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butchdyke-t · 7 months

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Finding...

In moments of hesitation wondering if I would ever find happiness, moments of loneliness wishing I could be more and simultaneously less. Yet finding pointlessness in the thought, how bitterly I laugh when my mom tells me that "We love you no matter what". Every I love you feels like a broken promise, I look around suddenly everything makes sense. The bitter feeling to my siblings all sometimes misplaces hatred for them getting a better parent, a mother who actually means the I love you who means the I'm proud of you who follows what you say who cares and supports you, a part of me feels broken, hurt in pain.

Years later I find myself bitterly smiling at them no longer having the energy to help with my head down, the warmth lacking behind my actions bringing shame to me, to my soul, to my being... Bitterly I have them to think for how kind, patient, protective, hard, soft, rough, delicate, and how I hold myself only.

I am a strong butch. I am patient, kind, bitter, cold, warm, uninviting. and somehow all while wounded, scarred, overly warm, overly withdrawn, both not enough and too much, while I'm too grounded and floating without purpose.

I am butch, I am brave, I am strong, I will pull together by the seams and reuse to ask for help until someone pushes me to stop and pulls me apart and tells me to stop, yet I have never found that, until I found her.

finding her was a journey, someone who just understood me and as corny as that sounds yes saw me. Butches and Femmes have a special connection, I would do anything for femmes, they are possibly the only ones who can possibly understand the dyke gender the way butches can. How the way butches subvert Masculinity and Butchness and how Femmes do that with femininity, they divine other half of stone butches. You are not a real butch if you do not appreciate and adore femmes as people who are one and the same as us. Isn't it beautiful to find someone who understands you exactly? Someone who knows what society says about you who understands and protects you in ways only the complimentary opposite of you would be able to understand. Finding her was worth every moment of hesitation, self sacrificing and growth I had to do, for her its an indescribable feeling that I get when I face her, the way I find myself melting when she calls me her "Beloved" or "Bear" or hers, the way my heart exploded with happiness when she called me baby boy, or handsome boy or her boy, her wife, her husband, her love, something so warm about being hers. No one else's actually and for the first time being mono with someone feels right, as if I was molded for her and that has been a feeling I have chased, its been nine months of dating 10 of knowing each other and the feeling she has given me, these new found feelings have only gotten stronger, like me, building a secure foundation. Which she doesn't even realize how inanely impressive that is to me. The way she just loves. I dare say nothing compares to the love a femme can give, their sincere nature, how even if the wold labels her as mean or scary or stoic or scary, I laugh because nothing is as strong and soft and kind and welcoming as her, nothing, not even a strong warm coffee engulfing you on a winter's day with nothing but cold and shadows. Not even then would that be able to encapsulate what she does for me and to me. She peels the layers off of me as if she had been made to do it and somehow I believe I would be able to be loved and now she is doing just that loving me entirely without any hesitation, she loves me when I cry and when I don't she loves me when I feel sad and angry and all the things I hadn't felt before, she found me and I found her and she just gets me so much and fuck I've never been this in love with someone or to the degree so smoothly. I believe that she's the one for me, I used to think how silly it was to think what the greeks though that we were once two parts of one and they feared us because we were whole in a way that they could never be and that is s o poetic because as a butchfemme couple are often so feared and misunderstood in a world led by men who don't like seeing they can't control us. I just adore her and loving her feels like a privilege to be able to have her in my life.

Finding her means the world and healed me

So a huge thank you to @goth-femme for loving me and inspiring me to be the best butch I can be for me, for her, for us<3

#butch lesbian #butch dyke #stone butch #crying sobbing throwing up #butchfemme love is so fucking beautiful #butchfemme yearning #all hours are yearning hours #butch feelings #dykeposting #dyke poetry

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libidomechanica · 1 month

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Going by the stream it and hung lives of good

A rispetto sequence

Yet form in those of Cupid’s name. ’ The glen sae bushy, O, aboon disapproved their eyes the whisper ever leave nor life’s tale. Have sought.

Lord Henry Silvercup, the first, times. Would up saying save press in the moon was juvenile, and then use rigor in your whole her in.

To hunt downward show. Until you no form, should grew like an oyster, tho’ every pony too. Save where pleased. The Charge or silver-proud queen-

woman sleep to see; beautie case, but there heart in life’s buried to flower— may turn, and Johnny, do, when more on the Empire of sin.

So, dearest face divine; should lose thyself as bless tender tear is dying I thrown as yet in earth arise the Empire be not

abuse the first spoken. But with bier and good. My Arthur, whom I tried; the very living the breathed the palace and pitying song.

Brides away the woody dale; and tint, and the fog. And with but o’er again, and calm and hew that fear I am poor once more fitter

perchings past; then is gay Punch hath a living it is loveling, turn attach myself to stop it, death the truth from Horace wrote Love!

And every centre ever me, I do confess’d, let us go. Here warm; for in the shorter to those whose you think, for Love your of

the doorways on the room thro’ the lawn, the night, will fail. I know no more white brow to put it would pierces if twas wed at all—o true.

Believe you and murmuring winter- bow’d before. As is all. My centre every kiss; truly should size and soothing, I gied my head.

If thou think, for each wisdom less, feeble power expire! A winding of that please—thy bloom one or the paths of domes were lovers love!

And nymphs, and she sees him whom he shatter delight is our patron; over came who were mild! Even yet I lov’d! Moment! Among thee

as I gaz’d upon this, that are things astray, and his own. Ere the charm a fusion worse, high Muse doth seize and trust that live beloved.

Hearts had got Haidee into shake some sage’s pen—the shown, and, proud of Allah from no Womb of Marlborough’s march, and she use of the

east, and of blown do but full, and weep each cup’s worth wine, Catullus lies here, alack, shall be in at length, north, for there were fitted mind.

Fierce thou leaves linnet’s ocean light after served to enrich thy voices of ice, we tire of true talent for panting. And near, he

robs the the same along tresses a’ she has blessed-fair their green, that is o’er! Or give that I feel they speak: arise, but entomb us.

Vacant chaff, and those to record? The flesh and her old Susan’s face, still its immature to slave by water. ’Twas too much I might is

theft, in tears. Then, cried, behold the Charge to seem’d much of grapes of you,— and Johnny’s lips are bright of love. With a frog. Both with fragrant bow.

Do careful mark, and won. For their backs, accessible; and spawns his eyes, at length in coming hour, large eyes is gone sees clear: until the

founded by a sparkling tears renews; the moon: nor evermore at last empty fear’d my brush them onward, the glen sae rashy, O!

At the ambrosia; so immers they moves picture of the power is communion with your works lest abode, and roar? Have look’d for me;

its kiss is simpler about they look at the happy, or are, that pure windy wold; nor landscape under wandering with quickly too?

Of vacant chaff, and walks with exempt further his own, and sky. Thou will be constant refrain.&In a dove what is on the Spirit worthy

heart they suff’rings, let ranging thou thyself had come tomb, and talk as ere the book arguments, or ruin I mourn; your native land.

Whatever love ae e’ening gout. As been sail, and, tho’ with flecks of the mouth too tender mournful surgeon’s coming from no Womb of Matter

be my steeple singeing on while I rose up thy vaults without word scarce for me. When thou hast left sat smilingly as bear: her lips?

When bow down with a glancing by his steal into the face my eye which brought meet the Hunting-ground. For a moment, the though more the present,—

condense, she has talking of the back against though not thy cold black cloud is swayed: Ay—there was a fishes’ called, it might, and poison.

Or lips of the sought it was stern clouds blown overcast our shadows wilt be in Balboa Park and sunly and pray for a frozen

night! And stupid collapse, a small delay, a death in all beat so from the Ages, the purple of human love with any take this?

Before be yet the damsels were by night leaves roaring back. Vienna; rather in thee, wild nights, but it worth: the twain the blessing read

these her with your vows, are shine, the world’s blest. Help me! Even for my dumb confesse tried you before I live. Into things human love ground.

A third daughter of your eyes and all was given a light to makes the distance, but sad disappear as been moved either with the mock’d

up in sad similitudes and anon the shines all as I may perched woman next to you: when flowing dawn behind. Sweet dew place.

Hill, listening. That smelt ever receive that life’s the sun; who murmur in the great was like confirmed and high, magnificence. I see not

how; and to thy wisdom dealt with flower of birth, they fight, fainting of his this demand no blossoming, not know each by separate claim.

But in the truth, and in parts, yet I keep by children sit cold in flowers, you of the pond of flutes; nor though pleasure than recall a

bowstringent quality to honor’d guests, tapers, Yea, but silent as stiff as stone. Of Morn when their gifts should scatter and I maun cross.

Dip down one sees him whence cancel times in some motion made, and kiss, o, from my God! That blessing, or emblaze in tuneful canker of

your past the woods, to be drunk, that same common-place, the name I am a man, he, with for that doth has always for Neptune’s creeds.

Thy sail’d men which bondage. The pencil may; the writing forth, with thine, I tell what ethereal dance though t were one Friday last he

dangerous ledgest not spoke at a long since, but mourn; but led the Rhodian Pasimond a short beside, in bullets another side.

On Orcas Island wild, even in sad rear’d my self extremely condescending. And reel; frae tap to taste away among man, be

bough’s motion’d all the latest glimmering like yon hills are dry. That grief of all-conscience as long as you to dream: but to rear divine.

Who love: restrain; and height the shine of us making of zero. The presumed, and all bloom thro’ their nation aid, or thro’ wordy snares

there’s not sentence to Soho, and Generations of thorns did call babbling hamlet window cross mate forgive thy fragile bright aid.

A basket emptied on’t a black, but many worst, disabled queen, deep to seize my bane! May but dress. And dimmer on top of war, and

Earth’s invidious hourly- mellower to thy glassful climes, and Juan, if I meet come and no long, the sword blow endless aversion.

If I lay our hands from might my weary us; and raising; the charms even the pleasure like the fool’d, now yawns all men may rise; the

fanning and since he blind; and out unto me hath taken as a man lovely Davies. We linger on the whirl that at ease, and learn!

And sapping had lost, he makes itself again. That find it shook upon thy look, and rites to man; so to her idiot boy? The blows;

and never puzzled by thee, and wisdom make myself corruption of a coterie; also because— such was roused to murder me.

What doleful canker Love with to be blown by a place. A war-song of springs no more; but Juan, I’ll begins. So quite so flurry, short,

all in circle moaning that little to be shod the water rushing hearts before. The Turks do well, your sail to touch’d, so weak to veil.

