally on her knees in the snow, crying harder and feeling the most pain she’s ever felt in her life. Nick knows all this, except for the rape (although he knows Fred did something bad), and he tears up watching June be a good mother to her daughter. He also realizes that he’ll be feeling similar feelings of pain by being separated from his own daughter very soon. He gets down in the snow and just holds her, kisses her head, and comforts her with his love. She clings to him for dear life, soaking in all of his love and comfort. It’s the only peace he can bring her, and it’s just so loving and pure. This scene is so them - supporting each other, being each other’s rock, using their bodies to show their love for each other.

GIF by nickblaine

#nick x june #osblaine #i love them so much #true love #soulmates #osblaineweek2021

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k3rm1e · 3 years

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hey hey! it’s me 🥀 anon.. micheal x reader in 3rd grade ( being friends ofc:] ) 🙂 tommy’s daughter ( or gn reader any is cool😎 ) but reader beats up bully for making fun of micheal

friends

hey hey! it’s me 🥀 anon.. michael x reader in 3rd grade ( being friends ofc:] ) 🙂 tommy’s daughter ( or gn reader any is cool😎 ) but reader beats up bully for making fun of michael

hello 🥀 anon! apologies for the long wait, i have been doing things ;-;

but!!! i am here now with this so i hope you enjoy :D

cw: cursing

friends:

you hated him. you hated the small half-piglin half-zombie kid. it was unreasonable, he was your dad’s best friends’ kid. the infamous bench trio, with kids of their own. the legacy left behind, of fallen countries and terrible men, to fall on your shoulders.

you always spoke with him. sat with him on the bus, at lunch, in class, sitting. talking. more of he spoke, you listened. even though the other students came to ask questions, they never stayed. the simple existence of two of you, two kids, with the parents you had was too much.

the old stories of l’manburg, manburg, pogtopia, the infamous button room, the burnt mushroom house, the obsidian walls, logstedshire, the disc confrontation, pandora’s vault, all of it. every story, every tale, included your father. in history class you were stared at, you and the piglin boy. when students wanted to ask about the historical figures they learnt about, it was to the two of you. and you hated it.

the attention, it was never on you. always him. whether it was from students, teachers, family, friends, hell, even the hecking sheep that belonged to the fading soul of a long gone man cared more for the kid. not even tommy, your father, paid more attention to you. he was always out, causing trouble even now. tubbo and ranboo, despite their efforts to keep michael safe, had somehow ended up with him becoming even more of a trouble maker than the three of them combined. you would much rather spend time with the fading soul, listening to his songs as you sat on the glass covering a crater. he claimed it gave him inspiration, to sit above the symphony he never finished.

so, when you saw the small boy talking to others at lunch, you were conflicted. was it good, good he had gained more people, more friends? you never enjoyed sitting with him, having to listen to him speak for hours. he never even realized he was being annoying, causing trouble. so, shouldn’t this have solved your problems? knocked them down the drain?

and yet, you felt bad. staring at them on the playground, your soul hurt. you didn’t want to be like the fading soul, to feel like this. michael, turned to look behind him. the look on his face seeming like it was begging for you to walk over there. but you felt guilt. and so, you ran.

“ghost!” you ran above the glass, making sure your steps weren’t too heavy footed.

he looked up, from his sheet music and the guitar. “oh, hello. are you just getting back from school?” the area around was abandoned. after so many years of being near such a negative place, everyone left. deserted it. all that was left was the glass and the small, somehow still standing structures. at the very bottom of the pit was a sea of red, always growing but never moving, sitting dead yet alive.

“yeah. it was a long day today. and i need advice. but first, do you have any music for me?” you sat in front of him, pulling out extra snacks from lunch out of your back.

“music later, speak now. what’s wrong? do you need some blue?” anytime you seemed upset, ghost gave you blue. when tommy saw, he was nervous. more distant. you didn’t want him to see it, you didn’t want to drive him away. so, you used the dye for other things. your pants, your shirts hoodies, what ever could be dyed. all of it, a deep blue the color of old, burnt suits, used for a country few actually remembered.

“no, no blue today, ghost. i still have some from last time, so thank you. and i need to ask a question. if i do not like someone, should i help them when they are in trouble?” you laid back, the cold of the glass hitting your neck.

“it really depends, what has this person done? in the past, i’ve been wronged by others. heavily.” in his eyes, you could see the healing wounds that may never form, as he felt the blue wool in his hands. the memories of a father and a brother and a sheep, you could see them in the fading soul.

“i was helped, or at least he tried to help me. i didn’t like him. as far as my knowledge goes, he did not like me. he hurt those i loved. even so, he helped me. tried to save me. it backfired, badly. but he still tried. i owe him my gratitude, i wish i could repay him. for all he’s done.” he stared down, reminiscing. the ever living dying red shone in the setting sun.

“so, to conclude, you should help him, in my opinion. i think its good, to help others, even when they’ve wronged you. build amends, y’know?” he looked down to you, who was sitting silently.

“thanks ghost. can you play me something now?” you watched him sigh. you needed to think about what to do, how to go about this. slowly, you heard the faint sounds of a guitar begin.

“the cute bomber jacket you've had since sixth form…”

in the morning, you were ready. at school you pestered michael to no end, speaking when he didn’t. he looked sad? here’s some blue dye my friend gave me , its supposed to make you happy! it’s even the same color of that sheep you like. when the older boys tried to approach him at lunch, you ran with him over to the swings.

“michael, push me on the swings! after i’ll push you and we can try to knock each other off!” he pushed you higher and higher and higher. piglins are stronger than you expected.

for weeks, it was like this. constant talking. michael, despite his usual talkativeness, was quiet. it was tuesday, and you couldn’t find him anywhere. what if those boys were rude to him? is he gonna get hurt? he may be strong, but he’s small. you found him surrounded by taller boys in the corner.

“hey!” you screamed at them, inwardly terrified. dad had always said to be strong so be strong, ‘don’t be a pussy’ he would say (in a joking manner of course).

“the hell you gonna do, shortie?” on of the boys turned around, laughing at you.

“go away!” the boys chuckled again and you felt the anger flow through you. “fuck off you pussies! you cunts!” you screamed at them, using words you’ve heard your dad say. you pushed them over and grabbed michael’s hand. time to run. the boys chased you throughout the woods as you made your way to the location. once you reached the small forest clearing, they were gone. you started walking with him to the crater.

michael was silent before looking at you. “... why’d you help me? i thought you hated me.”

“i... i don’t hate you. not anymore at least! i was mad for dumb reasons and found you annoying because of that. but now, i know that its fine.” you tried to explain your self to him.

“i always talked to you because i don’t like talking to others. i didn’t want you to feel lonely. i know uncle tommy doesn’t talk with you much. he gets nervous.”

this was new information. “why does dad get nervous?”

“i think it has something to do with his own dad. he might be scared of being like him, disappointing you.”

“...oh. i’m sorry. for being bad to you.”

“it’s okay. we’re friends now, right?” he looked over to you, smiling.

you stared down at him. “yeah, yeah we are.” after some silent walking, you arrived at the crater. ghost was sitting on the glass.

“ghost!” you ran to him, dragging michael with him. “ghost, this is michael. michael, this is ghost.” you proudly stood, making michael shake hands with him. he visibly cringed at the coldness of ghost’s hand.

“oh, hello michael. would you like some blue?”

you all sat, talking. you told michael about ghost’s guitar skills and the two of you forced him to play you songs. you were friends now, and it would stay that way.

when the sun went down and you got home, your parents were pissed. your dad was on his knees, crying. he held you in a hug around your waist. “why are you crying?”

“i was so worried about you. don’t do that shit to me again, okay?” you looked up at you and held your face in his hands.

“...okay dad. okay.” you bent down and hugged him as the fading soul watched from a distance.

late post tonight aaaaa

y’know, i really need to stop going off track from asks just to write found family type fluff

but nonetheless, i hope you enjoyed

also is it spelt michael or michEal bc on the dsmp wiki its michAel but idk??

#mcyt x reader #ghostbur x reader #ig?#dsmp michael x reader

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vladtoly · 2 years

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Enough

A/N: So i know i have requests i need to get to, and i’m sorry i have been neglecting you guys. But i have had a very long week really and today was a tipping point for me and i had to get a lot of emotions out. I needed comfort and Gi-Hun is my comfort character so this is what came out. This fic is purely self indulgent and i put some very sensitive topics in it, so i’m sorry if it’s too much. Thank you for reading my writing

Warnings: Manipulation, emotional abuse, low self-esteem, childhood emotional neglect, brief mentions of assault, swearing, unedited

Y/N hung up her phone, silently dropping it to the couch with a shaky hand. She wondered why she tried anymore. Mending the past, cleaning up the broken shards of a mess they refused to accept a hand in. She had always known she was fighting a battle by herself; she just never knew when it would finally hit. But today it had. And it destroyed her more than she ever could’ve imagined.

Choked sobs wracked her body, one hand over her mouth to silence the sounds from the empty apartment. She had yet to let Gi-Hun about her relationship with her parents. He had met her siblings multiple times, her grandparents, but never her parents. She didn’t want to pull him into the maze of confusion and hurt that she’d been caught in since she was a child. Didn’t want to explain the emotional neglect that still haunted her to this day, effecting the relationship that she had with him.

She knew he knew. He wasn’t stupid.

He noticed how closed off she was at the beginning of the relationship. She opened up more and more over time, and he adored all that she allowed him to see, but he did notice that parents were never brought up. He also noticed how insistent she was to say sorry after small, insignificant things; how she never seemed to be sure of any of he actions, looking to him always with a looked that begged for assurance; how she would always push it aside when he said he loved her. Her eyes would show uncertainty that broke his heart every time. And these didn’t include how she showed affection, or rather how she didn’t. Gi-Hun knew she loved him, but he could tell how afraid she was to show it. Like she was scared he would push her away.

Love wasn’t the norm in her household as she grew up. When it was there, it was always conditional. So, in return, she learned to never expect it. Y/N had learned to read the home as soon as she set her foot inside after school. She learned to read emotions younger than one should. She learned what to say to avoid a fight, to keep the peace, only to be left with an uneasy, tense feeling. The girl never felt safe, not even in her own home. Not in the place where she was taught to be invisible.

When she left, got her own apartment, got a good job, met Gi-Hun, she began to finally feel okay. The day Gi-Hun moved in with her, introducing his daughter to her, she felt like it was a new beginning. The man before her never treated her like a nuisance or a burden. He always made her feel so warm, so loved, she felt like she could finally mend her old wounds.

But when her mom reached out to her again, wanting to be in her life, she was back to her old cycle. She purposely left things out of conversations with her mother that she knew she wouldn’t like. She watched her every action, making sure none of it would come back to bite her later. She did everything right, in her head. She was back in the arms of inconsistent safety, and she didn’t know how to feel. But the familiar storm hadn’t come back and she felt calm, okay.

Until today.

In a lapse of judgment, she had told her mom about Gi-Hun, how he lived with her and had for months. All her mom had to say was that it was a mistake, that he would use her and leave. How Y/N should live alone, let her and her father decide her next boyfriend. They always chose the best men, she had insisted. Y/N shuddered as she remembered the past suitors they chose, and how her mother pushed it off when she had told her what some of them had done to her. Anything bad that happened was her fault, Y/N was reminded. It was her fault.

The call had ended with her mom’s condescending, disappointed tone saying, “You’re an adult, you can make your own decisions.” But Y/N knew what that meant- “Make your own decisions, but make sure they’re the ones we want you to make.”

She hadn’t known how long she sat on the couch, purging every tear she had left. Not until she heard the front door open, Gi-Hun announcing he was home.

She had been there too long.

Quickly wiping the tears from her face, her eyes no doubt raw from the actions, yet still turning with a fake smile to her boyfriend as he entered the living room. “Welcome home, honey, how was your day?” she said in a gravelly tone, her throat still sawt with sorrow.

Gi-Hun’s face instantly dropped at the sight of her. He’d never seen her so lost, so empty, so… fragile. He immediately rushed to her side but kept a distance on the couch when he saw her flinch at the quick movement. He watched her with careful eyes as her lip began to quiver, her eyes staring at something on the couch. Looking in the direction, he saw her phone, the screen still lit and only showing one name. Mom.

His heart fell, looking up to his shaking partner. He knew. Tears had begun again, and she held in every noise that tried to escape her throat, not wanting Gi-Hun to see her like this. She was trying to be okay for him. And all he wanted to do was show her she didn’t have to be.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he mumbled. Carefully, he slowly reached his arms out to her. When she didn’t move, he scooted closer, pulling her into an almost bone crushing embrace.

As soon as she was wrapped in his arms, she finally let go, sobbing into his shoulder. “I just want them to be proud of me,” she nearly wailed. “Why am I never enough?”

Gi-Hun shushed her quietly, cradling her head, rubbing circles into her back. “You’re always enough, Y/N. everything you do is always enough.”

The woman pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. Her eyes were red, and all he wanted to do was kiss away her pain. “But she said-“

“I don’t give a fuck what she said.” She jumped at the intrusion but soon relaxed as Gi-Hun pulled her to him again, rocking her slowly. “Whatever she said, it’s not true. If anyone’s not enough, it’s them. I’m proud of you, so proud of you for getting through every day with so much hurt. You have your own home, you have a successful job, Y/N. There’s parents that would kill for a daughter like you. If your parents can’t see that, that’s on them. You’re more than enough, angel.”

He could tell she didn’t believe him, but she stayed silent. Instead, she let him lie down on the couch, pulling her to lay on his chest. His long fingers stroked her hair, lulling her to sleep, emotionally drained from the past few hours. But he didn’t wake her, didn’t want to disturb the temporary peace she had found. He would ask her about the call later, when she was in a clearer head. It wasn’t important now.

Right now, she needed rest.

#squid game x reader #squid game headcanons #gi hun x reader #seong gi-hun x reader

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babylooneytoonz · 4 years

Text

Fear - Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Requested by: Anonymous (Thank you! ❤️)

Summary: Tommy and his second wife, Reader, an independent, successful business woman are living a fairly happy marriage until the reader finds out she's pregnant. Things take a wrong turn when their work life clashes with this news and in the end, the Reader takes a devastating decision. Without consulting her husband.

Warnings: Light angst , mentions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy

A/N: Not my best work, I'm so sorry if it wasn't that good.

Gif credit: @nofckingfighting , @thepeakyfookinblinderss ❤️

By the time you and Mr. Thomas Shelby were celebrating your first wedding anniversary, you were swimming in riches, riches not given to you by your husband in love, but gifted to yourself by you, as a part of self pampering. You had been your parent's only child, a girl, and this is how you had been brought up, extremely loved and pampered, but still carved out in a way to face the hardships like a man. While men and young boys left England to fight the war, which included your father, who never returned, you took it upon yourself to take over his business of running the pub he owned, which automatically fell to you after his death.

Soon, your twenty third birthday was upon you, and you found yourself going to Birmingham city for the first time, with the motive in mind to expand your business and open a pub in Birmingham city as well. But for doing that, you realized you needed a plot, and of course, you needed the Peaky Blinders backing you– because Birmingham City was a city of gangsters, latched to each other's throats, fighting their own internal wars and an independent business run by a woman would hardly grow in a city like this.

So, you'd done what any other person would have done in this city. You had met the leader of the Peaky Blinders, who you had no idea would be your husband just two months after that encounter, with the mind to strike a business deal with him.

Of course, you didn't get the plot you had your eyes on– he was not ready to sell it to you for any price that you named, but you did end up piking the gangster's sudden interest. It was only two days after the meeting you started unknowingly bumping into him at all the odd places– the supermarket, the theater and even outside the railway station when you were travelling to and from London.

Finally, giving in to your own secret temptations– it would have been a lie to say that his icy blue eyes did not haunt you at nights, when you were alone in your cold bed ; or that you didn't think twice about his cheekbones, or imagined his taut chiseled body underneath his ivory shirt– you finally agreed to go out with him. And it was amazing. Tommy Shelby courted you for two months until he finally propped the question of marriage.

You could feel Aunt Polly's piercing gaze on you, but you didn't look up from the file you were going through, doing your math in your head, your glasses pushed over the bridge of your nose.

"Jesus, (Y/N), when was the bloody last time you had anything to eat?"

Polly tapped her manicured fingers against your desk, loud enough to make you snap your head towards her. You almost shrug your shoulders incoherently.

"In the morning? I don't remember."

Polly's lips broke into a weak exhale, her hand reaching out and grabbing your file, pulling it away from you.

"What the fuck?" You protested, trying to take your file back but Polly had it securely held, tucked under her arm.

"Enough, love. I'm not going to bloody sit and watch you starve yourself."

"Pol, I'm really not hungry." You whined but let the older woman drag you along towards the dining room anyway because you really needed to stretch your legs.

You and Polly stepped into the dining room of the Arrowe House, sliding yourselves down on chairs next to each other. While you slowly nibbled on a loaf of bread, Polly sat comfortably, her back resting against the backrest of the chair, a lit cigarette in her hand, her eyes on you. You grabbed the cloth, wiping the remainder of your food from the corner of your lips when a loud gasp escaped your lips. You looked down to see Polly's hand groping at your breast, causing you to wince and slap her hand away.

"For fucks sake, Polly? That hurts!." You snapped at her, only to watch a smirk break out over the corner of her lips.

"Sore you say?"

"Its-Its nothing." You whispered, your face suddenly feeling flushed. It was not a surprise to you, for you had known it since a week. The midwife that lived in back in London, the one your mother often went to, before her death, had confirmed it for you. It had been a week of planning and plotting, worrying endlessly, and you had still not made up your mind whether you wanted to have a baby yet or not.

"Does my nephew know?"

You couldn't help but swallow the bile forming in your throat. You had no answer because you couldn't build up the courage to speak to Thomas about it. You wondered how he would react. Of course, he was just as busy with work as you were. You two had two very similar lives. You were two devoted people, devoted and swimming in work and business. You doubted if there was a place of a baby in either of your lives.

"I peg your silence for a no. Let me ask you this, love. When do you plan on telling him? This is indeed a good news."

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Polly spoke again. You drew a faint forced smile over your lips, a pathetic attempt to mask what you were feeling inside – emotional turmoil. As if on cue, Polly's warm palm took your hand in hers, her fingers clasping shut around yours.

"What's on your mind?"

You parted your lips, unsure of how and what you were going to say to her. How were you supposed to tell her that you didn't think that neither Tommy nor you, were perhaps, ready to be parents yet? Your mind was distracted and your hand unknowingly flew to your almost non existent bump, unconsciously stroking over it. Finally, with a finality in your eyes, you pushed your head up and gave Polly a stare down. You knew what you were thinking was the biggest sin in the eye of God, but somehow, it scared you, thinking how this baby's life would be if you actually decided to have it. You feared how this little life that you had created with Tommy would be subjected to a life neglected by the both of yous. Worst of all, you had this deep, lingering fear coiling deep within the pit of your heart, that maybe Tommy wouldn't want it. So before you could let your own heart shatter, hearing him say how he didn't care for the baby that was growing inside of you, how he would ask you to visit this woman who was an expert to deal with these kind of situations, you will confront him yourself and tell him that before he can say it to you.

"I just – I don't feel so well, Pol." You pursed your lips and lied blatantly to her.

