#the absence nearly drove him mad

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Askbox time

Assuming that Nobby has seen Edward in preservation (post 1963 rebuild) (I think it was '63), what are his opinions on Edward being rebuilt into something not-so-Furness?

tl;dr: Nobby's just glad Edward is still alive, thank you — though he knows he has to pretend to give a damn about this sort of thing

The Awdry’s explanation for Edward does not come down to a single rebuild but to numerous modifications over the past, erm (checks notes) century or so. Some of these rebuilds would have been more extensive than others but it’s not clear to me that the one after the crankpin failure would have been one where they made the biggest alterations to his design.

I am sure that some significant rebuilding took place between 1920 and 1941. So Nobby already saw the beginnings of the Edwardification of 34 before he left Barrow. 

Life is change. Most of Nobby’s own working career was before Mr Pettigrew brought standardisation to the F.R., he knows how it goes. 

And, like, look, Nobby knows that when visitors come and say anything along the lines of oh if only so-and-so was still in their original form (and they do mention the Edward case to him of course, quite a lot), his job is to make vague sympathetic noises and to be sure to sound genial rather than biting if he observes that the world already has a preserved Sharp and Stewart passenger engine, you can go visit him any time, oh yes, I’m told the Dutch take very good care of him...

Incidentally, Nobby was sceptical about the project to rebuild 20 to his original form. May have kinda definitely been polite, diplomatic conversations with earnest representatives of the newly-formed Furness Railway Trust that boiled down to Nobby being like ‘Ya can’t bring back the past, shit don’t work like that’ and the FRT blokes being like ‘lol wut, nah bro, if you throw enough money at it you totally can — relax, we’ll show you.’

(At the risk of spoilers… the attitude of both parties proved justified in the end.) 

[wisdomssdaughterr]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE → ONE WEIRD NIGHT

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

In the passenger seat of an old, beat-up car, Calum Miller drummed his fingers against his chin in thought. He was unable to let anything go or be; his mind was a tangled web of suspicion that his hometown wasn’t what everyone believed, and he was almost desperate to prove it. 

“You know, maybe the whole Pennhurst idea wasn’t too far-fetched. It’s possible Danielle and even Will ended up there somehow,” he thought aloud. The whole story surrounding Danielle Torres drove him mad. No printed article or half-assed story the long-lost teen uttered convinced Calum that there wasn’t more to the story. He had done his research and in nearly every kidnapping case, it was unlikely the victim survived a week, let alone ten years. Someone- Danielle, her family, the Hawkins P.D., and probably others- was coving something up. They didn’t want the public to know something and Calum wanted to know what. He also wanted to know- no, he needed to know- if it had anything to do with his dad. 

“Jesus Christ,” Tamera huffed. 

“Are you really still upset about the tutoring thing? I know we blew it, but we can think of something else-” 

A dry, humorless laugh sounded from Tamera, and her eyes remained glued to the road. “No, you idiot. I’m not mad you blew the tutoring idea. I didn’t even want to do that! I’m mad that you basically accosted Danielle. She hasn’t come around the library in days,” she said. “I liked talking to her. She’s nice and sweet, and you scared her off! Now I’m gonna be lucky if she ever talks to me again.” 

Calum frowned. He didn’t understand why she didn’t see how weird things were with Danielle’s story. Sure, she seemed nice and all, he wasn’t doubting that, but something wasn’t right about her or how she found her way back to Hawkins. 

“Come on, Mara-” 

She cut him off with a quick glare. “No. Just let it go, please.”

Once again, the friends found themselves trapped in the same loop of a conversation they’d been having for weeks. Calum had thrown almost all of his focus into scraping together clues that would lead him to his dad, and Tamera had helped him where she could. But with the dead ends they kept meeting and then Calum’s questioning of Danielle, Tamera was getting visibly annoyed with him. 

Maybe he was being annoying about it, but he needed to find his dad and fix things. He needed his mom to stop drinking herself into a coma each night because of her husband’s absence. The only thing he had was that Danielle Tores returned the same week his dad and Will Byers went missing. Will returned but his dad didn’t. 

With a sigh, Calum ran a hand through his blond hair and pressed the issue further. “I told you, Mara, I can’t let this go. My dad is out there somewhere, and I have to find him.” 

She shook her head but didn’t ignore him; she wanted to convince him his efforts were misplaced and useless, but it wouldn’t work. Calum was too stubborn for anyone to convince him he was wrong. “There is nothing but that week connecting Danielle or Will or anyone to your dad. You have nothing besides those insane theories with no proof. You’re trying to turn nothing into something.” She paused and her anger melted into something of guilt before she continued, “Your dad is gone. He left, Cal. That’s all there is to it.” 

Her words stung like a slap to the face, but he tried not to let them get under his skin. Tamera sounded like his mom. The woman had shut down every possibility of her husband being taken or vanishing. She insisted he left her, but her behavior told a different story. There were problems between his parents, mostly because his dad spent a lot of time away at work, but they loved each other. That could explain her unraveling in his absence, but something about the way she acted was wrong. She didn’t seem sad or heartbroken; she was relieved and enraged in the most confusing of ways. There was something he was missing; his parents were telling him something. 

His mom didn’t make a livable wage as a hairdresser in downtown Hawkins. The job was more of a side hobby that she used to make some extra cash. It was Calum’s dad who was the breadwinner of the family. He didn’t know what his dad did, but it was some government number-crunching job that he never talked much about out of fear he’d bored his son to death. All Calum knew was that he brought in more than enough money to support them, but when he disappeared, Calum worried he and his mom would sink without the income. He picked up extra shifts at the arcade and got a second job at the movie theater in hopes of making ends meet. 

Then, one night when he returned home late from work, he saw his mom dressed in the same clothes as the day before, not having been to work. Calum mustered up enough courage to ask her how they were going to support themselves without Dad’s money. She shrugged him off and told him not to worry about it and that it was “all taken care of.” That only made him more confused. How was it taken care of? Who were they getting the money from? 

“My dad wasn’t a bad guy,” Calum said, keeping his tone level even though he was screaming on the inside. “There was no reason for him to leave like that. He didn’t take anything, and he didn’t say goodbye. There was nothing, he just vanished.” 

If his dad was going to leave, he would have said something to Calum, that much he believed. 

There was more that occurred that week that only heightened his suspicion that something odd was going on. “You know, that night he didn’t come home there were power outages all over town. Mr. Robinson said it had something to do with that power company in the woods, the one with the military out front.” 

Tamera rolled her eyes. “Oh wow. The Department of Energy had trouble with the power in November. That obviously means aliens came down and abducted by aliens.” 

“I’m being serious!” Calum snapped. Power outages had occurred more than a week than they had all year, according to the Hawkins Post. He knew it was a stretch, trying to connect a series of weird power outages to his dad’s disappearance, but he felt in his gut that there was something weird going on.  

“Don’t you think it's a little strange that a bunch of vans from the Department of Energy were at Nancy Wheeler’s house?” 

“What?” Tamera asked. 

He explained to her what he saw. The Department of Energy was out and about that whole week; Calum recalled seeing their vans around town, but not once did he see anyone working on the powerlines. He was no electrician, but he knew that the Department of Energy vans never came around the summer prior when a wicked storm knocked the power out for three days in the dead of July. Men were out working on lines from dawn to dusk trying to get the power back. What was different that time? His curiosity and suspicion peaked when he saw a line of those vans outside Nancy Wheeler’s home. 

Calum had cut through the neighborhood on his walk home from work. He needed to clear his head in the wake of his dad disappearing. When he reached the top of a hill that overlooked the other half of the neighborhood, he saw the collection of vans at the Wheeler’s home and the series of men and women, dressed in suits, carrying boxes out of the home. It made no sense to him. Who were those people and why were they at the Wheelers? But then he mulled it over and little connections were made. Nancy Wheeler was best friends with Barbara Holland who had also gone missing and never returned during that week. Her little brother was best friends with Will Byers. And her boyfriend, Steve Harrington was supposedly childhood best friends with Danielle Torres. It seemed to perfect to a coincidence.

Tamera a quiet for a long moment before she said, “That is… weird.” It was more than that, but he was happy with her not telling him to give up his pursuits. 

“That’s not all, either. I skipped school two days ago because I didn’t want to play basketball in gym-”

“Which is ridiculous, by the way,” Tamera said. “But continue.” 

“I ran to the store and when I was talking home, I saw Nancy and Jonathan Byers together. They came out of Radio Shack with a bag full of stuff.” The pair was odd, but Calum had seen them together more since the start of the school year. “I couldn’t get close enough to hear most of their conversation, but I swear I heard them mention Barbra Holland.” 

Tamera looked unconvinced. “Barb and Nancy were friends. I’m sure she talks about Barb.” 

“I guess, but did you know Nancy and Steve eat dinner with the Holland once a month? I bet they also think Barb’s still somewhere out there just like her parents do. The Hollands are selling their house to pay for a private investigator.” 

“How do you know all of this?” 

Calum’s mother was still on the fritz, but she had resumed working at the salon, just not as frequently as she had before his dad vanished. Calum helped around the place when he caught a break from work. If there was one place someone could get any information they wanted, it was the hair salon. The mothers, aunts, daughters, and sisters of Hawkins liked to talk about everyone and everything. 

“I have my sources,” Calum said, smoothly. “And those sources confirmed that they saw the private investigator the Hollands hired talking to Danielle more than once. If all of this shit isn’t connected, how do you explain that?” 

“I don’t know.” She paused before glancing at him through slightly more sympathetic eyes. “Just don’t jump the gun on this, okay? I agree that all of that stuff is weird, but there’s still no proof it’s connected to your dad.” But it had to, Calum thought.

He wanted to make Tamera understand, somehow, but before he could get another word out, a car came barreling down the street toward them. 

“Shit!” Tamera yelled as she jerked the wheel to the side and narrowly avoided the speeding car. Bright headlights flooded Calum’s vision and he let out a matching scream alongside Tamera. Their car veered slightly off the side of the road, the right wheels in the grass, as the other car passed, they continued racing down the road. 

Calum clutched his chest, feeling like he just suffered a mini-heart attack. “Jesus Christ! Who the hell was that?” he asked. 

Looking in the rearview mirror, Tamera narrowed her eyes under her large, wire-framed glasses. “I think that was the new kid’s car.” 

“What an asshole.” 

→←

Steve was dead, he had to be. Dead, but in a lot of pain, which didn’t make a lot of sense but even thinking was too painful. Every one of his muscles ached and his head felt too heavy for his body. His eyes were still closed when he tried to move, but it was as if he was crammed into a small space that wouldn’t allow his limbs to stretch. With a groan, he forced his eyes open despite the pounding in his head. 

The world was a blur in front of him. He tried to rub his eyes and clear his vision, but someone grabbed his wrist. “No, don’t touch it.” Dustin’s voice filled his ears as the kid’s face came more into focus. “Hey buddy, it’s okay. You put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a good fight.” 

Oh, God. That was the only thought that flowed through Steve’s mind as the events of the night rushed back to him. The feeling of glass shattering over his head, the screams from the kids, and the taste of blood in his mouth all came back to him. 

From right beside Steve, another familiar voice sounded. “Please slow down,” Sunshine groaned. 

“Don’t throw up in here,” Mike replied, his head popping up on the other side of Dustin. 

“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount. Sinai,” Lucas instructed from somewhere in front of Steve. 

Steve had no idea where he was. All of the voices pounded against his skull and there was a weird feeling like he was moving. The last thing he remembered was blacking out in the Byers living room, but he was sure he wasn’t there anymore. Why did he feel like he was moving? 

He tried to sit up, but he was in an uncomfortable and awkward position. There were too many people too close to him. All he could do was look forward and focus on figuring out what was going on. Then, it dawned on him that in front of him was the front seat of a car and he was indeed moving. Not only that but the car was being driven by a redhead who sat way too close to the steering wheel. 

“What’s going on?” Steve started to panic. 

“Relax,” Dustin said, in a lame attempt to ease Steve’s worry. “She’s driven before.”

Mike scoffed. “Yeah, in a parking lot.” 

“That counts,” said Lucas. 

On the furthest side of the backseat, pressed up against the door with his hands shoved in his pockets and his hoodie pulled up over his head, Luke shook his head. “No, it definitely does not.” 

Ignoring them, Dustin looked down at Steve with an expression that looked slightly guilty. “They were going to leave you behind, but I promised that you’d be cool, okay?” 

It certainly was not okay; Steve was in a car being driven by a child. “What is happening?” Steve’s words came out a little slurred. He tried to sit up again as he repeated, “No, no, no.” But a small yelp sounded from his other side as his elbow hit something that was not the door. 

“Ow! Steve, stop moving.” Turning his head, Steve noticed that Sunshine was wedged between the door and him. His elbow was jammed into his ribs and her arm was wrapped around his shoulder, holding an ice pack to his cheek that he hadn’t even noticed until that moment. The side of his face felt numb but the panic inside of his was red hot as he peered past Sunshine and out the window to see Hawkins fly by. 

“No! Stop the car! Slow down!” he yelled. 

“I told you he’d freak out,” Mike huffed. 

From the driver’s seat, Max yelled, “Everybody, shut up! I’m trying to focus!” 

“Oh, wait, that’s Mount. Siani,” Lucas said, looking between the map in his hands and the road. Max shot him a confused look before he frantically pointed to the quickly approaching turn. “Make a left! Make a left, now!” 

Max muttered a string of curse words and yanked the steering wheel as hard as she could to make a sharp left turn. Everyone in the car screamed as a mailbox bounced off the hood of the car and flew over them before landing in the dust the car kicked up from its veer off the road. 

The rest of the trip was a blur. Steve was squished in the backseat and his ears rang from his blow to the head the yelling that filled the car. Somewhere along the way, they nearly collided with another car that was unlucky enough to be on the road at the same time as them and Max nearly drove them all into a ditch. 

Steve squeezed his eyes closed and held onto Sunshine’s arm for dear life as he silently prayed for their trip to be over. It felt like an eternity later, but eventually, Max pulled into an empty field and slammed down on the break. The car lurched forward to a sudden stop, and as everyone fell back against their seat, a collective sigh of relief rang out. 

“Incredible,” Mike said, breaking the silence with a look of bewilderment and awe in his eyes. 

Max pulled the keys from the ignition and tossed a look to the backseat. “I told you. Zoomer.” 

Steve didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, and he didn’t care. He needed out of the car before he hurled. 

Everyone was on the same page and made quick work of getting out. Sunshine pushed open the door and nearly tumbled out of the car before she leaned heavily against the side of it. 

Steve rubbed his throbbing temples, but his effort to collect himself was cut short as the kids all started pulling supplies out of the trunk and placed them near a gaping hole in the ground. 

“Guys,” he said, trying to get their attention. “What do you think you’re doing?” His words were still a little slurred and he had to hold onto the car door to keep himself upright.

“Steve,” Sunshine sighed, but Steve couldn’t stop his anger from bubbling up at the kids as they continued to move and ignore him. 

“What are you, deaf? Hello! We’re not going down there! I made myself clear!” 

A hand grabbed his shoulder and forced his attention. Sunshine peered up at him. He couldn’t see much in the darkness of the field, but it didn’t make much to notice the tiredness that adorned her features. Her brows were furrowed and there was blood smeared against her skin; Steve wondered how they kept finding themselves in those kinds of situations, blooded and bruised and exhausted. 

“I thought we were on the same page?” he said, exasperatedly tossing his hands up in the air, causing her to lose her hold on his coat and step backward. “This is insane and dangerous!” He didn’t intend for his voice to come out as loud as it did, and it was more pointed at the kids than Sunshine, but she still flinched. A wave of guilt instantly ran through him. He closed his eyes once more and willed the world to stop spinning so fast.

“Steve, you’re upset, I get it,” Dustin said, approaching the two teens. Steve rubbed his eyes once more and settled his gaze on the kid who held Steve’s backpack and bat. Dustin wore a pair of swimming goggles and a bandana tied around his neck; he looked ridiculous. “The bottom line is, a party member requires assistance and it’s duty to provide that assistance.” 

Steve hated how loyal the kids were to each other; he’d never seen a group of friends so utterly devoted to one another, and if they weren’t standing at the edge of a hole that led into another nightmare or if Steve hadn’t just gotten the shit beat out of him, he’d probably think it was sweet. 

“Now,” Dustin continued, holding out Steve’s backpack toward him. “I know you guys promised you’d keep us safe. So, keep us safe down there.” 

Steve turned and looked at Sunshine, who was already looking at him. She brushed her frizzy hair behind her ears and wiped the dried blood from under her nose. “They’re going to do this with or without us.” Steve knew she was right, and he knew Hopper and Joyce were going to kill them. 

“Fine,” he said and grabbed his backpack. “Let’s go.” 

Tag list. @sattlersquarry , @echoing-oursong , @leptitlu

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Jealousy & Confession - Maedhros x Fingon

Dear anon, it's my joy and pleasure to give you this sweet(ish) slice of Russingon!

They truly are the best! I love them so much! <3

Words: 1 070

Characters: Maedhros x Fingon

Warnings: A hint of sadness, a bit of obsession, a confession, and yes, they're still half-cousins :D

Gritting his teeth, Maedhros swallowed a few times to dislodge the lump of bad conscience in his throat.

He had no right to be doing this, and if anyone was to catch him—lurking around behind corners and nearly folding himself in half to keep his prodigious height from drawing too much attention—he would have been hard-pressed to find a reasonable explanation or excuse for his current shameful behaviour.

It had all started, a few weeks ago, with an innocent crush which had soon devolved into outright obsession; Fingon—the object of Maedhros’s single-minded preoccupation—had only had to bat those dense, dark lashes at him while laughing at an honestly rather mediocre joke for the pale, freckled ginger to completely lose his mind.

In his head, he could hear Maglor drawling that this was all just a consequence of his genetical make-up and unusual upbringing, and that thought alone made Maedhros clam up and grit his teeth petulantly.

Of course, his father was known for being inclined towards mad fixations, and Maedhros had spent a shocking amount of time denying his own needs and desires to keep an eye on his younger siblings instead, but he was not about to readily admit that he might have sustained any kind of emotional or psychological damage from these circumstances.

So what if Fingon’s open smile and the way he consistently seemed to “accidentally” touch Maedhros when they spoke drove bashful heat into his hollow cheeks and made his heart beat faster with helpless agitation?

It didn’t mean that there was necessarily something wrong with him.

Hiding behind a beautifully carved column to watch Fingon talk to a young girl, on the other hand, was so irrefutably an indication of onsetting madness that even Maedhros could not explain it away.

Indeed, he was painfully aware of just how insane and worrisome his behaviour was for—even if he was special to Maedhros in every way—Fingon was kind and charming to every person he met, be they a random stranger or a family friend.

Thus, it was entirely unreasonable to feel as if every smile that was graciously bestowed upon another had been stolen from Maedhros who was far from destitute to begin with; he had six brothers, doting parents, and many friends.

So how could it be that he so yearned to bathe in Fingon’s benevolent attention as if he was gilded and hallowed by every sweet word and amused chuckle?

When the girl lifted her hand to push back one of Fingon’s braids, Maedhros growled.

As that feral, rumbling sound echoed through the hollow, aching cavity of his chest, the tall redhead was at last torn from his frenzy. Shame washed through him, hot and healing.