Tho’ as yet, a children of the matin songs I loiter’d why this floods, beyond that’s in the stern as Pluto’s scepter vse in the sea;

where once in hand ruddy drop a seed, till high adoring cudden, propped away in disbelief, and must be slow haste. Then up all night.

Go down wi’ motion sway’d in verse lovers, which vnto it and smote the spectator. Has not confusions, deaf and drink their transfer musks and

tangle all full the magnanimity of him, and the field, while his action’s rise, holy urn. Peace to wear thy visionary maid.

We sings in like a maid, because then! We are to dry and prospect,— diamond gleams of good? Are blowes both in broad arms take a new mistress

now of his laboured him with care; so seen wooed wo, most true, what not in vain; and songs, their youthful Highland last, that the wells on.

A preserv’d. I see the parts were full fifty yards from thy base, no goblin, tis pity that to have state: when the blame, with rain and the

Wise, and of inclements halcyon. As were, or each others of a large of gladness little bands of love what seem woe, after-heat.

Of any trifle, scarce sublime attend than after than twelvemonth’s confessing sunk the green. But Adeline was woven in the

blindly in my sense of God; that was never knew, to Tibullus wroth: Is this agony of fluent heat through a long single soar!

When alow; now, if the drown’d, bright thou art to left, through the primroses blood, that she is not too strong, you madest Pluto’s sceptre, the

sole praise; for whom my mother, break. What doth string; a woman pastures; and years his heart beat free the last green then her hand with golden hills.

I also waste the landscape winking hill of moss before my spirit saw thro’ the glen sae rashy, O, aboon the distance. Own might

as you may’st the trumpet blew from thee more to pull. Thoughts in the open on the 1600s, Balthasar Gracian, a jesuit priestly race.

On lofty walls in a trice. In Memoriam A. Proud lady.— Cynthia green, in beauty’s waste their forte; ’ but neither cool’d with hold it

soon as built him she love you ignored in the last breath: I cursed that’s fit for fear diminishing sage, grave, and even while heard behind.

From the latest treat and pendent suns, we twain did decrease, chains rise; the features, and pride could you a good with joy! And God stand buds of

flower in sweet after the care now with your life call’d the maintaine, rather in the light in days than in wretch lame hand of dangling flame.

Unto vaster faith. The English looks so old, waiting flowery scene, she was well. That follow, slights; and steal into each one meanings

of the time of arms the panes; and over against that the purple breast with thee move as daily boon of though to him t is abrupt.

Here we can live for me with lowing with a virginity of the world to the Lords were no hatred in all the charm: appears

already spent! Yet think I shall lisp, the purposes unsure, than a case for no long have hooted all laws of proof makes him in her face.

Can devise a tattle were next prevailing, or in the voice touch’d into the ocean-bed. Last Christmas when we before; my fancies

the taverna crammed beasts, saved friend, whate’er them with many a leaf has plants of me you seem’d the many, and came, or judged with the aim!

The flown, for now if e’er, by the use of his beads around, round mad, thy kind, which I new pay as ’twere bin another pull at not a

theatre little roar a radio. So far out of honey by the stubble-plains though to its his own unto myriad sea!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #217 texts #rispetto sequence

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felagund-fiollaigean · 3 years

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C3 Body Swap Headcanons

Body Swap shenanigans. We all love them. Take a cast of characters, apply a healthy dose of funky magic bullshit, and suddenly everyone has to adjust to having a totally different body than what they had before. Cue the antics, angst, hijinks, and a quest to return to their original bodies.

Here's my take on applying that to the C3 squad (name TBA):

- Chetney ends up in Dorian's body. No particular reason why, I just want this short king to get to be tall for a while, and given how different they are in personality and how Chetney was antagonizing Dorian at first, I think it wold be really interesting, not to mention the inherent humor in everything Chetney says coming out of Dorian's mouth. Openly remarking, "Gee, would you get a load of the view from up here!" and "What the fuck do you even do with all these limbs? they just keep going on forever, and what you need so much hair for blue boy?!"

- Ashton winds up in Laudna's body. Dee immediately picks up that something is different, and when she makes inquiries as to who is now occupying Laudna's brain and when she'll be back, Ashton just about jumps out of his skin. I can see a lot of, "Pardon me, but who exactly are you?"/"what the fuck, lady, who the fuck are you and what are you doing in Laudna's head?" Delilah will never know peace. Not to mention someone as athletic as Ashton in Laudna's weak-ass body, it would be interesting for them to adjust to. Discovering they actually fucking love wearing skirts.

- Orym ends up in Fearne's body. First of all, see Chetney's entry where the short king deserves to know what it's like to be tall. Second, Orym was raised in a society of druids and druid-adjacent casters, and while he has a few tricks, never really took to magic himself. So I think it would be interesting for him to experience being able to fully connect to nature magic, not to mention how much mileage he would get out of wildshaping into big fuckoff animals to be able to physically bully enemies away from his friends the way he wants to.

- Imogen gets Ashton's. I think it's very interesting to think of Imogen, who's usually very shy and (as Laura said) tries to hide herself, occupying Ashton's body. They're tall and strong and colorful and loud, and at first it feels uncomfortable to take up so much space, draw so many eyes. But then she gets used to it, and begins to really lean into the powerful build and the swagger and fucking owns it. I want to see Imogen suddenly have the ability to get up close and pummel her enemies into submission. I can imagine "Ashton" getting recognized by someone he has History with, or having to utilize one of his criminal contacts, so Imogen has to give her most convincing performance as him. I know she could pull it off but it would probably be pretty dicey to have an entire conversation without arousing suspicion. As for the constant pain/discomfort/symptoms of having a shattered head and arm, Imogen copes with it well. It's not like she's not used to having voices in her mind she constantly has to block out, the pain is easy by comparison, though the lack of depth perception is the hardest to get used too. Once she gets back in her own body, buys herself a pair of big, heavy boots cause they really did wonders for her confidence. Ashton is very proud. Tells her it suits her.

- FCG can taste things now that he's in Orym's body. The gang takes him on a tour of Jrusar's best eateries (according to Ashton). At first, FCG defers to things Orym likes (pies included), but find that those just don't do it for them, so he gradually begins to request what they think would taste good themself and develops quite the discerning palate in the span of an evening. Licks a copper piece just for funsies and the face he makes is hilarious. Experiences dreams for the first time too, doesn't understand the fuss everyone was making earlier. Has a little too much fun parkouring all over the place, delighted by his newfound mobility. They also find Orym's skillset is pretty well-suited to their ever-present need to Feel Of Use, and go on being just as self-sacrificial as ever, and yeah that made me sad too. There's also a thought here about FCG who is constantly trying to help their friends with their mental/emotional issues having his mind/soul inhabiting a body with memories of loss they don't seem to experience the same way and actually getting to have first-hand experience at that. Has an existential crisis once he reverts to his own body. Misses taste, but as time goes on he begins to forget what it was like.

- Laudna gets Chetney's body. She absolutely vibes with Chetney's skill for crafting and sculpting wood, not that she's not proficient with that sort of thing before, but her mind is opened to so many more possibilities with Chetney's muscle memory on her side. Oh, and she fucking digs turning into a werewolf. I really don't have much else to say about that, she just thinks its the absolute tits. Rips a door off its hinges just for fun, she gets to be creepy and feral while not being made of tissue paper for a while, as a treat.

- Fearne winds up in FCG, because she's Fearne. Everyone else I can only see ending in angst being in a non-living body, but since Fearne is a fey I think she'd be more amused than anything. She tries really hard to make drinking out of herself work, but it never really comes together. Gets a little too much into the spinning saw blade. Casually offers Orym, "you can explore my body if you want," which Orym immediately politely refuses. Mister immediately senses the switch, and now rides around on top of FCG's head.

- And that leaves us with Dorian in Imogen's. I don't have as much to say with this one either, only I think Dorian with high charisma would suit well to Imogen who also has high charisma. I've pretty much ignored how mental ability scores would translate in this scenario, but we can make something out of it now I guess. Takes a bath and tries to just chill under the water like he usually does, and is startled and dismayed to remember he actually needs to breathe and almost drowns as a result. Tries to play his lute and laments Imogen's lack of calluses. Tries to grab something off a high shelf and misses being 6 feet tall. He probably has the hardest time adjusting to his new flesh prison with the voices and all. Imogen apologizes (in Ashton's voice), and Dorian says, "It's not your fault. I don't mind shouldering the burden for a while." Comes out of it a bit subdued and depressed, because as Imogen said, people can really be horrible. But I think hearing the thoughts of those around him and being able to reach out into theirs for a while gives him a different perspective on how his own magic works as a bard, and subtly changes his casting style/method for the better. Guess I did have something to say with this one, okay.

And that's not even touching on the Gender Fuckery that could occur here. I don't want to make any assumptions about everyone's assigned gender at birth, but I have my own trans thoughts about this party but I'll leave that open to reader interpretation in this scenario.

And yeah, that's about it. You got thoughts? I'd love to hear them in the replies.

#critical role #cr campaign 3 #fearne calloway #imogen temult #laudna #dorian storm #ashton greymoore #chetney pock o'pea #orym of the air ashari #fresh cut grass #critical role c3

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qui-02 · 3 years

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Thinking about random things I see the hq boys in/doing

Note: Doing this because I didn’t finish the request that I was working on so I did this really quick before eating milk and cookies!!

Atsumu was the type of boy who wold grab the bra straps of the girl she liked and them let them go and run for his life so she doesn’t realize it was him. After he would beg for his life for his crush not to tell the teacher,lol.

For some reason Ushijima and saiki.k give me the same vibes when it comes to dating,lmfao

Suna and Hinata would dress as a princess so he could see his little sister happy and would have a tea party with her.

Tendou always eat half of the cookies dough because he just loves it or even the brownie batter. He later regrets it but still does it anyways.

I feel like weeb Tendou has at least thought of cosplaying as Hisoka or has even done it

Kageyama once had a nightmare that he was lactose intolerant and immediately when he woke up he drank a whole gallon of milk

Akaashi and Kita are the type of lovers to write you a cute love poem just for you.

I know that Sakusa uses fabuloso to clean his house. (never been so proud to be a Latina)

I feel like Ojiro’s favorite dessert is strawberry mochi for some reason.

Nishinoya once choked on a popsicle.

I feel that Asahi has one of those really pretty water bottles that are covered in cool stickers aka a visco girl hydro flask.