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

Your eyes were fixed on the massive pendulum of the grandfather clock in the dining room, swinging sidewards, your palms nervously tapping against the surface of the dining table. You were waiting for your husband to return home because you couldn't delay speaking about this anymore to him. A part of you felt guilty for having kept this a secret from him from such a long time, after all, the baby was his as much as it was yours.

He had every right to know, even if you didn't want to keep it.

Your thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the front door opening. You waited a few minutes until a familiar silhouette approached the dining room, the footsteps getting louder and louder, probably owing to the fact that the lights were switched on. Tommy poked his head through the door and when his eyes fell on you, his eyes softened and he walked inside, towards you.

"Why aren't you in bed, love?"

You could see how tired your husband was, his eyes were droopy, dark bags crimson underneath his swollen eyelids, his face a paler shade. He never listened to you – he just worked and worked and worked, pushing beyond his capacities often, pulling in all nighters, mostly when you didn't even have a clue where he was or what he was doing. The truth was, it were all these reasons that made you feel not ready to be a mother, yet. What were you supposed to do alone? You didn't want to raise this child alone. Just having Tommy's name as his father but hardly ever getting to spend time with him, that scared you.

"I wanted to speak to you." There was a deep silence lingering in the room, only to be broken by the sound of your weak voice.

His lips parted in confusion, his usually calm ocean like eyes slightly widened. He gave you a shake of his head.

"Tommy, I –" You swallowed the lump forming inside your throat. Your heart was wildly hammering inside you chest and it felt like it was going to pop out any second. You took a step closer to him, nervously fiddling with your fingers.

"You want a divorce? Is that what this is?" Tommy's words caused you to take a sharp intake of breath.

"No! I – A divorce? No. I just – Tommy, I'm pregnant." You blurted out.

Tommy froze for a split second, only to finally relax in his posture and reach for his box of cigarettes while his eyes were fixed on you.

"Is it true? Are you really?"

His voice was neutral, you couldn't figure out if he was angry or ecstatic.

"I know Tommy, I know we are fucking busy people, and there's no room in our marriage for a baby. Which is why I'm going to go see that woman the next town, to you know–" Your eyes had watered up and your throat suddenly felt parched. You slowly turned to your side, your face now shielded from Tommy's views. You quickly brought up your sleeve to your eyes and wiped your tears.

"You want to go to that woman next town? To get rid of–" It was as though Thomas was repeating your words to himself, his index finger swaying in the air. Suddenly, he took a step closer to you and snatched the lit cigarette from your hand, bringing it up to his lips, casually. He looked so casual, how could you even know that a storm of rage was brewing up inside him.

"Should I not, Thomas? Are you ready for a baby? Are you then?"

A part of you wanted to hear him say yes, a small maternal side of you, that had already started to love that little foetus inside you deeply. That part of you wanted Thomas Fucking Shelby to stop you and tell you that you two could work through it, that he would make this work. A baby. He would love to have one with you.

"I think it would be for good. You should take Polly with you."

It would have been a lie to say that your heart didn't break at his words. Of course, he wasn't ready. You gave him a weak nod of your head and turned around, walking into your bedroom.

Three days passed and the tension between you and Tommy didn't wash away. He barely spoke to you twice in these three days– not that you had wanted him to– you were as mad as he was. With each passing day, your anxiety and your reluctance had grown. But finally, the day was here. Today, Polly was taking you to this woman the next town.

You and Polly sat at the back of the car, a young Blinder boy driving you to the the location. You couldn't bring yourself to meet her eyes at any cost, so you kept your eyes placed on the passing silhouettes of the old, greying buildings.

"Look at me, will you?" Polly's voice beckoned to you, forcing you to sharply turn your head towards you.

Her eyes were soft, you could see pale wrinkles under her eyes. Her warm palm took yours in hers and squeezed it.

"Us fucking women have been always forced to make difficult choices, love. You know I–" Her lips trembled, her eyes started growing moist. "– If I could bloody go back in time, I would stop myself from giving up on my children. I curse myself (Y/N), every night, even though Michael's here with me now, but I missed his childhood. I missed watching him grow. You know you don't have to do this."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and parted your lips, struggling to push words out of your mouth, to vent out how you really felt, so you lied.

"Polly, we are not ready to be parents. The life we live, as long as it's just me and Tommy, it doesn't worry me. But bringing a child into this world of crime, of death, it would be wrong of me to be so fucking selfish."

"And isn't it selfish of you to deny your baby the chance to choose his own life?"

It felt as though someone had wrapped his palms around your neck and blocked out your oxygen supply. Lucky enough, the car came to a halt and the Blinder boy turned towards you, his eyes drawn to Polly as he informed that you were here. Polly nodded and stepped out, you following.

The street was quiet and lonely, with not many souls in view, unlike the bustling streets of Small Heath. The woman's house was the corner most so you and Polly, wrapping your coats tighter against your bodies to shield yourselves of the chilly wind, walked along until you both were standing against an old looking door with a massive lock on it.

"What the fuck?" You cursed, frowning. "Are we at the right address?"

Polly nodded and shrugged, pulling out her box of cigarettes.

"Of course we are, this is where she lived. Wait, I'll ask the neighbours."

You kept standing there, underneath the porch as Polly walked up to the house next door, her heels clicking against the gravelled floor. You saw her talk to a woman with greying hair, their eyes momentarily turning and fixing on you, making you feel uneasy. Soon, the woman had shut the door and Polly was making her way back to you. You could see that there was a faint smirk ploying across her face.

"Well, seems like your husband was here."

"What? Tommy?" Your eyebrows perked up.

She hummed and nodded, her hand mechanically moving up and her cigarette pressed to her lips.

"The woman said that the Peaky Fucking Blinders paid the woman a visit, and ever since, the woman's gone."

It all made sense now. Of course, Thomas Fucking Shelby. You wondered if he had killed the woman, or just threatened her enough to run away.

"Do you know anyone else?"

"Unfortunately not, but I will see what we can do. For now let's just go back love."

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

You were fuming.

To say the least, your cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Three days.

Tommy hadn't looked you in the eye.

But today you wanted to confront him.

Ask him the reason why he was interfering in women's business.

So you were waiting. Sitting on the loveseat in your shared bedroom with Thomas Shelby, tapping your fingers against your thighs. It was almost midnight when the door to your bedroom finally opened and Thomas walked in, as usual his cigarette held in his fingers. He had probably hoped to find you in bed , sleeping but when he saw the empty bed, his head sharply turned towards you at first before he forced himself to ignore you and move towards the closet to grab his t-shirt and his boxer shorts.

"Where is that woman Tommy?"

You saw him stiffen for a second before turning around and raising his eyes, until his blue eyes were fixed on yours.

"London, Bristol, I don't care where the fuck she went."

You stood up, walking up to him until you were standing in front of him.

"Why Tommy? What the fuck?"

"Why. Why? WHY? If you can decide and fucking come to a conclusion without even letting me know, why can't I eh?" He screamed, causing you to flinch and step back, still furious.

"This isn't fair Thomas, this fucking isn't fair. These are our matters."

Tommy suddenly grabbed you by your arms, his nails almost digging into your flesh as he almost shook you.

"What did you expect me to do? To just let you go and end what we had created?"

Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes filling up with water.

"You said you didn't care." Your words came out a mere whisper and your body felt like jelly, almost ready to melt into his arms.

"Of course, I fucking care. Is that what you fucking think about me? For fucks sake, I - I know I might not be a good father, I might even fucking be like my own father but that doesn't mean I want you to fucking go and end what we created." Tears were brimming in your eyes and when you blinked, they spilled out, warm salty water rolling down your cheek, a faint smile breaking out on your lips. Tommy's expressions softened and he found his palm reaching for your face, his thumb stroking over your cheek, over your tears. "Why did it even cross your mind? The fucking thought of doing what you were going to do."

You closed your eyes for a brief second and fluttered them open again, leaning into his touch.

"How can we be good parents Tommy if we have a life of our own? Where you can't stop risking your life everyday and I'm not even sure if I would fucking see you again?"

Tommy looked like he could kill you. He had a burning red rage lingering in his eyes but yet, he had a soft look on his face, a look that was only reserved for you. He slowly let go off your arms, looking down at your stomach for a quick second and then back up.

"That child deserves to be allowed to live as much as you or I did, (Y/N). I don't care if I have to change my lifestyle. I don't care if I have to give up on some things that I did before this. I want this child, love. I want this. With you."

A small smile broke out against your lips, but as soon as it had broken out, it washed off again, when the realization hit you.

"Tommy, it's not easy. It's a lifetime commitment. From you. From me. It means keeping our baby safe from whatever it is that could potentially harm it."

His warm palms grabbed your cheeks, pulling your face upwards to meet his gaze.

"I promise you love, no one would lay a fucking finger on you or our baby and live."

You knew what he meant was true – every single word of it – and you didn't doubt on what Thomas Fucking Shelby could do for his family. This scared you a little but you closed your eyes, telling yourself to trust on the man that loved you, and who loved the baby growing inside of you, he would never let any harm come to you or your baby.

[ Tagging list : @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theamuz ]

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

The Tyrant Emperor ~ MYG [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count : 3.4K

↬↬↬Genre: Yandere, fluff, protective emporor, jealously and hints of sexual encounters.

↬↬↬WARNING: YANDERE THEMES AHEAD PLEASE PROCED WITH CAUTION IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THAT STYLE/THEME OF WRITING. Also includes mentions of killing, murder, blood, abuse,

↬↬↬Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi x Reader

↬↬↬A/n: I hope this is okay for you sweetie!! Hope it’s okay for you, I’m not sure if it counts as yandere? But I hope it’s alright.

↬↬↬Word of the day for this fic - Tyrant - Curel/ Oppresive ruler

You looked up at your father as he walked you through the halls of the palace, you'd been travelling to Joseon all week in the back of a horse-drawn carriage and you'd finally arrived and were being escorted to the palace. You had no idea what was happening no one would explain anything to you since you were nothing but a peasants daughter,

"Dad where are we going-" You were cut off by a slap across the cheek and you held your face in silence staring forward at the sliding doors that lead to the throne room. You heard muffled voices and shuffling before the doors slid open, you bowed down to the emperor and your father did the same. You'd heard stories about him and you knew not to get on the wrong side of him or he would kill you, he wouldn't even hesitate. You were pulled roughly into the throne room and thrown down onto the floor in front of the emperor, your knees burning from the fabric of your hanbok grazing them.

"What is it you want in return?" You didn't dare look up when you heard the emperor speaking but you wanted to know what was happening, in return for what?

"I want my debt to be cleared then she is yours." Your eyes shot up to your fathers but he kicked you in the side forcing you to stare back down at the floor and you winced in pain. You hadn't noticed but the emperor had actually winched along with you, already feeling a sort of protection over you and he didn't even know you.

"Your debt is cleared Mr Y/l/n." Your father didn't even give you a second look as he turned to walk out of the palace leaving you on the floor, you didn't cry, you didn't even tear up at the thought of him leaving you there.

"Rise." You got up from your knees but kept your eyes trained on the floor as Emperor looked you over, he was walking around you in circles as if studying you which he was.

He smirked as he watched you staring at the ground, you'd obviously heard the stories about him which meant you were scared of him. One less thing for him to do, scaring you into obeying him. He raised his hand to move their hair from your face and noticed you'd flinched and he instantly withdrew his hands, hoping none of the royal guards were watching when he did so.

"Have her cleaned, get her some robes and I will meet her for dinner." He announced and two maids came rushing over along with their superior Court lady who took your arm in hers and began walking you out of the throne room in silence.

"Eyes down deary." She whispered to you patting your arm as you walked through the halls, you had no idea where they were taking you until you reached another set of sliding doors.

"This will be your room, we will be your ladies in waiting." The court lady said to you as she helped you into the room, you looked around the room and it was plain. White walls, wall floor and a red bed sitting in the middle of it with some dressers spotted around.

"You will never have to dress yourself, fetch your own food or be alone again." She went to leave your side when you grabbed her hand,

"What's going to happen to me?" She turned to look into your eyes and noticed they were filled with fear and tears, you looked terrified and your body was shaking. She was torn between telling you the truth or feeding you lies as she had with the others that came before you,

"Nothing sweetie, Yoongi will just keep you as company." She lied deciding it was easier than scaring you more than you already were. The others were all the same, looked the same as you and even had the same father like figure but you were different. There was something about you that was different to the rest of them and she prayed you would be different than the others for your sake.

"We'll drawer you a bath and then find some new Hanboks." You nodded and sat on the edge of the bed while they all began to work around you.

Back in the throne room, Yoongi was staring at where you were once standing and he bit down on his lip trying not to think about you too much. You were just like the others but there was something different, you had an aura of innocence around you that they hadn't had. When your father kicked you you didn't speak back to him or cry you kept it all hidden away unlike the others who would talk back or even cry out in pain, you tried to hide it.

"Sir?" He looked to his left to see his main royal guard asked,

"Make sure Mr Y/l/n doesn't make it home but that the rest of his family are living comfortably." He ordered looking back at the spot where you had been standing, the royal guard left his side and went to do as he'd commanded. Yoongi couldn't get the look on your face out of his head, the way you stared up at your father when he'd agreed to sell you but Yoongi knew the pain of being hit by a father figure all too well and it wasn't right but no one was going to know what he'd done for you. It would show weakness and that's not what he was about, he was a cruel and oppressive ruler he didn't need people knowing he had a secret softer side.

That same night you were escorted to a room with a table in the middle, it was lit up with candles and the rest of the room was lit up with lanterns.

"He'll be here soon, keep your head down and only speak when spoken to." You nodded and your court lady left the room, you knelt down at the table and kept your eyes fixed on the wooden table not knowing what else to do while you waited. The doors opened and you heard the shuffling of feet meaning he was there now,

"Good evening," He greeted kneeling across from you,

"Evening your highness." You whispered back to him, eyes not lifting from the woodwork for even a second and he sighed at the fact that you weren't going to look at him,

"You can look at me I won't hurt you." Your eyes slowly lifted up to meet his and he sent you a soft smile to try and calm you down. Your heart was racing at being in the same room as a man that had just purchased you. Throughout the entire day, you'd heard different chambermaids talking in hushed tones as they stared at you meaning they were talking about you,

"Do you have any questions about why you're here?" You nodded and he urged for you to continue, you cleared your throat and licked your bottom lip as you tried to gather the courage to talk to him about it.

"Why am I here? W-What's my purpose? Am I training to be a court lady?" He chuckled softly and shook his head at you, pouring you both some wine from one of the jugs on the table. On any other night, he would have people serving him but there was something about you that made him want to be alone with you, to not be the awful person he was usually.

"You're not dressed to be a lady in waiting don't ask stupid questions." His tone came out a little harsher than intended and you stared back down at the floor,

"You're not stupid so why act it? What do you think you're here for?" You had no idea why you were there, you knew it wasn't to be a maid or you wouldn't be dressed in royal hanbok's or having dinner with the emperor.

"I'm not sure," He sighed and leant his hands on the table,

"You're going to be my wife...Queen here." Your eyes snapped up to look at him,

"There are regulations, you can't marry someone like me-"

"Someone like you?" He questioned raising his eyebrow and it was now you were finally taking in his appearance. His long blonde hair flowing down his front, the scar on his left eye that looked as though it was still fresh despite you knowing it happened when he was a child. No one knew how though, no one would ever know how it happened.

"A peasant girl." You answered locking eyes and he shook his head at you and sliding you the glass of wine he'd poured,

"I'm the emperor, I can marry whoever I please." You stared at the red liquid inside of the cup and sipped on it cringing at the taste.

"You don't like it?" You shook your head, explaining you were more of a soju person than a wine person.

"I'll have some ordered in time for the wedding." You nodded knowing you had no choice in whether or not you wanted to marry him and the room fell into a silence.

"Tell me about yourself." He spoke as he began eating the food that was being brought in, you looked at the food and then up at him.

"There isn't much to know...I'm a farm girl, my father sold me...that's all." He shook his head and once the doors were shut again he asked to know the real you, secrets you had, hobbies and the things you enjoyed so you went on to explain everything to him. Feeling comfortable around, there wasn't the tension there had been when he first came into the room, he was like a different person than the stories you'd heard about him were.

Three weeks had passed since your arrival and you were getting ready for the wedding, you were a couple of hours away before becoming a queen in front of the Kingdom of Joseon who were all eager to see who their new queen was.

"You look amazing." The court lady whispered as she walked you through the halls, you were getting ready to go out and marry him when you were stopped by two royal guards.

"We'll take her from here." The court lady bowed and left the area and you were walking behind the men when they suddenly stopped just outside the throne room.

"Pretty little peasant girl, all excited to become queen." One of them said running his hand over your cheek and you stared at him you knew if Yoongi was to see this it would result in bloodshed. Over the three weeks of knowing him, he'd become obsessive with you, wanting to know where you were every minute of the day and who you were with which was normally you alone with the court ladies, learning something new about the palace or you were in your room reading the books he'd managed to acquire for you.

"You will never be queen, he will kill you just like he did the others." The second guard spat out as he ran his hand up your side and you just stared forward at the door hoping Yoongi would be out soon but there was more chance of you being able to kick their asses.

"Leave me alone." You whispered but it resulted in a slap across the face leaving a red mark across your cheek, you heard the doors open and you knew Yoongi was there now but they hadn't heard.

"You're not our queen so don't tell us what to do! What if we just killed you and told Yoongi there was an accident." The second the words left the first guards mouth he was on the floor, head rolling behind Yoongi's feet and blood splashing up on your hanbok.

"What did he do?!" Yoongi asked looking at the second guard who was begging for his life on his knees staring between you both,

"Slapped me across the cheek." You mumbled not even looking in the second guard's direction as Yoongi took the sword and took his head off just as easy as he had the first one. You didn't even flinch or react when he did so and he stared at you,

"We should get you cleaned up." He threw the sword down onto the floor and walked you through to his room, in the last three weeks you still hadn't been inside but it was just like your room only bigger with a larger bed in the middle. Yoongi called for some maids to start running a bath and for new robes for you, your wedding would be postponed by a couple of hours until you were both clean. The maids running the bath were shaking as they'd just heard the news about the beheadings in the palace,

"If it's too hot I won't hesitate to kill you too!" He barked at them making them shake more but one touch from you and Yoongi felt relaxed instantly but not letting it show in front of you. He was a torn man, torn between letting himself fall further in love with you or throwing you against the wall and screaming for you letting the other men touch you, though he knew it wasn't your fault that they touched you.

The wedding had happened without any more interruptions and now you were queen sitting on the small throne beside Yoongi's but hidden behind a screen like all the other queens that ruled beside emperors.

"I bring you gifts." A farmer said as he bowed to Yoongi not looking over at you since it wasn't their place to do so,

"I bring you food for your table, and I bring my daughter a wonderful physician who would be willing to work closely with the queen when she falls pregnant." Pregnant?! You didn't show a reaction but you stared at the young girl who was dressed in a medical Hanbok and looking at you with a small smile on her face. She was pretty, too pretty to just be a physician and you glanced up at Yoongi who was staring down at her, you felt a twinge of jealousy run through your body but you kept it hidden lowering your head as the man continued to talk about what he had brought for Yoongi and the palace.

The physician was good at her job, she'd been given a place in the hospital wing of the castle until you eventually did become pregnant which wasn't going to happen any time soon since you didn't want to bare with a child just yet and Yoongi didn't want a son yet either he was still trying to rule the Kingdom alone and come across the mean emperor he was and was always going to be,

"Why do you think she isn't pregnant yet?" You heard the physician question when you were walking through the halls with your chambermaid who froze as soon as she heard them speaking,

"I heard she's not pleasing him enough." Another voice said and you looked at the court lady who was staring down at the floor knowing what they were saying was wrong,

"I heard she's sleeping with some of the guards." Another voice spoke and you stared at the floor thinking of what you could do about all of this.