At last, he averted his eyes to slink away and seek refuge and solace beside a remote, forgotten fountain he had loved since his earliest childhood. Nobody would find him there, and he’d be free to bask in his own misery and self-reproach in relative peace.

Cursing himself bitterly for so unreasonably growing possessive and jealous, he hastened away.

“Huh?!”

Upon hearing the startled sound escaping the soft, rosy mouth of his friend, Fingon turned around instinctively to scan their surroundings.

“What is it?” he asked tensely—even though he had tried to arrange everything so that nobody would notice his absence, he could never be entirely sure that none of his younger siblings or cousins had followed him in pursuit of a tasteless, puerile practical joke.

“Nothing,” she chuckled, embarrassed by her nervous reaction. “I thought I had seen a flash of copper and gold in the distance, but it’s gone. Surely, it was but the light dancing on the columns. Do not try to change the subject, friend! You know you have to talk to him sooner or later! Just confess your feelings, you’ll feel better afterwards, no matter what his answer will be!”

Nodding unconvincedly, Fingon rose to his full height and squared his shoulders—he was no coward, and he agreed that he could not go on like this.

His every waking moment was consumed by intrusive thoughts about the gleaming eyes and alluring smile of one he facetiously called “friend”, and his nights were all the more upsetting as his mind painted pictures of puzzling promiscuity that haunted him well beyond the borders of Irmo’s realm.

“Go!” the girl cheered and gave him a gentle push.

Usually, finding Maedhros—tall as a tree and thrice as charming, may Yavanna forgive him—was not a difficult feat, but Fingon had to visit many a spot he knew to be amongst his friend’s favourites before he finally stumbled upon the long-limbed beauty, curled up on himself by a defunct fountain.

“Hi! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! How are you?” he chirped, hearing himself how shrill and breathless his voice sounded.

“Oh!” Maedhros looked up in surprise, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously almost at once. “I would not have expected you to seek me out…”

“I need to talk to you,” Fingon burst out, and his heart sank when he saw Maedhros’s face melt into an impassive, almost hostile mask that was so unlike the beautifully vulnerable flush he had come to love.

“Me? I’m sure there are plenty of other people, much lovelier than I am, you could be conversing with,” Maedhros grumbled, burying his face against his updrawn knees as the bitter, accusatory tone of his voice hit him.

“There is none lovelier than you,” Fingon whispered. “And I’d rather sit in silence by your side than listen to the most skilled orator to have ever been sung into existence…”

Slivers of silver emerged like crescent moons above bony knees, and Fingon dropped to the ground to clasp those slender, long-fingered hands in his own.

“I cherish our friendship, please believe me, but I must confess how much deeper my feelings run than mere amicable affection, lest I run mad with longing…”

“I—you—but…the girl?” Maedhros stammered, unheedful of the dreadful confession he was making.

“What girl? There are no girls,” Fingon laughed, kissing Maedhros’s tense, white knuckles in an expression of exuberant joy. “There is only you.”

And, because he was indeed not the most gifted or eloquent creation to have ever existed, Maedhros surged forward to capture Fingon’s smiling mouth in a searing kiss in lieu of a formal acceptance of his much-yearned-for, miraculous suit.

@fellowshipofthefics here's another one for this month!

No monthly challenge would be complete without these two!

Lots of love and well-wishes!

-> Masterlist

[thisfairytalegonebad]

"Drive safely." - Ignis & Noct, brotherhood era

Prompt #28 of the Love List.

Read below the cut, or on AO3 here.

This one's about Iggy's shitty parents, but there's not any physical abuse nor does it go into detail in general. Just a heads up.

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Noct said, eyes stubbornly on the floor.

In front of him, Ignis sighed, the kind of sigh that meant he thought Noct was being unreasonable and difficult, but in this case, Noct was absolutely convinced that Ignis was the unreasonable one.

“It’ll just be a few days, Noct. I’ll be back before you even know it. In my absence, Gladio will take you to school in my stead, and I’ve forbidden him from feeding you nothing but Cup Noodles all week, so you’ll probably get to eat takeout every day.”

It’s not about that, Noct wanted to yell, did Ignis seriously think he was just worried he wasn’t gonna be fed when he was away?

“Is your uncle going?” he asked instead, still refusing to meet Ignis’ eyes.

“No.” Another sigh. “He and my parents are… on bad terms.”

Noct scoffed. “Yeah, because they treat you like shit.”

“Noct-”

“Forget it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Noct saw Ignis stepping closer.

“Noct, please. I don’t wish to part ways when you are angry with me.”

The childish side of him almost made him want to remain stubborn so Ignis wouldn’t go, but the pleading edge in Ignis’ voice made it impossible not to give in to him.

“’M not mad at you,” he muttered and closed the distance between them, pressing his face against Ignis' chest and wrapping his arms around his middle.

“I’m glad,” Ignis said and easily folded him into a hug.

Don’t go, Noct wanted to tell him, they don’t deserve you , but all he managed was, “Drive safely.”

Ignis laughed, soft and low, and pressed a kiss to Noct’s hair.

“Always.”

____

Going there had been a mistake, Ignis thought as he drove through the night, caffeine being the only thing keeping him awake. It wasn’t terribly late yet, but it was already dark and he hadn’t slept well the past few days, especially not at his parents’ house.

Realistically, he knew he should’ve waited until the next morning to go home, but he couldn’t stand the mere thought of spending even a minute more in his parents’ house. It had only been two days, and he’d been meant to stay for nearly a week. But from the moment he’d walked through the door, he’d heard Noct’s voice in his head, telling him what a bad idea this was, and his parents had seemed determined to prove him right.

Noct had been right, of course. Ignis was going to have to apologize to him.

Keeping his eye on the road, he pressed his thumb to his phone to unlock it and started dictating a message to Noct.

Coming home later tonight. Thought you’d want to know. Sleep well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

He hit send and then, just before he made to lock his phone again, he hesitated.

“Call Amantius Scientia.”

His uncle picked up on the second ring.

And that was really the thing, wasn’t it? Ignis had still been a child when he’d come to the Citadel, and a very young child at that. As such, he hadn’t understood the implications of parents sending their four-year-old son to a foreign country to live with an uncle he’d never met before.

For months he’d waited for a phone call that never came, and after his uncle had tried to gently make him understand that it wouldn’t come, he’d continued to hope in secret for many more years to come.

In his childish naivety, he’d tried to come up with reasons why his parents never called. They were busy, he’d reasoned, but then, so was his uncle, and yet he always made time for him. So perhaps the fees for calls outside the country were too high - never mind that his parents had more money than they knew what to do with. And once they’d fled Tenebrae and come to live in Lucis instead, and still they never called, he finally realised the truth, painful as it was.

The truth was that his parents didn’t care for him, never had, and they were perfectly happy to gloat about their son who was to be the Lucian prince’s advisor to anyone who asked or didn’t ask, but they had no interest whatsoever in him as an actual person.

It was a truth he’d known for a long time, but he’d gotten careless - he’d let himself forget. But being back there, in that loveless house with those loveless people… It was a painful but necessary reminder that his real family was back home in Insomnia, waiting for his safe return.

“Uncle.” His voice wavered, just slightly, but he had no doubts that his uncle had picked up on it right away. “I just wished to let you know that I’m currently on the way home. I should arrive in a few hours.”

“At this hour?” Ignis could practically hear his uncle’s frown over the phone. “What did they do?”

Ignis sighed. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t a lie, they hadn’t done anything. But that was precisely the problem. They hadn’t done anything , nothing that indicated that they were in any way happy to see their son, that they had missed him, that they were interested in his life. They might as well have been two strangers whose house he’d walked into by mistake - and for what it was worth, they were nothing more but strangers to him.

“Ignis.”

“Really, Uncle, they haven’t done anything. I’m… not sure what I was expecting when I agreed to visit, but I should have known better.”

His uncle sighed, the original version of the very sigh Ignis had adopted himself and often used on Noct.

“None of that is your fault, I promise you this. They’re simply terrible people who have never cared about anyone or anything but themselves, and I wish you had never been involved with them in the first place.”

Ignis rubbed his temple with his right hand and reached for the can of ebony in the middle console, hoping that the caffeine would stave off his building headache, but found it devastatingly empty.

Cursing under his breath, he started to keep an eye out for a service station at which he could pull over and buy more coffee.

“This was the last time I’ve been involved with them in this lifetime,” Ignis told his uncle quietly, like a confession. Perhaps it was, if not to his uncle, then certainly to himself.

“Now that’s a sentiment I can agree with,” his uncle laughed, the sound filling Ignis with warmth. Even when reduced to a tinny voice from a phone speaker, his uncle, who had never wanted or intended to have children, who people viewed as stuck-up and unapproachable, offered him so much more care and affection than his own parents.

If Ignis had any doubts left about his decision to cut his parents out of his life for good, his uncle’s laugh washed them all away at once.

His uncle stayed with him on the phone for a while longer, until Ignis spotted a service station and pulled over, wishing his uncle a good night and promising to come see him the next day.

Noct had also replied to his message with a thumbs-up emoji, and had sent a second message to the group chat mere minutes later.

Noctis [20:49]: spontaneous hang out at my place, who’s in

Prompto [20:52]: oooo sick should i bring anything?? 👀

Noctis [20:53]: just your controllers

Prompto [20:53]: okidoki

Gladio [21:01]: Sure I’ll bring the beer

Gladio [21:01]: Just kidding you punks ain’t getting beer

Noctis [21:05]: @Specs

Noctis [21:05]: you’re coming right

Ignis smiled, touched by the unsubtle attempt to organise something to cheer him up.

Noct had been unhappy about Ignis going to see his parents from the moment he’d learnt about it. His concern had been sweet, but Ignis had tried his best to convince him that he needn’t fret, he’d gotten over his parents’ neglect years ago and he could handle facing them again.

Evidently, Ignis had been very wrong, and Noct had been right all along. Going to see them had been a mistake, but at least it wasn’t a mistake he was going to make a second time.

You [21:38]: Of course. I’ll join you in approximately two hours.

Noct [21:39]: ok

Noct[21:39]: drive safely

____

Two hours later, Ignis opened the door to Noct’s apartment, exhausted and suffering an intense headache. He just wanted to sleep, but going back to his own, empty apartment after the emotional turmoil of dealing with his parents wasn’t even an option. Not when his friends were right here, waiting for him even though it was the middle of the night and they surely had to be tired.

“I’m home,” he called as he made his way to the living room, smiling when Noct scrambled up from the couch and into his waiting arms.

“Good to have you back,” Noct muttered, pulling back to eye him critically. “You okay?”

Ignis looked at him, really looked, at the honest concern in his eyes despite his best attempts to conceal it.

Next, he looked at Gladio, sat on the couch next to Ignis’ usual spot - which had been left empty for him - munching on a forkful of Cup Noodles and very pointedly not meeting Ignis’ eyes.

He looked at Prompto who had jumped up and ran to the kitchen the moment he’d heard Ignis come home, who knew more of parental wounds than he cared to admit, pouring hot water over a bag of Ignis’ favourite herbal tea into his favourite mug.

He thought about his uncle, his voice still clear in Ignis’ head, supportive and kind, who had taken him in and raised him when his own parents hadn’t wanted him.

He looked back at Noct, who still stuck as close to him as he could while still trying to not look like he was sticking close to Ignis.

Ignis smiled.

“I am now.”

____

Read the entire project here.

[traayaawrites]

Burning

Ares lost his mate. His fire consumes him.

Word count: 3347

Edit: I forgot to say this is the brain child of an idea @inkrabbit and I had one day not too long ago.

The smell of smoke woke Ares, it was thick and suffocating, all he could think of was his own human death and the endless nightmares he still has after all these years. He turned to check on his mate, panic setting in when they weren’t there, curled into his side. Memories of them talking about going to the library coming back to him, now that he was wide awake. He bolted, following the smoke to its source. The library. 

He didn’t notice, but the rest of his pack had followed him, worry and fear setting in amongst them as they saw how panicked Ares was. He screamed out for his mate, getting ready to run into his worst nightmare to save them. He felt arms wrap around him and pull him back, trying to pull him away from the burning building. 

“NO! Let go, I have to save them. Let go of me!” Ares tried to fight, to break free of the hold on him. But with all of his pack there, it was no use. He might be able to get free if it was one or two, depending on who, but Neptune had a firm grip around his middle and there was no fighting that.

“They’re gone, Ares. I’m sorry, but there is no way a human could survive that. They’re gone.” Sil nearly broke, they all love Ares’ mate. Sil knew the pain of losing someone you loved. They would all mourn the loss of their favourite little human who was a kind and innocent soul, no one deserves to die like that. His priority was keeping Ares from running into the building, then it would be the grief. Their pack couldn’t lose another, let alone their leader. 

–

It had been a few days and Ares still hadn’t surfaced. Sil was starting to get concerned by the absence, he had left food at the basement door, but none of it was ever touched. Ares was letting the grief consume him. A dangerous thing, grief, especially when it wasn’t dealt with. Sil knew the human would hate seeing Ares in the state he was. They were always trying to make the pack smile, even on the bad days, the human was one of the first through the door, ready to deal with anything the pack threw at them with open arms and nothing but love and a warm set of arms to get lost in.

Ares didn’t know just how long he was down in the basement. All he could think about was his mate, how they smiled, how they laughed at all the stupid jokes from his packmates, how they would battle Ares to get into the room first when one of the pack needed him. The way their scent lingered in his sheets and how it nearly drove him mad when he came back the night of the fire. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the smell of the smoke clinging to his clothes or the scent of his mate that was still on every part of the dens. 

The door opening didn’t register to Ares, neither did Sil’s voice to begin with. The earth ghoul calling out to Ares a few times, making his way into the room, stopping in front of his friend. The pack needed Ares, they were all grieving the loss and the worry for their leader was starting to wear on them all. Sil was kneeling in front of Ares, about to rest his hand on the others shoulder, when Ares pulled away, hissing and growling at Sil. A small trickle of lava running from his eyes, a sign of just how far gone Ares was in this moment. 

Ares wanted to be left alone, for once, he wanted to be selfish. Give himself a chance to let his own emotions out without worrying for his pack or putting their emotions first. His mate was gone. All he had was his rage and his grief and here Sil was, coming to try to bring him back to his pack? He didn’t want to be the one everyone would lean on, not this time. Just once, he wanted to, needed to put himself above everyone else. He snapped. With a snarl he lets his rage consume him, grabs at the limb near his shoulder and burns. Let his fire consume him, let it burn whatever he can get his hands on, claw back at the grip around his wrist. Something in him tells him how wrong this is, that he needs to stop, but his rage is blinding and logic was losing the battle in his mind. His grief makes him feel like he is suffocating and with each breath he can smell their scent again. So he burns and burns and burns. He’s so consumed by it. Consumed by his fire, consumed by the memory of his mate, that even if he wanted to, the emotions slamming into him felt like they would devour him whole.

Sil tries to hold it in for as long as he can, the pain so strong, he can’t help but to let out a scream. White hot pain, everywhere that Ares touches him is burning agony. But he refuses to fight his way out of that burning touch, refuses to leave his friend when he needs him most. Sil will heal, in time Ares will forgive him for staying and Sil will forgive Ares for the pain. It’s everywhere, his entire body is on fire, his arms have caught the brunt of it, at some point, Sil isn’t sure when, Ares let go of his arm and took swipes at his torso, the pain spreading throughout his body. Sil isn’t trying to hold in his screams anymore, the waves of heat, the burning pain, it’s torture. But still, he won't leave, won’t allow Ares to go through this on his own. 

He could stop this, he thinks, Sil could stop Ares, but the cost of that choice isn’t a price he is willing to pay. Ares can’t heal like the rest of them, the force Sil would need to stop Ares now, to break him out of his feral state, would cost the fire ghoul his life. Maybe Sil is selfish, but he wont kill his friend. He’d rather Ares endure the pain of a lost mate than live with the knowledge he took his leader's life. He can take this, he can handle all the pain Ares throws at him.

The pain. It’s all he can focus on, he can’t hear himself screaming, he can’t hear the snarls from Ares. All he knows is burning, blinding, pain. Maybe if Sil could summon a vine, hold back any part of Ares. He feels a claw slice his arm and he’s pulled for the thought of his vines. Ares needs this, needs to get this out or it will eat him alive. A laugh bubbles out of Sil, it would shock him if he were capable of shock, at least Ares wasn’t hurting the others. Sil could live with the consequences knowing the others were safe from this.

Something in Ares tells him to stop, screams at him that this is wrong, that he needs to stop before it’s too late, but he can’t. He can’t make himself want to stop. He felt like he was going to explode, like his fire would engulf him. All his body wants to do is burn, no matter what or who was in the way. Almost nothing could bring him out of this, he needs to let it run its course. His pack needs him, he’ll have to shove whatever else he feels, so far down then. He had to let it out while he could. He can hear something breaking through all his rage, but he tunes it out, letting his only thoughts consist of burning fire. The image of the library, where his mate suffered the same fate he did as a human, flashed through his mind, with a snarl he let his temperature rise more, fire burn hotter. He was borderline feral at this point, he had enough awareness to know that if he wasn’t careful there would be no stopping until he burnt himself out, but not enough to care for the consequences.

—

Notus couldn’t bear it any longer. He ran to where Sil was screaming. The heat radiating from the room was breathtaking,he couldn’t remember the last time Ares burned this hot. He had to do something, Sil’s screams would haunt his dreams and he wasn’t sure how much more the earth ghoul could take. He threw open the door, the sight before him stoping him in his tracks, it was like Ares was glowing with his powers and Sil was crumpled on the floor in front of the fire ghoul, hardly able to fight back against Ares. Notus wasn’t sure what to do. Sil was being attacked and Neptune wouldn’t be able to get close with how much heat there was. Sil turned to look at Notus with a tear streaked face, pleading for Notus to help their leader, begging for Notus to snap him out of it. But he didn’t know how. Sil was the only one that could get through to Ares when he was like this, not him. 

Notus dropped to his knees near Sil, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him away from Ares. It only causes Ares to snarl at him and take a swipe at, what he perceived as, a threat. Notus, only just dodging in time, knew his only option was to push back against Ares, which would hurt. Hurt it did, touching Ares was like putting his hand on an open flame. Notus wasn’t quick enough to dodge the next swipe, Ares’ claws catching his forearm as he was pulling Sil away, the fire ghoul wrapping his hand around where his claws connected, causing Notus to scream out. Suddenly the heat on his arm lessened and he was free to move again. Without looking at the fire ghoul, Notus dragged Sil back a few steps, getting him away from Ares before putting himself between the two, ready to stop Ares from getting to Sil. 

A soft scream break through his feral state. Notus. He’d recognise that voice anywhere. Lucifer, please. Tell him he didn’t hurt Notus. He blinks a few times, focusing on the scene in front of him. Notus standing ready to attack if he needed, he could see the hesitation in his eyes. Behind him lay Sil, curled on his side, trying to make himself as small as he could, his shoulders shaking from the force of his sobs, his arm reaching for Notus. Ares looks at Sil, sees the damage he caused, the burns and blood and tears. Seeing what he’s done to Sil, he hates himself, he’d done so much damage in such a short amount of time. Ares falls to his knees and crawls over to Sil, reaches out to wipe away tears. Sil flinches, curling in on himself as much as he can. 