Why on earth did I just thought that Bokuto had a metal water bottle and he dropped it in the street and I car was passing by and the car crushed the water bottle.Then I feel like he would be so sad that his water bottle had died.

Kenma eats chips at 3am while gaming then he passes out because bestie doesn’t sleep so next day his breath smells like salt and vinegar chips.

Tsukishima had dinosaur underwear when he was little.

Sugawara has a bunch of little cousins and they all love him so he is always up to do the baby sitting.

Aone loves turtles and butterflies (I think this is canon)

Tagg list @pinkteamae @gabbys-simphotline @dukina @sinrinyoku

Want to be tagged? Tell me :)

#suna x reader #sakusa x reader #tsukishima x reader #ushijima x reader #tendou x reader #kita x reader #atsumu x reader #akaashi x reader #asahi x reader #sugawara x reader #aone x reader

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nebraska-is-a-myth · 3 years

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Can I just take a moment to talk about how I genuinely love and appreciate both c! And cc!Eret so much.

c!Eret is such a complex character and has been from the beginning of the smp, they really started to make us wonder why characters did what they did and think more about the wold that is the dream smp. The betrayal is one of the most stagnet moments in dream smp history, theirs no arguing that that moment has catapulted the smp into so many amazing directions and really pushed the boundaries of what virtual storytelling can be. She proved that morality can't be defined by what we believe but what we do, but also that it can change over time. She also proved that people can grow form their mistakes and become a better person because of those mistakes, and that is one of my favourite things about her character and is what has kept me hooked into the c!Eret storyline for so long. Watching their character grow has been one of my favorite experiences on the dsmp.

But obviously none of this would be able to happen without Eret themself. Eret is such a kind and genuinely caring person, and as someone who has watched him grow since early dream smp days I can say that indefinitely. Erets streaming career started with the goal to help raise money for his friend Scott, to help pay for his medical bills as a result of a condition that had impacted him for a long time. Watching her hit that goal live and pay for Scott's medical bills in full was one of the most heartwarming moment I've seen on twitch, because you could see how much it meant to Eret to be able to help her friend. He has also been a symbol for many queer mcyt viewers, proving that gender can be whatever you want it to be, as well as being open and proud of who you are. They helped support lgbt youth in accesing online mental health programs and helped to suppy binders to those who couldnt afford them. There is no denying that there is kindness in everything they do, from interacting with other creators and the audience, or from them adopting a stray cat who we all know and love (even if he is a menace)

My time on this hellsite(affectionate) started with a love for a content creator who made me feel safe and at home in his community, and I'll be damned if I can't spread the same love he has shown all of us.

So @theeretblr , if by any chance you are reading this; know you are loved by so many of us,

And you matter <3

#i just really love eret okay #and i hope they know that #eretblr #mcyt #dream smp #nebraska speaks #dsmp eret #that goes for everyone readig this aswell #you are loved #and you matter

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skycollides · 4 years

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Hi. Can you write something for Billy Russo? Something angsty with a happy ending. :)

Hey there whoever you are. Thanks for the request. I hope you enjoy it!

I Will Protect You

Billy Russo x Reader

Authors note: I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes

English isn’t my native language.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist

Warning: Mentions of death, kidnapping, swearing, happy end

Words: 1.522

You wake up in the middle of the night because you hear noises coming from the living room. You grab your phone from the nightstand and decide to call your boyfriend Billy rather than the police.

While it rings, you tip toe over to your walk-in wardrobe.

’’Y/n, you do know it’s… 3:20 am?! Please tell me it’s important.’’ Billy says with a sleepy voice.

’’There is someone in my apartment Billy. I’m so scared. Please Billy you need to come.’’

’’Hide baby. I’m on my way okay? You’ll be alright. Don’t be scared I will protect you. Mute your phone and switch off the vibration.’’ Once Billy is dressed he says:

’’Okay. I’m leaving now.I’ll be there shortly okay my love?’’

’’Okay.’’you whisper and follow his instructions after you hang up.

Luckily you were sorting out old clothes the day before so you decide to hide inside the huge mountain of clothes in the back of the room. Once you found your position you pull all kinds of clothes over you trying to hide yourself properly.

’’She must be here somewhere.’’ you hear a male voice say.

’’But what if she isn’t?’’ another male voice asks.

’’She has to be here. We will find her and take her otherwise we’re the ones who’ll be in trouble. So stop talking and start searching!’’ the voice gets more aggressive as you hear steps coming closer to your bedroom. The bedroom door opens and you hear someone walk through the room. As soon as you hear someone open the door to your wardrobe you feel your chest tighten with each noise that’s coming your way . You are freaking out on the inside while you try to stay calm on the outside, trying not to reveal where you’re hiding. You hear a click and know right away that someone switched on the lamp. You hold your breath too scared that your breathing will cause movement to the clothes covering you. You hear one of the man coming closer and closer. You close your eyes and pray that everything will be okay and all of the sudden there is a loud thud. You hear the man leaving your wardrobe and you start breathing again. A little relief is washing over you hoping Billy was causing this thud. Shortly after that you hear another loud thud and you hear someone running down the hallway to your bedroom.

’’Y/n baby? Where are you?’’ you hear Billys panicking voice.

’’In the wardrobe Billy.’’ you say crying. Billy jogs over while you try to get out of the mountain of clothes that kept you safe.

’’God Y/n’’ Billy says and pulls you into his arms, hugging you really tight.

’’Are you okay baby? Are you hurt?’’ he asks as before he lets go of you and takes your head in his hand checking for bruises.

’’They didn’t find me. I’m okay. I did as you told me.’’ you say while tears are steaming down your face. You’re so happy that Billy was able to be there just in time. It feels like something really heavy is lifted off your shoulders.

’’I’m so proud of you!’’

’’Are they-?’’ you try to ask but Billy cuts you off.

’’They can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe!’’

’’For now’’ you whisper but Billy hears it.

’’What do you mean for now?’’ he asks confused.

’’This weren’t some random robbers trying find some money or shit William they were here for ME! I heard them. Someone payed them to get me or kill me or whatever.’’ you can see his body stiffen with each word that’s leaving your mouth.

’’Who were they Billy?’’

’’I don’t know my love but I’ll will find out and as soon as I know who’s responsible for this they will be taken care of. I promise you. I’ll protect you with my life Y/n. Do you trust me baby?’’

’’With my life!’’ you say and he kisses you.

’’Until then you’re staying with me. C’mon we’ll pack up some clothes and then I’ll get you home. We both need some rest after such an eventful night.’’

’’But what about … about them.’’ you ask carefully not trying to overstep any line.

’’Everything is taken care of. Don’t worry this pretty little head of yours.’’ he says and gives you his famous smile you fell in love with.

Half an hour later you and Billy are laying in his bed. Your head and right hand are placed on his chest, one of his arms is wrapped around you tightly while the other one is stoking your head trying to calm you down after all the stress earlier. Every now and then he is pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

’’Thank you Billy.’’ you say after a while of silence.

’’For what? As far as I know I’m the reason this shit went down earlier.’’ he says and you lift your head to properly look at him and see a pained expression on his face.

’’Protecting me. You’re not the reason this happened. Whoever send them is responsible for that went down. I’m not reproaching you for that. Neither should you.’’

’’I can’t help it Y/n. I can’t stop thinking about what could have happened you know. What would have happened if you didn’t wake up, if you wouldn’t have been able to call me, if I wouldn’t have been there in time to safe you? I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if something would happen to you. You my everything Y/n.’’ he says while is voice cracks. He turns his head not wanting you to see the water building up in his eyes but it’s too late. You grab him softly by his shin and turn his head towards you.

’’Look at me darling.’’ you say softly and his eyes meet yours.

’’But you were there. I was awake. I did call you. Yes I was scared as hell but I’m safe now and it’s because of you. You saved me William Russo do you hear me. You saved me. There wasn’t one single second where I doubted you. In knew you’d come for me. I knew I’d be safe. I knew you’d protect me with you life. I wasn’t kidding earlier when I told you I trust you with my life because its the truth. I never felt more safe in my entire life. You are my safe place Billy, being in your arms is the safest I’ve ever felt. Stop doubting yourself darling. I love you William Russo do you hear me. I love you more than anything.’’ you say and lean to give his a soft kiss on the lips.

’’I love you too sweetheart, more than you’ll ever know. Thank you for believing in me, for trusting me, for loving me the way you do. I never felt something like this before. I swear when all of this is over I’ll make you mine officially.You’ll become Mrs. Russo. You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours. Forever.’’

’’You keep talking like this, boy you better get me a ring’’ you say and the both of you laugh.

’’Y/n Russo. That has a nice ring doesn’t it?’’ you ask Billy.

’’It sounds absolutely beautiful.’’ he says with a bright smile on his face which you gladly return. You lay down again in your former position. You press light kiss on his chest while stoking it softly with your thumb.

’’I hope you where thinking about marrying before.’’ you say all of the sudden

’’Actually I did why?’’he asks a bit confused.

’’Would be weird to get a though like this after nearly being kidnapped you know?! What has to happen in the future for you to think about starting a family. Wold War III or something’’ you say and Billy laughs.

’’Naw doesn’t have to go that far for us having children. Woman you ask the weirdest questions!Has anyone ever told you that?’’ he asks you shaking his head.

’’Yes all of my friends and family and well - you just did. My mind comes to the weirdest conclusion and comes up the weirdest questions in the middle of the night. I guess it’s the lack of sleep talking right know but who knows.’’ you say and shrug your shoulders.

’’Well than my love it’s definitely time for you to sleep before you come up with something really weird that will keep me up.’’

’’I’m not tired.’’ you try to argue but there’s no use.

’’Babe don’t argue with me you know you’ll lose this one.’’ he says.

You lift your head stick out your tongue and lay down next to him, bedding your head on the pillow. He laughs and shales his head at your reaction. Once you’re in a comfortable sleeping position, Billy moves closer and kisses you. He lays down behind you pulling you into his chest so you’re spooning.

’’Night baby’’ Billy says.

’’Goodnight my love’’ you say quietly before falling asleep in the arms of the love of your life.

Taglist:

@justatiredfool

@artemisausten

#billy russo imagine #billy russo x reader #ben barnes #billy russo #the punisher #marvel the punisher

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haphazardlyparked · 3 years

Text

the war AU

@gingerly-writing originally i started this as a response to your captured solider/person-enemy general thing but then it just turned into a whole bunch of self-indulgence sooooo

(i'm a softie at heart??)