"Bring them to the throne room in ten minutes." You walked away and rushed off to the throne room, Yoongi was sitting there looking bored as someone spoke to him about something you didn't care about.

"Out." You ordered and they all left the room closing the door behind them, Yoongi watched as you walked up to him and dropped to your knees in front of him looking up at him as you smirked and reached out your hand to rub him through his robes.

When the doors opened you looked over at the physician and her friend wiping your mouth to hint at what you had just done to Yoongi as if seeing him sitting there sweating and panting on his throne wasn’t a sign enough already.

"You wanted to see us Ma'am?" You smiled at Yoongi and he frowned not knowing what you were doing, he'd just had one of the best times of his life in the throne room but you looked pissed off.

"The next time you decide to speak ill or me or the emperor I will have you killed." Yoongi cocked his eyebrow as you said that and the girls left the room in a hurry, Yoongi was standing behind you and gripping your wrist tightly,

"Have you been listening to rumours?" You stared at the floor and he knew that you had been,

"If I listened to all of the rumours everyone would be dead." He growled dragging you through the halls and towards his chamber, he pushed you down onto the floor and you stared up at him.

"I mean according to rumours you're sleeping with the royal guard, you're flirting with everyone!" You hadn't seen him this mad since the day he killed the two guards who had slapped you across the face,

"Y-Yoongi I-"

"I'm not sleeping with them." He mocked scoffing and staring down at you, he gripped your face in his hands and he stared down at you feeling soft as soon as you stared back up at him.

"I know you're not...I'm sorry." He dropped to his knees in front of you and you touched his face, your thumbs rubbing circles into his skin and you kissed him softly.

"Even though this wedding was against my will I've...I've fallen in love with you." It was true over the last month or two you'd grown close as a couple and he was giving you secrets you'd never known before. You were like an average couple except he was a raging emperor with an anger problem and regularly took it out on people he killed,

"I would never hurt you." He softened again upon hearing those words come from your lips and you kissed him gently moving closer to him and cupping his face in both of your hands.

"I love you too," He whispered back to you and he meant it he truly did though he was never going to say it outside of those four walls or let anyone else know that you were his one true weakness.

"There's one thing you haven't told me." You whispered to him later that night, running your fingers along his bare chest as you laid in his bed.

"What's that?" He asked running his hand up and down your spine as you laid curled up to him,

"How you got the scar on your cheek." He looked down at you, no one knew the story and he'd vowed no one would ever know the story but there was just something about you that made him want to spill everything.

"My father. When I was younger I told him I didn't want to rule. I want to be a guard instead and so we were out practising and he cut me on purpose to teach me a lesson." You stared up at him in shock about to say something when the door opened a royal guard was standing there about to speak when Yoongi glared at him.

"You do not enter without permission!" He screamed getting up from the bed and reaching for his sword, the guard had his eyes fixed on you the moment the sheet fell from your body and the moment Yoongi noticed this he was a dead man. Being stabbed through the stomach and left to die on the floor.

"Maids!" Yoongi screamed shutting the door and turning back to you, he'd noticed you'd not moved from the bed and he walked over to his bathroom calling out for another set of chambermaids to run him a bath.

"I'll do it," You insisted excusing the maids and running the water yourself, you sat him in the bath and he relaxed as the hot water met his skin.

"Get in with me." You stripped out of the robe you had been wearing after sat between his legs laying your head back against his chest and relaxing together. Yoongi vowed to himself he would kill anyone that hurt you or looked at you in any way he didn't approve of and he meant it.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @btsiguess-kpop @fan-ati--c

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cesca-untoldstories · 3 years

Note

- Jotaro(all parts) HCs?

- Jonas?

- Cesca×Alex( @brurururu ) is valid?

😇 We start headcanon-ny today! aren't we? I love it!

🌸My Jotaro headcanons from all parts: -Before his 17 (Pre-Stardust crusaders): A child who never had friends and received a lot of bullying at school, since it is known that on those dates the Japanese tended to be more zenophobic with respect to other countries, and having an American mother more teased for being "a mix of cultures" and that made him very overprotective with his mother, to the point of stopping having friends to focus on being "mom's friend"

-Stardust Crusaders: At this precise moment in his life and thanks to living with men for a month, generally more male-centered jokes, she was able to learn more about his body. Before he was not attracted by the excitement or feeling "hot" but listening to what Polnareff had to share or the tips that Kakyoin could give he began to know himself more deeply in his tastes, and that triggered him to explode in curiosity about what love was. and have relationships with deep connections.

-Diamond is Unbreakable: He is a tired man and although he is very passionate about the sea and his PhD to be an oceanographer. I think it is the clearest point where it is shown that Jotaro was never a bad father and if he knows how to deal with children, especially as subject to shizuka. All those who say that he is a bad father for abandoning Jolyne can kiss my freckled ass. He is not a bad father, he is a man who was a father at an early age and, confused with his different neuronal problems, ended up believing that the best option for a person to be happy was to "get away from her life" to believe that he is not important like him He saw his father including grandfather, since we are talking about Jotaro not recognizing his own grandfather which meant that his father figures were absent. No one is born knowing what it is like to be a parent. I know how much Jolyne's mother suffered along with Jolyne, because she needed him. Jotaro weighs that in his heart, he hurts himself every day with that thought but he just has to keep going as he always has, and when he is seen holding Shizuka... it is something beautiful. He is not and has never been a bad parent, they just haven't taken the time to understand him.

-Vento Aureo: I have a faithful headcanon that alludes to Jotaro naming the fish in his aquarium after his fellow Crusaders. sometimes they like to talk to them. tell them about his day... he misses them. he need them.

-Stone Ocean: Jotaro dad to the rescue! but who ended up being rescued? himself. Jolyne is so strong and he was always scared. because he is an overprotective father! he feared that in jolyne's childhood they might make something to her because of him and his past for not owning a stand and being Jotaro's legitimate daughter. but at the moment and that precise moment that MY GOD I AM GOING TO TATTOO ON MY ARM! when Anasui asks Jotaro if he can marry Jolyne and Jotaro treats jolyne like a little girl at first but when time goes by she tells both "the one you should ask is me, not him" announcing that it is not a little girl, she is strong and can make her own decisions.

IN THAT PRECISE MOMENT JOTARO FEELED HOW MUCH HE HAD WAS WRONG IN HIS LIFE, HE COULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY TOGETHER WITH HIS LADY AND HIS DAUGHTER ALL THIS TIME. BUT HOW COULD I KNOW THAT SHE WOULD BE SO STRONG TO UNDERSTAND!

sorry I ended up kinda emotional and aaaaa-!

🌸Jonas?

Yes Jonas Indeed is Jotaro's son. making some changes from what I've always said to better fit the stories now, Jonas would be born in 2001/2002. which meant that her parents lived together from 1999 until Francesca decided to disappear and return to Japan without telling him about that pregnancy.

reasons you will be asking me?

Jotaro was already in divorce proceedings long before 1999, at the end of Diamond is Unbreakable and when he asked Francesca to work with him at the foundation. Francesca leaves her home in Japan to go with him. In that time many things happened and it is more they were reciprocated romantically and lovingly, but Francesca knew that it was not the moment since in the midst of divorce proceedings and constant fights with his daughter she could see how tired and mentally exhausted he was, they both needed to be reciprocated and receiving and giving love after so long. but it was not the right time since Francesca wanted to be able to get married, have a family and he... wanted everything private, he wanted the opposite in those moments. Francesca the moment she found out about her pregnancy had a giant fear, and she decided it was time to stop hiding everything and start living her new life, together with the little creature.

Francesca confessed what she wanted and Jotaro denied it, but by the time she left, she knew that he wanted it too. Kei Kanokami is Francesca's next process of developing as a family, as a mother and a wife. what she dreamed of and have a nice family. that's why I never compared Kei to Jotaro, both two are too important to Francesca's life but they are different parts of her life equally important to her.

🌸 Cesca×Alex( @brurururu ) is valid?

What do you say Gigi? are they a valid Ship? I honestly love seeing them together, it's like seeing Josuke and Okuyasu, that friendship that you don't know if it's friendship or a beautiful unconditional love. I have my own headcanon that they are the same part of a multiverse, so to speak.

I don't know if y'all have seen Loki to explain how Loki falls in love with himself, the female version of another parallel? it is something similar. It is a genuine friendship when they are together and it is quite nice to appreciate it from a point where Both Jotaros must understand that they have really hit the mark with their tastes.

(could you say foursome? haha)

#mun fran talking #.headcanons #and true facts too #canon story

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

The Ranch {20}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

The Ranch Masterlist

Nesta awoke with a gasp, her hands instinctively reaching for her baby, for her precious, baby girl.

But her arms were tied behind her back.

She looked around, trying to figure out where she was, what time it was, if she recognized anything. And she thought she must be dreaming.

Because she was in the little house on the neighboring property. In Armand and Collette’s home. She could see the sun getting ready to rise over the hills.

She was alone, no one else in sight, but it was obvious who was behind it all. She instantly began crying, silently, knowing who was behind it all, knowing that Cassian was raising hell trying to find her in her absence.

“Hello?” She called.

But there was nothing. No response, no footsteps, nothing.

Nesta tried breaking out of her bonds, but there was no use, they were too tight. The infant within her womb moved, and Nesta let loose a breath of relief. If nothing else, baby girl was okay.

She regretted ever letting Tomas into her life, regretted letting him know anything about her, including that damned property.

She tried to stop the sob that tore from her, but she feared, not for herself, but for her daughter. She didn’t know who to pray to, didn’t know if she should scream or cry or start saying her last rights.

“Tomas, please,” she finally called. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t do anything. I won’t say anything, just…” She sobbed again. “Please don’t hurt my baby.”

The silence was almost worse than if he would have responded.

After a few minutes of no response, a wholly new fear washed over Nesta. Tomas wasn’t here. Yes, he would be coming back, he was the only one, aside from Cassian who knew this house belonged to her. But he wasn’t here and she didn’t know when he’d be back.

Nesta knew it wouldn’t do anything, knew that no one was around to hear her, but she was unable to stop herself as she threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs.

——

Azriel was awake at four-thirty like he was every day. He’d made some calls the night before, arranged for some contacts he knew in the ranching community to come take care of Cassian and Nesta’s place, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting up early for a reason.

He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Elain, and got ready, before making his way downstairs. He found Cassian standing at the kitchen island, a mug of black coffee on his left side, a glass of whiskey on his right.

“I can’t decide which to drink,” he breathed, and Az had never heard his brother’s voice so empty.

“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find her.”

Cass swallowed hard, but nodded. Azriel pulled him into a hug and Cassian didn’t try to hide the tears that ran down his cheeks as he embraced his brother. Their family had always been there for each other, lending strength when the other needed it.

They just never imagined they’d need it so desperately.

After a minute, Cass decided on drinking both, tossing the whiskey back and leaning back against the island as he drank his coffee. “Rhys is on his way. He’s been awake since three.”

Azriel looked at the digital clock over the stove and raised an eyebrow. “What’s he been doing to just now be on the way?”

He knew the likely answer involved Feyre, but he couldn’t imagine that they’d be focusing on that at a time like this.

“Same as me,” Cassian said, reaching into the back of his waistband, pulling out the warm metal and removing the magazine before he set the gun on the counter. “Making sure that if we see him, he won’t get away this time.”

Azriel hesitated. Yes, he wanted to make sure Nesta and the baby were safe. It was all he could think about. But what Cassian wanted so desperately to do would only make the situation worse.

“Cass-.”

“No,” he said, voice low. “I know what you’re going to say, so save your breath. When I see him, he’s a fucking dead man.”

“He’ll be locked up, Cass. She’ll be safe, the baby will be safe, you don’t have to-.”

“He fucking took her!” Cassian yelled, his voice echoing throughout the house. Azriel didn’t say a word, wasn’t surprised by his brother’s anger, his frustration. “He deserves a lot worse than a few years behind bars, Az!”

“Yeah, he does,” Azriel said, quietly. “But, so do you, and if you shoot him and he dies, there’s a real good chance you’ll miss quite a bit of your daughter's life.”

Cassian’s jaw locked and he looked away as another tear fell from his hazel eyes.

“Stay armed,” Azriel said. “Use it in self-defense, if it comes to it, but use it wisely. Not out of anger.”

The stairs creaked from the other room and the two men fell quiet as Elain stepped around the corner. Her eyes were red, her cheeks still wet. There wasn’t a jealous bone in Azriel’s body as she walked to Cassian and wrapped her arms around him.

His large frame crumbled in a way Azriel hadn’t seen in years, hadn’t seen since they were children and his mother had died. Regardless of Elain’s arms holding him, his knees hit the floor and he was unable to stop the full-body sob that tore from him. He could hear Elain’s quiet sobs, too, could see her back shaking.

Without a word, Azriel stepped out into the crisp, early day and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his truck. He didn’t smoke anymore, had quit years ago, but his nerves were shot and he needed something to take the edge off. He sat down on the porch and lit it, taking a drag in and blowing it out. He wasn’t sure where the smoke stopped and his breath in the cold air began.

A black truck rumbled down the street and parked behind his own and when Rhys jumped out, Azriel could still see that same anger from last night simmering in his violet eyes. When they saw Az though, they guttered slightly. “I thought you quit.”

He put the cigarette back to his lips and pulled. “Figured no one would care if I made an exception today.”

Rhys nodded and made to step around his brother, but Azriel caught his hoodie sleeve. “Just...give them a minute.”

Rhys looked to the door, knowing what he meant. He inclined his head to the truck, where Az could see a head of golden brown hair in the front seat. “Feyre is… She’s a fucking mess.”

“Elain did well, for most of the night,” Azriel admitted, ashing his cigarette. “But just a few minutes ago, she came downstairs and Cass was awake…”

Rhys nodded, sitting next to Az. They were pissed. They were scared. But the fear that the two of them felt was nothing to that of Cassian, Elain, and Feyre.

“I don’t need to have the gun talk with you, too, right?” Az asked, glancing down to where Rhys’ pistol was holstered at his side, and flicked the cigarette butt into the flower bed. Elain would be pissed at him for that, but he’d deal with that later. “No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “I’m not an idiot. I told him I was bringing my gun, just in case. He gave me the same shit about giving Mandray what he deserves that I’m sure he gave you.”

Azriel nodded, eyes weary. “He’s never been able to control his anger on the little things, much less…”

Rhysand just nodded in understanding as he checked the time. “I say if the cops don’t call us back with any news in the next thirty minutes, we just go searching alone.”

“I say we go now,” Azriel agreed, then gestured over his shoulder to the house. “As soon as they’re ready.”

Cassian must’ve sensed it, because he appeared in the doorway a minute later, Elain at his heels, zipping up her hoodie.

Azriel stood, and they all stood in silence for a few seconds before Cassian, without saying a word, padded down the front steps and into the cool, eerie, early morning.

————

Nesta wasn’t sure at what point she’d passed out. She wasn’t sure if she’d passed out while she’d be screaming or if it was while she was sobbing or praying or she’d just fallen asleep while she waited and waited for the end.

Whether that was the end of this ordeal or the end of her life or the end of her baby’s, she didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure what had woken her either. Her baby was moving, but no more or less than normal, and she didn’t hear anyone else in the cottage with her.

But as she slowly blinked, trying to pull herself back into consciousness, she felt an ache from within her abdomen.

Nesta sat up, pulling on her restraints as she softly gasped and tried to resituate to stop the throbbing from inside her. But then she heard the soft dripping and felt the wetness beneath her.

Trying to keep her breathing even, Nesta glanced down at herself, down at the floor. She couldn’t even try to convince herself that she’d wet herself, she knew exactly what was happening, especially as a sharp pain from inside took her breath away.

“No, no, no,” she cried, looking around, for something, anything, whatever she could use or do to get herself free, get herself out of here.

Because her water had broken.

Nesta was in labor.

And her baby was coming.

She began to panic, so much more than she had before. She would not give birth in such a hellhole. That damned place would not be the first place her baby sees.

Once again, she tried to break those bonds, but nothing worked. She screamed and screamed and screamed until her voice became raw, broken.

She sobbed.

She called for Cassian.

She prayed to whoever was listening that it would all be over soon.

But it didn’t matter.

She was completely, utterly alone.

A distant pain in her abdomen came again, and although it wasn’t bad, she knew it to be a contraction.

“Not yet, baby girl,” she breathed, sobbed, begged. “Not yet, please.”

A door slammed from somewhere in the house and everything inside her went stil, even the precious life trying so hard to enter the world. She breathed, “No, gods, please no…”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs from the garage and the door behind her opened.

“Look at that,” he crooned, the voice raising the hair on the back of her neck. “Either you pissed yourself or you’re about to have our little girl.”

Our little girl.

“You’re insane,” she gasped, another contraction made her look at the clock above the mantle.

He stepped around until he was looking down at her.

The brutal gash along his face was red and angry, the stitches still fresh. She knew the wound she’d given him on the arm was likely in the same shape. He clearly hadn’t gone to a hospital, the stitches weren’t nearly as neat as they should have been. No, Nesta knew who owed Tomas a favor from years ago, a favor that she’d hoped Tomas had forgotten about.

“I hope you didn’t pull Isaac Hale into this,” she breathed. “He’s a good man, a good vet.”

Tomas head tilted to the side, his eyes showing just how unhinged he’d become. “Would he be as good of a vet if I hadn’t driven his little girlfriend to the clinic in Adriata to have that abortion all those years ago? How’s Claire doing anyways?”

Nesta spit in his face.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand cracked against her cheek. She cried out and he gripped her face in his hand. “How long have you been in labor?”

“Fuck off, Tomas,” she growled, trying to pull from him. He just squeezed tighter.

“When did your water break, Nes?”

The nickname, so familiar, sounded wrong coming from him. She looked back to the clock. “I don’t know. When I woke up, I was having contractions.”

He tilted her head back so she was looking at him. “And that was what? An hour ago, two hours ago?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Forty-eight minutes ago.”

He smiled and it was the most terrifying thing Nesta had ever seen. “Good girl.” He turned and headed behind her into the kitchen. She could hear him opening and closing drawers as he said, “To answer my own question from earlier, by the way, Claire’s doing great. Did you know she’s a nurse?” Nesta felt her blood go cold. “She’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. Turns out she owed me that favor, too.”

She was dreaming.

She had to be.

This was absurd, insane, and no possible way it could be her current reality. No, she had to be dreaming, dreaming of her paranoia, dreaming of ghosts from the past.

And yet, as that pain in her abdomen came again, increased, she knew that this was very much real.

“When Cassian finds me, he’ll kill you,” she breathed, her tears still streaming down her face, silently. “He’ll put a bullet in your head and he won’t hesitate.”

“You always did like threats,” Tomas crooned from where he stood behind the kitchen wall. She couldn't imagine what he was digging around for, didn’t want to know. “Too bad I never took you seriously. Didn’t then, don’t now. I’m not afraid of Cassian Nazari.”

You should be, she wanted to hiss, but remained silent. Instead, she caught herself wondering where her fiancé was, and when the fuck he would find her.

Because he had to.

She couldn’t go out like this.

Their baby couldn’t come into the world like this.