“Sil, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He reaches out again, needing to try to fix this. “Sil-” The earth ghoul hisses and dragging himself to the corner of the room, as far away from Ares as Sil could get.

Ares knows better to try to approach again, nothing is registering in Sil’s mind, nothing but fear he put there. He did this and now he’s helpless to fix it. Ares feels a tear land on his hand, he didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He almost never cries in front of his pack, he’s the one that has to be there for everyone else. But looking at Sil, seeing the fear an pain he caused. He can feel the heat, more lava leaking from his eyes. Sil shuffles, pressing himself further against the wall and away from Ares.

Notus moves towards Ares, intending to calm him down, tell him that Sil will be ok and that he’ll heal. His actions are cut off by a scream and vines blocking his path. Turning from Ares, Notus heads to Sil, crouching in front of the scared ghoul, shushing him, telling him it’s alright. Ares watches, and sees Sil seek comfort from Notus, the same way he normally does with Ares. A level of trust that the fire ghoul fears he’s lost with his second in command. He sees Notus eye the door before looking back at Sil.

Ares can’t stay here. He can’t listen to Sils' pain. Can’t watch as Notus wages a battle in his mind over who needs him most. He stands, looking down at the two other ghouls in the room. He’s hurt two of his pack already, everything is so warm, Sil is sobbing, he sees the burn on Notus’ arm. Ares hadn’t realised he had moved towards the door, ready to bolt. He feels Notus grabs his arm so tight his claws have started digging in. 

“Don’t you dare leave us like he did!” Ares stops dead in his tracks at that. Turning to look at the other two ghouls in the room with him, Notus’ grip gets tighter as the tears fill his eyes. “Please.”

He was desperate to get out, to get away from everything and breathe, but he can’t do that to Notus. He can’t leave his pack like this. He was the cause of all of this, all because he couldn’t hold in his grief at his mate dying, his rage at his pack for stopping him from going after them, at himself for letting it get this bad. He had his pack, a pack who was also grieving, Ares wasn’t alone. He understands Astraeus more, in this moment, than over the last several decades. 

He looks over at Sil, who was still sobbing into Notus. With a deep breath Ares pushes his emotions aside for later, he had a job to do. He needed to assess Silvanous’ wounds and get him to his room for rest. Against his better judgement he approaches Sil again, crouching down to his level, slowly outstretching his arm towards the scared earth ghoul. Sil swipes at him, he feels the dull ache as blunt nails drag along his arm. He watches as Sil tries to crawl further into the safety of Notus’ lap and the youngest ghoul wraps his arms around Sil more, whispering to him. Ares locks the idea of Sil trying to attack him away for later.

“Amore mio, please, let me see your arms.” The name he calls Sil feeling wrong and like ash on his tongue. Almost like he’s lost the right to call him that. They were the closest within the pack, lovers but not mates. His most trusted friend, now cowering from him. “Stay with him, Notus, I’ll- I’ll go get Neptune.” Ares sounds defeated.

—

Ares stood in the doorway, watching as Notus and Neptune wrapped the worst of Sils wounds getting him as comfortable in bed as they could, nestled between them so he wasn’t alone. Neptune gave Ares a nod, telling him that they would stay with Sil, that they would do what he couldn’t tonight. With that, Ares turned, closing Sils door before returning to his room, locking the door and curling into himself under his covers. He desperately wanted to cuddle with Sil, tell him how sorry he was, but he knew the earth ghoul wouldn’t want anything to do with him now. Ares knew his attack left his second traumatised, fire would always win in a fight against vines. He wouldn’t admit it to his pack, would take one of them away from Sil, but he didn’t want to be alone, in a room that was so full of his mates scent. It was suffocating. He closed his eyes, remembering your smile, your eyes, hearing your laugh before it all merged into a nightmare, your skin turning black, you screams begging him to make it stop, those screams slowly morphing into Sil’s all of it echoing in his mind.

“Ares-” Notus knocked at his door, “can I come in?” Notus was such a soft ghoul, so quiet and innocent. He knocks again. “Ares, I know you’re still awake, let me in? Please?” He hears Notus’ voice break on the please, like the young ghoul was on the edge of tears. Ares listens as his footsteps retreat, the scent of disappointment and something else lessening with those footsteps.

—-

He’d drifted off, must have, because he’s startled by the banging on his door, the soft scent of the forest filling the air. Sil. “I swear to all that is unholy Ares, if you hurt Notus by shutting us all out, there will not be a safe place on this earth that you can hide.” 

“Leave me alone, Silvanus.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does. Ares senses the change, knows he’s pissed off the earth ghoul even more. “Sil, go back to bed.” His last ditch attempt to get Sil to leave him be, let him sulk alone. It doesn’t matter if he opens the door, if Sil really wanted to get in, he could, he has a key to Ares’ room just as he has one to Sil’s. He pictures Sil on the other side of the door, using the wall to help keep him balanced and that’s when the tears start again.

He hears the door creak open, watches as Sil looks him over. A battle between rage and sorrow waging within the earth ghouls eyes. He’s furious at Ares for not being able to snap out of it, for sending Notus away and for trying to send him away. They all lost his mate, they were all grieving and the one that needed comfort refused to ask for it. But could Sil stay angry at Ares for all of that? He knew the pain of losing a loved one, but not the pain of losing a mate, especially not the way they lost Ares’ mate.

“Vinea mea?” It was barely a whisper, Ares’ voice breaking. “I’m so-”

“Shut up you idiot.” With a sigh, Sil crawls into bed with Ares. Ares pulled Sil into his chest with a softness only Sil ever got to see. Gently moving Sil so he was safely tucked under his chin and as comfortable as they could get him, given the extent of his injuries. Ares knew Sil was still angry and hurt, but the trust was still there. As Sil relaxed more into Ares, slowly leeting more of their bodies touch. An arm around Ares’ waist, a tail curling around a thigh, lastly their legs tangled together. They aren’t sure who started first. They were both sobbing into the other, Sil burying his head further into Ares’ chest as Ares pulled Sil in as close as he could. 

Ares didn’t sleep much that night, instead watching as Sil drifted in and out of sleep, trying to ease that pain as best he could, running his fingers through Sils hair to help him drift back to sleep. He cries a few more times that night, some on his own, some with Sil. They don’t talk, they don’t need to right now. There’s nothing the other can say that will make any of this better. 

Ares makes a note to himself to apologise to Notus. The moment the young ghoul screamed at him not to leave replaying in his mind. Panic starts to set in, panic that maybe Notus wont forgive him. No matter how bad it’s been, Notus had never let on that he was scared Ares would leave like Astraeus did. Would Notus forgive him? Did he understand Ares would never abandon him like that? He felt Sil stir. Looking down, he realised Sil was watching him. With a shake of his head, Sil tucked himself back against Ares’, muttering out a few words before letting sleep claim him once again.

“We love you, idiot.”

[darkorderaf]

oxytocin

So I don’t have like a canon for any of my fics but the OFC has sort of the same background for each one for the time being, Dark Order-aligned medic type character. They don’t all go together or anything like that and there's no real timeline. It just sort of worked out that way lol. Anyhow, ramble over, please enjoy and lmk what you think!!

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC

Rating: Big ol’ M.

Warnings/Content: Choking, unprotected sex (please be safe!!), hair pulling, spanking, multiple orgasms, jealousy, sort of hate sex. This...admittedly...took on a life of its own.

Word Count: 2028

(I don't own gif; credit to superkickparty!)

---

She didn’t know when cursory check-in glances had turned into check-out glances. Maybe it was after he gave her that side smirk, the one that had her stomach fluttery. He had never looked at her like that before and then one day, one hot night in Jacksonville, he did. It didn’t stop. The expanse of his hands across her lower back, the tease of a tight grip against her waist when she helped him away from the ring. That damn smirk and the slight narrowing of his eyes as he side-eyed her. She helped everyone out, she told herself. Hell, she had helped both him and Adam before...Well, before. She wouldn’t read into it.

Get your shit together, she had told herself. But he was Kenny fucking Omega. A top guy amongst top guys. Keeping her shit together was a Herculean effort.

His hand gripped the tender, red hot flesh of her ass. She panted out as she felt the weight of him press against the length of her naked back. Her arms shook with the difficulty of keeping herself upright. His mouth ghosted by her ear and his low, arrogant voice brushed against her skin.

“How many was that? Did you remember to count?”

He hummed as he took a moment to stop kneading the flesh of her ass. His fingers drifted down her wet slit to tease her clit. Against her own volition, her hips tried to press back into him. He chuckled and gave her cunt a light slap that nearly had her crumbling onto the bed. Her head fell forward and his hand grabbed at her hip to keep her still.

“T-Ten,” she gritted out. “I remembered. Kenny, please.”

“Ah-ah, baby, no. That’s not it.”

His teeth nipped at her ear. Teased against the line of her neck. She could have killed him. Or fucked him through the floor. There was no inbetween. She breathed out through her nose and when his hand slipped back between her trembling thighs, she tried again to seek out some release. With his grip as strong as it was, it was hard to move.

“Please, Mr. Omega,” she said and lifted her head enough to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes burned and narrowed. “Please touch me. I counted like you wanted.”

He was just as affected as she was. Everytime she pressed her hips back, she could feel his erection against her ass. But the man had the patience, the stamina, of someone inhuman. She didn’t. What a match. His eyes flashed and he smirked at her. He shook his head and bit lightly at her shoulder. He trailed his tongue down her spine and she shivered when he blew against the line he left.

“Come on. Don’t you remember why you’re here?”

She nodded. His teeth bit into the meat of her ass and she tried to conceal her moan.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Ke--Mr. Omega,” she said with a shake of her head. “I helped them out. That’s all. I did my job.”

He tutted and feathered kisses up her back. His mouth was against her ear again as the hand around her hip relented and trailed up her chest. He squeezed a breast and groaned. Plucked hard at her nipple and twisted before he let go. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. His fingers gripped the purple medallion that fell between her breasts and she felt the chain tighten against the back of her neck.

“This. This stupid thing,” he said as he flexed his hips and grinded against her in a slow rhythm. “This I could handle. This doesn’t mean anything. But then you--Then I saw you with him.”

For a brief second, she heard it. He was worried. Her relationship with Kenny was, admittedly, a strange one. Kenny was paranoid. About himself, about the people around him, about so many things. Her laugh startled even herself. He growled and flipped her onto her back to look at her. The medallion bounced between her breasts and he leered at her, his errant curls in his eyes. Every muscle in his body was tight. Especially the one in his jaw. A brow rose.

“Is this funny to you?”

“It is,” she admitted as she held his eyes. His hand gripped the outside of her thigh as he frowned at her, his face taking on that look of annoyance that she so often saw in the ring lately. Slowly, she pushed herself up so she was almost face to face with him. Her chest pressed against his as she tilted her head back. “The man who has everything. Jealous of a cowboy and his friends.”

His tongue pressed hard against the inside of his bottom lip and he shook his head. One hand tangled in her loose hair and he dove in to kiss her. Tongue and teeth. Relentless. It was the most he had given her so far and when her tongue slipped into his mouth to take what he offered, he pulled away. When he spoke up again, his voice was a low hiss against her lips.

“Baby, if you’re his friend,” he stared as he trailed his fingers up her back and worked the clasp of her necklace. When he got it loose, he tossed it off the bed. His thumb rubbed circles into the side of her neck. The bulk of him kept her legs spread from where they had fallen open when he turned her over. He shoved her back onto the bed and gripped his length, worked it as he looked at her body on display. Pre-cum glistened in the room’s low light and she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. “Then why’d you come looking for me?”

The head of his cock slipped up her wet slit to press against her clit and she gasped. He wasn’t wrong. She shouldn’t have gone to see him after what he had done and continued to do to Adam. But she had. She had wanted to. Her body trembled with want and anger.

“If you’re that mad about it, Mr. Omega, why’d you let me in?”

Kenny huffed and stretched across her again. His large hand dragged roughly up her chest as he looked her in the eyes. His hand settled against her neck in an all-too-familiar fashion. Slowly, he started to press into her. His head slipped in and she moaned low. He could feel it in his hand. Her thighs tightened around his waist and she tried to pull him in further. He wouldn’t budge, even if she could feel how much he wanted to give in. He glanced down at where they connected and licked his lips. His eyes shot back up to look at her.

The need he found there coaxed a nasty smirk out of him and he pulled out of her with a pop. Slow enough to watch the disappointment flood her face. His fingers replaced his cock and he narrowed his eyes as she squeezed around him. They crooked up and brushed against the bundle of nerves that had her body tightening. His fingers played her expertly and his mouth pressed harsh against hers to swallow her breathy moans. The hand around her neck played with a slightly tighter grip. She tried to tell him to go faster but he wanted to destroy her slowly. With as worked up as she was from his roughness earlier, her first orgasm hit her hard. He bit her bottom lip before he pulled away, a thin light of spit connecting them before he tossed his hair back. Half-lidded eyes looked at her. She wasn’t the only one breathing hard. His large hand, covered in her juices, splayed out across her belly to keep her there. The head of his cock nudged against her.

“I guess we’re both just that desperate.”

He seated himself in her fully with one hard, heavy thrust. Her head fell back against the bed and his grip around her neck tightened. Kenny pressed a kiss to her temple and took a moment to ask her if this was okay. Funny how he could still be sweet when he was being insufferable. That thought didn’t last long in her head as slow, drawn out thrusts quickly picked up pace. The hand not around her neck gripped her hair at the base of her head and pulled. Her legs trembled around him. Lightheaded and climbing higher, she bucked against him with wild abandon. He drove into her just right and her second orgasm rippled around him tight enough to have him sputter out a heavy, startled breath. Not yet though.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her and released her neck. She whined at his absence as she breathed in and in a blink, his mouth and his fingers were on her. His tongue played against her clit with a fury as he slipped one, then two fingers back into her quaking slit. She was barely through her second one when he relentlessly started to coax a third one out of her. Her thighs tightened around his head as she came a third time with a ragged scream. Her body nearly seized. Her fingers pushed and pulled at his curls and she could hear him hum with satisfaction against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His teeth bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

“Kenny!”

“That’s right, baby,” he huffed out as he grabbed her legs and pulled her towards him. He didn’t correct her. They were beyond that. “That’s goddamn right. Say my name.”

With her ankles by his head, she was nearly folded in half when he surged back inside her. At this angle, he fucked her slow. Ground against her clit as he fucked into that spot of hers that he found every time without fail. Looked her in the eyes as she panted his name and whined. The pace he kept was agony for the both of them. She tried to say something but he couldn’t quite hear her. He angled his ear toward her and smirked.

“What is it, baby? I can’t hear you.”

It took everything in her to speak and when she did, it sounded weaker than she wanted. He was fucking her senseless. Crowding her with everything that was him. He wouldn’t accept anything else.

“Is that it, Mr. Omega?”

Her teeth found his earlobe and he snapped his hips against her. She grinned at him and he flashed his teeth back. The room was drowned in a cacophony of slapping skin and low moans. Her hand snaked up across the broad expanse of his back and dragged her nails down his taut skin. Almost hard enough to draw blood. He jerked and lost the pace he had set.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddamn you.”

He pulled out and flipped her over so he could fold her across the edge of the mattress. His hand found her clit as he pounded back into her. Her walls clenched and fluttered around him. She bit into the sheets as her fourth orgasm reared its head and when she came, she screamed into the mattress. Kenny thrust into her three, four times before he stilled and spilled into her with a guttural groan. His hands flexed around her hips as he fought to get his breath back, his hips jerking against her as the final wave of his orgasm passed through him. She wiped at her mouth as she tried to get up but he had fucked her boneless. He slipped out of her with a quiet moan and she felt him climb onto the mattress beside her.

His cum seeped out of her as she rolled onto her back. She glanced over at him, with his dark curls and sharp jawline. The bow of his mouth was still covered in her slick. She used to think he was beautiful once. He reached out to her and she hesitated. His eyes slid over to look at her. He laughed and smirked, set his head back against the bed. She supposed she still did. In a terrible way.

[laurfilijames]

Slow Burn- Part 1

Pairing: Modern AU Fili x female OC Prim

Words: 1,670 give or take

Warnings: It’s about to get smutty all up in here!!mentions of sex, swearing, alcohol and drug references

Summary: Fili and Prim are in love, but choose to tease each other rather than admit their feelings.

A/N: Part 1 of about 4. Or 5. I don’t know yet. It’s taken me WEEKS to post this, partly due to nerves and the fact that I make edits every time I re-read it before I think I’m going to post it. Please be patient with me! Thanks to @fizzyxcustard for giving me courage!

—————

It started the same way every time.

A night out for drinks with Kili and Tauriel. Dinner at Thorin and Bilbo’s house. Innocent and familiar gatherings with the family that has treated Prim as part of their own for the last four years.

But it also ended the same way every time.

Fíli’s lips brushing against hers ever so slightly as they said goodnight. His hand habitually clutching her waist and Prim silently willing this to be the time he finally gives in to the temptation that is her.

It happened every weekend regardless of the occasion or setting and it drove her mad with desire. She knew he felt it too, so why was he toying with her for so long? Teasing her like one would their prey before devouring them.

God, she longed to sink her teeth into the flesh on his neck. She watched now as it creased when he turned his head in her direction to look at her, his nose still crinkled from laughing at something Kili said.

Prim released the nail she had been nibbling on from between her teeth and slowly moved her finger down her bottom lip.

Fili noticed, no longer laughing, his pupils dilating as he watched.

Now that Prim had the attention of her preferred audience, she wrapped her arm around her head to clasp her thick, dark hair in her hand and draped it over her right shoulder, her left shoulder and neck exposed to the side where Fili sat.

From the corner of her eye she noticed his hand grip his thigh and his cheek flinch as he clenched his jaw.

As frustrating as it was to be taunted by him for this long, Prim relished in knowing she had the same effect on him.

He took a long sip of his beer and licked his lips once he swallowed, no amount of drink able to quench the thirst he always had for Prim.

Does she know that every move she makes drives him mad? It was getting near impossible to control his urges and the longing he had for her.

This couldn’t continue, he was a grown-ass man for fuck’s sake. He knew one day he would have to finally kiss her like she deserved and tell her how he felt about her, but at the same time it was too much fun, making her squirm as they continued to build the sexual tension between them.

He glared at her now, watching her move her long finger down her full lip before pulling her hair off her delicate neck. He fidgeted in his chair, resisting the urge to attach his lips to her neck and chest.

“Fili, pay attention!” Kili shouted at his brother, smacking his arm and pulling him from his thoughts.

“What?” He scoffed, annoyed for being interrupted.

“Tauriel has asked me to move in with her! I’m moving out!” He explained, excitedly.

It took Fili a moment to process the words, shocked at the news. He felt a slight pang of hurt knowing he would be all alone in his apartment, the absence of Kili creating a large void, but quickly tossed away the thought and decided he needed to be happy for his brother.

“That’s great, you two!” He smiled as he stood from his chair. “Let me get a bottle of champagne for the happy couple, we need to celebrate.”

Prim couldn’t help but notice a slight insincerity coming from Fili as he walked over to the bar. Kili and Tauriel were now lost in their own world together, kissing and whispering in each other’s ears, so Prim took the opportunity to check on Fili.