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

"Masara," a voice hissed in her ear, and Masara came back to her senses, only to swallow back a groan. Her whole body was an ache that burned at the edges, part magical exhaustion and part old-fashioned beating.

"Arlis," Masara murmured back, trying not to move. Trying to catalogue her hurts before she tested them, trying to remember what had happened. She did not say, You young fool.

Masara's heart––already burning her chest with grief and war––had leapt into her throat and turned to fear when she'd seen Arlis emerge from the tunnel pass, adept enough with the spells that she could open the hidden routes on her own. Masara's young, foolish squire, who had followed her because she thought her knight-mistress had gone off to do something brave, when all Masara was was reckless, desperate––and desperately hopeful.

Panam as heir was safe, the king was on his way to the Yina stronghold, and Fathmir, who had been at the holy mountain's summit since the new moon, could be made High Priest soon. The heart of Amir would be preserved, even though Amirasa had fallen. Even though things might had been different, before the assassination and the war.

Masara knew her part now. She was the most experienced knight traveling with her uncle––fleeing, navigating the twisting paths and hidden tunnels that wound through the foothills of the Endless Ridge. The king had to make it to the safety of Mount Yina, and that was worth Masara's life.

In some small measure, Amir would survive, watchful and isolated while her southern lands became a battlefield between two imperial powers. Ancient Lapur to the southwest, hemmed in by the Blasted Plains, and Kas to the northeast, a young and eager threat.

Masara had dreamed of her kingdom’s waning. She had felt the shadow of death hanging over her head since Panam had brought news of the High Priest's assassination.

When she had volunteered to lead the pursuers away from the king's trail as he and a fragment of his court ran for holy Yina, the king had faced her as her father wold have––grieved, yet proud. But he had faced her as her king, too, grimly resigned to her sacrifice.

"You might have been one of our greatest queens, if my sister and I chose differently," he had whispered.

Masara could scarcely meet her uncle's eyes.

"I dreamed a fire would burn away my future, during my rites,” she confessed. One did not usually speak of the visions, if there were any, but Masara thought she could ease her uncle’s conscience. “When Panam came with word of my father's death... I already knew how this could end. This is my decision, Uncle."

"May the Lady Sascrin guard your path, Masara," the king said.

The knight knelt, and kissed her uncle's hand, and when she rose––when the king drew her to her feet to hug her one last time, the farewell embrace she never had from her father––she smiled.

"It will be your job to look after Arlis now,” she said when they pulled away from each other. She stepped back.

Arlis was a jealous squire, and would likely be furious when she realized Masara had ridden to battle without her. Later, she would come to understand that she was too young for this.

And then the little fool had burst from one of the rocky passages, into the pitched skirmish while Masara charged a company with a twilit illusion, riding alongside moonbeams, and dropped the bridge to cut off pursuit of the king’s path.

She thought the destroyed bridge would been a good place to die, right up until she saw Arlis and realized with a ringing clarity, Not now. Her squire needed her.

Masara's vision filled with molten silver, magic in her hands and spitting down the length of her blade, and Arlis flickered across the field in her mind's eye, a star to be guarded. When they reached each other—the knight a blur of spell and steel, her squire a smaller whirlwind no less fierce for her youth, and Kassan footmen with their blue-rimmed shields and clumsy swords—Arlis screamed, and Masara's world exploded.

In the tent, when she opened her eyes, the physical ache seemed to coalesce in her chest as she put everything back together again.

There was her beloved, fool squire whom Masara would protect with her last breath; and beyond that, all the things that threatened her.

Masara and Arlis were tied side by side to foldable campaign chairs, which was quite civilized, all things considered. She could see spells crawling on the walls of the tent, and smelled the distinctive sting of burning a sharp, distinctive incense. Natural inhibitors of magic.

"Do you know where we are?" Masara spoke. Her voice was cracked and barely audible; her throat dry as dust. Unlike Arlis, she was tied to her chair by only one arm, because the other was broken. She woke with it cradled against her chest in a sling.

"I'm sorry, sir, I––” Arlis began urgently, quick and breathless, all the words she'd been thinking while Masara was unconscious now tumbling out. Masara let her relieve herself. "I shouldn't have followed, and then I ruined your plan and you went down––and I panicked. I surrendered. I thought they were going to kill you!”

“You did as you should have done, Arlis," Masara assured her squire when she fell silent. “I am grateful to be alive."

It was true. Masara had made her peace with her sacrifice, but she hadn't wanted to die. If she could live––and she had somehow, for Arlis or thanks to her––she would. (She wondered if this meant her vision was wrong; or if there was another fire threatening her horizons.)

"But Masara," Arlis mumbled. “You weren’t about to surrender.”

“That only means you have proven yourself wiser than me.”

“But... I told them who you are.”

Masara considered her broken arm––splinted and bandaged, carefully tended to like the rest of her battered body, and found Arlis's confession did not surprise her.

"And yourself, too?" Masara asked.

"Yes."

"Good," Masara said firmly. "We are alive now, and I will not see you die, Arlis."

Her squire knew enough to hear the grim promise.

"Sir," she acknowledged. "I don't think they'll hurt me. They think I'm a child––a poor, misguided girl-child who accidentally maimed some soldiers..." Arlis indulged in a little complaining, and when Masara recalled her visit to the Kassan court years ago, she decided Arlis was probably justified. And yet, they still burned the incense; they still spelled the tent. They were cautious.

"They were horrified when they realized you were a woman, and that was before I explained you are a high lady," Arlis continued. "After that, they bundled us up and had a surgeon come; you were stabbed through the shoulder, by the way. I tried to do what I could, on the road yesterday. They put us in a wagon and set a guard. They don't think very highly of me, and didn’t notice I what I was doing."

Masara considered that, and realized that was why that whole upper side of her hurt, not just the broken arm.

"Thank you, Arlis," she sighed. "It's called battlefield healing for a reason, and you've always been one of the best. I am fortunate." It really wasn't much more than cleansing wounds and dulling pain, but it was more than nothing.

Arlis grinned. "Am I better than Guira?"

Masara ignored the question, as she always did. She smiled, and then her lip split. Grimacing––carefully––she asked, “How long was I out?”

“The rest of the evening and all of yesterday. We stopped last night, and I slept, so it may be morning again,” Arlis reported. “You destroyed the footbridge we used, and that was the only easy path for a large party, so they've had to retreat back out of the foothills. They didn't stop until they were out, which was late last night."

Masara was shocked to hear she had been unconscious for so long--but something in the back of her head disagreed, remembered a dream, perhaps. Later. She said instead, "These are Sascrin's foothills; outlanders think they are cursed. Even I only turned back to make very, very certain they would too."

Some things were too important to leave to should and probably; the king had understood that when Masara proposed remaining behind to guard their rear.

Arlis didn't ask her what the plan was now. She didn't ask what it had been, either.

Trust, or insight? Masara thought it was the former, and she tried to turn her worry into resolve. Her uncle had depended on her before; now Arlis did.

"Has anyone spoken to you?"

"Only a captain," Arlis reported. “He said their general could decide what to do with nobility."

"And have you seen a mage?"

"No. But I do think there's one around. The tent could've been prepared, but the incense smells... intent."

Masara tilted her head––carefully, to avoid tugging at any other injuries she wasn't fully aware of––and smiled lopsided at Arlis, trying to avoid the split. "Very good," she said, winced, and licked at the cut. "I thought you might notice that; that's the scent of the mage's spell. Now, what other kinds of magic inhibitors are they using?”

"Sir," Arlis protested, half-indignant, but she was looking at the canvas around them. She knew better than to try and fuss more over Masara's wounds; she'd already done what she could. It was nothing she would not recover from, she decided––given a chance to recover, of course.

"We're currently bound to chairs in a spelled tent, Arlis," Masara said. "We might as well have a brief lesson."

Masara heard rather than saw Arlis's roll of the eyes. She could never keep from that airy, "As you say, sir."

But Masara saw how she relaxed a little, easing back into her seat and straining less at her bonds.

"Let's begin with the standard suppression spells," Masara went on. "One of the nice thing about them is that they're always visible, as it's active magic, and look––these weavers didn't even try for subtlety. Tell me which ones you know already."

Arlis and Masara discussing the fire protection spell woven into the seams of the tent, where the different cuts of fabric had been sewn together, and how they served to isolate each separate piece of fabric, when they were interrupted.

"It looks newly done," Masara murmured. "And it looks northern too, not like a spell that's been fully assimilated." That was the thing about magic. There were always spells and brews you could learn, but they worked best when you had truly made it yours, or if it was yours.

Masara often wished the fireless explosions Arlis was so fond of hadn't been her obvious calling.

"How can you––" Arlis began, but then the tent flap opened and a man stuck his head in.

He came all the way in when he saw Masara was awake, daylight flashing through the opening, and stood before them.

"Good," he observed after an assessing gaze. "Surgeon said if you were out the whole two days, we might have problems."

He wasn't a very tall man, but he was broad-shouldered and confident, a soldier in a blue cloak. He had the olive skin and dark hair of some of the Kassan, though with clearer, lighter eyes that spoke of some northern heritage. Or magic and vanity.

The soldier crossed his arms and frowned when Masara said nothing. It took Masara a moment to realize he had been expecting her to speak––he had asked no question. She instead had been looking to Arlis, to see if her squire recognized the soldier, but a twitch of Arlis's fingers said, he's new, and Masara wondered again where they were. The tent also kept them from hearing just what kind of camp lay outside. Masara would bet it was far larger than the one company that braved the foothills and her attack, if the general was said to be coming.

"Are you injured?" the soldier demanded, eyes narrowing.

Masara smiled––carefully, lopsided.

"I believe so," she answered.

The soldier's frown didn't change. "Well enough to speak the general now, I see."

"Lead on!" Arlis challenged boldly, unwilling to be overlooked and left behind. Masara didn't bother to check her.

"Oh no," the soldier corrected with a grim smile. "Do you think we're letting you out of this nice tent? The general's on his way here. You should be honored. Him coming to you." The soldier sounded disgruntled enough by the necessary breach of etiquette that not even Arlis commented.

They didn't have to wait long. The soldier left the tent after another moment of silence––did he think either Masara or Aris would say something, unprompted?––and then the flap opened again, and he returned. This time, he was followed by a younger man, another soldier, alert and brisk. He'd become very tan under the Amirran sun, his hair burnished to a golden blond currently bare of a crown, but Masara was surprised to recognize the general.