In Tomas’ absence, she closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths. Stressing and panic would only speed up the process of labor, and she wanted to string it out as long as possible. As difficult as it was, for her daughter’s sake, she did her breathing exercises to the best of her ability. With her eyes closed, she imagined Cassian’s face smiling brightly at her from across the pasture, on horseback.

She imagined him painting the nursery, imagined him picking up the little baby shoes Nesta had bought and tearing up at the sight of them. She imagined the way he looked when he made love to her, imagined his voice whispering those three little words that set her soul on fire every time they came from his beautiful lips.

Tomas began to hum from the other room, the sound the most ominous thing Nesta had ever heard. It only became worse as he came back into the living room, softly singing the words.

Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

Nesta couldn’t stop the sob, couldn’t stop the tears that fell as she opened her eyes and looked at what he was holding in his hands. Towels. Handfuls and handfuls of towels.

And if that mockingbird don’t sing, daddy’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.

He gripped Nesta’s arm and pulled her engagement ring from her finger. She sobbed, unable to stop him as he walked away, screaming at him to stop. His steps softened as he headed into the kitchen and the garbage disposal turned on.

And then she heard the sound of metal on metal, grinding and snapping.

“What the fuck do you want Tomas?” she cried, the pain in her stomach increasing with every wave. “Please, just let me go. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you. You know I have money, I can-.”

He appeared in front of her again, for just long enough that she anticipated the stinging against her cheek this time, she just wasn’t expecting to taste blood. “Are you trying to put a price on our relationship, Nesta? After everything I’ve done for us?”

A door opened down the hall, from the direction of the front door and a small voice said, “Hello? It- It’s Claire.”

Tomas’ smile turned Nesta’s blood to ice. “It’s time to meet our daughter.”

____

Cassian had asked everyone in town.

No one had seen Nesta.

Or Tomas.

It made no sense. They had to be somewhere, there were only so many places to go in this little town. Even then, no one had even seen Tomas’ truck, which means they most likely hadn’t left town.

At least, that’s what Cassian kept telling himself.

It was nearing noon and they had been at it, their little group split up all over town, for over six hours. He’d looked everywhere. Even the places he thought were impossible for him to be hiding, he’d looked. The others had, too, desperately. Azriel, Rhys, Feyre, and Elain. And yet, absolutely nothing.

The feeling of hopelessness that had settled into the pit of his stomach was overwhelming.

Once he made it back to the ranch, Cassian figured maybe he was thinking about it a little too hard. The main house was empty of guests now, as he and Nesta had made it their home for their baby, which means they had hardly spent any time in the little houses out back. But when he inspected the cabin and the little modern house at the end of the dirt path, there was no sign of them.

Beau had been with him all day, helping him search for Nesta. With his keen sense of smell, Cassian knew he’d be helpful. With no luck, though, Beau spent most of the day whining at Nesta’s absence, fully aware that something had gone horribly wrong.

His phone rang and it was out of his pocket and held up to his ear before the end of the first ring. “Hello?”

“Isaac Hale gave a horse named Mandrake sixty-two stitches this morning.” He couldn’t recognize the voice on the other side of the phone.

He looked at the number, seeing it had come in from a blocked number. He frantically asked, “Who is this?”

“Mandrake,” the voice said slowly. “Sixty-two stitches.”

“I don’t understand-.”

The line went dead.

His phone rang again, but it was Rhys this time. “Hello?”

“Any luck?” He asked, voice empty, but hopeful.

He sighed, “No, but I just got the weirdest phone call.”

“About Isaac Hale giving some random horse stitches?” Rhys asked.

Cassian froze mid-stride. “Mandrake?”

“No,” Rhys breathed. “Dos More.”

Cassian’s phone began to vibrate in his hand. He looked at his phone and saw that Azriel was calling him. He told Rhys, “I think we need to pay Isaac Hale a visit. Now.”

________

Claire was sniffling as she unpacked the bag of medical supplies she’d raided from Isaac’s veterinary office that morning.

Nesta breathed, tugging on the restraints holding her to the bed, terrified for Tomas to hear her, “Claire, please. Get me out of here.”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet Nesta’s as she whispered, “I can’t, he’s- Nesta, he’ll kill me. He’ll kill Isaac.”

Nesta opened her mouth to reply, but she gasped as the most excruciating of all her contractions so far took her breath away.

She felt hands on the waistband of her leggings, still covered in Tomas’ blood and soaked from her water breaking, and tried to jerk away. “No!”

Claire said, “I need to check and see what you’re dilated to. You’ve been in labor for hours and if I don’t make sure she’s sitting right, she could suffocate.”

Nesta’s face paled and she saw a moment of hesitance on Claire’s face as she glanced over her shoulder, hearing Tomas’ footsteps head towards the garage, then the door opened and closed.

He was leaving again. She didn’t know why, but he was leaving.

“Please, we need to run,” Nesta begged, knowing this could be their only shot.

Claire began tugging her leggings down. “Nesta, if we leave right now, you will bleed out in the woods. There is nothing around this place for miles.”

“My ranch,” she breathed. “My ranch shares a property line, we can make it.”

Claire pulled a pair of gloves on and came around to her side, pressing a hand against her belly and checking her cervix. “No, we can’t,” she said, a worried look on her face. “You’re about at a seven. You’re going to have to start pushing soon.”

Nesta sobbed, and she didn’t care what she looked like, what she sounded like. All that shit was long gone.

All she cared about now was her baby girl.

And making sure Tomas Mandray would pay.

“Claire,” she whispered.

Claire froze, although she didn’t meet Nesta’s gaze.

“Just…” Nesta began, her sobs shaking her body. “Just make sure she’s okay, alright? Make sure Cassian takes care of her, okay?”

Tears were flowing freely down Claire’s cheeks. “Nesta-.”

“If I die, if I don’t make it out of this,” Nesta cried, quietly, “make sure Cassian gets her, please.”

She knew it was a request that Claire probably couldn’t fulfill, but she nodded, nonetheless. “I will. I’m so sorry, Nesta.”

“I know,” Nesta breathed, and Claire took Nesta’s hand, and they sat still for a moment in the silence. She couldn’t stop the scream that tore from her as another contraction, much stronger and much sooner than she was expecting hit her. Claire’s eyes jumped from Nesta’s to their clasped hands, where Nesta was bound to the bed. “Please,” she whispered, seeing the thought in Claire’s eyes. “Please, I won’t run. I’ll stay here. Just please…” Nesta didn’t bother to try and stop the sob. “Don’t make me have my baby tied to the bed. At least give me that.”

Claire hesitated for only a second more before she quickly loosened the knots around Nesta’s wrists.

Nesta sat up a bit, pulling her knees up, and putting her weight into her hands. She felt like she needed to hold her breath, but knew she shouldn’t. She was trying to remember anything and everything she’d learned in that stupid birthing class they’d gone to.

“Do you feel like you need to push?” Claire asked. Nesta had her eyes closed, but she was focusing hard on her breathing. She nodded. Claire said, “Nesta.” She opened her eyes and looked at her, not trying to mask the fear on her face. “That means it's time to push.”

--------

Cassian pushed through the glass doors of Isaac’s Veterinary clinic, locking eyes with the man himself at the front desk. His skin went deathly white the moment he saw Cassian, which confirmed that they needed to have a conversation.

“Where is she,” he hissed, voice low, the moment he reached the desk.

Isaac looked around, even though there was no one else in the small reception area with him. “Cassian-.”

“Where. Is. She.” He repeated, gripping Isaac’s collar.

Isaac just shook his head. “He’s got Claire, and he’s dangerous, Cass-.”

“If you don’t tell me what you know, I’ll smash your head against this desk and I won’t feel bad about it,” Cassian snapped.

Isaac's eyes grew weary. “Please-.”

“She’s carrying my child,” Cassian said, his voice breaking.

Cassian could see the internal conflict going on through Isaac’s eyes. For a moment, Cassian thought he’d have to torture the poor veterinarian, the young man that they’d known their entire lives, but then, in the quietest of voices, Isaac said, “She’s on your land. In a little beaten down cabin.”

She’s on your land.

The cottage.

She had been right there, and he’d never even thought about it. Of course Tomas knew about the cabin, but he probably assumed Cassian didn’t.

Fuck.

He didn’t even realize he’d said the word aloud, much less yelled it until one of the patients across the room looked in their direction.

Cassian was halfway out the door when Isaac called his name. He turned back, seeing a broken man. He repeated, “He’s got Claire, too. Get her, please.”

Cassian nodded once and was out the door.

Rhys and Azriel were waiting in Rhys’ truck, Elain and Feyre with them. Feyre scooted into the middle seat as Cassian climbed back into the passenger side. “Home, go the fuck home.”

“What?” Rhys asked, violet eyes wide. “What do you-?”

Cassian was already dialing the number of the detective that had been assigned to their case. “Those French people she knew, the property next door.”

All four of them stared at her. She hadn’t told them. She hadn’t told her fucking famliy about the people she’d met, the bond she grew with them.

Which means they had no fucking clue where the cottage was.

“Just drive to the fucking ranch!” he yelled, putting the phone to his ear, his hands shaking, his mind whirling.

Rhysand didn’t hesitate as he put the truck in reverse and pulled out of the parking space.

The ride was quiet, and even though it was only a five minute drive, Cassian felt like it took a lifetime. All that time, she was so close. He felt like a horrible person, not even thinking about her being right next door.

“Drive faster,” Cassian hissed.

“I’m driving as fast as I can without running us off the road,” Rhysand snapped.

Tensions were high.

They were so close, now.

They just had to get to her.

“Go past our drive,” Cass said, pointing ahead. “Just go straight to theirs.”

Rhys did as he was told, but Feyre said, “Cass, I can’t think of any other driveway on this road. It just dead ends at the river.”

He knew that was the case, but he had no idea how to figure out where it was.

Actually, he could think of one.

“Get to the house,” he breathed. “We have to catch the horses.”

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

The pain was so all consuming, so absolutely mind numbing, that Nesta wasn’t sure how the world managed to repopulate as long as it did before modern medicine and epidurals. She screamed, holding onto the footboard while Claire crouched, her hands held out beneath her.

“You’re almost there, Nesta,” she said, keeping her voice calm, even. It was clear that she was in her element, even in the situation they were currently in. “I need you to take a deep breath, let it out and push one more time.”

She nodded and did as she was told, for what felt like the thousandth time, and ended up sobbing again.

She cried, “I can’t. I can’t anymore.”

It had been nearly an hour since she started pushing, and though Claire was keeping herself collected, she urged Nesta, “You have to push, she’s almost here, Nes. I can see her head, She can’t stay where she is.”

Nesta shook her head, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, her tear stained cheeks. She needed Cassian, she needed her rock. But he wasn’t here, couldn’t be here.

Claire gave her a couple more seconds to breathe and said, “Come on, squat back down, and give me one more big, push, the biggest one you’ve got in you, okay?”

Nesta closed her eyes, thinking of Cassian as she breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. She took a deep breath in and braced down as hard as she could. She could feel her nails splitting against the wooden bed frame.

The world went silent for a moment. Her eyes were shut, but all she could see was bright, white light, all she could feel was warmth and comfort and peace. Nesta wondered if she might be dead, if she’d somehow gotten lucky in all of this and spared from Tomas' cruelty.

But then the most amazing sound she’d ever heard had her opening her eyes, bringing her back to the real world.

She heard her baby crying.

Nesta was crying, too. And Claire, even as she held the screaming infant in a bloody towel, had tears streaming down her face.

She cut the umbilical cord, helping Nesta back on the bed.

She handed Nesta her daughter, as well as a clean, wet towel, and said, “Lie back, I have to stitch you up.”

She did as she was told, trying not to think about what was happening as she carefully cleaned her baby’s face up. “Hello, beautiful girl,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry your daddy’s not here to meet you. He’ll be here soon.”

Her voice was becoming weaker and weaker and Claire said, “Nesta, I need you to keep talking to me. You have to stay awake, okay? Everything went awesome, better than some of the births I do every day in the hospital, but I need you to stay awake.”

She nodded, trying to do as she was told.

When Claire finished, she helped Nesta into what could only be described as a glorified adult diaper, pulling the oversized hoodie she wore over it, and helped her lay back on the bed. “I’m going to get her cleaned up,” she said, holding her arms out for the baby.

Nesta’s arms tightened around her daughter, suddenly afraid to trust Claire.

“I promise, I’m just going to clean her off and I’ll bring her right back.” Nesta could see the sincerity in Claire’s eyes, at least she hoped she did as she handed her daughter to her.

Claire hurried out of the room and Nesta heard the sink in the bathroom turn on. The water ran for a solid three or four minutes before it turned off and she returned, the baby wrapped in a soft, white sheet.

She handed the baby back to Nesta, sitting on the bed at her feet. “What’s her name?”

“Sloan,” she breathed, gazing down at the perfect little thing she had somehow managed to bring into the world. “Ilsa Sloan Nazari.”

The tuft of dark hair on her head, it was the same color as Cassian’s, just as her skin was the same rich tan. But when Nesta brushed a finger over her soft cheek, and her eyes fluttered open, those were her own stormy eyes surrounded in dark, long lashes.

They could hear heavy, quick footsteps coming up from the garage and Nesta’s arms tightened around her daughter. Claire stood, turning and standing between Nesta and the hall. When the door finally burst open, Tomas was on his phone, yelling at someone, but Nesta couldn’t figure out who. He’d left the door to the garage open as he hurried up to the second floor of the cottage, going to get the gods knew what.

“Claire,” Nesta said, tears already running down her cheeks. She turned and Nesta was already pressing Sloan into her arms. “You promised. Get out, get to the woods, and run away from the setting sun. You’ll get to my property. Just get her to her father, please.”

Claire was already shaking her head before Nesta finished speaking, but she clutched the baby to her chest. “Nesta, no, I can’t-.

“You can, and you promised,” Nesta said, her voice breaking as she began to sob again. “Get her out of here. I don’t care what he does to me, just go before he comes back.”

For a brief moment, Nesta was worried she wouldn’t honor her earlier word, but then she was off, sprinting out the open door to the garage. Nesta got to her feet, hissing in pain and limped to the window. Claire came from around the side of the house she couldn’t see, but she watched as she ran as fast as she could into the wood, away from the sun, just like Nesta said, and disappeared into the trees. She couldn’t stop the whimper of relief that left her, but she clamped a hand over her mouth as she remembered he was back in the house.

With a deep breath, she crept along the wall and left the room, making her way into the hallway and then out into the open living room. She could still hear Tomas screaming into his phone and she took that as a sign that he was preoccupied. Though it made her vision blur, Nesta hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the tool that had served her well many times before and had served her well enough the night before.

Nesta had come to terms earlier in the day with the fact that her life was most likely going to end tonight, but that didn’t mean she would go out without a fight.

------

Cassian and Rhys were riding as fast as they could through the trees. He knew nothing about the cottage, not where it sat on the property or how big it was, just that Nesta had said she’d always ridden west. So they followed the sun. They rode for what felt like hours but could only have been minutes before Rhys called, “Who the fuck is that?”

But Cassian knew, gods, he immediately knew. He was off his horse before he’d even stopped, calling her name. “Claire!”

She looked towards his voice and the sob that left her could be heard the quarter mile that separated them. He sprinted towards her, slowing down when he noticed the small bundle in her arms. He froze. “No.”

Rhys appeared by his side, and he breathed, “Tell me she’s not holding a fucking baby.”

Cass was moving again and he caught Claire as she met them, crying.

The little bundle in her arms began to cry, too, as Cassian took his daughter into his arms.

“She begged me to take her,” Claire sobbed. “Tomas threatened me, so I delivered the baby, and Nesta asked me to bring her to you.”

Her words were hardly understandable, but Cassian was frozen in place, staring down at the baby in his arms.

She was so incredibly beautiful.

His mind couldn’t fully comprehend that Nesta had just had a baby while being held captive. He couldn’t.

He looked up to Claire, tears streaming down his face as he asked, in a numb, deadly calm. “Are we close?”

Claire looked over her shoulder, then back to Cassian and Rhysand, and nodded. “There’s a small clearing in about half a mile.”

Claire went on to tell him how dangerous Tomas was, but he wasn’t listening. He kissed Sloan on her soft, tanned forehead, and handed her to Rhysand. “Bring her back to the house. Wait there with Feyre, Az and Elain. Take Claire, too.”

Rhysand carefully took Sloan and cradled her against his chest.

Then Cassian mounted his horse and continued west.

#theranchnessian #sharacocllab #shacmc #nessian #fanfic

286 notes · View notes

justfandomwritings · 4 years

Text

She’s Got A Friend (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Fluff, Angst and nongraphic “off page” minor character deaths

Summary: Happy endings are a matter of perspective. At some point in every story, there will always be some glorious, shining moment of hope, love, redemption, success. No good story is complete without it.

And if you end the story then, if you end it on a high, you can almost forget that anything came after that.

Notes: Hospital AU for @captainscanadian 1k follower writing challenge! I have taken the “Hospital” in hospital AU rather liberally to mean a field hospital in WW2. I thought I’d try a bit of a different writing style for this. Let me know what you think.

The condolences came in the mail only a few days after the official notification arrived on her doorstep from the mouth of some general or another.

She didn’t bother to remember the man’s name, and why should she? He wouldn’t remember her brother’s, let alone hers.

It was hard to stem the tide of her anger in the face of a man so visibly faking his sympathy for her pain. It was harder still to unleash her anger on him; she pitied him almost as much as he faked pitying her. It was just before sunset, and she was his sixteenth stop of the day, with a further 5 to go before he got off that night.

She imagined that, at some point, months ago, he had cared. He had sympathized and cried with grieving widows and orphaned children. No doubt, he had written them letters and checked on their wellbeing, asked after their emotions and made sure they were well. No more. He’d grown numb to the pain his presence inflicted, and with it less sympathetic to the plight of those around him.

By the time he reached her door, by the time he said “Ma’am, we have received word that your brother’s plane was shot down over Occupied France last week. His body has been recovered from the wreckage and will be on route home at the earliest possible date,” to her, he didn’t mean the “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this news. Your brother died a hero, and if there is anything I can do to ease your pain, it would be my honor to do so in his memory,” that followed.

The nameless general had never met her brother. He called every soldier a hero when he met their families, whether it was true or not. If they asked him about how their loved one died, or if they began to cry on his shoulder, he had a practiced speech about how their son or brother or husband had died fighting, died bravely, died to save the lives of millions, died to protect them all.

(Y/n) knew all of that because, even though she didn’t remember his name, she remembered his face. They’d met before. It wasn’t the first time he’d knocked on her door. He was the same general who had come to inform her of her father’s tragic end a few months prior. The general hadn’t remembered her father’s name either, nor hers.

She didn’t bother to point out their association to the man. She thanked him for his service and left him standing on her front step as a door closed in his face.

It was easier for both of them that way.

The letter that came from her brother’s commanding officer was more heartfelt, (Y/n) assumed, but she didn’t read it.

“Ms. (Y/n), By now you have no doubt received word of your brother’s tragic end. Selfishly, I am glad that I was not the one who had to inform you. Your brother was a flying ace in my squadron and a good friend. Retrieving his body brought me to tears for far longer than my commanding officers would like me to admit…”

That was as far as she read. Her brother was dead. They had his body. She was numb to everything else, as numb as the general who showed up at her door, as numb as her brother’s corpse in the grave.