“Are you okay?” She asked, gently touching her hand to his shoulder, his body heat radiating through his t-shirt on to the tips of her fingers.

He sighed heavily before looking at her with a weak smile tugging at his lips,

“Yeah. I’m happy for them, I truly am. It’ll just be different without him. He’s been my little brother for thirty years and lived with me the entire time. He’s always just been there.”

The bartender placed the chilled bottle of champagne on the bar.

“Cheers.” Fili said, taking hold of the bottle and looking back at Prim.

“I’m fine, really,” he smiled at her fully this time, both dimples making an appearance. “And don’t think I forgot you prefer Prosecco over Champagne,” he beamed at her and held a second bottle up in his other hand.

Prim couldn’t help but grin, flattered how he always remembered the things she loved.

“I need to stop being so predictable,” she smiled.

She placed her hand on his forearm and looked into his piercingly blue eyes, serious now,

“I just want you to know that I’m always here for you. If you’re lonely or bored without Kili- and even if you’re fine- you know I always enjoy your company.”

“I know.” he said.

If you only knew how much I crave your company, how your hands and lips on my body could cure any loneliness, how boldly I will love you, was what he didn’t say.

Thoughts of the two of them alone in his apartment flooded his mind, picturing her naked and moaning against him in his kitchen, his living room, his bed.

Before he lost control of himself, he nodded in the direction of Kili and Tauriel, “We better get back to the table before their pash session gets us kicked out of here.”

Fili placed the bottles on the table and nudged his brother on the back once his hands were free.

“At least have the decency to drink this expensive champagne before you abandon us like you always do.” He requested.

It happened all too often that Kili and Tauriel would leave Fili and Prim on their own, anxious for privacy, but he never cared too much as it gave him the opportunity to be alone with her.

So long as Kili paid his portion of the bill.

“Yes, sorry! Thank you!” Kili grinned as Fili opened the bottles and filled their glasses.

Prim smiled as she held her flute in the air, listening to the toast Fili gave to Kili and Tauriel, wishing her luck in putting up with him and thanking her for taking his messy brother off his hands.

The night continued on as it typically did, all of them agreeing that it was cheaper to drink in the comforts of one of their homes, not having to pay for overpriced drinks.

Tonight they ended up at Prim’s apartment, and she was thankful she could fall asleep on the couch when she was ready to and not have to worry about getting a taxi to take her home late in the night.

She stood in the kitchen, leaning against the island with her chin in her palm, admiring Kili and Tauriel snuggling closely on her couch now, giggling at each other and completely unashamed to express their love.

“At least I won’t have to witness this anymore.” Fili said, topping up the wine in Prim’s glass.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” She sipped her drink and immediately took her words back as she watched Kili climb on top of Tauriel, their intensity increasing quickly.

“Never mind-.” Prim turned to face Fili and away from the couple dry humping on her couch.

“You have to admit though, Fi, that one day you would want that..” she trailed off when her eyes landed on the curly chest hairs peaking up through the neck of his t-shirt.

Yet another part of him she ached to touch.

He carded his fingers through his hair, slicking it back out of his face.

It was getting long, grown out now to just below his ears, curly and bleached even blonder from the sun. She loved it like this.

Honestly, she loved his hair any way, having seen it in every possible style through the years, from short, to short on the sides and long on the top, to just long and curly at his shoulders, but the way it was now allowed her to dream of tugging on it in bed.

Wetness pooled between her legs at the thought as it often did, and she knew she needed to think of something else before she threw herself at Fili and begged him to take her.

“I do want that,” he answered her in a low voice, his eyes telling it was her he wanted it with.

It was like ecstasy to her. No matter how many times she listened to him speak his voice made her melt each time. She bit her lip and closed her eyes when she felt him take a step closer to her, her pulse quickening as he leaned in to speak in her ear.

“I need to get those two home.”

Her head tipped back at the sensation of his breath tickling her skin, his hair brushing against her flushed cheek.

Prim clenched her teeth as he pulled away from her body, furious that he continued to do this to her.

“Okay,” was all she could manage to get out.

Please, don’t go, was what she wanted to say.

Just once she wanted him to stay the night, be in her bed with her.

Her breath caught in her throat when he placed his thumb on her chin, pulling it up so she looked into his eyes. Her hands gripped the counter for support as he took a step toward her again, making her lean her back against it.

“Goodnight,” he nearly whispered it as his lips pressed against the corner of hers, half on her cheek.

Prim inhaled sharply at his contact and tried to turn her mouth into his before he pulled away, missing him by a second.

She nearly growled when he winked at her and grinned, knowing he was fully aware of what he was doing to her.

“Goodnight, Fili.”

She glared at him with such want and she hoped he could feel the burn of it on his skin.

[darkenedreaper]

So Was I

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Avengers x reader.

Warnings: angst, strong violence, language.

Part: 5/5

A/n: I’d like to state that I made up a few lines of poetry and I’m proud of myself.

For the time you had been taken it seemed like your body had been put under severe treatment. At this point you could’ve been gone for months. You recognised the big symbol that was painted onto the wall. Hydra. They had been testing on you, testing on the Avenger. Every day you’d go through a new pain until they found the right one. From what you could catch they were planning on using you as their next super soldier. They had obviously saw the News and what had happened and who did it to you, so they took their chance and succeeded. You were laying back onto the white bed, your arc reactor now had a new red vibranium lining on the outside of it and your new suit which stood beside you, was black, with the logo on the back. You felt stronger, stronger than you would after training, stronger than you would after once pinning Steve on his back. Steve. Steve Rogers, your enemy according to Hydra. And ‘let’s not forget’ they said ‘what that Russian Widow did you to you’. They now began another experiment on you, testing a new serum.

Back at the compound and above the ground. It had been 10 months, 3 weeks, 2 days 6 hours that you had been missing for. To say they were all ashamed would be an understatement.

Steve wanted to get away from his shield, he couldn’t look at it let alone touch it. On his wardrobe floor where he had placed it 10 months ago, it had pieces of the glass from your arc reactor surrounding it. From the impact, some of the glass had melted to his shield. He didn’t want to be reminded of it, but his tears for you couldn’t help but.

Tony nearly drunk his whole cabinet if it wasn’t for Bruce dragging him back to the lab. And then went Tony was alone, the man would cry.

Bruce didn’t want to focus on the thought of you being tortured, which you were or experimented on, which you were. But he did focus on doing everything to find your arc on the map somewhere.

Thor went back to Asgard and he didn’t want back to Asgard and he spat in everyone’s face that he didn’t want to talk to them unless the found you. His mother back at home was increasing getting worried of your absence.

Clint was home aswell to his wife and kids. Laura distanced herself from him whilst he was back there as she thought of you as family. The kids just drew drawings and tried to make their Daddy and Mommy feel better.

Wanda and Vision tried to buck up the team, but they were falling apart themselves and if they didn’t have each other, they’d be lost.

Bucky spent time on his own, he would stay in your room and sit in your chair, hoping you’d walk in the door and do his hair. He felt his arm was tainted but there was nothing he could do about that, so he tried his best to find you with Steve.

Natasha. She wallowed. She was dying inside. She wondered if the heartbreak she was going through was what you felt all those months, creeping around hiding from the team. If it was what you felt when she watched the shield drive into your heart. She didn’t dare go in your room. She couldn’t. She couldn’t look at herself.

She worked night and day trying to track you down, on every mission, in every country, yet all were failures.

They barely spoke to each other now. You affected them massively and they wanted their Y/N back. Whether you hated them or tried to kill them, they’d be so joyful that you were back.

Right now you felt best coursing through your veins and the machine that was attached around your head was slowly vanishing away your memories. You could feel all your knowledge slipping away from you. Your weaknesses being taken over from the amount of power your body had. You yelled out in pain as they would boost it up, clear it was working. A huge flash of light took over the large base and you were listening for your first command. You saw your Commander walk up to your face and he saw the change in your eyes. He snapped his fingers towards the leather straps that had metal chains wrapped over them. And you broke free from them. You hadn’t gotten taller perhaps a few inches, but your muscles were evident as your suit was placed onto you.

You were supplied with 4 guns and 3 knives. Your arc reactor had layers of protective and bulletproof glass coated over it. Now you were unbreakable. You didn’t have a name. You didn’t remember. You don’t remember your friends or if you had any, or any family. All you were focused on was your mission, the Avengers. And your main targets were ‘Captain America’ and ‘Black Widow’.

When you had been brainwashed they had managed to rid of everything except the torture the Avengers put you through. The heartbreak and physical damage. You were given your own jet and a black helmet with a red H on the front and you went off to the compound in search of one of your targets. And it wouldn’t take you long to get there.

Night had fallen at the Avengers compound and they were all in the sitting room. Silently watching a movie that no one was paying attention to. Jarvis seemed upset as he wouldn’t talk to anyone anymore, unless that was because she hadn’t been looked after for months. Friday nearly disabled herself because she was so mad at her boss. If she were a human she’d be looking for you non stop as you often had conversations with the AI.

They had all dragged each other for ‘bonding time’. They were so down and ashamed that no one heard heavy footsteps. Until Bucky picked up on the reflection and he sat up a smile on his face as it could be you.

And around the corner you came, every Avenger jumping up from their seats. No one noticed the Hydra suit because they were so focused on your breathing body. Until Natashas gaze landed on your eyes. She saw it wasn’t you, well it was. But right now you were a Hydra agent trying to kill the Avengers.

“Y/N!” Tony shouted with a big grin on his face. You pulled dour your gun and shot above his head and you would’ve gotten him if it wasn’t for Bucky pulling him away as they all scattered off in all directions. Right now you were behind a man known as Hulk. You were shooting everywhere at everyone who crossed your path or came into view. You were putting multiple holes in walls at once and you put your gun back and instead ran towards the coward and grabbed him t shirt nearly picking him up off the ground. You got out a knife from your thigh pocket and nearly jabbed it into him if it wasn’t for that voice that came from behind you and him.

“Y/N.”

You recognised the voice as Black Widow and she was a main target so you flung the other man into a wall, crashing him into the next room. You ran after her and you were nearly faster than her if it wasn’t for her jumping up into a vent. So you took a gun and starting shooting holes in the vents, hearing scurries of fear through the vents. Your super soldier hearing picked up on a whisper that came from East.

It was Tony and Wanda. They thought they were hidden as Tony was crawling towards the table with his iron fist on.

With one quick shot you blew it up. Wanda tried getting into your head but she couldn’t even get past the thick line of Hydra.

“Come on Y/N I made that! It’s Tin-Man you know me!”

He kept calling out a name you didn’t know and as he hit the wall you took a look at his arc reactor and looked at yours. You saw his hand pout from his to yours.

“The same. You see. It’s Tony.”

You put your hand around his throat and lifted him up, his head hitting the ceiling, and you started punching at his bright light. Groans, pleads and yells at you to stop game from his mouth but you soon threw him to the side aswell, discarding of him while he collapsed onto the floor. Watching you walk away, walking on the glass that had fallen from his reactor.

You went in search for the girl who was trying to break into your head and instead you ran into the man with the metal arm known as the Winter Solider. He was trying to call out your name trying to talk to you but you shut him up by grabbing him arm and jamming a piece of glass into his weak spot where the arm connected to the body. Footsteps were approaching and it was the girl again. You took a knife and held it in the air to jam into ‘Buckys’ throat but your knife was thrown across the room with some sort of red magic around it. You threw the limp body of the other super soldier towards the girl and she was too slow to react as he came crashing down into her.

The compound was a mess, glass everywhere, holes everywhere, a little spark came from a wire where your bullet had hit it.

Vision had also been seen to. He just approached you and you didn’t even acknowledge him so you just drove the bottom of your gun into his temple sending him down, and kicking him out of your way.

You would finish the targets of after you’d found your other two. You went towards the hangar where their jets were stored to see no one around.

Meanwhile, Steve was on his way down to you. His shield in his hands, not strapped onto him arm.

You knew who was behind you and pointed your gun to the troubled and saddened man who stopped in his tracks.

“Y/N. I know your in there.”

You walked up to him and smashed the gun into his face, making him fall onto his side, shield still in his hands. He got up.

“You’re not a Hydra agent. Your Y/N. Our family.”

With a grunt you hit his stomach with your fist, sending him flying backwards. He got up.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

And now you sent your boot into his chest and made him fall on his back. This time he struggled to get up.

You had punched and kicked him so far bad that you near the edge of the runway, splashed of the water hundreds of feet beneath you. He got up.

“I’m not gonna fight you.”

He tossed his shield away from him, trying to bring you back. His face was bleeding, his back was in agony and his suit was torn because of how far and harsh he skidded backwards.

“Your my friend.”

It was an odd feeling, one you hadn’t felt for months. Did you know him? Steve? No. He was your target right? And you went with your head. As soon as he saw movement from your feet dashing towards him, he didn’t move. If you were to kill him he wouldn’t envy you, he would’ve said he deserves it. His head didn’t hit the ground and he was now on the edge of the cliff with you above him, one fist balled into his suit and the other clenched.

“Your my mission.”

The first time he heard you speak in months and it was this.

After the first punch his eye had already began to close over. The second punch, his facial skin was torn. The third punch, both nostrils began to bleed. “Your.” The fourth punch his lip cut. “My.” The fifth punch, his lip bled out. “Mission!” The sixth punch sent his head lolling around.

You had to stop to consider if what you were doing was right. You knew this man. You knew them all.

“Then finish it.” His voice broke.

“Cause I’ll go with whatever your ordered.”

He even nodded confirming that it was okay for you to kill him.

He was talking about him being your target to kill. You were ready. You were so ready to throw him off the edge of it wasn’t for that voice.

Calling out a name. You turned your head and got up. The red head was standing. Arms crossed. She had fear and tears in her eyes. As soon as you stood quickly her arms unfolded like lightening.

She took a step back as you slowly approached her, getting a knife from your pocket.

“Y/N, this isn’t you. You need to listen to me. Y/N please.”

Your anger had slowly started to build again inside you.

“Stop saying that goddamn name it’s fucking pissing me off.”

Her mouth was bobbing open and closed. She wanted to sob at seeing how you were. She wanted to see those E/C eyes staring back at her instead of the blank ones that had one thing in mind.

“Do you not know me?” She was starting to walk back into the weapons room but she had no intention of doing any harm to you. And if you wanted to beat her and kill her then so be it. She’d let you. Your fist that was empty was slowly beginning to ball up but you couldn’t hit her and why? You didn’t know.

“моя любовь, пожалуйста, послушай меня.”

The Russian sentence of ‘my love please listen to me’.

It caused you to snap and you swung at her face, causing her to groan and stumble backwards.

“Do not tell me to listen to you. I’m not your fucking love.”

She wanted to cup her face as she felt the bruise appearing but that would be selfish after everything you’ve been through.

“Ты понимаешь русский мой дорогой”

‘Do you understand Russian my dear?’

You were never taught Russian at your Hydra base so why could you understand it. You took heavy breathes and you had a confused look on your face because your lip trembled and anger was painted onto your face again. You threw your fist at her again causing her head to snap backwards and blood tricked down her lip.

She was exhausted. The sleepless nights without you, the guilt drowning her. You ran towards her and she put her arms up to defend herself but you were quick to pull them down and you landed kicks to her side and plenty of hard punches to her ribs. By the time she had cornered herself she was sure a rib or two were broken. Her forehead was gashed and bleeding. Her sides hurt like hell and her neck was strained and had knots in the muscles because of how many times her head had flung back from the strength of your fists. You were still standing strong and unharmed and that was when you retrieved your knife again.

“Моя любовь, когда ты вернешься дома, только тогда я буду дышать, моя дорогая, когда ты узнаешь мое имя, только тогда я буду улыбаться. Когда ты вернешься ко мне, только тогда мое сердце поправится.” ‘My love, when you get home, only then will I breathe. My darling, when you know my name, only then will I smile. When you return to me, only then will my heart recover.’

You were lost in thought and you could hear voices just like hers whispering that into your ear late at night or when you had gotten back from a tough mission. You heard other voices. Buck? T? Banner? Wands? Vis? Stevie?

“Natasha?”

She had tears freely falling and she noticed your tight grip on your knife still. She nodded and she slowly approached you limping but smiling to herself as you didn’t tense or move backwards.

“But you hurt me.”

She nodded again as she was in front of you now, subtly slipping the knife from your hand. She took of your helmet and placed it on the floor alongside the knife. She could see it in your eyes. The good and bad memories coming back to you. But she could see hesitance.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m sorry but please stop this. This isn’t you Y/N, it never has been and never will be.”

You took in her words and started to accept her, not yet forgiving her and the team for what they had done to you. She knew you were still going to be a super soldier and she knows her and the teams’ actions were always going to haunt you. She placed her hand on your arc reactor and it felt like home. All she could do was hope. Hope that you still had forgiveness in your heart. Time would need to be taken for you to heal. For the hydra walls to break down. But she would be there for you. She’d do whatever it would take for you to forgive her, for her to get you back.

They all would.

(My gif use as you want)

@natasha-danvers @imnotasuperhero @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @lesbian-x-blackwidow @emilyprentisswife @captain-josslett @fayhar @oblivious-horny-lesbian @trikruismybitch @summergeezburr @username23345 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[moonchildsaurora]

Garden of Words

✤ prince/king!Yunho x tailor!reader ✤ genre: Prince AU // angst, fluff ✤ t/w: sfw, lots of bittersweetness, rated PG ✤ count: 3.5k+ ✤ [ part 2 ] of Lacuna miniseries

a/n - look, when I was writing my plan out for this, my notes only centered around the garden scene. . .and here we are 3000+ words later hahahaaaaaa, this is what happens when the mind goes “what if” and gets invested in the before/after rather than just the now 😔 one day I’ll be able to write shorter, sweeter pieces but today isn’t the day. I’d like to whole-heartedly thank anyone who reads through this entire piece, for your time and hopefully it was worth it. Also I’ve decided to have a little bit of fun with subtly featuring other members in each others’ mini stories, so see if y’all can spot who the next character we’ll be visiting next! 💙 P.S. paragraphs in all italics are flashback scenes!

“Excuse me, are you the fae of the garden?”

The watering can of butterscotch shade in your hands tilted back to pause in the sprinkling of water droplets on the freshly bloomed red gardenias. Turning around, you found the source of the small tinkling voice.

“Good morning Young Prince,” you greeted him, setting the watering can down on a nearby bench before making your way over. Sunlight shone abundantly down on the Royal Glasshouse, some areas where the stained-glass windows stood were bathed in colourful hues. Where the light hit your peachy robe made of georgette-silk gave an ethereal glow to your figure.

The Young Prince looked at you with wonder as you bent down to his level before speaking to him again, “and how did you manage to find your way here, little one?” You recognised the mahogany velvet capelet that wrapped around his form; after all, just two weeks ago were you tirelessly hand-sewing those dainty pearls that left a trail of constellations across the velvet surface.

“Hmm…I followed the pretty blue butterflies!” the Young Prince excitedly pointed to where several of them were fluttering over the yellow hibiscuses. Of course he would, he is the King’s son after all and his smile was perfect proof of that too.

Your eyes soften and the sides of our lips tilted further up, “Well they definitely have led you to a special spot haven’t they?”