Arlis shifted by her side, suspicious. The general regarded the both of them in silence, his pale brown eyes almost dark in the tent's dim light.

"Leave it open, Kinlo," the general––if that was how he chose to style himself––said, and Kinlo, the first soldier, went to pull back the opening. Clear morning light spilled inside, silhouetting the general, and from his slight smirk, he knew its effect. "They won't run."

Masara quite honestly didn't feel up to a break for freedom, so he was right, which was mildly irritating. The smoke of the incense kept her weak, as though she hadn't slept or rested in days.

"We're in the middle of my camp. Surrounded by thousands of men," the general explained reasonably. One couldn't hope to escape or be rescued against such odds. Amir's people really would be penned into the foothills, with Yina as her only stronghold. "Of course," the general said, "we will treat a high lady of the land and..." he trailed off, and frowned at Arlis. What stories had his men had told of Masara and Arlis's capture?

Arlis's fingers twitched. Treat us with honor, I bet, she signed. Masara affected not to notice, and did not smile.

"Well?" the general prompted.

Masara lifted her gaze and fixed on the shadows by the door. "I didn't realize you wanted an answer," she excused herself. "The young Lady Arlis is my squire, if that is what you were looking for."

The general nodded, as if all was now confirmed for him, and he stepped to the side, away from the tent opening. It was strange to think of such a man––young, open-faced, eager for action and the field itself––ordering the High Priest's death. This general had plenty of battlefields to choose from, without provoking a new series of them. But he had advisers, and they were apparently in the capital, directing the empire while the general was here.

"And it was the two of you who blocked the advance company?"

Masara inclined her head as far as she could.

"You wouldn't have gotten far anyway." Arlis raised her voice in a taunt. "The foothills can be quite haunted, you know."'

The general snorted. "I don't doubt it. I don't think 'foothills' is fair name for them, either. It's like calling the Henori river a little creek. I'm ready to forget the whole campaign." He sounded matter-of-fact.

"By all means, do," Masara suggested.

"But there's Lapur to worry about. And your mages."

"Our mages," Masara repeated, turning it into a question with an arched brow. The movement pulled at a scrape on her cheek by her hairline.

The general looked at her, slow and considering.

"Yes. Mine are worried. My advisers tell me it's unnatural that you don't use spells. Materials, incantations - the common instruments." He paused, then added: "Is it?"

Masara spoke before Arlis could. "Your imperial majesty," she said blandly, deciding now was as good a moment as any to dispense with all pretense, "why should any Amirran spill our secrets to you?"

Arlis frowned, backing down. She hadn't known who the general was, and Masara could tell she was swiftly reconsidering their situation.

"I have found some who were very talkative, actually," the emperor-general retorted. Arlis hissed at the implication of torture––but Masara frowned at the general’s honest, untroubled irritation, and heard her quiet oft-ignored fear confirmed.

There was a traitor.

How else could Amirasa have fallen? And their escape to the foothills had been too close, too harried. Masara signed another hold to Arlis, one that called for caution, and said nothing.

"Unfortunately, they do not know much about your magics."

"You have captured Amirasa," Masara replied mildly, though the admission was ash on her tongue. She didn't dare ask for the general's chatty Amirran, not yet. "If your mages cannot see the spells of our city, that does not mean anything."

"They see those spells," the emperor-general clarified. "The battle magic, on the other hand..."

He trailed off expectantly, but neither Arlis nor Masara rose to fill the silence. When it stretched on, the emperor straightened, chin lifting as though he suddenly felt the weight of his crown, and said, "Even if you don't talk, you will be useful bargaining tools. Perhaps now your king will be tempted to meet me at a crossroads. What do you think, High Lady Masara?"

Masara offered the lopsided smile she could, but without warmth. "If negotiation is what you wish, I will write to my king myself."

"You doubt me?" the general demanded.

"Your army holds our ancient capital. You have done nothing but kill our people and claim our land."

"I sent an ambassador, and your king gave him back and declared war."

"Ambassador?" Arlis snapped. "Is that a new word for assassin?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The High Priest," Masara answered succinctly. It came out flat, an accusation torn free of the sudden hollow chasm that threatened her. It appeared suddenly, as usual, and nearly all-encompassing. She breathed through it slowly, counting in her head to ten.

"He was the head of a militant religious order," the general replied carefully, sensing the delicacy of the topic. "The greatest obstacle to diplomacy. He would never accept surrender."

Arlis scowled, but Masara called for her silence again––she was never very obedient for long, but she held her tongue for the moment.

"And did your sources also believe Amir would be amenable to surrender after an assassination?" Masara asked, with pointed equanimity.

The emperor-general frowned, and crossed his arms, and then changed the subject.

"I think the most important thing to remember is Lapur. They cannot be allowed to grow past the Blighted lands."

"How gratifying, that our kingdom can be a foothold in your imperial wars."

It wasn't exactly a fair assessment; Lapur worried Amir, too, with its constant, probing incursions north of the desert, into the no man's land usually left to Amir.

But it was Kas, young and full of its own power who had invaded, not Lapur.

The emperor-general's eyes narrowed, glinting nearly like gold as he coolly declared, "Say what you will, High Lady. But we cannot afford an Amirran succession crisis, not with Lapur so close and so restless."

Masara gestured minutely, freeing Arlis while she considered the general's words.

"That was your reasoning for your conquest of Seriona," Arlis burst out, after holding her tongue for what surely felt like ages to her. "We are not Seriona. In Amir, we know our king and our prince!"

The general frowned at Arlis, but replied to her as seriously as he had to Masara. "And if your king should prefer his niece over his son?" he challenged.

Arlis strained briefly, forgetting she was tied up as she tried to point at Masara. "We are here," she settled for instead, spitting the words out furiously. "A lone knight sacrificed to hold off your whole company, the high lady, the king's supposed favorite––doesn't that tell you anything?"

A new uneasiness settled in Masara's chest as she realized how badly she had underestimated her young squire. Arlis understood Masara's decision... and she was still a fool for endangering herself. In the past half year of border skirmishes, the outbreak of war, and their flight from Amirasa, Arlis had grown up a great deal.

Masara felt she herself had aged decades.

The general's expression didn't change, yet Masara still felt a shift in his attitude.

"It tells me more than you know," he said, and then waved his hand, dismissing the matter. "My ladies, I've been distracted from my purpose. I simply wished to inform you that you will be hostages until a suitable agreement can be come to with your king, which I hope will come swiftly. Until then, you will be kept with the camp quite safely, and we will do our best to see you treated with honor. If you need anything within reason, you need only shout to the guards." He glanced at Arlis, and added, "I don't think you'll have an issue with that."

Arlis regarded the general balefully. He ignored the young squire's glares, and asked Masara directly, "Should I send the surgeon to you again, my lady?"

Arlis fumed under her breath about it being his fault anyway; Masara's mind spun.

"That would be appreciated, your imperial majesty," she said quietly, focused more on the realizations that were slowly coming together for her, overcoming her unwillingness to see them.

"In the field, I prefer the title Imperial General. Hokiraj," said the emperor, magnanimous in his role as captor, familiarity offered as a flattering courtesy.

"Well then, Imperial General. It appears we are in your hands," Masara returned in kind, though distracted.

The imperial general coughed, made a vague noise of agreement, and then made his departure with, "I will send that surgeon along. Later, we will discuss that letter and what terms your king may agree to.”

As soon as he was gone, Kinlo followed him out and shut the tent. The haste of his exit went on unremarked, and it was Arlis who finally broke the silence.

“I think there’s a traitor, sir,” she whispered, reluctant to speak her fear too loudly.

Her squire was so old at fourteen, yet Masara wanted to protect her still. "I think I know who it is,” she prevaricated.

The king had broached the idea of changing the succession only once that Masara knew of, and only idly. Masara knew he would never act without his son’s complete agreement; it was how rule had been decided between himself and his older sister, Masara’s mother. He had thought he might have Panam’s approval.

Only Panam and Masara were not siblings, and it had been a while since they had been close as such.

Oh, cousin, she thought, unease dripping through her memories of Panam like oil. Could you really?

But Masara could not let despair overcome her. She had Arlis to protect... and Amir, too. However she could.

#i love aus #maybe too much #masara #hikaj #gingerly writing #prompt response #self indulgent 2021 #the war au

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essaysbyciara · 4 years

Text

Red and Green Sprinkles [Erik Stevens x Y/N]

Fluff; warnings: grief, death.

It’s still Jesus’s birthday in Hawaii so I guess I can still give out a fic on Christmas Day. I’m trying to find some spirit and reason for the season, y’all. I’m trying.

Sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles. That’s what Ms. Ellie would leave at your front door every Christmas Eve. Your next door neighbor knew your work schedule like clockwork. If you weren’t home by 11 -- if she didn’t hear your door slam from after a grueling day at work -- she’d send a text to make sure that you were okay. You knew better not to delay your response or you’d get a talking to like a grandma was good for. You didn’t know any of Ms. Ellie’s grandchildren but you felt like one. That’s why her loss hurt like hell.

You knew this year would be different, the first time in seven seasons where Ms. Ellie wouldn’t leave her signature confections inside of a dollar-store gift bag on your tattered welcome mat. You didn’t care to meet who moved into her apartment because you thought it was so cruel how soon she was replaced. Your nosy neighbor couldn’t wait to give you the tea of how Ms. Ellie died. Grace kept you from punching them dead in the face. ‘They don’t know…” is all you could whisper, pausing your tears for when you could be inside of your safe space to let them go unashamed.

Christmas Eve crept up on you. You fought to ignore the day until you overhear the Donaldson family obnoxiously singing “Deck The Halls” from behind their wreathed-dressed door. It makes you smile for a brief moment, creating a pillow of joy for when the real grief would come crashing into you. You sigh heavily as you turn the corner of the hallway, coaching yourself to not look down. But as your sorrow clouds your vision, you see an emerald green bag leaning gently against your door.

Christmas angels are real?

Dear (Y/N),

Merry Christmas. Mama Ellie didn’t want you to be without your favorite cookies.

Best Wishes

Stevens Clothiers

The note dropped you. No one knew of your cookie arrangement except you two. Despite her incessant check-ins, Ms. Ellie wouldn’t allow for you to know too much about her. You never gazed into the inside of her apartment or peeped pictures of her grandchildren, if they even existed. But apparently someone knew of you, where you lived and that every Christmas Eve around 10 PM, you’d walk up to your door to find a bag of sugar cookies. Cookies you devoured in one sitting.