She couldn’t feel, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

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(Y/n) walked into the hospital the next day and handed in her resignation. She was just the next in a long line.

Dorothy had resigned the week before. Her husband had been killed in North Africa. She could no longer afford to live in New York, not that cost of living was at the front of her mind. She was moving back South with her two children, both under 5 years old, to live with her aging parents.

Vera had gotten married to a hotshot factory owner and resigned to plan her wedding. The rest of the ward had scorned her as she trotted out with her chin held high and a smirk on her face. She’d never done the work because she loved it like the rest of them, and she had no qualms about letting them all know it.

Ruth was on her way out the door in a week. She was following her husband to England where he’d be training pilots at an RAF airfield. Normally, that sort of thing wouldn’t be allowed, wives being stationed with their husbands. Ruth, however, was a pretty good mechanic and often worked on her husbands planes in her free time, and without any children to worry about, the Army was really getting two for the price of one.

Juanita’s departure had no doubt hit the hardest. With so many men dying overseas, crime on the home front had been virtually forgotten. Juanita’s son brought it back to life. Too weak to be enlisted in the army, her son had taken up work at the docks that he never would’ve been physically qualified for if not for all the men being drafted. Three weeks on the job, he was mugged by a group of drunken sailors out for their last night of freedom. He died in the hospital with his mother only a few doors down in a different wing.

The most senior nurse on staff, Juanita used to run the ward, but after her son died in the building, she couldn’t even look at the hospital anymore.

“(Y/n),” Mary sighed and scrubbed the heel of her palm into her eyes to try to wipe away the sleep. “We’re short staffed already.”

There was a begging to her tone, and any other day the pain etched across her face would’ve been enough to convince (Y/n) to stay. Mary was her friend, by some accounts her best friend.

“I know Mary, and I’m sorry. I just can’t stay here anymore. I can’t walk past my brother’s room. I can’t ride down the streets my brother and I used to play in. I can’t go in the shop he used to own. I just can’t.”

Mary swallowed hard; when she spoke the lump in her throat became more apparent with each word. “I understand that you’re in pain, but this hospital…”

“That’s just it,” (Y/n) cut her off, slipping into the seat across the desk from her friend. She’d refused to sit when she first came to see Mary, hoping to be in and out quickly, but not now. “I don’t feel anything, Mary. I can’t look at his room because I know I should be heartbroken. I can’t travel down the street because I know I should be in pain. I can’t go in his shop because I know I should be crying. But I’m not. I don’t feel hurt or worried or upset. I don’t feel anything; I’m just numb.”

“Numb?” Mary furrowed her brow. “You’re leaving because you think you should be in more pain?”

“I’m leaving because I loved my brother, because I should be feeling something, but I’m not. I feel nothing, and that scares me even more.”

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet. Somewhere I will feel something.”

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Her brother had been Air Force, but her father had been Army.

She couldn’t bring herself to go to one of the Air Force’s recruiting offices. Part of her was worried she would have an emotional breakdown speaking to the men in charge. A larger part of her was worried she would feel nothing at all, a sign she was heading in the wrong direction.

The Army felt safer. She hadn’t been numb to her father’s death. She’d cried and mourned, and though the thought still overwhelmed her with sadness, she knew she would one day move on. About her brother, (Y/n) didn’t know what to think.

“What experience do you have?”

(Y/n) found herself sat in front of some captain or another responsible for organizing the Army Nursing Corps. He looked bored with her; she doubted managing a bunch of women was what he’d had in mind when he joined the war.

“I’ve worked at Wyckoff Heights Hospital on St. Nicholas in Brooklyn for eight years. I have copies of all of my reviews that show exemplary performance and no reprimands on record.”

The man took the stack of papers from her hand and began flipping through them. He stared at each of them for a long time, occasionally giving a ‘hm’ or ‘huh’ to show that he was thinking.

(Y/n) noticed after two pages that he wasn’t actually reading. His eyes weren’t moving from where they looked thoughtfully at the center of the page, and the noises of contemplation came randomly, even on pages that wouldn’t require much consideration.

(Y/n) turned away from the show to glance around the room. To the left was a door to the waiting rooms. Occasionally, when it swung open she could see the rows of shirtless men waiting for their number to be called up for evaluation. There didn’t appear to be many seats open.

She wondered, to herself, how many of them would be accepted, how many of those would make it back alive.

There were family members milling around the hall. A young woman was already weeping near the exit, and she hadn’t even been rejoined by the man she was waiting for. One of the doctors, (Y/n) assumed the portly, greying man was not one of the recruits, was trying his best to comfort her, but he didn’t seem to be having much success.

For the overwhelming number of men waiting to be evaluated and find a place in this war, there were a surprisingly few number of nurses. (Y/n) hadn’t been shown to any waiting room. There was a bench in the half she’d first entered with half a dozen or so women occupying it when she arrived. By the time her name was finally called only two more had come in behind her. The recruiters desk was in a notch in the hallway, not even its own room. The women were forced to state their credentials and make their case with no privacy to his judgments.

At least a dozen of the people milling around, including the old man and young woman by the door, could hear what was being said to her.

The man snapped her file closed with sharp flip of his wrist. “On your application, you’ve marked that you’d like to be assigned to a field hospital. I’m assuming you know nothing about the war. Field Hospitals are on the frontlines, girl.”

“I’m aware.” (Y/n) smoothly replied.

He raised an eyebrow, but none of his other features changed. (Y/n) couldn’t tell if it was condescension or confusion. “Are you now? The nurses in Field Hospitals are shot at almost as much as the soldiers. You think the Germans will spare you because you have a pretty face?”

“I don’t expect to be spared by anyone.”

His grilling was catching eyes from those milling around.

“And why would a girl like you want to find herself on the front lines?”

“I just want this war to end with as little bloodshed as possible. Helping where the men need it most seems like a good start.”

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

German.

(Y/n)’s eyes whipped around, as did many others in the hallway. There was a German here.

“My name is Dr. Erskine,” He proclaimed, more quietly this time, “I may have a job for you.”

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Erskine didn’t try to replace her father.

He offered a guiding hand out of the goodness of his heart. He offered a shoulder to cry on because he could see she hadn’t yet grieved. He offered insight, advice, from the wisdom of his own experience.

Erskine wasn’t trying to replace her father, and yet he did so many things she wished her father was there to do.

He offered her a job because he could see she wanted to find her purpose. He put her up in the barracks because he knew she needed space from her past. He accompanied her on walks at night to keep her nightmares at bay. He filled her waking hours with work when she needed distraction and took the load away when it became too much.

Erskine didn’t try to replace her father. No one could ever replace her father. He was a good substitute though. In times as dark as those, family was what she needed.

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He reminded her of her brother.

That was the first thought that came to (Y/n)’s mind when she met Steve Rogers.

Her brother was younger than her by two years, and as a child he’d always been the smaller of the pair. For most of their childhood, her brother could barely reach her shoulder. Stretching his arms as wide as he could, he’d be lucky if his reach went from (Y/n)’s wrist to wrist. Short and scrawny, he’d not caught up to his sister’s size until he was a teen, but once he’d caught up, there was no looking back.

Steve reminded her of him. The size, for one thing, was an unmistakable similarity, but there was an air to Steve, an air of familiarity that made her feel at home. Every time she looked at him, she saw her baby brother. Not the strong, handsome man he was when he died, but the fearless, young boy she wished he would’ve stayed forever.

She monitored the health of all of Erskine’s candidates in the Strategic Scientific Reserve, but she couldn’t deny she paid special attention to Steve.

They all paid special attention to Steve.

Erskine liked his sense of justice. His conscience oozed out of his every pore. No one had ever argued with Steve and been right about it. They were talking about making a superhero here, and yet there was a very real sense amongst them that Steve already had a superpower: always doing the right thing.

Peggy had an immediate fondness for him. He was determined, beyond belief, and she admired that spark in him that refused to be snuffed out. He knew, in his heart, what he believed, and he was more than willing to die for it. Peggy was too.

Only the Colonel, Chester Phillips, doubted Erskine’s decision. He paid special attention to Steve, but he did so only as a foil. He liked to compare Steve to other men in the camp, men he’d chosen for the project, rather than the one Erskine had brought on. “Brown is stronger,” or “Donalds is faster,” were common phrases in his office.

In truth, they were all stronger. They were all faster. On paper, any one of them would’ve made a better super soldier than Stever Rogers.

“That’s what Phillps does not understand,” Erskine told her one day while they worked in his lab. “It isn’t about what’s on paper. It’s about what’s in his heart.”

“So it’s going to be Steve?” (Y/n) asked.

Erskine nodded. “Do you agree?”

(Y/n) hesitated. She didn’t want to blindly agree with the accolade simply because he reminded her of her brother. She also didn’t want to naively dismiss it to save him the risk because he reminded her of her brother.

She knew Steve Rogers; she would like to think she knew him well. They were friends. Yet the more she got to know him the more she saw her brother in him. That chest cold that wouldn’t go away when her brother was eight, the fight he lost with a boy who’d made a lewd joke about her skirt, the way he’d adamantly stood up for their father’s memory as a soldier; their kind hearted mother teaching him to temper his words.

She knew Steve Rogers well, and the more she knew him the more she saw him as her brother. The more she saw him as her brother, the more she knew he had to do this. He needed to do this.

“I agree.”

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“Steve, you may as well ask her out. If you’re going to spend this much time ogling her, she at least deserves dinner out of it.”

Steve’s face turned as red as the apple she was chewing, and (Y/n) couldn’t hold in her smirk.

“I-I wasn’t…” Steve glanced over his shoulder, checking that Peggy wasn’t within earshot of (Y/n)’s ribbing.

“It’s all right, Steve. I won’t tell her, but you really should.”

Steve shook his head, definitively turning his back to Peggy. “Please, my entire life girls like that have passed me by.”

(Y/n) rested a hand on Steve’ shoulder. “Your entire life girls who look like that have passed you by, but Peggy isn’t like those girls. If you don’t ask her out, you’ll never give her a chance to prove it.”

Steve chuckled and looked off into the sky. “My friend said something like that to me about this girl, Maria, not long before he left for the front.”

“And did you listen to him?”

“No,” Steve admitted. “He was the one the girls always passed me by for.”

“Well, did he ask them out?” (Y/n) chuckled.

Steve hesitated a second before saying, “Yes.”

“Then that’s why they passed you by. Your friend sounds like he has a good head on his shoulders. You should listen to him.”

Steve gave (Y/n) a fond smile. “You remind me a lot of him. It’s easier, having you here.”

“It’s easier having you here too.”

(Y/n) didn’t know if that was true, but she was starting to think it might be. She was starting to feel something. Steve was helping her remember the good times with her brother, before the Army and the War. Back when they were just two kids in Brooklyn.

She missed him.

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Erskine. Gone.

Would this war take everyone from her?

(Y/n) kneeled in a pool of his blood, his body splayed out in front of her.

She’d dedicated years of her life to Erskine’s work. She’d dedicated time, money, opportunities. She’d dedicated everything she had and more. Gone.

His work was gone. Erskine was gone.

He was her friend, her family; and he was gone.

She summoned a tear, more than one.

They came slowly at first and then spiralled uncontrollably. Sobs racked her body as she gripped at his hand.

Someone tried to help her up, but she didn’t want up.

Vaguely, she recognized Stark’s voice. He was calling out to her.

“(Y/n), he’s gone.”

Yes, she already knew he was gone. What good was all of his genius when he could only state the obvious.

What good was all of her years in a hospital, all of her years of training, if she couldn’t save a life when it mattered, the one life that mattered.

It felt like hearing her father was gone again.

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They were taking Steve too, as if she had anything left to give.

“Phillips would just as soon send me home. I’m just a lab rat to him.” Steve spat the word out in disgust. “That’s all I am, an experiment, Erskine’s experiment. They wanted an army, but they got me.”

“That’s all you are to him.” (Y/n) quietly corrected.

“And what am I to everyone else?” Steve turned on her, his eyes as red as hers were. “What am I to you?”

“His legacy,” she answered immediately.

She’d been thinking about it a lot. Erskine had been dead for two days, and all she’d been thinking about was him and Steve and the little family she’d made for herself at Lehigh. Erskine the father, Steve her brother, Peggy her sister, even Phillips, the grumpy uncle who didn’t want to be in the picture.

What did it all mean?

“You are his legacy. If you were any other soldier you’d be just another experiment, but you’re not. You’re Steve Rogers. Erskine chose you. You carry on his legacy; you carry on his work.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Steve asked in a desperate tone. He slumped onto the bench and let his head fall into his hands.

“I don’t know Steve,” (Y/n) sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s for you to figure out. You don’t have to know now. No one’s expecting you to know now, but when you do piece it together, I’ll be waiting.”

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“Stark says you’re going to have your pick.”

Steve was lying on his back next to (Y/n), tossing a ball in the air and catching it repeatedly with a satisfying thunk as it hit his palm.

A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have been able to catch it once. He had all of the coordination of a newborn foal and would’ve whacked himself, or her, in the face the first time he tried to throw it.

It reminded her, again, of her brother. After his growth spurt, when he finally caught up to her, passed her, when he got tall and filled out. The girls started to notice him; the guys started to respect him.

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Any Allied hospital in Europe…” Steve stopped tossing the ball and glanced over at her, “Know where you’re going to go?”

(Y/n) didn’t meet his gaze. She kept her eyes on a cloud floating by overhead. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” She confessed. “When I applied, when Erskine took me in, I was planning on going to the frontlines.”

“You don’t have to now.” Steve rolled onto his stomach and watched her expressions carefully. “You could go to the evacuation hospitals or England…”

“Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you go to the frontlines? If they let you?” (Y/n) asked. She already knew the answer, but she needed to ask.

“You know I would,” Steve admitted.

“Then that’s where I’ll go.” She’d joked, when Erskine was still alive, that Steve’s real superpower was always doing the right thing. If he’d go to the front, then that’s where she’d be, waiting for him to find his way.

(Y/n) met Steve’s eye finally. “You said your friend was in the 107th?”

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It was only about a month before (Y/n) was running the field hospital attached to the 107th.

They sent mostly inexperienced girls out to the frontline. Supposedly, it was an easy job. They didn’t have time for complex treatment or procedures, so in theory, it was all triage and wound treatment. They claimed anyone with a little bit of training could handle it.

Early on when the fighting had just begun she imagined there might have been some truth to that claim, but as the war slogged on, it wasn’t so simple anymore. Every soldier had some kind of injury. The Army couldn’t afford to send everyone with more than a bump or bruise back from the frontline to an evacuation hospital. There wasn’t the time, manpower, money.

The field hospitals were overflowing with infected wounds, illness, bullet holes, broken bones, and there weren’t enough experienced nurses to go around. Not only did they lack the know-how, many of the inexperienced nurses were just young woman, some girls even, who didn’t properly know what they’d signed up for. They were shaken by the crack of every bullet, the boom of every grenade, the scream of every dying man.

(Y/n) had a sneaking suspicion that the real reason the Nurses Corps didn’t send out any of their trained nurses was that they want to risk their better nurses dying on the frontlines.

(Y/n) had watched a stray bullet tear through the chest of a young girl named Lydia only a week into her time with the 107th. She’d been reliably told by another nurse that Lydia was the fifth to die so far that year.

The second most experienced girl in (Y/n)’s unit had been a midwife for a few years before she shipped out, not exactly a skill that was necessary in an army full of men, but it came with some transferable knowledge. Her name was Maria, and it only took a few weeks before she was happily handing over the reins.

“They’re bringing in a batch of men from the front,” Maria reported to (Y/n). “Nothing serious, a couple broken bones. They took a fall to avoid a grenade; I’m told.”

(Y/n) motioned for Beverly and Viola at the other end of the tent. “We need to clean down some beds.” (Y/n) turned to Maria, “Did they say how many?”

“Not exactly, but I think it was only a few.”

(Y/n) only had a few beds to spare anyhow. There were a dozen cots set up in the field hospital, and six of them were currently occupied by men waiting for transport to the nearest evacuation hospital back West, another two by men with leg fractures. When she’d arrived, the beds were first come first serve, but (Y/n) had quickly started a process of dismissing anyone who could walk back to their own tents to come in to the hospital for regular checks on whatever ailed them.

“They’ve already reached camp; they’ll be here any moment.”

“If the bones aren’t through skin, then I don’t want them hanging around here. We’ll set them and send them on their way. We haven’t had free beds in a week, and I don’t want to take them up with something trivial.”

“Trivial? Glad to know you care about my leg, nurse.”

The tent flap was being held open by two soldiers, a sergeant and a private, around the girth of a much larger man propped up between them.

(Y/n) ignored the jab, “Get him on the bed.”

The two men helped their friend onto the nearest cot, and (Y/n), Beverly, and Maria quickly descended on him.

(Y/n) was the most experienced one there, but she’d made a point of having Beverly watch every bone she set. When things got busy, she might be needed elsewhere, and it was good to know that Beverly knew her way around things well enough to take a few bones off her plate.

“What happened?”

“Bit of an ambush, ma’am.” She recognized Gabe Jones immediately. She’d treated a broken finger of his on the first day she’d got here, followed by a number of bumps and bruises that probably wouldn’t have required her attention if Gabe weren’t such a flirt. “We had to jump into a ravine. Sergeant, here, did a number on his knee, and I got grazed by a bullet.”

“Maria, will you clean Private Jones’ wound?” (Y/n) began inspected the Sergeant’s knee.

“Of course,” Maria motioned Jones away to another open bed.

The third man took a step back towards the tent flap, but before he could get more than a few paces, he crumbled.

“Barnes!” The sergeant in the bed bolted upright. Beverly held him still, as (Y/n) rushed to his side.

“Are you alright, Sergeant?” (Y/n) slipped her arm around the man’s back and helped him stumble back to the nearest bed.

“I guess I’m not,” The man winced as he slumped back against the metal bed frame. “My side is killing me.”

(Y/n) nodded at the other sergeant, “Relocate his knee, while I do this, Bev. Maria can help when she’s done cleaning Jones’s wound.”

With deft fingers, (Y/n) unhooked the buttons down his uniform to check his complaint.

“I’d normally take you to dinner first, Doll.” These men hadn’t seen a woman in a long time, and usually they acted like it. She’d heard every bad joke in the book from the soldiers around camp and a couple from Jones in the bed next to them, but his tone was far more lighthearted, less learing than the others. He was teasing, trying to lighten the mood of how much pain was written across his face.

“Well, the rations around here aren’t very appealing, so you’ll have to settle for…” She found what she was looking for. A bruise spanning his entire right side. “You carried him back like this?” Her fingers probed gently at the edges of the dark blue stain.

“Someone had to; not like Dugan carries his own weight around here.” He winced as she touched a particularly sensitive spot.

“Broken ribs,” (Y/n) told the other girls over her shoulder, “three from the looks of it. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“That’s alright, Doll. I’ll just get to see more of your smiling face.”

(Y/n) wasn’t smiling. She hadn’t smiled in quite a while.

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“You’re healing well,” (Y/n) observed Barnes’s side, peeking out of the sheets, a few days later. “Right on schedule. You won’t need to be on the next train to the evacuation hospital.”

“Of course not,” Barnes scoffed, “How could I ever leave your lovely company?”

(Y/n) cocked an eyebrow. “That work on the girls back home?”

“Depends on the girl really,” Barnes confessed. “Most of the time a smile and a dance does the trick, but I like the ones that make me work for it.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and went back to inventorying the supplies she’d spread out on the cot next to his.