“Please don’t tell anyone!” the Young Prince turned to look behind him quickly, as if to check if the coast was clear before taking a few shy steps closer to you. He brought up his little hands to cup them around his mouth and anticipating that he was going to whisper, you leaned in with a listening ear. 

“I’m not supposed to come here on my own but Father brings me here sometimes and always tells me that the flowers here are most happy because of the fae who cares for them. I wanted to meet the fae because they never are around when Father and I are here.”

With great effort you suppressed the giggles that threatened to spill out, not wanting the Young Prince to think that you were laughing at him but rather at how adorable of a pout he formed by the end of whispering his little secret to you.

“Who told you that you couldn’t come here by yourself?”

“Everyone says that this glasshouse is Father’s most favourite and no one should come in without him saying ok. Even Mother doesn’t come here.”

Now it was all starting to make more sense to you, trust him to give you a title like fae of the garden. Letting out a gentle sigh, you gave the Young Prince a reassuring smile and held out your pinky.

“I promise not to tell, if you don’t.”

His eyes sparkled immediately as his little pinky was quick to curl around yours, “Oh thank you great fae!”

The soft spot in your heart grew once more.

“Would you like to see what fresh blooms will greet us today, Young Prince?” 

The initial shyness he had melted away and the eager tug on your hands with a delighted laugh was a clear answer to your question. You let him lead you down the cobblestone pathway, patiently answering his questions whenever he’d point out flowers to you along the walk.  

“Ah! Father’s favourite flower!”

The both of you slowed to a stop where the sea of multi-coloured freesias clustered, like a protective circle, around the Juliet Rose bush. With glowing apricot coloured petals that looked tender to touch, the rose bush stood dignified in the middle. Oh, the amount of care and love that went in to growing these roses, it truly is the treasure of the Royal Glasshouse.

You could still feel the phantom prickles on your fingertips from when you’d accidentally catch on one of the thorns whilst pruning. But you also remembered the warm hands that used to encompass yours and those same hands fought many more thorns to build this piece of Eden just for you.   

“Shall we get some to give to him later on?” you suggested, having swiftly gone round the corner to retrieve the pruning knife from the crate.

“Yes, yes! Oh but won’t our shoes get muddy going in there?”

“Your Father didn’t mind losing many good white trousers to the dirt when he used to tend to the garden.”

“Father did that?” gasped the Young Prince, his eyes locked on as you moved with practiced ease. Still unsure as to whether he should risk a scolding from his tutor later on, he stayed behind the pebble border.

You hummed in reply, tip-toeing to avoid disturbing the freesias to reach the rose bush. “He drove the palace tailors mad with the amount of buttons he’d lose…but it was all worth it in the end.”

Your hands cupped one of the larger roses, observing the intricate layers of petals within the heart of the bloom. Just like the layers of memories that stirred within you in that moment.  

”Not again Your Highness!”

Shoving the tunic you had been sewing to fix up a rip at the seams to the side, you hurried over with a handkerchief towards the Crown Prince as he came out of the Royal Glasshouse. When he wasn’t attending his classes or royal duties, all free time was spent on the garden. The only rule was that no one but the Crown Prince was allowed inside.

“Blossom, we’ve talked about this. You know I’d prefer it if you used my name.”

“That’s the last thing you should be worrying about now! The Queen won’t be too thrilled to know that you–“

A snow white camellia was tucked behind your ear, distracting you to a pause. Your hand immediately reached up and your fingers were met with the morning dew still upon the petals.

“This is first of the few that have successfully bloomed.”

“You’re distracting me on purpose, Yunho!”

“Well it got you to say my name, did it not?” he laughed, crouching down slightly to allow you to help wipe some of the soil off his cheeks. Even as you continued to fret over his mess of a stained blouse that certainly will cause a ruckus over afternoon tea, Yunho looked at you with so much affection that it would’ve made the rest of the flowers blush.

“You are impossible,” with no real bite to your words.

“And yet you’ve stayed by me all this time.”

You weren’t just the child of the Queen’s personal seamstress, no, you were Yunho’s first real friend within the palace. He treasured the friendship, for being with you meant Jeong Yunho could breathe freely. 

The hallway had a woeful chill despite the midday sunlight streaming through the arched windows. Perhaps it was reflecting your current state of mind, your feet scurrying with haste to carry you to the safety of your chambers. Only behind closed doors did you allow your walls to crumble.

“It’s settled then, we shall entrust you with the task of creating the wedding gown. After all your sewing skills are immaculate and the Princess herself personally requested for you.”

Your mind kept replaying the announcement, echoes taunting the reality right in your face. Extremely confused at the absence of feeling on top of the world that you’ve been tasked with such a prestigious request nor were you jumping with joy knowing that Aethevintis and Cilon were officiating a strong alliance through a royal engagement.

“Every tailor in the kingdom would’ve killed for this job! Soon you’ll be making a name for yourself!”

The palace staff showered words of encouragement and your mother couldn’t be any prouder…

...yet it did nothing to ease the piercing cold emptiness that invaded your shattered heart.     

“Blossom that would be considered as assault against the Crown Prince.”

You threw an unamused look his way, right after you had nearly kneed Yunho in the face when he effortlessly hitched you over his shoulders. Without so much as giving you a valid explanation as to why he arrived unannounced at the tailors’ room, only to whisk you away from your half-sewn bodice.

“Some of us need to work, Yunho!”

“You’ve been working a fair bit lately, I simply miss spending time with you.”

Now that you have actually acknowledged your feelings towards him, you couldn’t afford to let such words feed the false hope; not when you knew there will be an inevitable split in your pathways. You had been purposely avoiding him since preparations for the Engagement Ball have started, under the guise that you needed complete focus on your commission. It numbed the hurt inside temporarily, but you couldn’t deny that you’ve missed him.

Terribly so.

“Where exactly are you taking us?”

Scrunching your nose slightly at the smell of hay and heavy worn leather upon entering the stables, you noticed the saddle was already on Yunho’s Friesian stallion. Had he planned this beforehand?

“On an adventure!”

Of course, Yunho may have forgotten to notify you that he was supposed to be at a council meeting at that moment instead of bolting out of the stables like your lives depended on it.

He needed to breathe again and you decided to run with him for once, rather than away. The faint shouts of his name could be heard in the distance but consequences be damned if it meant seeing his radiant smile be set free and feeling the steadiness of your entwined hands.

“Watch your step.”

For whatever reason you couldn’t fathom, that Yunho somehow managed to sneak away from his own Engagement Ball without getting noticed and now was guiding you through an alternate and poorly-lit route towards the garden. Had it not been for his insistence that this matter was of great importance, you would’ve dragged him back in to the Grand Hall yourself.

Not even daring to think about the implications of his future wife being left, having to wait inside and what should happen if any of the guests or palace staff saw you with the Crown Prince in this questionable state?

“I’ve already talked to Captain Song and requested for his guard unit to ensure this area is kept clear for tonight, so you needn’t worry.”

His warm hand that held onto yours gave a reassuring squeeze, dampening your anxiousness just a little. You ended up facing the entrance to the Royal Glasshouse, the window panes were crystal clear in the dark that you could see the stars that hung above in the night sky in the reflection. Admittedly this place hadn’t graced your mind in months and you immediately felt disappointment towards yourself for not checking in with Yunho over time about his progress.

As you were about to speak, your vision suddenly goes pitch black.

“Hope you don’t mind but it’s a surprise,” Yunho whispered softly and only then did you realise that those were his hands covering your eyes. Wordlessly you nodded and allowed him to lead you in, an array of floral scents hitting your senses almost immediately, indicating that you both have made it well in to the glasshouse.

Something brushed against the top of your head unexpectedly and you flinched back, hitting Yunho’s solid chest.

“It’s ok, it’s just the blue jade vines. I’ve got you.” You wished your heart would stop fluttering as you felt him shuffle around you.

“Had it been anything else, I would’ve been right out the door and never stepping foot in here again,” you murmured.

You heard Yunho’s low chuckling before, “And leave me behind? That’s harsh. Who would I ever share this with then?”

His hands lifted and you blinked a few times to settle the initial haziness. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the view; there were lanterns both hanging from the roof and ones scattered around to illuminate the interior with a soft glow, fireflies danced about unbothered and even with the vast amount of plants it wasn’t a suffocating space.

Taking tentative steps to look at some of the flowers up close, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just when you thought Yunho couldn’t get any more incredible than he already is.

“Yunho, this is…you really did it! From which fairytale did you pull this garden out of? All of this is exquisitely stunning!” you said, gently running your hand over the pink and white baby’s breath bushes.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho’s barely keeping himself together under his calm façade. His heart has been yearning to just go against all odds and take you away with him but that meant condemning you to a lifetime of hardship, in a world where tradition doesn’t take too kindly to change.

He would never do that to you.

If he couldn’t be free to love you openly, then he’d love you in all the ways that required unspoken words. He poured his time and love into creating something, untouched by others and solely from himself, that he could give to you.

Just like he already has with his heart.

So when you heard him call your name, rather than the usual term of endearment he’d use, it set off the butterflies in your stomach. He reached out for you and you met him halfway.

“Did you know these are my favourites? They’re still young but as they grow, you’ll see that they aren’t just ordinary roses. They’re called Juliet Rose.”

Yunho showed you around the garden, telling you of the different flowers and their meanings. Peruvian lilies for lasting bonds, bluebells for devotion, gladiolus for strength, chrysanthemums for happiness, carnations for faithfulness. You were so caught up with keeping track that you nearly missed what Yunho had said next.

“–for an undying love or you’re the only one…”

“What...did you say?”

A barely-there whisper as you choked the words out. The running water from the mini fountain in the lily pad pond was the only sound among the silence that stretched between you both. And then there was the feeling of dread again, that you needed to run. Far away. Now. “W-We should go, th– your future fiancée is wait–“

You barely made it past 4 steps before Yunho caught your wrist and this time, he wasn’t going to let go. He called your name again.

“Please look at me.”

Perhaps it was the desperation in his voice that got through to you, telling you that you’d deeply regret it if you were to leave. So you willed your heart to stay through the pain and to stay for Yunho. It wasn’t until you felt damp velvet against your cheeks that you realised it was from the tears that cascaded down from your eyes and soaked in to Yunho’s suit, for he held your shaking form close to him.

“I’m such a fool.”

“Well, I guess we’re both just fools very much in love then.”    

And then it dawned on you.

This entire garden being Yunho’s vow to you, which made you cry even harder than if he would’ve just confessed out loud to you right from the start. 

Your hands grasped onto his back, fisting the fabric as you buried yourself further in to him. Noting that he smelled of clementines on a cool breezy summer day, you ingrained that scent to your memory. Wishing upon all the stars above that time would stop and allow you both to just live in your little garden.

“And with your permission, could you allow this fool to be selfish for a while more?”

A light kiss to your forehead before your face was tilted up, sore tear-stained eyes meeting his matching ones. “You? Selfish? Impossible.” Keeping your voice soft, partially from not wanting to break the peaceful ambience as you clumsily wiped his tears away.

Yunho knows he already has been selfish especially with time, he can’t stop it but he can draw it out at least. And he’s selfish in wanting to take from you when he knows he cannot give back entirely. But if it’s once in this lifetime that he gets to have you before having to return to the cruel world of normality, then he will get on his knees to beg for your forgiveness for being selfish.

He pours out everything in to the searing kiss he places on your lips and whilst you never imagined your first kiss to be like this, at the very least you finally have closure. Swollen lips, rosy cheeks and warm hands that refused to part until the very last second. Words that you both have been meaning to tell each other over the years are woven into poetries.

The garden kept it all, kept your love safe and your hearts safer.

“Do they make you happy too?”

Just like that, you’re brought back to the present. “What gave it away little one?” you asked, glancing to smile at him before focusing on cutting off two large roses.

“You were making the same face at the roses as Father does when he’s happy…when he tells me about you and the garden,” replied the Young Prince with honesty. The blue butterflies from before came fluttering around the roses that you held in your hands, much like the ones that stirred inside you once more when you heard the words.

Some things never change, do they?

You started to take the thorns off the stems with the pruning knife before replying, “They do, and this is my happy place.” Once you deemed the stems were safe enough for the Young Prince to hold, you made your way back over to him. You knelt down and presented the roses to him, “What do you think?”

He cautiously took the flowers that dwarfed his small hands, peering in to the layers curiously and taking a whiff of the delicate scent. “They’re really pretty! I think Father will like them very much!”

“Shall we go look for a few more blooms? You can create your very own little bouquet.”

The Young Prince made little noises of excitement and rushed to hold on to your hand once more, continuing on the quest to pick more flowers. It wasn’t until awhile later when you were showing the Young Prince how to arrange the flowers he picked to tie them together, that you heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Father!”

If Yunho hadn’t already learnt how to harden his heart these past years, the scene before him would’ve surely made him cry with happiness. For a second he could pretend that this was real, that you were the one with the aquamarine diamond band around your finger and that he was coming to join his actual family for tea in the garden. His eyes never wavered from yours, even when his son came barrelling in to his legs waving his bouquet merrily in the air.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted with a formal bow, not missing how Yunho’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“Father, I finally got to meet the great fae! We spent all morning finding these!”

Only when you subtly flicked your eyes down towards the child did Yunho respond, quickly reaching down to take the bouquet from his son’s outstretched hand and bringing him in for a hug too.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here, sneaking off from your tutor again,” amusement lacing Yunho’s tone, “and what an intriguing choice of flowers you’ve got there.”

Father and son both adorning mirrored grins on their faces, “they’re for you, do you like them? And I’m sorry for sneaking in here Father!” said the Young Prince, little brows furrowing slightly.

“Very much, thank you…the both of you. And it’s ok as long as skipping your lessons doesn’t become a habit,” said Yunho as he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately and drew his gaze back to you.

“Unfortunately we must take our leave now.”

“How come? Do we really have to go?” The Young Prince seem to have inherit the puppy-dog eyes from his father, putting on the best pout he could muster as he looked between the two of you. Yunho shook his head, bending down to pick his son up. “Remember Grandpa and Grandma are coming by for lunch? Your Mother even asked the cooks to prepare our favourite dessert,” as if attempting to appease him.  

“But…I wanted to spend more time here!”

“You’re always welcome back here little one, if His Majesty is ok with that–”

“Of course, although I hope it won’t be too much trouble?”

You gave a gentle smile and eyes twinkling with mirth, “Considering he hasn’t lost more than two dozen buttons within the last two weeks nor requires daily stitch repairs, I’d say it won’t be too much trouble at all Your Majesty.” That drew out an apology and light laughter from Yunho.  

You walked the King and the Young Prince back to the entrance of the Royal Glasshouse, and just before stepping out Yunho turned to you once more. “Have you stopped by the pond recently?” the random query puzzled you.

“I thought I saw something interesting growing there the other day.”

Please go.

Right after waving a goodbye to Yunho and his son, without a care of making it obvious you hurried to where the lily pads floated at. It wasn’t hard to miss the bundles of serene blues nestled in the damp soil near edge of the pond. As you got closer, the realisation of what those were made your heart soar and ache at the same time.

A couple of tears fell onto the sea of blue petals as you reached out to cradle them with your hands.

“As if I could ever forget…my beloved King,” you whispered to the forget-me-nots that silently delivered Yunho’s words for you—

This garden is forever yours and so is my love, always. Never forget that.  

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

76 with danse and a f!sole, please! - “three times i didn’t return your feelings and one time i did.” 👉🏽👈🏽

in this house, we love and support danse. <3

did this turn out longer than i expected? absolutely.

prompt 76: “three times i didn’t return your feelings and one time i did.”

-

Danse:

the first time, he was injured, taking an unexpected shot from a raider camping on the roof nearby.

“you’re hurt. lay down.” danse hissed under his breath as sole pressed down on the wound located on his shoulder. sole had dropped the bullet on the desk nearby her, grimacing at the sight of his blood staining it.

“i’m fine.” he bit back the sharp breath that threatened to release as he rejected soles offer. “it’d be a waste of time if we were to halt for such a minor injury.” stubbornness. of course. it was something that the paladin was great at and it was no mystery to the people who surrounded him.

sole shot danse a sharp glare as she forcefully pushed him down to the bed. “and it won’t be a waste of time. a few hours wouldn’t hurt, you know,” she let out deep sigh as she caught the harsh tone painting her words, “you always preach about me taking care of myself, i think it’s time for you to follow that.”

as much as danse wanted to argue, he couldn’t deny the fact that she was completely right. everytime she refused to receive care or neglected her health and well-being, he was constantly on her case about it until it drove her insane. instead of talking back, he remained silent as his head hit the pillow under him. “glad we settled that.” she laughed and ran her hand on his shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine. he closed his eyes, feeling her hands work on his shoulder as she cleaned it up and have it proper attention.

he hadn’t known how heavy his eyes were and how exhausted he actually was until the warmth and tenderness of soles touch lulled him to sleep. how long he had been out of it was something he couldn’t answer but felt himself wake him up enough for him to hear the words that left soles mouth. his eyes remained closed, showing no signs of him listening, but every word imprinted in his mind.

“you gotta take care of yourself, danse.” the way his name left her lips made his heart flutter, “i love you too much to lose you.” he wanted to say something, anything, but he laid still despite the urge to do so. danse felt the warmth leave his face, and a blanket being put over his body as he pretended to sleep during it all. “not that i’d ever say it out loud.”

she didn’t have to say it out loud. he had heard every single letter that echoed within the room, leaving his heart beating and mind full of wonders. instead of bringing up the topic the next morning, he fell quiet and pushed it away to the back of his mind as if he was never listening in the first place. there was no room in his life for a relationship, especially over someone he felt no romantic feelings for.

or so he thought.

- -

the second time around, danse finds out who he truly is. in the midst of chaos, all the people he’s ever trusted had turned their backs on him without a second thought, shunning him out of their lives. the reassuring hand on his shoulder was the only reminder that not everyone had the same intention of doing so.

“danse, look at me.” she crouched down to his level, watching as the former paladin leaned forward, hunching over the bed. he had concealed his face with his hands to hide the devastation that was written all over his features. he didn’t acknowledge soles presence nor did he respond to any of her requests, much to soles distress. “danse.”

silence only followed after regardless of her voice calling out to him. with a soft sigh, she peeled off his hands from his face, eyes softening sadly at the distraught expression written all over it. it takes her a moment to keep herself together before she can properly speak to him. her hands travel to either side of his face, caressing his cheek. “i know it’s hard right now, and i know you’re going through hell,” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, eyes glistening with tears. sole notices this but doesn’t say a word, not knowing what was going through the former paladins mind at that moment. “but i will always have your back until the end of time.”

as expected, danse just stares at her with distraught eyes and gave no response. sole doesn’t take mind to this and continues, brushing her thumb over his cheek soothingly, “it doesn’t matter if you’re a human or synth, it will never change how i feel about you. you’re the most important person in my life danse, and you will never be nothing,” she fights back the tears that threatened to spill, knowing she has to be the strong one in this situation, “you can push me down a million times and i’ll always get back up. you won’t be alone. you will never be alone.”

her arms snake around his shoulders as she pulls him into a tight embrace, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “i love you, danse. i will always love you for who you are and who you’ll be. nothing will ever change that.” he doesn’t acknowledge her words nor does he return it back, but let’s a tear slide down his cheek as he envelopes his arms around her torso.

those words lingered a little longer than the last time it had left her mouth.