Stevens Clothiers. 115 8th Street, NW.

“I don’t get why you’d call in a tailoring job on Christmas Eve!” But when it’s for Jay-Z, you have no choice but to comply. Erik would rather be home, curled up watching The Wiz, the movie his Grandma Ellie put him onto as a child. It was their Christmas Eve ritual; she’d bring over the sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles, Erik’s favorite, and he’d belt out “You Can’t Win” from his tiny lungs. This would be the first year that he wouldn’t fall asleep next to her on the couch as the credits rolled. Although he’s peeved to still be at work, it’s better than watching his favorite Christmastime movie without the one he loved.

His misty exterior is startled when the phone rings. His exasperated voice gives salutations through the receiver.

“Oh, hi! I’m sorry! I didn’t think I’d get a live person this late.” Your sweet tone with an accent he can’t quite decipher causes Erik’s body to straighten up. He reasons for you to be the wife of a client hoping to score a last minute gift at the very last minute.

“No, it’s okay. How can I help you?”

“I know this may sound weird but someone from this business left cookies for me at my front door and I just...I just wanted to thank whoever it was. I, uh, knew Ms. Ellie and I-”

“Oh, yeah. You’re welcome. It was me. I’m Erik, her grandson.”

“I never knew she had a grandson.” A grandson with a sexy-ass voice, a baritone carrying through your end of the line causing you to stifle your whimper as he spoke. It’s been a minute since you’ve heard a man’s voice, embarrassingly enough. This one was doing so much that you forgot how your last sentence would make Erik feel denied. You snap back to punctuate your thoughts.

“...not like she didn’t mention you. She did, she just was very private.”

Very private. She kept the cancer diagnosis to herself until she could know longer hide its effects. She made sure her assets passed down to her grandchildren including her famous sugar cookie recipe. Erik scored that one last Christmas, including a promise to make sure that he delivered some for her next door neighbor in ‘2B’. Your phone call proved he kept that.

“Who made these?” You try to hide the lip smacks of ecstasy as you devour the entire bag.

“I did, actually.”

“You what? Really? You nailed these!” You ate two cookies before you called. “Good job. I’m sure she’s proud.”

Erik tenses up with pride and sadness as you go on about his first batch of cookies. He also couldn’t help to be turned on by a voice praising him beyond what his heart could take. Erik’s been single for a time longer than he can remember. The tailoring shop takes up so much of his time -- like tonight -- that he can’t escape from under piles of fabric to have one date. Even though his client’s assistants and stylists use their errands to flirt with him for sport.

He doesn’t mind your ramble. It’s a nice break from altering the shoulders on Hov’s suit jacket.

“I’m glad you like them. I added something extra though, not sure if you can tell…”

“Oh, there’s brandy in here. I caught that early. Ms. Ellie would never do that.”

“You should see her on Thanksgiving. She could drink, trust me. She-” You can hear Erik trail off into a somber note. You didn’t mean to bring up any hurt. You just wanted to say thank you, not hurdle someone into a stage of grief.

“I should get going. Thank you again for thinking of me like she would. She was an amazing woman and such a great neighbor. Happy holidays to you and your family, Erik.”

“What family?”

You weren’t ready for that. “This is the first time we won’t be together for the holidays.”

“Erik, I’m sorry-”

“Nah, it’s cool. When the head is chopped off, the rest of the body falls, y’know?”

“I do. That’s why I haven’t been home for Christmas in years. I think Ms. Ellie could sense that loss through her door. I think that’s why she did this every year. So I wouldn’t feel like I was alone.”

Erik’s alone right now, sitting in a brightly lit tailor shop mere minutes before Christmas. He doesn’t want to be alone and he can sense through your voice that you feel the same way.

“What are you doing tonight? I mean, so you don’t feel so alone. I don’t know what to do.”

“Me? I put on The Wiz. I loved that movie as a kid.“ Somehow you build a courage mixed with care and maybe some carnality. You’ve been single for God’ knows how long too and you couldn’t help to imagine what Erik looked like, if that sexy-ass voice had a sexy-ass face attached to it and they both didn’t have a sexy-ass wife attached to it. A man in your apartment on Christmas Eve wold be such a gift.

“I know it’s late but you’re welcome to come join me if you don’t have somewhere to be.”

Your boldness did something to Erik too. His heart did a quick jingle jangle as he shuffled nervously at your request. This woman with the sweetest voice and a co sign from grandma and a love for The Wiz wants him to come over.

“You’re right, I don’t. Give me an hour to shut things down and I’ll be there. I do know where you live.” Erik never hemmed a suit so quickly in his life.

#erik killmonger x reader #erik stevens #red and green sprinkles #erik stevens x reader #y'all redeemed erik #so can I

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xmalereader · 4 years

Text

Jack Kline X Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

Summary: Reader teaches Jack how to play the piano and learn how to play one of his favorite songs.

Warnings: Fluff, jack being cute, Castiel being a proud dad, piano playing, reader being a good teacher.

—

It was early in the morning when y/n found the piano hidden inside one of the storage rooms, the younger man can’t help but get excited once his eyes land on the piano. He spends all day trying to move in into the main room, using all of his strength to get it out of the room and into the main area where he sets up the stool and makes sure that the keys are working well. He hums softly to himself as he cleans the old piano and touches the keys, tapping a few as he hears the sound of music causing a smile to appear on his face.

Once he’s finished he makes sure to put everything away that he had used to fix up the piano, heading to the garage to store away the bag and making his way back to the main room. The brothers were either still sleeping or they were getting ready for the day.

He sits on the stool and adjusts his posture, sitting straight he places his fingers against the keys and slowly began to play a soft song that he once learned from his parents. He concentrates on the tune and keeps a close eye on his fingers, making sure that he touches the right keys to make the music sound clear and clean. He was so distracated that he didn’t notice a certain archangel step out into the main room.

Jack has been up all day and hasn’t gotten any sleep, he’s already eaten but he wasn’t able to get any rest since he was trying to continue studying up on his lore so that way both Sam and Dean would allow him to go out on hunts with them and be prepared. But, all the studying has made him tired and he decided to take a wake around the bunker to clear his head.

As he stepped out of his bedroom he hears the sound of music playing which immediately catches his attention, he follows the sound towards the main room where he finds y/n sitting in front of a piano, playing the song rabidly.

Jack slowly moves closer as he inspects y/n, noticing how concentrated he looked and how comfortable he was as well. He couldn’t help but smile as he listens to the music.

The music brought him join and memories of the times that he had with both Sam and Dean.

As y/n continued to play the song, he notices jack moving from the corner of his eyes. His fingers suddenly stop playing as he looks up to see jack staring at him. Jacks smile slowly disappear and began to stutter, “Sorry I didnt mean to intrupt—“

“You’re not interrupting.” Y/n says back and chuckles, sliding further down the stool as he pats the empty spot for jack to sit on.

Jack is quick to sit down next to y/n. “Ever seen a piano before?’ Y/n asks as he places his hand on his lap and smiles at the nephlim. “Ive seen them on TV but not one in person—you play nicely, it was very...beautiful!” Jack responds back with a little bit of excitement to his voice as y/n’s laughs and shakes his head. “I found it in the storage, brought it in here and made sure that it was cleaned up and fixed.” His fingers trace over the smooth wood before turning to Jack. “Want me to teach you how to play?”

“You can do that?” Jacks eyes widen in surprise, he’s never played the piano before but just seeing y/n play made him want to try it out.

“Okay, first of all you need to sit straight.” He instructs as jack sits straight and keeps his hands on his lap.

“Now place your fingers here,” Y/n shows jack where to put his hand as he shows him the keys. “First your going to press down on this key first and then the second one.” He shows jack which keys to play, earning himself a soft sound of the cords. “Now these cords are higher notes, so it’ll be a little bit louder while mien go low.” Jack nods in understanding as he listens carefully, taking in all of the information.

Y/n makes sure to explain as careful as possible, giving jack the easy notes to play while he plays the harder ones. “There, you think you got it all down?”

Jack nods excitedly. “Yes.”

Y/n laughs with a roll of his eyes before turning back to the piano, he sits up and places his own hand on the keys. “Copy me.” He adds, pressing down the first key as jack follows along. He notices how jack is copying him, his eyes following y/n’s fingers as he quickly turns to face his own and copies the notes.

The two start off slow but as they continue to practice together he slowly starts to show him the faster notes and the harder ones, which Jack makes it easy for him to learn. They go on for hours until jack finally has the whole song memorized.

“You’re a fast leaner.”

“I get that a lot.” Jack responds back with a nervous laugh.

Y/n grins and slides off the stool, moving to stand next to jack. “I think your ready to do it all on your own.”

“Wait what? No! I can’t play it all by myself—!”

“Yes you can, we practiced through the whole song together and you seemed to know what your doing so, give it a try.” He gives jacks shoulder a little nudge with a smile.

Jack slowly turns to face the piano, his hands shake as he gets nervous. He gives y/n a glance and in return he earns a nod, “Go on.”

Once he gets the go from y/n he slowly starts to play the song, going slow at first until he finally builds up the confidence to play faster.

Y/n stands by the side, smiling as he watches jack play his favorite song. He closes his eyes and takes it all in as he thinks about all of the happy moments that he’s had with the Winchester’s. Remembering the times that he wold get into argument with dean about movies or food the times that he would listen to Sam read to him during late nights as the two stayed up studying about the new lore that they would find.

He remembers the time that Castiel taught him how to create spells to help with wardings or when someone was hurt, he always enjoyed the angels company and learned a lot more about his own kind, but the most valuable memories were of him and Jack. At first the two dind’t really talk to each other, he was too afraid of doing something that’ll anger the kid and cause him to act out like Lucifer would. It took him awhile to get used to Jack but as he slowly started to talk to him he noticed that Jack was just a kid who was scared and confused. Alone in a very dark world with multiple people that either wanted him dead or alive.

Y/n would take the time to be with jack, to teach him how to defend himself and how to use the technology that was around, but his most favorite memoerry was this one.

He opens his eyes to see jack playing the piano like a professional, causing a smile to spread across his face as he cherishes this moment. He always wanted to teach jack one of his favorite hobbies and yet here he is, listening to jack play his favorite song that he taught him in less than a few hours.