“Where is home for you, (Y/n)?”

It was the first time he’d called her by her name, also the first time he’d asked her a genuine question. “Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn!” He exclaimed, “I knew there was a reason I liked you. I’m from Brooklyn myself.”

“Really?” She glanced back at him, pausing cataloging the rolls of gauze. She had to remember to put in for that. They desperately needed more gauze.

“Born and raised,” With a wince, he adjusted pushed himself higher in the bed. “My whole family and my best friend still live there. I’ll go back there too, if I make it out of your care in one piece.”

(Y/n) snorted; she couldn’t help it. Her care? They were in a war, and he wanted to joke that he wouldn’t make it out of her hospital. “I’ll have you know my care is perfectly fine. I served 8 years in ambulatory at Wyckoff.”

Barnes’s brow furrowed. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to Wyckoff, but I was a frequent guest at Beth Moses Hospital.”

“You break ribs running from Nazis often in New York?” She jabbed.

“No, but my friend may as well have. He picked a lot of fights. Didn’t win many, but that never stopped Steve.”

(Y/n)’s head jerked around and she dropped the papers in her hands. “Steve? Steve Rogers?”

“Yeah,” Barnes had her attention now, and she had his, “you know him?”

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“I swear, Bucky, next time you come in here you better be losing an arm. You’re wasting my time with these little scrapes.”

Bucky rose to his feet in front of her.

She came face to chest with his shirtless torso, and her ego absolutely refused to allow her to turn her head away or take a step back. Even as she felt her cheeks coloring from his state of undress, she adamantly met his smirking eyes.

“It’s okay to admit you’d miss me, Doll. Around here, I’m like a little slice of home, a breath of fresh air, a…”

“The smell of maneur wafting out of the stables,” She cut off.

Bucky chuckled and began buttoning back his uniform. “One day, Doll, one day.”

Bucky always said things like that. ‘One day, when we’re both back in Brooklyn’, ‘When I finally get the chance to take you dancing’, ‘Me, you, Steve, and a friend’.

(Y/n) never took any of it to heart. Bucky had popped in and out of the medical tent on many occasions since he’d broken his ribs, and he flirted with all of the girls who treated him. She never let it get to her heart, and she tried not to let it go to her head that his flirtations were infinitely more personal with her. He’d teasingly compliment the other girls’ uniforms, make observations about how nice they looked that day, wink suggestively as he ducked out of the tent. She was the only one he made plans for: Brooklyn, Steve, Coney Island, dinner, dancing.

The thought was nice, but she left it all there, just a thought.

“Don’t be a stranger, Doll,” Bucky called as he made his way to the door. “I’m sick of faking injury just to see you.”

He gave her his signature wink before he turned and left the tent.

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The SSR had moved in. She saw Phillips riding in from a mile away.

She stood side by side with the commanding officers; everyone over the rank of Sergeant filled in a pseudo welcome party for the reinforcements as they rode in.

None of the men could figure out why she was there, at the front, out ranking them. She wasn’t even properly in the Army. She was just a nurse, a field medic, nothing more or less.(Y/n) couldn’t say she was expecting any sort of comraderie from the Colonel. She’d expected a firm handshake, an acknowledgement of their acquaintance, and a swift dismissal back to her duties.

When Colonel Phillips jumped out, the men behind her became painfully aware of who she was, and she became painfully aware how things had changed.

“(Y/n),” Phillips ignored the officers in charge and marched straight for her. “Good, you’re here. I need someone with a head on their shoulders.” He clapped her on the back and led her towards the truck.

From the back, they came filing out, the men she and Erskine had rejected for the supersoldier program. Each of them a hand picked reminder of her lost companion. All of them could’ve been the poster boy for a ‘join the army’ campaign if things had gone a different way.

She had to remind herself that these men were Phillips choosing, that, even if Erskine lived, none of them would have ever been Steve. These were good soldiers, but that didn’t make them good men. There may well have been a few good ones in the bunch, but being strong, being able, didn’t make them so. She preferred the men behind her, the 107th.

“There’s someone else I know you’ll be happy to see.”

It took a moment more of men filing out of the truck bed before Phillips’ surprise came to face her. She felt her heart building up hope, anticipation, excitement.

Peggy. It was Peggy.

She hid her disappointment well as she smiled and hugged the Englishwoman.

She loved Peggy, but she was no Steve.

Where was Steve? It had been so long since she heard news. She was worried.

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“So you’re a hotshot then?”

Bucky had swaggered up to her the moment she stepped outside of the hospital tent.

“You must be if you have the Colonel’s ear. Everyone’s been talking about it. My little Brooklyn in league with the bigwigs.”

“Your?” (Y/n) chose to ignore the rest of the sentence. She stopped midstep and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think you’ll find me ‘your’ anything, let alone all of Brooklyn.”

Bucky smiled mischievously and matched her stance. “Of course you’re not mine, but who do you think’s been keeping the rest of these scoundrels off your back?”

“Oh?” Her lips quirked up instictively in response to his smile. She really couldn’t help it. Steve had told her once that Bucky had that affect on women, that they couldn’t help themselves arounf him. “You’re protecting me from the wandering eyes of your fellow soldiers in hopes that someone will kindly cave into your flirtations.”

“No,” Bucky drawled, taking a step closer. “I’m protecting all of our dear nurses from the wandering eyes of my fellow soldiers because you have more important things to do like treat the broken ribs of a cocky sniper trying desperately to keep from crying like a child in front of his men.”

“Well your service is greatly appreciated.” (Y/n) chuckled, turning back to her walk, “If you must know, I’m not a bigwig at all.”

“Really?” Bucky fell into step by her side. “Didn’t look that way to me.”

“My mentor was a bigwig,” She confessed, her smile turning stale on her lips, “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

Bucky looped his arm through hers and dragged her to a stop, rounding her to face him. “That can’t be true.”

“It is.”

“If your mentor was that important, then you must’ve been pretty great to catch their eye.” Bucky gave her an encouraging smile.

She saw it in his eyes then. She hadn’t seen it before, not even when he was making her laugh with his flirting. She could see the kind heart, the trusting nature, all the things she admired about Steve. They were there, just buried deep beneath a layer of bravado and natural charisma.

She finally understood why Steve would be his friend.

“Have you heard of the Strategic Scientific Reserve?” The question slipped her mouth before she could stop it.

“No,” Bucky’s expression furrowed. “Why?”

It was top secret. She really shouldn’t be mentioning it. She’d already lied to him about how she knew Steve. She should just lie about the SSR, forget she said anything. She should…

She didn’t. “It’s a program my mentor and I founded…”

She told him everything. Everything about the SSR, about Steve, about Peggy, about Phillips, about Erskine.

He led her off to the edge of camp, away from stray ears and wandering eyes. He sat with her under a tree.

She told him about signing up for the war, about the general who delivered the news about her brother and before that her father. She told him about her mother leaving. She told him about her childhood.

She couldn’t help it. Once she started, she just couldn’t stop.

She understood why Steve would be his friend. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d inadvertently trusted him with everything.

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“(Y/n),” Maria came running through the tent flap, not even bothering to push it aside as it draped her shoulder. “Come quick. It’s Bucky.”

(Y/n) was in the middle of handing out rations. She dropped the box on the cot in front of her and bolted for the door.

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“What happened?”

She found Peggy first.

“The regiment was ambushed by Schmidt.” Peggy liked to talk as she walked. In that moment, (Y/n) appreciated that about her. “Only a third of them made it back. We’re doing rolls now, but the men in the yard are all that’s left.”

(Y/n) burst into the square field that functioned as the town center of camp.

There were men, dusty, beaten, bloodied men everywhere. Her small staff of nurses would be overwhelmed by the numbers, but that wasn’t what was on her mind now.

“Where is he?” She left the question and Peggy in her wake, running through the clusters of soldiers. Some supported their injured friends, others laid groaning side by side, a few stood in the center, completely fine. They looked the most lost of them all, as if they were asking God why he had chosen to spare them.

Hodge was there, in the center, one of the men surveying the damage around him. He was fine, completely fine.

“Hodge,” She marched up to him with a fury, “Where is Barnes?”

“Barnes? That kid that’s always following you around?”

Hodge had come in with the other Super Soldier Candidates. He hadn’t had the time to learn everyone’s names, not that he ever would have anyway. He was Hodge; Hodge thought he was too good for that sort of thing.

“Where is he?” She demanded again, not intending to repeat herself a third time.

“He was in the flank with his buddies. They’re gone. All of them, gone.”

Hodge had the decency to look sorry that he was giving her the news.

(Y/n) imagined it was the first decent thing he’d done in his life.

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Was she cursed?

She felt like she was. She felt like a ghost walking through life, doomed to haunt everyone she touched.

Her mother left her. Her father was dead. Her brother followed not long after. Erskine died just as she’d come to think of him as family. Steve was forced to tour around the country like some kind of sideshow because of what she’d helped do to him. Lydia was dead almost as soon as (Y/n) arrived. Now, Bucky.

She hadn’t confided in anyone in a long time until she met Bucky. She’d chatted with Lydia, Maria, her fellow nurses, made nice with them. She’d only told Peggy things she was sure the woman had already read in her file; she told Phillips even less. She told Steve bits and pieces, but she tried not to burden his plate more than it already was. She hadn’t needed to tell Erskine anything; the old man could read it for himself in her eyes.

She’d told it all to Bucky.

Whether it was the heat of war, the charm that came to him so effortlessly, that kind smile or those trustworthy eyes, it didn’t matter. She’d told him everything there was to tell, and as quickly as he knew he was gone.

Caring about her. It felt like the kiss of death.

She was a nurse, and her father bled to death on the battlefield. She was a nurse, and her brother died of injuries from a plane crash. She was a nurse, and Erskine died of a gunshot in her arms. She was a nurse. She was supposed to save people; she hadn’t saved them. And now, she couldn’t save Bucky either.

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Steve. She knew those eyes anywhere. Even behind that stupid mask, she knew it was Steve.

She watched the show with blank eyes and a blanker expression. Steve didn’t look much better.

Back in Brooklyn, (Y/n) had been rather a catch. Boys had taken her out many times, and often times, when they wanted to seem smarter and more cultured than they actually were, they would take her to a show. (Y/n) had watched more plays than she could count, and none of them had been nearly as bad as this.

Steve couldn’t fake excitement if he tried, and he was clearly trying.

(Y/n) didn’t care about the show though, bad acting or not. She cared about Steve, and she cared about what he could do.

“Steve,” She barged into the dressing rooms backstage.

The girls, the dancers, squealed and made to hide or cover themselves, but they quickly regained composure when they saw it was another girl.

“Steve!”

Steve looked up from where he was sat in a corner doodling.

“(Y/n)?” He dropped the paper aside and got to his feet, hesitantly, disbelieving that it could really be her.

“Steve,” (Y/n) threw herself at him, hugging him close. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He held her close. “Sorry? What for?”

“Steve, you have to help,” She pulled back and looked him dead in the eye. “It’s Bucky.”

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(Y/n) didn’t join them on the plane. How could she? Every time one buzzed overhead her brother came rushing back to mind.

She still hadn’t buried him; his body was waiting for her back at home. She was going to bury him beside her father, beside an empty plot she’d reserved for herself, just in case something happened on the front.

She wondered, to herself because Bucky was not there to wonder out loud to like last time, if she couldn’t mourn because he had not been laid to rest. She wondered if she needed the confirmation of seeing his body for herself or the resignation of a coffin and a deep grave.

That hadn’t been true of her father. She’d mourned him the moment the general knocked on her door; she’d wept for losing him. Perhaps, she’d been able to weep because she had more to lose. Perhaps, she wept for her father because with her brother alive she still had a reason to feel. Perhaps, she wept for Erskine because, by the time he left her, she’d found other reasons, a new family.

She wondered if she would ever cry for her brother the way she had her father or Erskine. She wondered, if she started crying for him, if she would ever stop.

Maybe she was just full of it.

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“He should’ve radioed by now.”

She was in the hospital tent, pacing nervously in front of the only cot void of soldiers. Peggy and Maria had sat cross-legged on the flimsy mattress and were watching her with anxious expressions.

Howard Stark stood angrily tapping his foot near the bit of canvas at the head of the bed.

He was the only one who seemed to share (Y/n)’s nerves.

How Peggy was holding it together, (Y/n) had no idea. It wasn’t like she didn’t care. A blind man could see how much she cared about Steve. She had a composure to her though.

(Y/n) envied her that; she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. She wished she were as composed.

“That’s no guarantee that anything happened,” Maria’s voice was a calm guiding hand in the storm. She cared about the missing men, about Steve, but no more than every other soldier. She cared deeply for everyone under her care; it was part of her nature. Their absence didn’t sway her.

“No guarantee,” (Y/n) conceded,”but one hell of a coincidence.”

“Well what can we do?” Howard asked. “Ride into Occupied territory and offer our assistance?”

(Y/n) haulted midstep and looked up at Howard.

“No!” He immediately shot out.

“Yes.”

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She packed a bag of all the essentials: bandages, needle and thread, alcohol, small bottles of antibiotics and medicines she could sneak out of the tent.

The bag was heavy, bulky, but it would fit snugly on the back of one of the motorcycles that that night's messenger had left near the edge of camp.

He wasn’t scheduled to make his next delivery run for three days. She had every intention of being back by then. Either she’d be back or dead.

With all hope, and a little help from Maria, she’d be entirely unnoticed until she rode back into camp. Maria had managed well enough on her own before (Y/n) got there. She could handle a few days.

“Do you even know how to ride one of those things?”

(Y/n) froze. She knew the voice, but she didn’t turn. If she didn’t turn, maybe she could pretend he wasn’t there.

Phillips stepped up to her side. “Is this what Erskine would want for you? A suicide mission?”

“It’s not a suicide mission. What Steve did, that was a suicide mission. I’m just trying to help the odds.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“He’s trying to free hundreds of your men from a Hydra base where they’re being held prisoner. At best, he succeeded, and they’re headed back this way.”

“Unlikely,” Phillips butted in.

“At worst, he failed.” She continued without acknowledging his interruption. “There are a lot of scenarios in between worst and best that involve your men out there, injured and dying.”

“And you think one nurse is going to help?”

“I’m not going to hurt!”

Phillips snorted, “Is this about that boy?”

“What boy?” (Y/n) turned back to securing her bag to the motorcycle. It was a tell. Phillips wasn’t stupid. He knew that. She knew that.

“The one Rogers is friends with. The one you sent him on this fool’s errand after. I thought it was just because they were friends, but the men told me you two were close.”

(Y/n)’s hands clenched around the strap of her bag.

“Is that why you want to go? You’re chasing after some lowly soldier.”

“I want to help!” (Y/n) spat, turning on Phillips with a vengeance. “Who cares if it’s because I’m feeling guilty or because I care about him! They are my friends, and I want to help them.”

Phillips watched with a cool, calculating eye for a long moment as (Y/n)’s chest heaved with anger. She looked as angry as he’d ever seen her, and he’d seen her angry many times at Lehigh.

She cared about Steve. There was no denying that, but whoever this sergeant was he was something else, something special.

Reluctantly, he sighed out in defeat. “Your bag’s going to go flying off the back if you tie it down like that.” He turned and started knotting the ropes for her.

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She was seven miles out when she heard it. Something big and loud and powerful barrelling down on her.

(Y/n) stopped her motorcycle in the street and went silent, listening.

Tanks.

She rolled the bike off the road, muscling it behind some trees. It was clunky, weighty, and she didn’t have the strength to get it properly hidden back in the woods. Still, she found a patch of dirt flat enough to roll the bike off the road and made due with laying it on its side behind a bush.

Whoever it was was coming closer. She found the thickest tree there was and stood straight and tall behind it, sucking herself in to be as narrow a target as possible.

She could hear shouting now, though she couldn’t make out the voices. There was a melody to their tone even though the words were indistinct. They were singing something.

It went on for a verse or two, judging by the pauses, before whoever they were were finally close enough to make out words.

English words. American accents.

“The Star Spangled Man! With a plan!” Horribly out of tune male voices echoed through the tree tops without a care in the world for who heard.

“Steve!” (Y/n) rushed out of the trees.

They were at the end of the road, making their way around a bend a few hundred yards ahead, but she’d recognize that God awful costume from a mile away. It stood out plain as day against the swath of brown and green forest and the drab, colorless look of the men at his side.

“Steve!” (Y/n) raced for him.

Steve realized who it was almost instantly. “(Y/n)!” He jogged forward and met her halfway.

“I thought you were dead!” She choked out.

“Come on, little Brooklyn, you have to know we’re made of tougher stuff than that.”

(Y/n) pulled away, positively beaming to hear that drawl of her nickname. “Bucky!”

Bucky tipped a nonexistent cap her direction. “At your service, Doll.”

He dropped the hat charade just in time to catch her as she flung her arms around his neck.

“One day, Doll,” He mumbled into her ear.

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Frenchie was in the bottom of the tank with a seriously mangled stint strapped to his arm.

“I did the best I could,” Bucky was hunched over (Y/n) as she treated his fallen companion. “I’ve watched you enough times, you think I’d have it down by now.”

“Maybe if you were actually watching her hands you would have,” Jones jabbed an elbow into Barnes ribs.

“Hey now,” Barnes chuckled. “I watched her hands.”

“Sure you did.” (Y/n) bit back a grin. “The stint isn’t pretty, but neither is the break. This will take a while to heal.”

Jones prattled off in French, alarming (Y/n) to no end.

Bucky knelt down next to her and explained. “Frenchie doesn’t speak English. We make Jones translate to earn his keep. Only way he’s been useful so far.”

“Oh,” (Y/n) went back to the arm in question.

“I promise I was watching your hands,” He murmured to her with his usual heart-stopping smile.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, “And I promise you were too busy flirting with my staff to notice what my hands were doing.”

“Not your staff, just you.” He corrected her. They both knew that wasn’t technically true. Bucky Barnes was nothing if not a flirt. That didn’t mean he meant it though. They both knew he meant it with her, and they both knew he didn’t mean it with anyone else.

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“Rogers, I’ve been with these guys on the field for months,” Bucky smacked him on the shoulder and pointed to the table in questions. “They’re all utter morons. Of course they’ll say yes.”

Steve gave his friend a worried look but let Bucky’s smile reassure with enough to take the next step. “Wish my luck,” he patted his friend on the back and marched over to the group of men getting drunker by the moment.

Bucky chuckled to himself and circled around to the far side of the bar to order himself a drink and find a quieter table. He wanted a beer, and he wanted as much distance between himself and that piano as possible. It was giving him such a headache. The beer would help with that.

He wasn’t actually sure that was true. He wasn’t a doctor or a nurse to know, but he was going to tell himself it would. Mostly he just wanted the beer. He’d earned it after the last couple months he’d had, after the last year honestly.

He heard the booming voice of Sergeant Dugan over everything else in the bar and couldn’t help a chuckle. They’d all earned a round.

They’d earn a couple more if they said yes, and as Bucky watched them from over the rim of his glass, he knew they would. They were fighters, like Steve, and like Steve, they wouldn’t back down from that.

Bucky kept his eyes on the men as they all considered Steve’s offer. He could tell the moment the words left Steve’s mouth, the moment they all froze at the proposition. He could tell, one by one, as they all agreed, like he knew they would.

It was written on their faces. It was written on Steve’s face.

He tried not to sound too cocky when Steve came back around to him. “See, told you; they’re all idiots.”