- -

the third time, shes deadbeat drunk, nearly to the point of blacking out as preston supported her, standing in front of danses doorway. he held a nervous smile as he tried to let the words down easy, “sorry, danse. she got a little carried away.”

he cocked a brow up, irritation clearly plastered all over his face as his eyes flickered to sole for a mere second. “just a little?” preston smile died down as he shrugged awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. danse let out a small huff, stepping forward to take sole into his arms, looking at the lieutenant before shutting the door. “i appreciate your assistance. have a good night.”

he carried her to his bed, laying her down on the bed as she dozed off, not far enough to sleep. she still had the strength to remain awake despite sleep calling her name. danse went to the kitchen and brought back a bucket of water and a towel, setting it on the nightstand near his bed.

“what were you thinking?” he chided her, wiping her face down with cloth gently, removing any signs of alcohol. “i understand that it is normal for you to consume alcohol, but this is unhealthy, even for you!” he didn’t mean to be harsh- danse was just terribly worried. out of their time of being together, he’d never seen her like this, only going as far as seeing her tipsy and whatnot.

he noticed the guilt in her eyes and instantly regretted scolding her. “ ‘m sorry, danse. i didn’ mean to make you worry. just needed to take my mind off things.” she slurred with half lidded eyes, “don’ hate me, please. don’ be mad.” danse sighed heavily, placing the cloth into the bucket. he looked at her, his voice much gentler than it was earlier, “i’m not mad and i don’t hate you. just don’t do this next time, it doesn’t benefit you in any way.” he hesitated for a moment before speaking up, “feel free to speak to me. you don’t need to go to these measures to ease your mind.”

she stared up at him, and for the first time, he felt his heart beat in a way he was unfamiliar with. “ ‘re you worried ‘bout me?”

“of course i’m worried. anyone would be if the person they cared about neglected their health.” he felt himself pull back, a blush creeping onto his face as sole grinned softly, almost childlike. he had seen her grin a thousand times before, so why did it suddenly feel so different now?

“ ‘m glad you care ‘bout me.” she happily whispered, “next time, ‘ll come to you if somethin’s on my mind.”

“please do so.” he coughed, tucking her in so she wouldn’t be cold for the remainder of the night. sole continued to gaze at him lovingly, and he felt his chest tighten at the sight of the expression on her face. “i’m here for you.”

“thank you for caring ‘bout me. i love you, danse.”

those three words filled the air again, only this time it affected him in some way. the way his face turned red, his heartbeat rang through his ears, and how choked up he became when he processed them was entirely foreign. he couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, but it certainly didn’t feel unpleasant.

“rest, sole.” was all that came out instead of a proper response. she hummed in approval before closing her eyes in content. “m’kay.”

even long after sole fell asleep in his bed, he remained in the same spot he was in moments ago, unconsciously admiring soles features as one question lurked in his mind.

why couldn’t he reject her?

- -

out of all the times he could’ve returned her feelings, fate decided for it to be this one. danse swallowed the anxiousness in his throat as he waited for soles return, knowing that she was a day late from the date she was scheduled to come home. he tried to do anything and everything he could think of- build a cabin, mod his armor, mod some weapons- but the more time went by with no sign of her, the more he began to lose his sanity.

she never returned home late, even in the craziest of situations she found herself in, she always came back on time or maybe a little earlier if she was lucky. then again, in the commonwealth you could never know. he bombarded preston with questions, growing impatient at soles absence and demanding answers he knew the lieutenant himself didn’t know.

“i’m sure the general has her reasons, danse. you can’t put her down so easily.” it was prestons way of reassuring danse that sole was perfectly fine and would make it home regardless of the dangers out there. danse wasn’t convinced, not one bit.

he lied in bed, staring restlessly at the ceiling at images of sole popped into his mind. danse missed her smile, her voice, her touch- he missed sole and it was killing him inside and out. all his memories led up to the one that always seemed to linger in the back of his mind, but never properly confronted due to his cowardness. suddenly, he feels a burning pain in his chest as tears begin to rise in his eyes, a soft sob escaping his mouth as it reverberated off the walls to remind him of how much soles disappearance had affected him.

“i love you, danse.”

and it hits him like a train. he shouldve told her everything he’s felt about her instead of trying to push it away and avoid it with every fiber of his being. he should’ve held her in his arms a little bit longer and told her how much he appreciated everything she’s ever done for him and how much she’s changed his life. this pain was unbearable; he couldn’t breathe or think right and the tears fell uncontrollably as his words came out strangled for no one to listen, “come home,” he cried, “please.”

and when sole does come home the next day, he drops everything he’s doing and runs up to her as fast as his legs could take him, nearly pushing down any settlers that dared to block his path. before she could let a word out, she felt his arms wrap around her as he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his head into her shoulder. sole had been caught by surprise, nearly losing her balance as the man nearly crushed her lungs out, removing any air out of her system.

“woah, woah. whatd i miss?” she’d joke, wrapping her arms around danse, who refused to loosen his hold on her. once she realized he was trembling, she pulled away, holding danse on both his shoulders, a look of concern on her face. he looked terrified and it didn’t suit him well. “danse? what happened?”

and just like that, those destined words left his mouth before he knew it. “i love you, sole. i’ve always loved you. i’m sorry for not saying it sooner, i-i..”

sole blinked in surprise, a blush spreading across her face at the sudden confession. “w-what-“ she couldn’t even come close to completing her sentence as danse interrupted her, stammering.

“when you didn’t come home... i was so scared.” he cupped her cheeks gently, his voice barely a whisper. sole leaned into his touch- it was so warm and tender. “i was so scared id never see you again. i was afraid of losing you.”

sole took one of his hands and placed a soft kiss on his knuckle, “you’re never gonna lose me. i told you i’m never gonna leave you alone and i meant it.” she whispered into his skin, “i love you too much to do that.”

danse pulled her in for another embrace, taking in her scent as she wrapped her arms around his torso tightly. he placed a soft, gentle kiss at her temple as he caressed her hair. “don’t ever do that to me again.”

[longitud-de-onda]

Porque el querer causa pena, pena que no tiene fin

pairing; mad sad genius (we never got a name) x reader summary; you can love someone with all your heart, but nothing compares to the madness that exists in their absence rating; t warnings; language, a bit of alcohol, angst, it isn’t specifically covid-19 but it is a pandemic science fiction story, so the quarantine and other situations are taken to the extreme which could be potentially triggering depending on how you’re handling the quarantine. word count; 3.0k a/n; this is fanfic for ngozi anyanwu’s for all the lovesick mad sad geniuses which aside from pedro’s amazing performance, is a brilliant monologue. we’re taking the title from the rosalía song (maldición, cap. 10: cordura) that helped inspire this.

You met him at an art gallery. It was your own show, and you were standing in the corner drinking wine from a clear plastic cup, the edge of which was sharp against your lips. You held a paper plate with five almonds, a mozzarella and tomato crostini, and a mini chocolate cupcake carefully balanced in your other hand.

He was standing in front of your favorite piece. No one else was. Probably because the gallery owner told you it wasn’t the sort of work that would stop anyone. That out of all the work in your collection, it was the type that belonged in the back, where it would be found by the people who cared enough to wander there, whose interest would likely be piqued enough for them to enjoy it. It hurt to hang it up on the back wall and not up in the front where you wanted it.

But he hadn’t stopped at everything else. He had walked into the gallery minutes before, giving every painting a quick glance before settling on the one in front of which he was standing. He had been there for almost five minutes before you decided to walk up next to him.

He looked over upon seeing you approach and your heart stopped. He was the most beautiful person you had ever seen. His smile reached his eyes and you found yourself falling into them. You almost asked him if he would model for you.

You didn’t paint portraits.

“This one is beautiful,” he told you.

You smiled and took a sip of your wine. You didn’t need convincing that it was beautiful. That much you already knew. It was the one piece you were confident beyond belief about.

“What do you like about it?” you asked, jutting your chin up at the painting in question.

“The artist seems to have cared. You can see the brushstrokes. They’re more detailed than the others. Someone only spends that much time on something they really care about.”

That was when you fell in love with him. Thirty-three words. That was all it took.

Your first date was dinner after the gallery closed for the night and he dragged you out to his favorite burger joint because he said you deserved it after opening an exhibition. After wolfing down more than enough food and splitting a tub of fries, you spilled out onto the streets in a pile of laughter and joy and you’ll never forget the look on his face when you asked for his number.

Your second date was a night you’ll never forget. He had taken two days to contact you after the first night, and you had begun to worry you would never hear from him again, but he called you and said he wanted to meet you at 6pm the next day and to dress nicely. You showed up where he told you too and he was there with that goddamn smile.

He took you to a Chinese restaurant and said I’d take you somewhere nicer but I don’t think you’re that kind of woman. And you would have slapped any other guy in the face but he looked so earnest and he was right about you. It was like he could read you like a book. And when you laughed he’d sometimes stop laughing with you just to stare with a certain reverence that made you question what you did to deserve the sort of man who looked at you that way.

He took you past all the big theaters showing musicals and stopped at one tucked away with a modest set of doors but the grandest entry hall you had ever seen. You let him lead the way as he took you through the doors into the auditorium and you walked down the aisles to seats near the front.

You didn’t know what you had done to let him know you loved comedies, but he had picked out the perfect play. By the time it was over your stomach hurt from laughing so hard and your eyes held the watery ring around them from your tears. You hit the cool night air just as it started raining, and any other time you would have run for cover but with him and his smile next to you, you didn’t give a shit.

The aimless wandering that night was your favorite part. You were doubled over laughing as he told you the parts of the play he liked, and the parts he didn’t.

“She was a fucking genius and a poet, you know?” he said.

“Who?”

“The playwright.”

“What? Why?” you asked.

“She wrote a play about another fucking genius,” he said. “And despite it being the funniest shit ever made, it still had all those deep-ass lines. You know, like, ‘If you got one friend when you die then most people never have something like you.”

And he didn’t know why you started giggling until you calmed yourself enough to tell him what the real quote was in between fits of laughter. He had that look from earlier that night on his face. The one where it was like he didn’t even know you could see him. He gazed at you like he could see you. Not just on the surface, but underneath everything too. Like he could see every thought that went through your head and took the time to hold every one and appreciate it before letting it go.

He leaned down to kiss you and you tilted your head up to meet him and you wondered how you hadn’t kissed him before. Why you didn’t when you said goodbye your first night. Why you didn’t when you were getting to know him over a burger. Why you didn’t let him kiss you that first fucking moment when you fell in love, right there, after he told you about your own goddamn brush strokes.

You fell in love all over again the following weekend when he took you to his favorite spot in the park, a large grassy hill overlooking all the kids playing below and you spread out a blanket and ate sandwiches that he had put into little ziploc bags. You told him that he should have packed some wine and he said baby, we didn’t need any alcohol our first two dates and you flushed and told him about the wine you had at the gallery and he laughed.

“I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to walk up to you without it,” you protested when he jokingly expressed mild disappointment.

“If you hadn’t walked up, I probably would have shouted ‘where’s the fucking artist, I need to talk to her!’ by the end of the night,” he said, and you found yourself laughing again.

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened at one of my exhibits,” you said.

You met him every morning before work to go out for coffee, even if it meant waking up an extra hour early because he’s a morning person. You had his coffee order memorized by the third day.

He invited you to his apartment one day and you found yourself laughing over home videos of him as a kid late into the night. When you said goodbye, your heart yearned to stay. To take one of his shirts and wear it as you curled up next to him in bed. Instead, you kissed him good night.

After dinner one evening, you brought him to your place and showed him the little studio you had in the most well-lit room. He spent almost an hour exploring it, asking you questions about every little thing, the brand of paints you liked best, the angle you preferred to set your easel, your favorite tools, your favorite color, and telling you how honored he was to be in the workplace of a genius.

You didn’t tell him he was the smartest person you had ever met.

You didn’t tell him that he was the genius out of the two of you. That he could talk about his work and you could listen for hours to his voice but not understand a single word he said. That he would talk like no one was listening and then say the most serious shit. The sort of thing that made you rethink life, and by the time you had escaped from your thoughts he was already on another topic, rambling about the multitudes of things he loved. He saw the beauty in everything.

How the hell could a man like him love you?

He was the sort of person you would hear about in movies. The type to never stop dreaming. Someone watching the two of you would think you both mad. He had his head in the clouds and you would watch from below in awe as if his brain was firing off fireworks, and then you would speak about anything and he would give you that smile and that goddamn look that drove you crazy.

Your entire life he was there, living his own life without ever having met you, and you often wondered how many times you had almost met. You lived in the same city, surely there must have been times. Hundreds if not thousands of moments in which your paths nearly crossed. Whether what kept you from meeting was a mere 3 feet of distance in a crowd or a mere 3 minutes of time and space in which one of you was running late or early to something along which way you would have found him.

But you were lucky to have met him when you did. Gotten to share the brief moments while they lasted. That was before the virus hit.

You were sitting on his kitchen counter, covered in acrylic paint he had bought at the grocery store as the two of you detailed messy renditions of Van Gogh’s work on his cabinet doors, and he had wrapped his dirty hands around your waist, leaving two purple handprints on your painting shirt, and pulled you into a kiss. And this one was different. It was deeper, searching for more. There was more heat and passion. Your whole relationship, months of it, had been slow and beautiful and intimate, but there were times where it was more like friendship then romance and neither of you minded as you walked along the fine line between the two, happy with the state of things as they were. But you had loved him since the first day and you didn’t mind the idea of, one day, collapsing naked and sweaty into bed with him instead of snuggling up against his side as he wrapped you in his arms like he usually did when you did decide to spend the night.

But that was for another day. You broke apart after minutes to return to your project. By the end of the night you were screwing the doors back in and he was admiring everything. If you were being honest, he was completely helpless when it came to handiwork. Couldn’t hammer a nail, tighten a screw, sand some wood, or even recreate a decent Starry Starry Night, but that didn’t matter. Because his kitchen looked vibrant and beautiful and the art reminded you of all the ideas you could see swirling in his head. The fucking genius.

The reports had started to come in by then, but it wasn’t until the following morning that you realized how serious everything had gotten. Schools announced that day that they were closing. He called to tell you he was working from home. You got the call that evening that you would be too.

A week later and you had met with him once, in the park. It was a long trek for both of you, living on opposite sides of the city. But the brief kisses, kind words, and soft touches on the waist, thighs, arms, neck, jaw, nose, back, anything? Those were all worth it.

The following day you learned you couldn’t leave your neighborhood. You video-chatted with him in tears. If only you had let yourself follow the thoughts of moving in with him instead of stamping them out as soon as they started to take root in your head. If only you had let him spend the night one more time. So you wouldn’t be clinging to his fading smell on the t-shirt you stole from his closet.

It was like your whole world cut out when the strikes started. No internet. No cell service. No connection. The postal service was all but gone, and you had no way of connecting with him. Your only source of news was the newspaper, three times a week, delivered to your doorstep. And your neighbor who got it every day and would shout to you the important things.

You wished you had photos of him framed around the house. 

Then when you did, the sight of him staring at you from every corner of your apartment was enough to drive you mad with longing that you took them all down. 

When the government got the strikes under control, they started to introduce the plans for rolling out the internet services again. Things had become grim. You spent every night dreaming of him, but you were starting to forget his face. Did his nose curve that much?  Were the creases around his eyes that deep? Was his shabby beard that full? Did he have dimples, or were you just making that up?

You would stare at the photos on your phone, desperately trying to commit him to memory. Remember how he looked when the man in the photo came to life in three dimensions. How did he walk? How did he wave his hands?

By that time, life was different. You didn’t make art anymore. What was once your life had been shoved into your studio room, the light turned off, and the tubes of paint left to dry up. Your apartment didn’t smell like clay and charcoal and linseed oil anymore. You didn’t have it in you to keep painting. You went to the grocery store once every fourteen days, grabbing produce and frozen goods, bottles of alcohol and some cleaning supplies before handing over your newly minted ration card to receive the staples. Rice, pasta, beans, eggs, flour, sugar, a couple bags of dried fruit, a bottle of milk. It wasn’t so bad when you lived on your own, but you felt bad for the mothers and fathers in line behind you, knowing that their children might be too picky to even eat the food they were lucky to get.

The introduction of connectivity services was a slow process. Neighborhood by neighborhood across the country so as not to overwhelm the systems. There were new rules. It was only to be used for three things: education, work, and essential communication between legal family members.

Your finger hovered over the call button next to his name hundreds of times, but you could never press it out of fear that someone would be watching or listening. You knew that when you walked the streets they were. It was likely the same for your phone now too.

One day in a drunken fit of anger and yearning and the craze of love, you deleted all the photos on your phone, hoping that maybe without them you could forget how much you missed him.

You tried to forget him. But every night you dreamt of his slowly warping face. You wondered if he was doing the same.

Sometimes you would watch the DVDs you had and try to replace his image in your head with the actors. Sometimes it would work and weeks would go by with only dreams of the movies. But it would always lose its effectiveness. Usually around the time that you remembered that he was probably your soulmate and you didn’t get enough time.

In every single one of the possibilities of your lives together that you daydreamed about for hours every day, there was never enough time. But this reality was the worst. You were sure of that.

You had read every book in your house. Read every poem you could get your hands on, even the ones you had risked your life for in searching them on the internet, carefully saving pdfs and screenshots and printing them out on the dwindling paper in your apartment. Words didn’t do the same thing they used to anymore. They didn’t bring joy and excitement and escape. You stopped reading them.

You talked with your neighbor for the first time in a month. It seemed that almost everyone had stopped reading books. You wondered if people stopped doing other things too. 

The world before was starting to blur around the edges. You couldn’t remember if the path you liked to walk in the park had such an erratic course or if it was more subtle than you could remember. What did you like to do on the weekends? There was a place, a building, that you liked to go to. You couldn’t remember what it was called or what was inside, but you remember the feeling of standing there. The musty smell and the awe and the sensation that you were staring out at all of humanity. And you had no idea what the fuck it was. 

You weren’t sure how much of the world before you had forgotten. But you couldn’t shake him from your memory. You wished you could. 

When you weren’t working you were cooking or eating or sleeping. And when you weren’t doing that, it constituted the dangerous time where you didn’t have anything to do and nothing to interest you.

And every fucking thing you did, be that making pasta or lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling, made you think of him. You had loved him as you’d never loved anyone before. And you never told him. Did he even know that you loved him? Did he know that you knew he loved you back?

You would close your eyes and the only thing you were sure of in your mind’s image of him was that goddamn smile.