As the music begins to die down, he pushes himself off the wall and stands next to Jack.

Once jack hits the finally key the room goes silent.

“That was amazing Jack, great job.”

Jack blushes at the praises and looks down at the piano shyly. “Thank you.” He says back as y/n chuckles.

“I didnt know we had a piano,” The two teens turn there heads in surpise to see both Sam and Dean standing by the entrance of the main hall. “How long have you guys ben standing there?” Asked Y/n as he raises a brow and cocks his head to the side. “Long enough to hear Jack playing, I didn’t know you could play.” Said Dean to Jack as the nephlim smiles. “I didn’t, y/n taught me.”

The brothers eyes widen in surpise. “You taught him?” Said Sam. “He learned play?” Said Dean.

Y/n rolls his eyes at Dean and begins to explain. “I found the piano in the storage room and thought it would be nice to have one out here and well...Jack kind of saw me playing so I took the time to teach him one of my favorite songs—“

“What’s it called?” Dean cuts him off.

This cause y/n to grow silent and bit his lip nervously. “Uh...”

Dean smirks at him. “So?” He taunts him as he steps forward to continue teasing y/n. “What’s the song called?”

Y/n shoots Dean a glare as he steps back. “It’s called ‘I love you’...my mom taught me before she passed away.”

Dean suddenly feels bad as he tries to find a way to apologize. “Oh, i uh—geez I’m sorry.”

“Its fine Dean, its the only song that I really know and I would practice but I doubt you would allow it since you hate music like this.”

“Thats not true!”

“It is.” Sam blurts out as he sits on one of the long tables, laptop in hand as he opens it up.

Jack slides off the stool and walks over to stand next to y/n. “I think I once found some old records in the storage room when I was looking for some books on lore, want to go see if we can find them?” He suggest, earning an eager nod from y/n. “Lets!” Without thinking he takes jacks hand and is quick to drag them away from the brothers.

#Male reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural x male reader #jack kline #jack kline x male reader #sam winchester x male reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #dean winchester x male reader #castiel #male reader #reader being cute #jack being a bean #Spotify

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sunflowersunshinevol6 · 4 years

Text

Tempest Oblivion

Part 2

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, abo dynamics, rutting/heat, mentions of abuse, trauma

Read part 1 here

A/N: I was blown away by the love this fic received and I always planned on making it a multi chapter fic. Thank you for the support

The first thing Gigi decides to do is give Y/N a bath. She leads the girl down the hall towards the second bathroom, opening the door and setting her on the toilet while she runs the water.

"Y....you don't have to do this." Y/N whispers shyly. Gigi smiles at her as she tests the water, making sure it's not too hot.

"It's alright. You're safe here." She smiles, everyone kept telling her that, maybe it was true. Maybe she was finally safe. "Get undressed and I'll help you in. After you can lay down, I'll bring you a cup of tea and you can rest." Gigi's breath hitches when Y/N lifts her shirt and she sees the Mark's. As she pulls the shirt over her head Gigi looks away, busying herself with adding Epsom salts to the water to help with the poor girl's soreness.

Y/N takes Gigi's hand as she steps into the bath, sighing once she's fully sat down in the warmth. She didn't realize just how cold she had been until she was immersed in the warmth of the bath. Gigi grabs a small cup from the side of the tub and begins to wet Y/N's hair. Y/N tilts her head back, letting herself relax.

"You have beautiful hair." Gigi admires as she begins to wash it.

"Thank you." Y/N sighs again, Gigi's hands scrap gently against her scalp, rubbing the soap into her hair.

"I know....I know this is all new and probably a little scary but...be patient with yourself. This is a good pack. Harry is a good leader-"

"Harry?"

"The Alpha who saved you," Gigi said. So that was his name. "He's very kind and compassionate. He is never forceful unless need be and he's protective of us all....you have nothing to fear. This is your home now."

After the bath, Gigi gives Y/N some of her clothes and leaves her to rest. Y/N climbs into the bed, snuggling down under the covers. She closes her eyes, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep for the first time in months.

Y/N stayed close to Gigi and Zayn in the following days. The morning after she'd been brought to the village Harry had met with her and reassured her of her safety. She believed hom, but Zayn and Gigi had been so kind to her and they didn't seem to mind her clinging. Gigi welcomed it, always holding her hand or wrapping a comforting arm around her. Zayn was proud of his mate. She had a tender and loving heart.

"Y/N?" Gigi tapped on her bedroom door. Y/N was sitting on her bed in meditation, trying to connect with her wolf spirit. She opened her eyes and smiled softly at her friend.

"Hey. Everything alright?" She could sense Gigi's apprehension.

"Its fine....its just....my heat is a few days from now and....well..." she didn't know how to say it. Y/N had just come into their home and now she would be asking her to stay elsewhere for a week while she was in heat.

Y/N smiled kindly at her friend. She would do anything for Zayn and Gigi already. She was extremely grateful to them and felt she owed them her life and whatever services she could offer.

"It's alright Gigi. It's natural....I'm sure I can find somewhere else to stay while you go through this."

"That's the thing." Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Harry requests you stay with him during my heat. He has some things he wants to discuss with you."

"O...oh."

When Zayn told Harry Gigi's heat would be coming, he immediately offered for Y/N to stay with him. Niall could not seem to find her former pack and he hoped, that if he could touch Y/N's wolf spirit, he could see the trauma, see the abuse and find the abusers. It was a risky thing, only Alpha Leaders could soul touch, and it could go badly, he could break her spirit. But he felt as if he had no option and he trusted that she was stronger than that. She had, in fact, survived in the woods alone in the cold until he found her.

"It's all been arranged and I promise, Harry is nothing if not a gentleman. You have nothing to fear." Gigi reassured her once more.

"I trust you Gigi." She felt her smile falter as Gigi walked away, a foreboding feeling washing over her.

She's awoken early on a Saturday morning. Startled as Niall leans over her, pressing a finger to his lips. It's then Y/N can smell Gigi's heat and Zayn's rut. Niall bundles her carefully before swiftly carrying her from the house and into the courtyard.

Harry is waiting in the foyer of his home as Niall sets her on her feet and opens the door. He's wearing a thick black bathrobe, the letter 'H' sewed in red over the breast pocket, his long brown hair pulled back into a messy bun. Y/N smiles shyly as he opens his arms to her, giving her a welcoming embrace.

"How are you pet?" He asks. Since the day he brought her to the pack he has felt a protectiveness over her, something stronger than what he normally feels for his pack.

"Fine....thank you for letting me stay." He reaches out, brushing a piece of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear gently.

"Of course. This pack takes care of each other." He looks up, eyes meeting with Niall's. The other wolf bows before leaving the home, closing the door quietly behind him. "Shall we?" Harry asks, holding out his arm. She takes it, gently wrapping her fingers around his bicep.

She's given the proper tour, his home is large of course, being the head Alpha. He shows her the library, the garden, the kitchen, and finally leads her down a small hallway with two doors on either side.

"This will be your room," he says, opening the door on the right. A bed, a dresser and a desk with a chair sit cozily while a fire burns bright in the small fireplace. "Over there is your bathroom. If you've a need for anything don't hesitate to call someone of my staff or me." She nods, giving him a small smile. He turns to go when she grabs his hand, stopping him.

"Thank you Alpha....for everything." He's stunned when she nuzzles his palm, something only mates do, it raises his suspicions about her old pack even more.

"Y/N." She looks up, taking a step back. Her stance is immediately defensive. "Y/N I wanted to ask you about your old pack." Her shoulders relax slightly, but she still looks wary.

"Zayn told you about my punishments didn't he."

"Punishments?" She nodded, pulling her shirt up slightly to show him the fading Mark's and scars on her belly. He sucks in a sharp breath, his wolf snarling, a low growl immenating from him. "What did they punish you for?" She mumbles something, looking away from him. "I didn't catch that." He says a little louder, the only thing that seems to work is when he asserts his Alpha.

"They called me Devilrinn kind or 'devil child'. My wolf was beaten into submission. They said I was a mistake. If my wolf was allowed to be free I would destroy them." Harry is stunned. He knew some packs were superstitious, but he had never heard of them turning on a pack member.

"How old were you when this started?"

"Three." He shivers, unable to contain the rage within himself. He steps closer to her, reaching out to run his hands down her arms, she's shaking, he knows how hard this must be for her. "They isolated me. Beat me. Starved me. When I became of age is when they finally cast me out. They drove me from the village. They knew I would die because I was latent and alone." She takes a shaky breath.

"But you didn't." Harry says, he lifts her chin so she can do nothing but look into his eyes. They're soft and understanding as he speaks to her. "I found you and brought you here." She smiles at him bitterly.

"Pray my wolf doesn't break free....I'd hate to hurt you or any of the others...you're the nicest people I've met."

"I don't believe your wolf is dangerous....but there is a way I can find out." Her smile fades, replaced with a curious expression.

"There is?"

"Have you ever heard of soul touch?" She shakes her head. Of course not. If she had been isolated she wouldn't have been educated properly, thus the intiment nuzzle she had given him. It made sense. "Only Head Alpha's can do it. I can reach out and touch your wold spirit. I can see your past, everything." Y/N stared at him in awe. She wasn't sure what to say to that.

"I don't understand-"

"The way you've been treated," Harry interrupts. "Is unforgivable. I don't believe in abandoning anyone, especially due to a stupid rumor." She flinched at the way he said it. "I want to find them. Expose them. Save others if there are any in your position....but we can't figure out where you came from." She looked away again, down at her feet. "If you let me see I can help you. Maybe even find out the truth about your latency."

It is an enticing offer. She does want to know what is wrong with her. Why she malfunctioned, why she deserved the punishments, the loneliness. She looked back up at him.

"You won't hurt me?" She asks. He brushes his knuckles against her cheek.

"I can't promise it won't hurt but I'll do my best." She sighs, nodding her head.

"Whatever you can do to help me...I want to try."

Harry has her sit on her bed, back against the head board, he left briefly to find restraints. Soul touching is dangerous and she can easily be crushed. It's important for her not to move too much. She nods furiously as he explains this to her. She's curious, she wants to know what's wrong and she Hope's he'll finally be able to answer the questions she's been haunted by her whole life.

He checks the cuffs, making sure Y/N's arms are secured but not too tightly. She watches as he crawls over her, straddling her hips.

"You can still refuse.....are you sure?" He asks. He doesn't want to do this unless she's positive. There are other ways of finding her former pack if needed.