“How ‘bout you?” Steve took up the chair next to Bucky.

Bucky didn’t meet his eye. He knew the question was coming, and he already had his answer.

“You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

“Hell no,” Bucky sighed with a smile. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight, I’m following him.”

Steve smiled, relief washing over his features as he took the drink in front of him.

“You’re keeping the outfit right?” Bucky couldn’t help but tease.

“You know what,” Steve looked back at the poster, “It’s kinda growing on me.”

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The singing at the front of the room fell quiet, to almost a murmur.

Bucky and Steve turned to the door, to the woman in the vivid red dress.

“Captain,” she greeted with a formal note to her voice.

She was beautiful. Bucky would’ve been blind not to see it, especially in that shade of red. She looked like one of the girls Bucky used to go dancing with, tight dress hugging her curves, matching lipstick and perfectly styled hair. She was a woman on a mission, and he had a sneaking suspicion that mission was a man, specifically a man named Steve Rogers.

Bucky’s eyes wandered over assessingly. She was way out of Steve’s league, or at least the league he used to be in. He hadn’t been out with Steve since this new transformation; he had no idea what Steve’s league even was anymore. He was taller, stronger; he was famous apparently. But he was still an absolute dork, clueless around women.

It was written all over his darting, nervous eyes.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty,” she observed.

“You don’t like music?” Bucky smiled.

“I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.” Peggy didn’t bother to look in Bucky’s direction for even a moment.

“Then what are we waiting for?” He asked her.

“The right partner,” Her tone was suggestive; her eyes watching Steve expectantly. For the first time in his life, Bucky wasn’t in on the joke.

“0800 Captain,” She said as she whisked herself away.

“I’m invisible,” Bucky turned back to Steve, “I’m turning into you,” he scoffed, “this is a horrible dream.”

Steve smirked as he turned to walk off, “Don’t take it so hard. I hear she has a friend.” Steve motioned over Bucky’s shoulder towards the doorway Peggy had just left.

Steve took up his old seat as Bucky turned away.

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What had possessed her to come here, (Y/n) couldn’t be sure.

She knew what she’d told herself. That Captain America was assembling a team of his own, that his team was leaving for deployment, that she wanted to be on the ship when it did.

She could’ve asked him all of that before he left for the bar, or when he came back. It’s not like he’d be drunk; she knew that couldn’t happen.

Hell, she could’ve asked him the next morning. Steve would’ve made it happen.

But when Peggy told her she was going down to the bar to check on the men, something had possessed her to follow.

Maybe she wanted a drink. Maybe she too wanted to check on the boys. More likely, it was how clearly Peggy’s excuse was a rouse to get dolled up and see Steve, and there (Y/n) was, right by her side getting dolled up too.

Jones had cornered her the moment she’d walked in. Gabe kissed the back of her hand like an old-school gentleman and asked her to dance. She politely declined.

“That’s all right,” Gabe smiled knowingly and pointed in the direction of the room Peggy was leaving. “Sergeant’s right in there.”

(Y/n) followed, anxiously, in Peggy’s retreating footsteps with only an encouraging nod from her friend to bolster her courage.

She’d chosen the purple dress, a more understated shade than Peggy’s red but a far more modern cut. She wasn’t there to grab the attention of the entire bar like Peggy was, but she hoped at least to keep one pair of eyes on her.

Steve spotted her first and immediately smiled. He waved a hand in her direction and retreated back to the tables.

Bucky’s back was to her, but whatever Steve said made him turn.

His face went slack, and a little space opened between his lips, as if his mind had formed words his tongue couldn’t speak.

“Well, now I know what Peggy meant,” He mumbled as she approached him.

“About what?”

“The Right Partner.” Bucky offered her his arm, “Would you like to dance?”

“I’m not very good,” she confessed smoothly.

Bucky smiled. Not his usual cocky grin that swept girls off their feet, or the warm, reassuring smile she’d come to trust. It was gentle, somewhere between kind and loving. “I’ll teach you.”

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Taglist

Forever Taglist:

@maybe-a-fangurl / @libbymouse / @geeksareunique / @deathbyarabbit / @spilltheearlgrey / @ryanbarnesrogers / @bloodorangemoonlight

Marvel Taglist:

@the-high-queen / @iamverity / @darktownairspeed / @radicalstars / @hermione-is-my-queen

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #avengers one shot

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deafblindshorty · 3 years

Text

Poe and Rey’s Underrated Friendship

I noticed that not a lot has been said about Poe and Rey’s friendship in TROS and related EU materials. That’s probably because it’s not the main focus, which I sort of understand. There are a lot of subtle moments of their friendship (even some hints towards a romantic relationship). Some of these points come from @greysmartwolf’s tumblr, others come from a discord server.

Disclaimer: I am not diminishing or minimalizing Finn’s importance to both Rey and Poe, but if it seems like it, then I’m sorry. That’s not my intent.

Let’s start from the beginning: Rey and Poe have a LOT of parallels throughout the trilogy (some of the same scenes, the same lines, they both face their past in TROS, they both blame themselves for the Resistance dying at Exegol, they almost gave up but two Rebel veterans gave them pep talks, etc). So, they have quite a bit in common including their love for flying and droids.

Also, about the age difference, age really doesn’t matter in Star Wars. Han and Leia are 13 years apart, Wedge is about ten years younger than Norra, and Snap is 16 years older than his wife Kare (He could be her father!). Huge age differences exist in other fictional materials set on our Earth- Brooke Taylor and her late husband from Legally Blonde are 34 years apart, Remus and Tonks from Harry Potter are 13 years apart, an old soap opera supercouple (Doug and Julie Williams from Days of Our Lives) are 20 years apart. As for friends, Will from Glee is in his 30s and is friends with a few 19-20 year olds and Sue who is in her 50s is besties with a 19/20 year old, 30 year old Launchpad from Ducktales is friends with 10 year old Dewey. So, 19/20 year old Rey being friends or dating 32/33 year old Poe isn’t that crazy or farfetched.

According to the TROS Visual Dictionary, Poe left BB-8 with Rey so she won’t feel lonely (and that’s probably also why BB-8 is with Rey on Tatooine).

Poe was the first man Rey met whom she didn’t physically attack upon meeting him, and also smiled when they introduced each other. I don’t recall her smiling that wide whenever she was with Finn or Kylo.

They get along well in Poe Dameron #26-27. Poe was even a bit flirty with Rey.

It was Poe’s idea to build a Jedi training course for Rey in Star Wars Adventures, so Poe understands the importance of Rey’s Jedi training.

Rey understands what Poe went through with Kylo ( Poe also calls them ”Torture buddies!”).

When Poe, Finn, and Chewie return from the Fortress of Hothitude (I can’t remember what that planet is called. lol), Poe was so happy to see Rey. The way he walked up to Rey, his smile and his hands on hips. He badly wants to impress Rey. Alpha male!

And right after that, they have their only argument throughout the entire film. Poe and Rey quarrel in TROS was because they both didn’t listen to each other. They really only fight over the Falcon and BB-8. They both care about each other a lot, don’t blame each other in anything (except the Falcon being on fire and BB-8 missing a disc) and admit when one of them was right in argue (but prefer not to tell about that). Then Rey ends up smiling at him and Poe ends the argument by complimenting Rey (”You’re the best fighter we have. We need you.”). Also, Poe is the only one whom Rey talks to with sarcastic smile. Also, also, that argument is meant to parallel Han and Leia’s many arguments. Han and Leia argued every five minutes throughout the entire Original Trilogy, and they ended up together!

After sinking in the sand tunnels, Poe catches Rey and holds her bridal-style for a sec to steady her and was worried about her.

“He thought of protesting, of asking how Rey could possibly know which equally unremarkable direction was the right one. But Poe had learned that when Rey said things that way, her face determined, her voice unwavering, a fellow ought to just follow.” -TROS novel Poe knows Rey well. He knows when he must just shut up and do what she says. It kind of reminds me of Anakin telling Padme “Don’t worry. I’ve given up trying to argue with you.”

Poe taking the dagger from Rey in the novel and it felt like a weight has been lifted from Rey’s shoulders. It’s almost like he knew that would help.

The sand snake- I’ve never seen Poe so scared. But he is not afraid of that snake, he’s ready to combat it. I mean, he piloted the Falcon without fear into the mouth of a giant worm! Poe is afraid that snake could hurt or kill Rey. Poe wants to shoot that snake and pull Rey back, and he almost does that. And Rey amazes him again! And Poe sighs in relief when the snake calms down and slithers away.

In the novel, Poe didn’t scream “Nooo!” or “What have you done?!” when Rey “killed” Chewie. Poe knows there is no scenario in which Rey would harm her friends consciously. He most likely knows about her dark visions (Rey tells BB-8 everything, who obviously tells Poe all important stuff). Poe is not mad at Rey and doesn’t make her explain how that happened. And honestly, if he did do that, then he’d be a huge hypocrite, since he accidentally caused the deaths of the bombers in TLJ and the soldiers on Crait, which is why Poe was gentle with her. Rey understands Poe. His usual anger. They both have a huge responsibility. The Resistance on Poe and Jedi legacy on Rey. And she was ready to hear his anger, but he didn’t even plan to lay into her.

Rey likes that Poe can steal speeders and she finds his past interesting. Rey was really interested in Poe and Zorii’s past connection and Poe felt a bit smug when Rey was able to beat Zorii (He said “Don’t Dja’kanka” because he was afraid Rey would slice Zorii in half before she could help them). According to some audio book excerpts, when Rey was thinking about Poe’s past or his criminal skills, her voice was mysterious and nonjudgmental. Finn wasn’t happy to find out Poe was a spice runner, while Rey was completely fine with that, it seems she even liked that

After the Spice Runner reveal, as they traveled a snowy passageway, Poe glanced over at Rey, who was silent and frowning, lost in her own thoughts. Or maybe she was focused. Sensing something.

When Rey rushed off to look for the dagger on Kylo’s star destroyer, Poe didn’t stop her and trusted her feelings. Poe knows when he must just follow her instincts. He learned to read her.

Look at pain in Poe’s eyes after Finn’s words. Poe wants to be closer to Rey, he wants Rey to trust him more. But Finn and Leia were still closer to Rey than Poe was. “Perhaps, she didn’t want to put the rest of the team in danger, but they had already signed up for that by joining the Resistance.” (TROS junior novel, Poe)

"She’s out there, heading toward the Death Star. Her skimmer keeps tipping over – it’s damaged. What the heck is she thinking?” (TROS junior novel, Poe) Poe is so worried here. And angry. Now he’s mad at Rey, but later he will be angry with himself for losing her.

“Rey’s nobility masked an impulsiveness that might doom them all – and as highest-ranking member of the team, Poe felt responsible for not curbing it. He had flunked the leadership test yet again.” (TROS junior novel) Poe blames himself, not Rey.

“Maybe there was something the general could do. During the battles of D'Qar and Crait she and Rey had shared beacons. Maybe there was a way she could reach out to Rey or Rey could reach out to her.” (TROS junior novel) Poe planned to find Rey!

So, Poe doesn’t think Rey abandoned them and doesn’t resent her for leaving. If he did, he’d be a big hypocrite here, too, since he abandoned his father, who was dying from a poisonous Lurker bite in Free Fall for the Spice Runners.

Poe trusts Rey and knows she can take care of herself. That’s why he didn’t rush after her like Finn did.

“Poe didn’t have his usual pre-battle swagger. He seemed distress. “What’s waiting for her out there?” he asked Finn.” (TROS junior novel) Poe worried about Rey so much! That she’s somewhere alone and they won’t be with her there.

Poe was incredibly relieved when Rey was revealed to be alive (and he was also worried about Rey when he found out the Emperor wanted her alive).

The way Poe takes Rey’s hand is special, it’s pure tenderness, and the way he rubs his thumb over her knuckles tells everything. Poe loves Rey more than friend. Also, Rey pinches Poe’s elbow with a hope, like she tries to reach him. And when Poe does the same, she happily closes her eyes and pinches him again.

Poe and Rey also acted so jealous of Finn and Zorii respectively. Poe kept asking Finn what he was gonna tell Rey when they were sinking in the sand. On Kijimi, Rey couldn’t stop thinking about what Poe’s past with Zorii was.

So, usually, men tend to date women who remind them of their mothers (Take Harry Potter for example! Ginny looks a lot like Lily Potter.). Rey and Shara Bey (Poe’s mom) look similar and they’re both brave, adventurous, and great pilots.

Men also tend to date women who remind them of their exes. Rey also looks similar to Zorii, plus they are both cagey, kept secrets, both love to argue with Poe, but they care about him, and are extremely loyal.

TL:DR. My point is that Poe and Rey are actually good friends and would be a great couple. Disney/LF were just a bit more subtle about their relationship.

#star wars #poe dameron #rey skywalker #damerey

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

WE ARE SAMCRO

Marcus Álvarez x Jackson Teller's sister!Reader

Anon asked: could you write an imagine with Marcus Alvarez in which you are Jax sister and you’re dating Alvarez behind Jax back. and he finds out because he finds you two cuddling

Word Count: 2.6k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Taking off the helmet growling because of the pain burning in your lower lip, you crossed the wooden door to the bar. The place was full of bikers from Cali and neighboring states with rock music playing through the speakers, and old beer smell in the environment. Some men greeted you with something similar to a reverence, as you walked to the bar. Sitting on a stool, in the farthest corner, you gave your helmet and the Samcro' kutte to James, an old bartender that knew you since ever. Your father used to take you there on Sundays, to play pool with his friends. Now you only used to go whenever you had a bad day, even if your life wasn't good at all. Unsheathing the gloves that covered your hands, you tried to stretch the fingers of your right one with some dry blood on your knuckles.

“Clay?” The man asked offering you a cold gel pad to put it on. You nodded, knowing you didn't need to use any words. He already knew what was happening between you and your mother's boyfriend.

“I need something strong”. You just said, lying your cheek above the forearm supported on the old bar.

Putting an empty glass close to you, James served you a premium whisky before push a little the drink to you.

“Aren't you Jackson's sister?”

Behind you, a mexican accent claimed your attention. Your lips were touching the edge of the glass, drowning a heavy sight there before having a long sip.

“Not tonight”.

Chuckles at your back, trying to figure out at what time you told a joke to make him laugh. You turned your body over the stool with a lot of curses piling up in your tongue, hushing your restless mind when you read ‘Mayans Oakland’ on a leather vest like yours. Shit, the only thing you needed to crown yourself that day. Swallowing saliva, you licked your lips somewhat nervous.

“My apologies, Álvarez”.

You didn't know him, not personally, but you heard about Mayans and his deals with Samcro. And maybe you saw him at Teller-Morrow once, but you weren't sure at all.

“Rough day, mija?”

“I wish”. Crossing a leg above the other, you supported your back against the wood. “I'm fine, okay? Oakland and Charming's deals doesn't include me. You don't have to babysit me”.

Maybe it sounded rude, but you didn't really care about what image he had of you. Sitting up and turning again to gave him your back, you continued trying to enjoy your loneliness on the corner your father used to drink, feeling something closer to him. The amaranth liquid scraping your throat, trying to control some tears that wanted to fall down by your cheeks, made you remember old times you thought you had forgotten. Your phone ringed, sparkling your brother's name on the screen, pushing you loud to reality. And when you were about to hung up the call, a finger with a golden ring in it did it for you. The mexican sat next to you, grabbing your phone to turn it off. You noticed that he wasn't wearing the leather jacket anymore, whilst he was attracting the bartender's attention with the same finger raised up to indicate him to serve two more drinks. After that gesture, he offered you his right hand on air.

“Marcus”.

You looked down to it, doubting for a second until you understood what he was trying. At least, be pleasant. Putting away the cold gel pad over your knuckles, you narrowed his softly, enough to not hurt your hand a little more.

“(Y/N)”.

“Rough day?”

“Most like a hellish one”.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Sounds like I could fix the world telling you my shit”.

“Not at all, but letting go all that shit and drinking four glasses more, you will sleep better”.

“Will you take my bike, ride me home and tuck me into bed?”

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

It has been six month since that night when Marcus, without knowing it, saved you. You know he had a talk with Clay that made your stepfather's behavior change with you. You don't know what happened inside the SOA's meeting room, although you're sure that Álvarez didn't tell him anything about you were together, but if he touched you again Mayans wouldn't keep the deal with Sons. And that did not suit Clay. And you started to feel more happy and full of life, especially when Marcus used to come to Charming. It was pretty fun pretend that you were just somekind of friends, or most like a man treating with respect a girl who enjoyed her work as mechanic at Teller-Morrow. But whenever you could hide from prying eyes, you fell a little more for each other. No one suspected about you two.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Marcus spent the day touring Cali coast from the mexican border and it wasn't on his plans to stop in Charming, being that he should visits Samcro in a couple of days. Oakland was only an hour away, more or less, but stand with you for a night was what he really needed. And you weren't even waiting for him, so it was a surprise when you opened the door and found him there.

At first it takes you some seconds to react, noticing how his face turns to somewhat confused, till you practically jump into him wrapping his body with your legs and his neck with your arms. Hugging him as Marcus guides his feet inside the flat to close the door behind his back, you fill with kisses all his face finally reaching his lips. Catching them between yours in a soft and dearly gesture, you can feel how he melts under all the love you always give him.

“Did you miss me, ah?” He mutters touching his nose with you, keeping closed his eyes.

“Didn't you?” You reply back with some chuckles.

“I'm here”.

Continuing his steps to the huge sofa placed in front of the TV, he lays down there making himself a space between your legs. It's impossible not miss Marcus, seeing him every four or five days with some luck and having to pretend that you're just friends. Leaving some caresses and gentle touches on his scruff and head, you kiss his right cheek as he lets you do whatever you want with him.

“I just wanted to come home, have a shower and sleep with you”. He says drowning a heavy yawn, resting his forehead on your chest. “So, don't move. I'll be back in five minutes”.

“Okay, amor”.

Giving you a last smooth kiss, for the moment, he gets up walking towards the room you usually share, supposing to take some comfortable clothes. Whilst the man is inside the room, you can't help but thinking about how amazing sounded the word ‘home’ in his tongue, giving you some tickles in the stomach. Somewhat inexplicable. You never thought you could feel something like that for anyone, always believing that the only thing you aspired to was being a simple mechanic at the orders of others. From your house to the workshop and vice versa.

When he's done, looking like he's a new man, Marcus accommodates his body with yours wrapping your waist with his arms and tangling his legs into yours. Leaving a relaxed sight on air and resting the head on your chest, he closes his eyes. You can feel how tired the Mayan is, dragging softly your nails above his bare back wanting to make him feel more relaxed. Sometimes you think about the difference between he being alone with you and he being with his crew. You have seen him in action with a gun in his hand threatening whoever, as if he hasn't any feelings, nor even heart. But then, he comes to your house and tell you thousand times how much he loves you whilst preparing you some dinner or cuddling at bed.

“Next month we're going to close an allies' deal with SOA”. He says a little sleepy and lowly. “I think we could stop hiding after it”.

You feel some nerves running through your skin, when you hear those words. You really want to do it. And actually, if no one knows nothing about you to, except some Mayans, it's because you asked him to keep the secret. You don't care about what your mother, nor Jax, nor Clay could say, but because of Mayans deals. You don't want to fuck up his MC. And that's why you feel somewhat scared. You have the feeling or the sensation that could suppose the end of your relationship. And Marcus is the only good thing you have in life. You don't want to lose him. You can't.