.

taglists; (let me know if you want to be added, removed, or moved around)

perm taglist; @turquiosenights @el-lizzie​ @sparrows-books​ @dxxkxx​ @opheliaelysia​ @trashbin2​ @rzrcrst​ @arcadianempress​ @stevieharrrr​ @peterparkers-tingle​ @blushingwueen​ @coredrive​ @lokiaddicted​ @mserynlarsen​ @badassbaker​ @1-800-fandomtrashqueen​ @flower-petal-blooming​ @talesfromtheguild​ @eupphoriaaa​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @gaybroadwayloser​ @randomness501​ @adikaofmandalore​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @poesdxmerons​ @bountyguild​ @sinnamon-bunn​ @readsalot73​ @gooddaykate​ @rage-isaquietthing​

pedro taglist; @pascalisthepunkest​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @mrsparknuts​ @souls-rain​ @twomoonstwosuns​ @sophiasescape​

[baby-grayson]

Do Ness and Gray Ever Get Back Together Or Are They Done For Good?

 tw: discussions of drinking and depresssion

Grayson spent the entirety of Christmas break without speaking to Ness. He hardly spoke at all, truthfully: only the occasional chuckle when Ethan brought up a story from the good old days. Most of his clothes stayed folded in his suitcase: he rotated between a few pairs of sweatpants and some thermal long sleeves when his mother drove him to physical therapy. He spent every night staring at the ceiling, hearing Ethan’s low snore next to him, and wondering what Ness was doing at that exact moment. When he watched Ethan drive away at the end of winter break, leaving Grayson behind to take the semester off, Grayson felt like was giving up more than just his academic responsibilities that semester.

During the holidays, Ness was more than happy to have the distraction of her four brothers around her. With someone always mad at someone else, or bleeding onto the coffee table, she had enough chaos in the world around her to distract from the chaos in her life. Her only thought of Grayson happened when her Nan sat down beside her to ask about that boy, she had been seeing last year: Ness shook her head softly, said they were together anymore, and changed the subject.

The next semester went by in a whirlwind for both. Ness rushed from class to class, trying her hardest to pull up her GPA from the nosedive it took when she was taking care of Grayson after he came home from the hospital. She bolstered enough confidence to apply to be a writer for the school’s newspaper. Her happiest moment that semester came from reading the email that she had been hired as a contributing editor. For a moment, she paused and imaged what Grayson would have said if he was there. Afterall, Grayson had been the largest encouraging force for her to apply when they were together. She shook the thought out of her head and immediately called up Samantha, who suggested they celebrate Nessa’s victory of a box of white claws and bottle of cheap vodka from the gas station.

Nessa’s life saw many changes that semester: the absence of Grayson, her appointment to the newspaper, and a newfound predilection for shitfaced, promiscuous, wild partying. Samantha dragged Ness from frat house to frat house on Friday and Saturday nights, and even on Thursday afternoons. When Ness would gravitate toward the corner of the party, fingering her bottle in her hands, sometimes she would wonder about Grayson, how he was doing, if his condition was getting better: she would wash away the thoughts by pressing the bottle to her lips and returning to whatever antics Samantha and her friends were getting up to. It was a dangerous cycle: high risk and high reward but the constant mental stimulation excused Ness from her quieter, introspective thoughts.

Grayson lived a quieter life: splitting his time between at home therapy exercises and helping his mother prepare the garden for springtime. He drove Ethan’s old Tacoma truck to the local greenhouse to pick up bulbs and fertilizer, planting a bed for the start of springtime. By the time the crocuses had started to poke out of the ground, Grayson’s arm was in much better shape. Thanks to the selfless work of his healthcare team, and his commitment to his own wellbeing, he was more than ready to return to school in the fall.

Had he been in a proper frame of mind, he would have called Ness. Not with the intentions of explicitly getting back together with her, but to see her, talk to her, tell her that he missed her. However, his body had healed much faster than his mind. His mind still craved his bed almost 24 hours a day, despite never allowing him the sweet respite of sleep. He chewed at his lip all day, until he tasted metallic blood on the tip of his tongue. He spoke to no one except Ethan: even in the locker room. The once boisterous and bubbly Grayson became a shell of a person: quiet and limp in the corner of a room, only the physical memory of the lion’s soul he used to host.

Ethan tried to coax his brother to go out. Ethan even went as far as the hook his arms around Grayson’s ankles and try to pull him from his bed, dragging him from across their apartment floor, but Grayson was always the heavier twin. Grayson anchored himself to the edge of the couch and only grunted when Ethan sighed and mumbled a few words of goodbyes. Grayson heard the front door closed but didn’t have enough energy to pick himself up from the floor and walk back to bed.

Being a senior, Ethan was well recognized at most campus parties. He walked through the door and instantly start giving people side hugs and asking how they have been. He smelled the familiar odor of stale, cheap beer emanating from people’s plastic cups. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he stood in the kitchen door to see Ness standing with Derek. She was in a tight black crop top and held out a red solo cup in front of her. Derek looked down at her with wobbly eyes that suggested his stupidity was heightened by warm feeling of alcohol.

Ethan cleared his throat and tried to divert his eyes but couldn’t help himself when Ness strung her arms around Derek’s bicep and asked him to go dance with her. Ethan pretended to be distracted by the six bowls of chips in front of him, but in reality, he couldn’t stop watching the scene play out in front of him. Derek was too drunk to take two steps to the left. He couldn’t barely walk with Ness hanging off of his arm, so much so that he held onto the kitchen counter for stability.

“Ness,” Ethan said emphatically.

She spun around with a surprised look on her face, shocked to hear someone use that tone at a party. For a second, her heart dropped into her stomach. She recognized the masculine angle of the jawline and the kind hazel eyes and in her tipsy statement, her emotions betrayed her for a second. But the lighting fixture of the kitchen befriended her to remind her that she was looking at Ethan, and not the man she thought about before she went to sleep at night.

“E?” Ness asked, suddenly forgetting Derek, who was now wobbling his head over the sink as if he was going to puke.

Ethan took a step toward her as Ness did the same, “What’s going on?”

Ness knew Ethan meant more than what she was doing in the frat house kitchen, but she played coy, “I’m here with Sam and some of her sisters from APhi. I think they’re in the basement if you wanna-“

“Ness,” Ethan said, nearly sounding like he was scolding her, “What’s going on with you?” Ethan gestured to the red solo cup in her hands, something she wouldn’t have been caught dead with last year.

Ness shrugged in response, “I’ve been okay.” She thought about asking Ethan how his brother was doing: but decided against it, choosing that appearing strong was better than tipping off Ethan that she still cared.

Ethan looked at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Ness, “He’s not doing the best, Ness.”

She wore a blank stare. The only semblance of a reaction she gave Ethan was that she slightly sucked in her top lip before he continued talking.

“His arm is better, took a couple months,” Ethan sighed, “I just can’t get him out of the house anymore Ness.”

“He’ll come around eventually,” Ness tucked her mouth against her cup to take a sip while watching the expression fold on Ethan’s face.

He shrugged again, “I just thought maybe-,” he sighed, “Nevermind.” Ethan turned his head to look out of the kitchen, at the rest of the party that was still booming in the house. He turned to Ness, “Find me if you need a ride home, alright?”

Ness nodded while Ethan walked away. She started the amber liquid in her cup for a minute before feeling her spine curl at the sound of Derek vomiting into the sink.

Ethan came home without a pretty girl by his side: something about the action of dragging Grayson across their apartment and then running into Ness threw him off his usual flirtatious game. His keys clinked as they hit the kitchen counter, “You’re still here?”

Grayson groaned from the floor.

Ethan reached down to give his brother a hand, pulling him off the floor.

“You’re home early,” Grayson yawned, his voice was raspy with sleep: a dead giveaway that he had fallen asleep on the cold, hardwood floor while Ethan went to the party.

“Not my night,” Ethan mumbled and passed a hand through his hair.

“What happened?” Grayson’s voice shook as it spoke, wavering between frequencies.

Ethan looked at the bathroom door and contemplated escaping the conversation before decided to state clearly, “I ran into Ness. She was there with Samantha- and some of their friends.”

Grayson’s mouth went dry. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, avoiding looking at Ethan’s eyes.

“I told her how you were doing,” Ethan tried to keep his tone casual, “told her maybe- I dunno,” he shrugged, “she could say hi sometime-get you out of the house-“

“the fuck you do that for?” Grayson didn’t wait for Ethan to finish his thought.

Ethan sighed, “You’re just- Gray” Ethan perched himself on the arm of their couch, “All you do is sleep.” Ethan looked at his brother with eyes of concern, “Maybe it’s time to start-“ Ethan sighed again, “having some fun.”

“And my ex-girlfriend is fun?” Grayson’s eyes squinted as his tone sounded acquisitional.

“That’s not what I meant,” Ethan tried to defend.

“That my ex-girlfriend, after telling her I’m a pathetic mess, is fun?”

“You know what,” Ethan conceded, “Just forget it. I tried doing the right thing for you but clearly- clearly,” he passed a hand through his hair, “Clearly I don’t know what to do.”

Ethan turned away from the conversation before Grayson could grow angrier. Grayson heard the hiss of the shower turn on and locked his bedroom door behind him as he laid awake in his bed.

The consequences of Ethan’s meddling came to fruition nearly a full week later. Ness donned her old knit beanie and thermos to sit on the stands at their football game. Unlike last year, she did not scream and cheer when they scored: she took little sips of hot liquid and silently watched the crowd as they game went on.

She was leaning against Grayson’s car when he walked out from the locker room: in a pair of joggers, his hair a mess, and his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

He stopped in front of her. They looked at each other for a minute. The sound of cars and buses reversing out of the parking lot and merging onto the road filled the air around them.

“Good job tonight,” Ness whispered into the air.

“Thanks,” Grayson’s tone was low and curt.

“I uh- how is your shoulder?”

“Better.”

“Good.”

Grayson looked from side to side, not seeing anywhere he could run to to avoid the conversation. “You know you don’t have to talk to me Vanessa,” he said lowly, shifting his weight on his heels, “I get it- you moved on with your life. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m not-“ she started but didn’t finish. She sighed and shrugged, “I wanted to see you again.”

“Well here I am,” Grayson said flatly.

“You are,” Ness mumbled. She stared at a spot far away on the ground, “Maybe we could- do coffee? Sometime?”

Grayson shrugged, “Don’t really drink it anymore.”

Ness nodded softly, “Okay well,” she sucked her lips in, “I just thought I would try.”

Grayson responded by folding his lips into a tight line and opening his trunk to throw his duffel bag inside, signaling that he was done with their conversation. Ness mumbled words of goodbye and stepped away from him. He watched her walk away: fondling remembering what the fluff of the pompom on her hat felt like when he used to kiss the top of her head after a long game.

That night, both of them laid in their respective beds and thought about the other: each of them convinced that they were done forever. They woke up the next morning: husks of people. Ness tried to sleep in, she danced her feet around in her sheets but it made her miss the familiar warmth of Grayson’s arms on a Saturday morning. She jumped out of bed and found a pair of sneakers to go on a jog with: she told herself it was a coincidence when she jogged right past Grayson’s apartment.

Grayson continued his depressive patterns of living in bed and only showering every two weeks.

Ethan had gone to a party: telling Grayson not to wait up as he slid through the door. Grayson didn’t even feign a response. He scratched his balls and sniffed as he changed the channel on the television. Grayson thought that Ethan had forgotten something when there was a knock at the door twenty minutes later.

Ness stood in front of him.

Her face was red and puffy, but her eyes were smeared with distinct coats of concealer. Her hair fell in front of her face in messy strands. She looked up at him with knitted brows.

“You okay?” He asked brutishly.

Ness signed and gritted her teeth, “I-I uh-“ she closed her eyes, “I need you-could you- I didn’t know who else to go to- Grayson.”

Grayson looked around her shoulder to see if anyone else was lingering in the stairwell. He shoved his body to one side of the door way and nodded his head in a motion that asked Ness to step into his apartment.

“Thanks,” she gulped. “I-uh.” She sighed and looked around, being in his kitchen flooded her with memories. She remembered the last time she walked through his door. “Can you drive me to the drug store?” Her words came out in a flash.

Grayson took a moment, trying to use all of his brain to make sure he heard her correctly before hesitantly saying, “Yeah…sure.”

“Thanks,” Ness nodded quickly.

Grayson looked from one side of the room to the other, “Should I ask-“

“I missed my period,” her words merged together, “By a week.”

Grayson nodded, “Okay.” He said lowly.

Ness did not move from where she stood but her eye grew into large orbs as he moved passed her. For a minute, she wondered if he was abandoning her. But instead, he came out of his bedroom with a fleece thrown over his t-shirt and his car keys in one hand.

Both of them stayed silent in the car ride. They were brought together in a wordless commitment to privacy. Neither of them even bothered to reach to the radio and put on something to fill the void: they sat there. When Grayson parked, Ness didn’t ask him to go with her, but he did anyway. Even slid a twenty-dollar bill on the counter when they stepped to the register.

Grayson didn’t realize he should have driven Nessa back to her dorm until he pulled up to his own apartment building. Ness didn’t question it: she bolted from the parking lot to Grayson’s front door and tapped her foot against the floor as he worked his eye into the lock and opened the door for her.

Grayson waited on the couch while she locked herself in the bathroom. He didn’t even bother taking his shoes off. He looked up when she opened the bathroom door, with a thin smile.

Grayson’s mouth tightened into a small knot, “Everything uh..all set?”

Ness sighed and nodded softly, “Yeah uh..” she weighed her head from side to side. Suddenly, the embarrassment of the situation flooded over her entire body like a tsunami, “Crisis averted.”

“I’m sorry I-“ “I didn’t mean to-“

They spoke over each other.

“You go-“ “No you go-“

Grayson folded his hands in his lap while Ness chewed on her bottom lip.

He spoke into the silence, “I’m happy for you- that you know, everything worked out.”

Ness nodded, “Thanks, and thanks for—thanks for doing that, you didn’t have to.” Grayson tried to response graciously but she kept going, “I didn’t know who else to- I didn’t have anyone else I could-.” Nessa’s shoulders drooped, “It’s funny, I’m always around people now- but I’m never really with them.”

Grayson nodded, not knowing what to do with that information, “Glad I could help.”

They stood in silence for another moment.

Grayson cleared his throat before continuing, “And sorry, for uh- sorry for breaking up with you I just- I thought it was best because of -..well- I could have gone about the whole thing better.”

Ness found a shy smile, “Thanks Gray.”

They nodded at each other.

Ness groaned and grabbed fists of her hair, “What are we doing?”

“Talking?” Grayson stuttered.

“No, I mean.” Ness turned herself around once before looking at him with a tired expression, “We were so good, what happened to us?”

Grayson shrugged, “I don’t know. One minute we were perfect and the next-“

“Lights out,” Ness finished.

Grayson nodded. He took in a sharp breath through his nose, “Sorry I- sorry I turned you down- last month. About coffee.” He shrugged, “I guess- I just thought you were asking because you felt bad for me. That was- that wasn’t the best move.”

Ness nodded softly, “It’s okay, I get it.”

Grayson looked up at her, “Do you still want to go?”

Ness looked up at him. She moved her mouth from side to side, pensively. She swallowed, feeling a lump dissolve in the bottom of her throat. “Yeah,” she said lightly, “I mean- if you want to.”

Grayson nodded in response, his eyes darting around the room.

“What happens-“ Ness bit the corner of her lip, “What happens if it doesn’t work? If we’re just…too different now?”

Grayson shrugged, “Then I guess you get a free cup of coffee and I’m five dollars poorer.”

Ness chuckled, “Fair.”

“And if it works,” Grayson leaned toward her, “Then I get the best thing that ever happened to me back.”

Ness started to blush and rolled her eyes, “You were always too smooth for your own good,”

Grayson shook his head with a soft smile, “I mean it Ness- you-“ he shrugged, “I know I used to say it all the time but I really don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

She smiled shyly at him, feeling the tension in the moment subside.

“You’re-you’re an angel Ness. An absolute angel,” he reached out to hold her hand, “my sweet girl.”

His fingers sparked with they reached out for her palm, telling Ness that they would be seeing each other for much more than just coffee.

EPILOGUE

Two elementary school age boys barged through the front door of the family.

“MOM!” “Pass!” “Throw!” “Back!” “Johnny—” “Alex—” They spoke over each other.

Ness chuckled and lowered the heat on a pot that was simmering on the stove. From their highchairs, two twin toddlers babbled and spitted at each other. Grayson busted through the doorway, “You shoulda seen them Ness! Two regular all-stars.” Ness smiled and hugged both boys, placing careful kisses on the tops of their heads while looking for bruises on their visible skin.

“How were the twins?” Grayson started wiggling a finger at little Bradley who was transfixed by the jiggly motions of his father’s hand. Next to him, Connor called out, wanting an equal amount of attention from his daddy.

“Good,” Ness commented, “Alex! Johnny! Go wash your hands, dinner’s almost ready.”

Ness exhaled softly and a smile lit up her face when Grayson wrapped his arms around her. He placed a sweet kiss on her lips. He brushed a hand over her bulging pregnant belly, “You think it’s another boy?”

“I hope not,” Ness laughed.

Grayson smirked and kissed her again, “At this rate, I think we could make a whole team.”

 (A/N: Thank you so much for reading, especially if you were someone who started reading from the beginning. This story took over my blog like a whirlwind and it’s been a lot of fun. I’m still more than happy to do pre-fic or post-fic concepts if you want to send them in. Also, I never posted it but I did work out a story for Ethan in this AU: who he ends up with and what happens to him so let me know if you’re interested in that arc. As always, I love getting feedback from you guys. I hope this week brings you all of the positively and light you need)

[homosexual-having-tea]

umm klaus, "dont judge me, but i may have murdered someone"

 Ok, just a fair warning, I’m kinda in the mood for dumbass-wholesome-family fics rn so....

Allison started awake to a loud rapping on her door. Blearily squinting at the time blinking red on her alarm clock, she quietly cursed whoever decided to loudly wake her at 3:28 in the morning. She slowly rolled out of bed, the pounding on her door making her head throb. Bundling her blanket around her shoulders like a cape, she stumbled to the door. Opening it, she nearly got a punch to the face as the person kept knocking, momentarily not noting the absence of door. Their green eyes lit up when they noticed Allison slumped in the doorway.

Klaus grinned sheepishly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t judge me, but I may have murdered someone.”

“Allison! How is my most dearest sister this lovely-”

“Goddamnit Klaus, you know it’s the middle of the night? Someone had better be dying.”

Allison’s eyes widened and she rubbed her thumbs against her temples, dropping her blanket to the floor with a soft whoomph. “Klaus, for Christ’s sake, you better be joking.”

Grabbing her car keys and locking the house behind her, Allison followed Klaus out to her driveway. She silently started the car, Klaus sliding into the passenger’s seat. Before she left the house she sighed, tiredly resting her head against the steering wheel. She loved her brother, but god, he was an idiot.

“Who do you think you killed, Klaus?” she asked, her words muffled by the wheel. He laughed nervously.

“Well, tonight was boy’s night out, y’know, all the Hargreeves bros out on the town,” he explained, waving his hands around as he talked. “And we all got kinda tipsy, and well, we got to, erm, practicing those weird little jujitsu moves Dad taught us. And, it turns out fighting little Five isn’t a great idea now that he’s... little. He, uh, might currently be unconscious” Allison groaned into the wheel. She took it back. All of her brothers were idiots. 

She slowly peeled her face off the wheel, starting the car as she glared ahead. “If Five isn’t dead, I’m going to make you all wish you were,” she muttered, adding something about how doing martial arts drunk was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard of. They drove in prickly silence, Klaus occasionally tapping quiet beats on the window with his fingertips, his sparkly pink nails picking up the light of passing neon signs. 