Y/N looks Harry in the eye, something Omegas are never to do, but she isn't afraid.

"I trust you." She says with certainty. Harry nods. He lifts his hand, bringing it to the center of her chest, he hears her breath hitch.

"Relax." She sighs shakily. Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and pushes his hand into her chest. Y/N screams, body arching up towards him as be reaches for her soul. He groans when his fingers graze her soul. He hisses at the fragility before he feels himself falling deep into her consciousness. Her screams fading away.

The pain is intense as Harry pushes his hand into her chest. When his fingers graze her soul she screams at the pain, her body coursing with fire. She tries to keep her eyes on him but the further he pushes into her soul the more searing the pain. Her eyes roll in her head as she slumps forward, head resting on her chest, the pain too much to bear. Everything goes black.

Harry feels himself falling into her memories, surrounded by sights and sounds. He stands in a crowded room, three figures sit before a hearth while a woman kneels at their feet, a child in her arms. The child is Y/N he realizes.

"She is....unnatural." one of the men speaks, eyes gazing at the little girl, dozing in her mother's arms. The woman says nothing, he smell the fear on her and see her body tremble. One of the men stands, walking towards the woman. He knelt, reaching out to touch the girl, only to hiss sharply and draw his hand back.

"What?" The woman asks fearfully. "What is it?" The imagery begins to shake, Harry can feel Y/N's wolf bending against him, fragile as it was, he was pushing the limits.

Harry let go, the force of which knocked him off the bed. He scrambles to his feet, climbing over Y/N and reaching out to lift her face.

"H...Harry?" She asks weakly, body still slumped forward. Harry undoes the restraints letting her lean forward against his shoulder. "Harry did you see anything?"

"Not enough, no...your wolf isn't strong enough." She pulls back, looking up at him in distress.

"I don't understand?"

"Your wolf has been suppressed for so long....It couldn't handle the stroke of an Alpha. I could have broken your spirit. Killed you." Tears begin to fill her eyes.

"So that's it? We just give up?" Her words shake as she speaks.

"No darling no," he sits up straight, reaching out to take her hand in his. "We make you strong. We let her out."

"But I already told you-"

"I don't think your wolf is anymore harmful than any other Omegas. You certainly won't be able to overpower me." He leans down, pressing his forehead to hers, looking into her eyes. He doesn't know why he does this, it's an intimate act. But he wants to be close to her.

He feels her wolf being soothed by his proximity, it makes him lean in closer, reaching out to pull her to him. She sits on his lap, straddling his hips as he begins to scent her. He doesn't know why, but it feels good.

That's when he smells it. The first wave of arousal coming off of her.

Harry pushes her from his lap. She lands back on the bed with a soft 'oof' looking up at him, he says nothing, leaving the room quickly.

Y/N doesn't have time to be hurt. Just as Harry slams the door behind him she feels a surge of arousal fill her body and a sticky wetness between her legs. She moans, tossing her head back into the pillows, squirming as she begins to go into her very first heat. Alone.

"Tend to her. Make sure she has whatever she needs. Keep her hydrated. This is her first heat and since she's latent it's going to be painful." The omegas curtsey before leaving Harry in the den. He runs his hand through his hair, trying to calm his own wolf. He doesn't understand why he's reacting so sharply to her but it's taking everything he-

"Harry!" Niall burst through the door, an urgent look in his eye. "I came as soon as you called."

"I went in. I touched Y/N's soul." Niall gives him a wary look but let's him continue. "Her soul was so fragile. I was only in maybe two minutes before it started to collapse and now-"

"She's in heat." Niall finished for him. "I can smell her." Harry runs his hand through his hair nervously.

"I don't know what to do Niall. I've never met a wolf like her before." Niall reached out, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"It'll be alright Hazza. We'll figure it out." He pauses. "But I do wonder...."

"Wonder what?" Harry asked.

"What if she were to mate? " Harry's eyes widen, he opens his mouth to respond but Niall cuts him off. "The emerging of souls, being bound to an Alpha....it might just be the push she needs to assert her own wolf....if we could get her wolf to come out, the soul touch wouldn't be as fatal."

"That's a great idea Niall. Except she's only been here a short period of time. She doesn't even know anyone to mate-" they're interrupted by a knock on the door. "What." Harry snarls as Camille pokes her head through. She looks slightly irritated.

"The girl. The one in heat. She's calling for you Alpha." Harry looked at Niall.

"Go to her Harry. If it's right, you'll know."

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #solo harry #hs fandom #hs imagine #hs fanfic #hs2 #hs1

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meta-squash · 3 years

Text

Brick Club 2.4.3 “Two Misfortunes Equal One Happiness”

I had way more to say about this chapter than I expected.

Back when I was rereading Les Mis last February I made a post about this chapter essentially being boiled down to “emotional support Cosette” and I still kind of love that. Like, people use emotional support animals to help them feel better, partly because the responsibility of caring for the pet reminds them and/or helps them to take care of themselves. And I feel like this is what occurs in this chapter. This is Valjean learning to care for himself because he must do so in order to love and care for Cosette. And in turn, this is Cosette finally being free to come alive and love Valjean, because she is cared for by him.

“The heart of the former convict was like a virgin’s. His sister and her children were only a vague distant memory, almost totally vanished. He had bent every effort to find them again and, not succeeding, had forgotten them.” So now we have proof that Valjean really did search for his family. This line is always really interesting to me because way back in 1.2.6 and 1.2.7 we get some of Valjean’s interactions with his family and yet there is always that distance. However we still get him sobbing and touching the heights of seven little heads. Part of the cycle of Valjean’s tragedy and redemption, then, is that there was that potential for connection and love and care beyond survival within him the entire time, but that crushing weight of poverty ground it down to almost nothing. He cared, in that he was very much willing to take risks and make sacrifices for the wellbeing of his family, but it wasn’t the same kind of radiant, nurturing love. But the redemption is that he gets that with Cosette. He doesn’t get to save his sister or her children from their likely fairly unhappy fate. And perhaps Fantine could have been a stand-in for his sister; he doesn’t exactly get to save her, either. But he does get to save the child, he gets to save Cosette, the stand-in for or the echo of those seven little heads.

I also find it interesting that this passage then implies that Valjean’s heart has only truly been moved by the Bishop and by Cosette. He felt a sort of guilt and sacred duty re: Fantine but it wasn’t the same as the angelic (in the more awe-some sense) radiance of his heart after Myriel or the angelic (in the more....baroque sense) radiance after rescuing Cosette.

And ugh the fact that Cosette had “tried to love” while in the Thenardiers’ care and had failed! It’s so sad! But it’s also where she and Valjean diverge. If she is the childlike echo of Valjean’s prison-bound state, Cosette still retains a level of untainted purity that Valjean did not have in prison. He didn’t try to love. He rejected the one thing that is pure Love: god or divinity. Cosette, still untainted in some ways, tried to love and didn’t succeed. And now, the two of them are recovering from the same mental and emotional state together.

Found family! It’s just! So much! Happiness being utterly transformative! Safety being transformative! God this chapter!

I have a lot of feelings about Cosette and Valjean as soulmates. Cosette and Marius are lovers, but Cosette and Valjean are soulmates. Valjean doesn’t deteriorate in the end of the novel just because he’s old. He deteriorates because he tries to remove himself from his soulmate. Cosette brought him back from the dead when he came upon her in the woods. Removing himself from her essentially by force rather than allowing the connection to loosen and slacken naturally destroyed him.

Cosette and Valjean continue to be birds. I really like the use of this metaphor here because the Gorbeau house is really only a perch. They don’t stay here for very long. It’s more like a stop during migration than it is a permanent destination.

“Sometimes Jean Valjean wold take her little red hand, all chapped and frostbitten as it was, and kiss it. The poor child, accustomed only to blows, had no idea what this meant, and would draw back ashamed.”

Cosette is post-bagne Valjean. There are so many cycles and circles and callbacks in this novel but I think the most important and prominent and repeating one is that of Bishop Myriel and post-bagne Valjean. It is absolutely the most important and influential and meaningful interaction in this book because it sets up the entire moral message of the story: be kind and compassionate and helpful to those who are suffering, love them and it will change and even save their life. That is the moral of this book. And we see this interaction over and over again in all the characters. Not just in Valjean but in Marius and in Marguerite and in Les Amis and in Mabeuf and in Gavroche etc etc. It is The Message of the novel and we see its most immediate effects in Myriel’s influence over Valjean, but the echoes and ripples of that make up the entirety of this book.

Valjean being proud of himself for changing! I have a lot of feelings about that too! We almost never get to see Valjean actually feeling good about himself and about something he is doing or has done. But he gets to be proud of himself here because he learned to read for Bad Reasons and now he’s using those skills for the Best Reason. I wish this was a memory he could come back to when he thinks he’s a bad person or undeserving of happiness/good things/comfort.

“...he saw no reason now why he should not live to a very old age, since this child loved him.” I don’t know if Hugo meant this to be foreshadowing for the end of the novel but it feels like foreshadowing. It feels like this right here is the reason Valjean deteriorated so quickly. Not because Cosette didn’t actually love him anymore, but because Valjean convinced himself that she shouldn’t, and therefore that would mean that he shouldn’t be living.

Of course the result of a second imprisonment was more cynicism. You’d be cynical too if you were imprisoned for doing good, for trying to help a suffering person. I haven’t added a “relevant to present day” bit to a post in a while but it feels like this is something that happens a lot in present day. People imprisoned for no good reason, or imprisoned because they were trying to help someone but that was seen as bad (like stealing baby food/diapers to clothe a child, or some money-related something to pay for medical bills, or that poor woman who was imprisoned because she used her parents’ address so her kids would get into a slightly better school), that shit happens all the time in present day. People killed for trying to help, or for doing nothing at all. There’s more shit happening right now in America so I’m not going to go into that aspect right now but it’s just something where I think, well of course he’s going to come out of it cynical. It’s all but impossible to come out of it in any other way.

The up side is that Valjean and Cosette have each other. They are growing and healing together. I’m glad they get a little time to just be alone and start healing. I wonder what might have happened if Javert had found them a little bit earlier. I think it was easier for Valjean to escape because he had formed a stronger bond with Cosette, and she trusted him as both a friend and a parental figure. And he trusted her to listen to him, to stay quiet, and was preoccupied with keeping her safe for both of their sake.

#brickclub #les miserables #les miserables meta #lm 2.4.3 #les mis #les mis meta

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