“What you think, ah?” He asks then after some seconds in silence, licking his lips as he gets up a little, enough to look at you with your gaze away. “Your mouth can lie to me, but not your eyes, mi amor. Tell me what's inside that brilliant mind”.

“I just…”

Lying by his side over the sofa, Marcus holds you tightly against his body pulling a bristle of hair behind your ear. He's worried, but not as you are.

“I just want you to promise me… that if one day you're between the sword and the wall… choose the MC before me”.

“I'm not going to promise that, (Y/N). Because that's not going to happen and I'm never going to choose the MC before you”. His voice is firm without hesitation, leaving a ephemeral caress on your left cheek, following with his eyes his own fingertips touring your skin. “You're more than a pretty face and an intelligent brain. You're my safe place. And I want you to be my family. I'm not scared of losing everything, if I have you by my side”.

“But…”

“No. There is no 'but' here, (Y/N)”.

Your name is the last word he has to say, ending the talk even if you want to continue. For him, it's enough and he doesn't want to carry on with something it has no sense. He has already chosen you ahead of the rest. You just nod leaning some inches to crash softly your lips above his, whilst his hand tangling in your hair. Sinking your face on his neck, under his chin, you leave some kisses there before falling asleep focused in his calm breathe, as usually when he's at home. There are no nightmares when he narrows you into his arms so warmly you could melt, you don't even has any kind of dream. You sleep placidly like never and waking up pretty rested.

But when you open your eyes, the sofa is empty and cold. Sitting up and rubbing your eyes with the knuckles, you yawn looking around. At the exact moment you find his kutte hanging on a chair, you see next to it a SOA one. Your heart stop, feeling how your skin begins to pale. Walking barefoot and putting on well the Marcus' shirt your wearing, poking the head out the door at the terrace, your heart jumps. Jax is there. Drinking coffee and smoking with the mexican. Swallowing saliva, you take another step outside. They stare at you in silence. You're about to sweat, cry or run away, you're not sure.

“There's more coffee in the kitchen”. Your brother just says. But your throat is full closed.

“You ok?” Marcus asks then, making you twist your neck with confusion.

“What ar—”. You can't finish the question as your brain is collapsing.

There's no blood on the floor, nor a gun on the table. They're simply good. Talking calmly as if they were friends since ever. Walking in silence to the farthest chair from them and sitting on, you rest your forearms above the table. Your brother push a cigar over it, making it roll to you. Lighting up in your lips, you have a deep smoke pulling it out by your nose.

“At first I thought you were just losing your shit, with all that happiness and sudden vitality. Then I thought you were maybe hanging out with a Mayan. Someone like Rafi or Jaime, but I didn' say nothing 'cause I can't remember when was the last time I saw you smiling”. Jax is the first to speak, moving the spoon inside the mug with his gaze on his fingers, before raising both blue eyes to you. “I'm okay, if you're okay, (Y/N)”.

Those words hit out the weight you've been carrying on your shoulders for six long months, feeling that finally you can breathe again.

“Clay and Gemma are gonna freak out, but you don't have to give a shit”. He says then shrugging his shoulders, whilst you're taking another puff. “I'm gonna take Samcro' presidence, and I just want you to be happy”.

You can't help but letting a tear falling down your cheek, the same one that Marcus cleans with his fingers in silence. You nod looking at your brother, licking and biting your lips softly.

“I'm sorry I didn' tell you, Jax”.

“You don' have to. You were scared, I understand it, (Y/N). I would probably do the same on your position”. Your brother replies with a low tone, holding your left hand above the table to narrow it softly.

“I have to come back to Oakland”. The mexican speaks then, turning to you with a fleeting smile on the corner of his lips. You nod at him. It wasn't the awakening that you had expected, but at least Marcus and you don't have to hide anymore. “I'll call you when I'm at the club, okay?”

Getting up from his chair, he leans towards you to leave a lovely kiss on your forehead, keeping some respect to Jax and don't kissing your lips.

“I love you”. He mutters maintaining your eyes with his.

“I love you too”. You just say pursing your lips on a shameful smile.

Colliding his shoulder against your brother's, narrowing his hand as a farewell, Marcus pick up his stuff before leaving your flat.

“Are you gonna leave Charming?” Jax asks when the main door is closed, before having a sip of his coffee.

“I don' know… We didn' talk about it”.

“I would miss you”.

Sobbing for a second, you lie down on your chair with your legs pending by the armrest.

“Wha'? It's true, little sister”.

“I'm just… thinking that it's a dream and I'm gonna wake up when I less expect it”.

“Why?”

“Seriously, big brother?” You ask playing the sarcastic card. “Me, with a chicano. I mean, I don' care about… where he's from, nor shits like that. But SOA does”.

“We are Samcro, (Y/N). Our father was the first founder, never forget it”. He replies pointing at you with his forefinger. “Clay is just like a… fuckin' cancer, that we're gonna kick'ut from the heart of our club. And even so, no one will ever tell you who you should be with. I'll not allow it, you hear me?”

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #marcus alvarez imagine #marcus alvarez x reader #marcus alvarez

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aidanrgallagher7 · 4 years

Text

Love in The Midst of Doomsday~

Five Hargreaves × Reader

Prologue

Chapter One: Day One

Word Count 3.1k

Warnings: cussing

March 24, 2019:

When Five arrived home, he found himself only five days before the apocalypse was set to happen. His family was shocked to see him return home since he was gone for seventeen years, but for Five it had been forty five. Yet when he came through the porthole, he looked the same as the day he left: a sixteen year old boy. But that is far from reality, he is a fifty eight year old man, trapped inside of his younger self. So not only did he have to explain why this could have happened, he also had to tell his siblings that there was going to be an apocalypse that would kill all of them. They did not believe him until events started to occur hours before the end times. Against all of the odds, Five time jumped himself and his family into the future to miss the deadly fires that ended the world as they knew it. It was not simple, not in the slightest. His family got scattered over the course of the time Five had to save them all, including himself. His sister Vanya had a catastrophic event happen to her that caused her to lash out and use her powers against her siblings. In doing so, she was the one to cause the apocalypse in the first place. Vanya was so strong that she shot her powers towards the moon, causing it to burst in which led to the end of the world. Five thought about leaving his sister behind during those few seconds before jumping into the future, but how could he? She is his sister so he indeed took all of his siblings and jumped ahead. Or so he thought.

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

November 25, 1963:

When he fell through the porthole, he fell alone. Once he was on the ground, the blue light disappeared and none of his siblings came out.

Five "Luther! Diego!" But that wasn't the only problem. When he turned around, there was a war going on in the middle of the street. He walks up to find two sides, battling for what? He did not know. That was until he found a newspaper amongst the debris. It read "Soviets attack U.S."

Five "This can't be right!" He looked around and saw his family standing in the middle of the road. They were fighting with the military, killing the enemy with their powers of course. Diego spots his brother standing there, baffled from what he is witnessing.

Diego "Five, you sick son of a bitch! Where have you been?!" Five attempts to answer but a hand lands on his right shoulder, making him stop in his tracks. When he looks up, he finds his old rival from the Commission (who became his ally in 2019) smiling down at him.

Hazel "If you want to live, come with me."

Five "Hazel? What the hell are you doing here?"

Hazel "No time to explain. Those are nukes old timer!" Five looks up and sees multiple nukes coming straight towards him.

Five "What about my family?"

Hazel "You can't save them if you are dead." He takes no time to hesitate, he has to save his family...for the second time.

…

November 15, 1963:

Hazel jumps Five ten days back, giving him just enough time to find his family and save them from the new doomsday that must have followed him. Hazel explains to him why he is helping him and how he can save his family when all of a sudden, a bus drives by and three men come out with machine guns, killing Hazel instantly. But before his death, he hands Five a briefcase and places a box type object in his blazer pocket that Five will need later. Five had no time to mourn Hazel, he had to find his family and save them all. When he loses the three men, presumably sent to kill him by the Commission, he finds an alley. In that alley, he finds an apartment building with antennas and a whole bunch of electrical equipment on the rooftop. He pauses and thinks for a moment, "Maybe this can help me." Then he feels something in his finger, when he looks down, he sees his wedding ring that was still on his finger. It was slipping off, making him feel it.

Five "Shit.." he has gone through so much these last five days that he almost forgot that he even had a wife. "I'll get back to you, I promise." He whispered to himself as he took his ring off and put it in his shorts pocket. Then, he blinked himself inside.

"What do you want?"

Five "Hi, I'm selling encyclopedias for my youth group-" the man slams the door in his face but that does not faze Five. All he had to do was blink inside, scaring the man half to death. But the man was not alone, there was a young girl standing in the kitchen. The man screams and grabs a sharp object and points it at Five. He smirks and then gets startled when the young girl drops her mug on the wooden floor.

"F-five?" He looked into her eyes and he knew instantly..that he was looking at his wife.

Five "Y/n?... Y/n!"

"..y-wait what?! How do you know this kid?!" The man shouted in confusion.

You both said "Long story."

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

When you saw him at first you were shocked. How could he be young like you are? How did the both of you get stuck in your younger bodies? It doesn't make any sense. But you do not care about the answers right now, all you can think about is the fact that you have your husband back.

"Uhm- d-dad..can you give us a minute?" You stammered.

Elliot "What? No, absolutely not! This kid just came in our ho-"

"I know. I know it's crazy. This is all crazy but I promise, we will both explain to you what is happening okay? Just please us a minute." he slowly nods.

Elliot "You have five minutes!" He shouted and instantly, Five took your hand and blinked the both of you into the alleyway. As soon as you both collected yourselves, Five picked you up and spun you around like he used to every time he saw you after a long day of missions.

Five "Oh my god..oh my god I found you." He kept repeating over and over again. You were so emotional that no words came out of your mouth, only soft laughter and whimpers. When Five put you back down onto the found, he cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips ever so gently. That feeling is the best feeling in the entire world. You thought that you would never feel his gentle touch, his warm embrace or his soft lips ever again. But thankfully, you are with him again and you could not be happier.

"H-how are you here I thought-"

Five "Yeah I uh-I..I saved them from the first apocalypse."

"The first one…?"

Five "Yeah babe..there's another one coming. A nuclear holocaust causes the next apocalypse."

"You gotta be shitting me."

Five sighs, "I wish I was."

"Well we have a lot of catching up to do-"

Five "How long have I been gone..for you I mean. How long has it been for you?

"Five years." His eyes fall to the ground, you can see his heart break through his eyes, "Five long years. That is why when I recognized you I kind of panicked."

Five "It has only been five days for me Y/n. This is crazy..this is not okay."

"Five-"

Five "No babe, none of this should be happening! I should have just stayed with you..just stayed in the Commission and everything would be fine."

"Things weren't fine in the Commission Five, you know that. The Handler is getting more and more crooked as time goes on and now we are stuck in these bodies-"

Five chuckles, "Yeah, a blessing in disguise I suppose. We were starting to look a little shabby. Me more than you."

You giggle and walk towards Five once again, "We will get through this love. You had to go through the first apocalypse alone, but with this new doomsday coming, we will have each other. You have me Five."

Five "And I wouldn't want it any other way." He says as he kisses your forehead.

"Love in the midst of doomsday.."

Five "Hmm, what a way to put it. I love it."

"I love you."

Five "So much." He kisses you before blinking the two of you back into the apartment.

Elliot still has the sharp object in his hand once you get back in, it makes you giggle. Five pays no attention to it because he knows that he would never hurt him and even if he tried, he would not be successful. Five is a trained assassin after all, so a butter knife does not faze him in the slightest.

Elliot "How did you do that?!"

Five "Don't really have the time to explain."

Elliot "Are you from the Pentagon, huh?!"

"Dad.."

Five "Definitely not."

Elliot "CIA, FBI, KGB..?" Five chooses to ignore your father's splurge of words that he is trying to put a word to what Five is or where he is from.

Five "Is it fresh hun?" He points to the coffee.

"Mhm."

Elliot "'Hun?'-" Five blinks to the coffee maker, making your father scream again. When Five takes a sip, he is more than satisfied.

Five "Mm..is this Colombian?"

Elliots "I-it's my own blend."

Five "Hmm." He takes a closer look at the news that he has hung up all around his living space and thinks for a moment. Thinking on how he can ask questions without scaring the man who is his father-in-law that doesn't even know it yet.

Five "You uh..have you heard of Area 51. Roswell?" Your father begins to laugh and throws the knife on the counter and claps.

Elliot "Hot damn!" You begin to smile and think to yourself, alright we will be okay. "I knew we weren't the only one's! Eleanor thought my head wasn't screwed on tight but it's all true yeah? The UFO'S and crop circles..?"

Five chuckles, "Well the truth is out there!"

Elliot "But, but tell me.." he gets in Five's face, "Why is it always an anal probe?"

Five "Any closer and I'll melt your brain." Your father immediately backs off and gives Five some space.

Elliot "Right yeah, sorry."

"Dad, show him what you found."

Elliot "Why-?"

Five "You built all those contraptions on the roof, you built those yourself?"

Elliot "Yup, I sure did. I've just been waiting."

Five "Waiting for what?"

Elliot "For you. For all of you." You walk over to Five and stand by his side as your father explains to him how he has taken photos of six individuals who have appeared from a flash of blue light. When he looked at the photos Elliot has pinned on the wall, he see's none other than his siblings.

Five "So my family is alive. Shit…"

"Five?"

Five "I think I stranded them here."

"We will find them."

Elliot "Okay, okay okay..now that I explained to you my findings, WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"

Five "That is a very long story but just know that I love your daughter and I will do everything that I can to keep her safe."

Elliot "Keep her safe-"

Five "Now, you listen to me." He walks towards your father but he backs away in fear but Five only blinks his way towards him, "I have ten days to find them and save the world and I need your help to do that."

Elliot "You..need my.." you walk over to your father's desk and pull out a piece of newspaper that has Diego's face on it.

"Five..your brother is in a mental institution."

Five "What?!" He takes the paper out of your hand and begins to read the title: disturbed man arrested with multiple knives outside 1026 N. Beckley. He sighs, "That son of a bitch.."

Elliot "W-is that helpful?"

Five "You have no idea."

"Let me come with you."

Five "Hun, he doesn't know you yet. If I bring you, he'll get confused..he won't be focused."

"I want to help Five."

Five "And you will, just let me get Luther and Diego..you can help me with my sister's okay?"

"Okay, okay yeah." He kisses your forehead and then blinks out of the apartment. When it is just you and your father, you find yourself in an uncomfortable silence.

Elliot "Okay Y/n what the fuck!?"

"Dad calm down alright. You don't know what is going on-"

Elliot "You're damn right I don't know what's going on! From the way I see it, a stranger with powers comes into my house, asking me for help and calling my daughter hun and saying that he loves you..who is this kid?!"

"Dad..I don't really know how to put this in any way that is easy for you to comprehend but will you promise to just let me try my hardest to explain it to you?"

Elliot "Why are you saying it like that?"

"Because it is not going to be easy for you to believe me. But I am telling you the truth..okay?" Your father sits down on the sofa beside you and takes your hand in his and prepares himself to listen to you. You take a deep breath and open your mouth to speak.

"I have come back from the future to save John F. Kennedy. My real age is fifty five, even though I look sixteen again, my consciousness is fifty five." Your father stops breathing for a minute or two, "Dad, breathe." He does so and he starts to chuckle a little bit because he did not realize that he stopped breathing. "And Five is my husband, dad. That is why we recognized each other. You see, we work for a Commission and it allows us to time travel to stop and prevent some events from occurring."

Elliot "O-okay but why do you look like my teenage daughter..?"

"I don't know. Five doesn't know why he is young again either, we just are. But I am still your daughter, I promise."

Elliot "My daughter who is married to a guy with super powers.."

"You can say that, yeah. But he is the greatest man that I have ever known. Yes he is different and so are his siblings that you have hanging up on your whiteboard. Their powers and abilities are different from Fives but maybe when he finds them, you can meet them."

Elliot "Right..right yeah."

"I know this is a lot to take in, believe me I know. But it is really good to see you dad. I've missed you so much." He smiles and pulls you into his chest for a warm embrace.

Elliot "I can't say that I've missed you because for me, you never left but..I am glad that you are here.."

"Me too dad." You and him talk for the rest of the day while Five goes out looking for his two brothers. You and your dad wait for his return and try to find more clues as to where his other siblings may be.

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

It is now 12:32 in the morning and you are still awake, just waiting for Five to come back to you. Of course your anxiety gets the best of you and you begin to think of everything that could have gone wrong. To ease your mind, you walk up to your mirror in your bedroom and get your pajamas on and brush all the knots out of your hair. You start zoning out when a flash of blue light appears behind you and a pair of hands wrap around your waist. You jolt from being startled and Five only laughs.

"Fuck Five.." you say as you hold onto your chest from your heart jumping all the way up into your throat.

Five chuckles, "What, did I scare you honey?" He laughs as he tightens his grip around your waist.

"Yes! I hate when you do that."

Five "Oh," his voice grows raspy as he kisses your cheek from behind, "But you love me."

"Yeah I do. How did it all go, did you find them?"

Five sighs as he watches you turn around to face him, "Yeah I did. But Diego's head is so far up his ass that he has himself convinced that he has to save the president. I had no other choice but to tell the guards Diego's attempts on escaping-"

"Oh Five-"

Five "I know but it is for his own good Y/n. If I let him do it, he'd get himself killed."

"Okay, and Luther?"

Five rolls his eyes, "Luther is being Luther. I told him that I needed his help and he just said that he didn't give a shit."

"How could he not care?"

Five "He thinks that I am lying about the world ending in ten days because we all just escaped the last one." You huff, "But I will figure it all out. I have too."

"You will Five. And I'll help you out along the way."

Five leans down and kisses you, "You look so adorable in your little pajamas."

"I can't believe I used to wear this shit as a teenager."

Five "I can say the same thing..." he points to his Umbrella Academy suit and you both have a good laugh at that. "Hey, did you talk to your father?"

"Oh yeah uh, he understood. The best he could I guess."

Five "He knows everything?"

"He knows what he needs to know while we are stuck in this time period." Five nods, "He was the most shocked to hear that I am fifty Five." He bursts out laughing.

Five "Well baby, you don't look a day over sixteen." You blush and wrap your arms around him as he holds you for a minute or so. "C'mon, we should get some sleep before tomorrow."

"Yeah that sounds good."

Five "Is it okay if I sleep in here? Your father isn't gonna come in here with a shotgun-"

"Oh shut up, he knows that we are married." You kid.

Five "Okay good. Because I haven't been able to sleep with my beautiful wife in a good minute."

"It's been five years for me."

Five "All the more reason to come here." He opens his arms for you as you climb into bed. Once you are in his arms, your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. "I love you Y/n."

"I love you too." He kisses your forehead and you both drift off into a deep sleep. You don't know what tomorrow will bring but as long as Five is by your side, you know that you'll be able to accomplish anything.

@moriartysringtone7137 @a-mess-of-fandoms @noellehnsherr @dagdrommers-blog @yikes-matey @dyor @s0ftd3m0n @itzel17 @qualitymugghostrebel @oh-chuck-help-me @honeybee-cherie @cocoa-creampuff @asphodelshare @ecwrenn @lilablosom @jazshargreeves @bbluepparadise16 @theoriginalkat

#aidan gallagher #the umbrella academy #five #five hargreeves #love in the midst of doomsday

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