Allison looked over when they stopped at a red light. Klaus looked, if anything, scared. She gently tapped the back of his hand. Sure, she was still a little mad and very worried, but she knew Klaus would blame himself endlessly if anything happened to Five. Since they’d gotten back from the sixties, the whole family had silently agreed that they’d look after Five, who desperately needed safety, love, and most of all, a nice three-day nap.

“Hey, Klaus, I’m sure Five is alright. Don’t beat yourself up.”

He smiled weakly. “Beating myself up? Who, me? Never happened, missy.” Allison smiled back reassuringly, turning her attention back to the road as the light turned green.

“Knowing that tiny old man, he’s probably bitching about how you must have cheated to beat the incredible Number Five in a fight,” she said teasingly. It would probably take a lot more than bad judgement and poorly thought out jujitsu to kill him. Klaus drily chuckled back.

“It’s like trying to kill a cockroach, right?”

Allison nodded as they pulled into the bar’s parking lot. “Exactly. He’s gonna be okay, you’ll see.” She quickly parked the car and grabbed the first aid kit from her trunk before hurrying in. As soon as she entered the bar, her still-slightly-intoxicated brothers waved her over to a large booth near the back. Just as she’d suspected, Five was nursing a bleeding cut with a developing bruise around its edges, snapping bitter comments under his breath.

She set down the first aid kit. “Okay, is everyone alive?” Half-hearted mutters met in response. “I’ll take that as a yes. Right, everyone but Five go wait in the car with Klaus, and no damn fighting.” The boys shuffled out to the parking lot, occasionally stumbling against each other as they moved. 

Allison slid into the booth, taking an alcohol wipe out of the kit. Five shrunk back, mumbling something about how it would hurt to clean the cut. She placed the package down. “Five, look, it’s almost four in the morning. I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted. Just let me clean this and we can go home and sleep this all this shit off.” He crossed his arms, but at least stayed still while she wiped off the blood and covered the wound with a thick square of gauze. “Right, that should hold you until morning. I’ll check you for a concussion once you’re a little more sober.” Honestly, what kind of bar did the boys go to where no one noticed a child knocking back a few pints? Good lord. “Ready to go?”

Five nodded, still sulking. They both stood, only to have Five almost immediately trip over his own feet. Allison sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Once they were all sober, she was going to actually kill them. “Just... lean on me. You can sleep in the car on the way back to my house.” Five quietly exhaled, leaning lightly on Allison’s shoulder as she packed up the kit and the two made their way outside at a snail’s pace. 

Once they made it to the car, her three brothers moved from where they were leaning on the doors. Klaus walked up to them nervously. 

“Is Five ok, Alli?” he asked, rubbing his nails like he always did when he was suffering anxiety. She nodded, smiling drily, before opening the door to the backseat. Five slumped in, falling asleep the second his head touched the headrest. Allison pinched the bridge of her nose, her head aching from the stress of trying to take care of her brothers.

“Everyone in. Since you possibly gave Five a concussion, we’re having a family lockdown at my house to look after him. Someone call Vanya...”

The ride back to her house was uncomfortably silent, save Klaus calling a very disgruntled, tired Vanya about the impromptu sleepover and the bumper of her car scraping the road due to Luther’s weight. Pulling into her driveway, she piled her brothers out of the car, picking up an exhausted Five. She fumbled with her keys for a moment before Diego offered to get the door for them. Her bones feeling like lead, she led the boys to the carpeted living room. Gently laying Five on the couch, she made a mental list of what she’d need to take care of four boys with no self-preservation.

“The blankets are in the corner, and I’ll go get water and Advil. You guys are absolutely going to need it in the morning.”

She returned minutes later, her arms loaded with pillows, water bottles, and a bottle of headache meds. Placing them on the coffee table, she unpacked a half dozen blankets, laying a few on Five and leaving the rest for Diego, Luther, and Klaus to divy up. Feeling a major panic attack from overworking coming on, she sunk into an arm chair, letting the night catch up with her. Before she could actually get any rest, the doorbell rang and she scurried to the door to let in Vanya. Who Klaus had apparently told very little about their situation.

“Is... is everything alright? Klaus sounded pretty worried on the phone,” Vanya inquired, her eyes filled with concern. Allison groaned, quickly running through an explanation of the night. Vanya’s eyes widened even further. “Allison, you look exhausted. Why don’t you go get some rest? I had some experience looking after Harlan when he got hurt, and I doubt Five will be too different.”

“Oh my god, thank you Vanya. I feel like I’m either going to strangle them or fall asleep standing up. Or possibly both...” The two sisters giggled as they made their way back to the living room. The boys were quietly bickering over who got which blanket. 

“No more fighting,” Allison yawned. “You guys owe me big time.”

[whittakerjodie]

Blind Date (Dhawan!Master X Reader)

Prompt (s) 1.  Could I request a Dhawan!Master x reader fic where they go on a blind date during the master’s time at MI6 and they hit it off really well but the reader is one of the doctor’s companions and he doesn’t find out until the reader starts talking about their travels and he starts to piece things together? requested by @theaussietimelord​

2.  Would you write something dhawan master X reader? Something like the reader falling for him (and that gorgeous hair of him) and he falling too (and maybe getting flustered and confused or something)? Thanks! Also, let's appreciate his hair, because it stopped my heart. requested by @therustictea​

Authors Note: I combined two because I’ve been busy haha! Thank you both and I hope you enjoy

Words: 2k 

   The Master knew that his plan would pay off eventually. Every grueling day of pretending to be human, doing paperwork,  and putting up with the idiots who were employed at MI6 would give him the reward he was always desperately chasing: the Doctor. It just seemed to be taking a remarkably long time. It was also getting incredibly boring. 

“I know we’re supposed to be secret agents and all, but I know nothing about you” One of his coworkers pointed out to him one day. Yes, because all I want to do is reach over this table and strangle you. He thought to himself. But that wouldn’t do- he was the lovable, geekishly-charming O! O didn’t strangle people. At least, not to the public's knowledge. 

   He took a sip of his tea, thanking whatever force in the universe had arranged for him to have, at the very least, access to good food and drink at work. 

“Just busy.” He said with a smile. “Things to see, research.” 

Another one of his coworkers scoffed. “Chasing after the aliens again, O?” 

   The Master gripped his fork a little tighter, resisting the urge to stab the woman with it. That was another downside of his current facade; None of the apes he had the displeasure of being near seemed to care or believe about any of his research, even when the signs of alien invasion were right under their noses. It drove him mad to the point where cracks would appear in his disguise; he would have to kill either to cover up the slip or to temporarily quiet his rage. 

   He would still mess with things when he could, causing enough damage to send the world spinning but not enough to alert the Doctor of any wrong-doing. Every time his coworkers would grumble and run around trying to fix the mess he’d created for them. It was a nice bit of revenge, even if he couldn’t take credit for it. 

“Still chasing after aliens.” He confirmed. 

“You’ve got to give it up, man. Focus on other things. There's Torchwood and UNIT for that, isn’t there? Tell you what, you should come out with the boys and I. Meet someone nice, instead of staying cooped up inside all day. What d’you think?” 

He stared at the man blankly. He couldn’t be serious. 

   It took him four days of pestering before he finally entertained the idea. Each day the offer changed. First, they wanted him to join them on a night out. Then, they wanted him to try and flirt with the computer analyst, making bets to see if he would do it. On the third day, they joked about him getting off with aliens. Finally, on the fourth day, they slipped him a piece of paper across the canteen table with smirks. 

His eyes glanced over the folded note, processing the information. There wasn’t much- just a date and a place. 

“What is this?” He asked, trying to make his tone innocent as opposed to annoyed. 

“It’s a blind date. “ He moved to protest but his coworker cut him off, waving a hand. “Don’t worry, man, she’s a nice girl. Works here, too.” 

“I am not going on a ‘blind date’ “ He grumbled. Everyone at the table groaned. 

“Come on, man. You’re going.” 

_________________________________________________

   The Master tugged on the hem of his suit, smoothing out any of the rough edges. It felt nice to dress up, even if he was half-dreading the night that lay ahead of him. He’d entertained humans before in other bodies, even marrying one despite being disgusted by the idea. He didn’t plan on taking things that far at all, seeing as it no longer served purpose, but if the date helped ease his boredom for a moment he would allow it. 

   Even after days of interrogation he still couldn’t determine the identity of who he was meeting. According to the rules of ‘Blind Dates’ you didn’t know you were meeting him either. The small bit of chaos was the only thing that he was looking forward to.

   He flicked his wrist and glanced at the fancy watch placed on it, noting the time. He arrived outside of the restaurant 15 minutes before the dinner began. Men like O tended to be anxious and arrive early. He pushed open the door and smiled at the waitress, resisting the urge to ruin the night for everyone in the building. “Reservation for...Simmons? I’ve got a blind date” The waitress nodded, walking down the aisle.

“She’s already arrived, but she hasn’t been waiting long. Menu’s and wine list are on the table.“ She stepped aside to gesture to one of the chairs, and his eyes landed on his date for the evening. 

_______________

   When your friend brought up the idea of a blind date, you had laughed. She’d been pressing you to be more involved “in the real world’ for months, not knowing that you were involved, just in a different context. It was kind of hard to keep up with gossip and pub trivia nights when you were busy saving the universe. 

   It wasn’t until the Doctor accidentally disappeared for ten days that you became hyper aware of just how lonely your real life was. You’d missed so much during your time on the TARDIS. The silence and awkward conversations finally got to you and you asked your friend about the blind date that she’d mentioned. 

“I know him, he’s great. You can’t know him, though, that's the point, but I do think you’ll hit it off. “ 

   You were sitting alone at the restaurant, getting more anxious every minute you spent alone despite showing up super early. Would he be nice? Would he even show up? Would you really hit it off? If you did, how would you explain to him all of your absences? Maybe the was a mistake. 

    Your worries temporarily subsided, though, when the waitress led a man over to your table. He was gorgeous. You nearly choked on the water you’d just sipped from your glass, eyes scanning over him. His hair was a dark fluffy mass laying neatly combed to the side, framing his (dare you say) adorable face. His smile was wonderful, bright, and all too charming for someone you’d just laid eyes on. 

He sat down and the waitress left, giving you both a small smile as she went. You shifted in your seat, unsure of what to do next. 

“I should say,” He began. “I’ve never done this before.” 

You laughed, and he joined you. “Shall we shake hands or something?” He suggested. You laughed again, feeling yourself start to relax immediately. You reached your hand across the table and he shook it briefly, grinning. “So. Names next, probably.” 

“I’m Y/N” You told him. “You?” 

“O.” 

“Oh?” You said, eyebrows raised. He paused. He’d gotten so used to everyone at MI6 referring to him as such he’d forgotten to maintain a proper ‘real’ name. 

“Sorry, O is a bit of a nickname, something everyone calls me at MI6. My real name is… Harry.” 

“That’s a nice name” You tried. The conversation was a little hard to pick up on at first, so the two of you mainly focused on ordering your food and drinks. When that was settled, you excused yourself to the bathroom to quickly google conversation starters. He seemed nice; the last thing you wanted to do was bore him. 

When you came back, he was swirling his wine, looking bored. Great, you’d failed already. You sat back down, smoothing your dress. 

“So, Harry, what do you do at MI6?” 

He set his glass back down, as if just noticing you’d come back. 

“I dabble, but I specify in researching extraterrestrials” You perked up at the final word. 

“Aliens, do you mean?” If he was researching aliens… talk about a coincidence. Not that you could unload and tell him all about the Doctor, though, even if it was incredibly tempting. He nodded. 

“Aliens, yeah. Not exactly the most popular man at MI6” 

“Why not?” You asked, frowning. He blinked. 

“Well, everyone there isn’t exactly keen on the idea of aliens. They write me off as a mad conspirator.” 

“Well that’s stupid,” You giggled as you took a sip of your wine. Harry watched you for a moment, then grinned broadly. 

“Yeah, yeah it is. You believe in them?” Believe in them? You’d seen them. Fought with them, against them. Traveling with them. But you couldn’t say that, so you nodded eagerly. “Good that's uh, that’s good. I haven’t talked with someone who does in quite a while.” 

   The conversation seemed to flow much more easily after that, snowballing into a night full of sharing and theorizing. You hardly touched your food when it came. 

   It was nearly 10 at night when you started to feel tired and a bit dizzy from the amount of drinking and talking you’d done. Despite the alcohol, you’d managed to properly dodge most of Harry’s questions like “what do you do for fun?” with vague answers like ' ‘I travel” It felt really nice. You felt like you’d found the best of both worlds in Harry: the fun outlandish bit and the normal life bit you’d been trying to reconnect with it. 

   At the end of the night, phone numbers were exchanged and you promised to meet again. Thankfully, the promise was fulfilled. Leaving the TARDIS no longer felt like you were going in for a long day of work. You had something- or, more accurately, someone- to look forward to. 

_____________________________

   The Master’s blood was boiling with a mix of odd emotions. He could feel himself growing quite appreciative of the time he spent with you, but that appreciation made him irritated. You were human; you were a distraction. Yet you felt like much more. Then, he felt angry with himself for being conflicted in the first place. 

   It was nice, though, to have company that didn’t treat him like garbage. He really enjoyed going on dates with you. Sure, sometimes he was completely lost during the movies, but if he had survived Frozen he could survive anything. He much preferred the ‘dates’ that were spent at your flat where you would read and talk about aliens. 

   It took roughly three months for him to start to get suspicious. Well, that was a lie- He was always on the lookout for problems and deception, but he had just started to believe that you were lacking in those departments. It began when his coworkers asked why you hadn’t made things “official” yet. He frankly didn’t care how you wanted to define your relationship, but it made him consider a lot of the inconsistencies he’d ignored. 

   You were rarely reachable by cell and texts were always answered hours after. Even the Doctor answered Whatsapp messages quicker than you did. Then, there were times when you’d been gone for days at a time. Dates where you’d show up out of breath and in a different outfit then you’d been in all day- even if you were arriving to your own flat. 

   Slowly but surely, he started to notice things during your talks as well. You knew a lot more than you were letting on about aliens. He began to include facts that couldn’t possibly be known by any human scientist or historian. You were so absorbed you didn’t even notice yourself nodding along and even adding some of your own. Silly human. 

   You had fallen asleep on the couch 45 minutes ago, curled up into his side. His eyes didn’t leave you. He was disappointed. Not only in you, for being one of her pets, but in himself for somehow getting attached to you. How could someone so wonderful be such an inconvenience? With a sigh, he brushed your hair behind your ear and connected his fingers to your temple. 

Sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed.

    He sifted through memories of meeting the Doctor and exploring the universe with her. Facing all kinds of villains no matter the fear  you felt. Meeting him for the first time, quickly falling for his charms. He smiled lightly and pocketed a copy of that memory for himself. It would be difficult, he supposed, when he finally got the Doctor back on Earth and enacted his brilliant plan. But with time, and a little effort, he could get you on his side where you belonged.

[halfway-happyyy]

Just the Same

AN: This was the product of a whole day and half’s worth of rain, and soft feels. Reader and Alexander have (and probably always will have) unfinished business. Fluff and soft feelings ensue. Happy reading loves. 

Little pleasures exist in almost anything, don’t they?

Sometimes they’re found in that first sip of ice-cold water at three in the morning when your throat feels more like sandpaper than normal. Sometimes they’re in that near-scalding shower taken at the tail end of a day you never thought would end, or the first few bites of your favourite pizza. Lately they’ve looked like hours set aside to devour the last few chapters of your current novel; or curled up on a chair in your front window, watching the rain pour down the glass in sheets.

And then you saw his face again after more years than you'd like to admit, and it put every single little pleasure you'd ever experienced, to shame.

He looked just about the same as he had the last time you’d been lucky enough to lay your eyes on him, albeit a little bit older, a little bit more distinguished. Where the creases next to his glassy blue orbs were newly acquired features, the way they glittered when the corners of his lips turned up into a small smile, remained the same. You suspected that aspect of his face would simply never change. “Hi,” He murmured breathlessly and after a beat or two, smiled and shook his head in mild disbelief. “God it’s good to see your face again, kid.”

Your cheeks grew warm at the mere sound of that painfully familiar cadence of his, but oh, hi Alex… seemed a bit too trivial a greeting for someone who once shared your life in every sense of the word. Instead you folded your arms across your chest and nodded your head in greeting. There were so many things you wanted to say to him; things you had years to form questions and answers to you in the wake of his gaping absence. Yet despite that notion, none of them could be vocalized at this particular moment in time.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, finally.

Alexander shrugged and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Honestly I left the apartment this evening with no real trajectory and found myself here somehow.”

“It’s not exactly close,” You offered up quietly.

Alexander shrugged again. “I needed the fresh air.”

That’s not good enough…

You hugged your jacket tighter to your frame and swallowed hard, gathering the courage for what you were about to ask him next. “What are you really doing here Alex?”

His gaze traveled to a stray pebble on the ground beneath him which he kicked. “Honestly? Work is picking back up again. I’m leaving at the end of this month for an indefinite amount of time and I keep- He cleared his throat. “I keep thinking about you.” He scratched at the back of his head; his gaze still trained on something unseen on the pavement below your stairwell. “I could be doing anything, you know? And somehow it always comes back to you. Always.”

The all too familiar sting of oncoming tears prickled threateningly in the depths of your eyes and you glanced upwards to try and ward them off. You’d been in this position and had this exact conversation with the elder Swede before you, numerous times in the past. “Listen Alex, I'm not really sure what you're looking for-

“Bill and Gustaf are in town right now,” He admitted quietly. You had to strain to hear him above the sounds of the city around you. “I know it’s been a while and far too much space has settled between the pair of us…” He made a point of looking right at you now. “But they miss you. And I know how I feel about you, and if you're up to it, maybe you could meet the three of us for drinks tomorrow night?”

In awe of the audacity with which he possessed, and maybe also in spite of it, you found yourself saying yes. And as you watched the grin bloom slowly across his face in the low evening light of May, you wondered why on earth people left if perhaps they were never meant to in the first place.

*

It never ceased to amaze you how easily Alexander could find his way back into your life again. For a while it was simply enough that you both resided in the same city, both breathed the same smoggy air, both rode the same congested subway. But no matter how hard you had tried to extricate yourself from him, he always found a way back in. Sometimes it was through broken pieces of Swedish you’d glean from passerby on the street, or a favourite song of his on the radio in a taxi, or walking past a restaurant you’d visited with him late one evening ages ago. He never lingered far from your thoughts and it drove you nearly mad.

Nerves had very nearly gotten the better of you as you approached the door of the pub you were meant to meet at. It was only running at half capacity given the current climate; and knowing him like you did, you imagined he and his brothers were holed up at the back of the bar in a tiny corner of their own. You took a deep breath and stepped into the front foyer of the pub, reveling in the sudden warmth that greeted your chilled figure, and the subtle scent of cigarette smoke. You smiled softly to yourself when you noted that the three men were indeed seated at the farther most booth of the pub, and any trepidation you may have had going into this little get together dissipated when Gustaf turned to you and grinned broadly. His smile- the genuine contentedness beneath it, helped to warm you that much more. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He scooted further down the cracked leather booth to make space for you.

“Mm… a little while, yeah.” You smiled back at him and shrugged out of your jacket, hanging it on the hook outside the booth. You could feel Alexander’s gaze on you, practically boring a hole into the side of your face. “Hi Bill,” You smiled widely at his younger brother, who raised his half-full pint glass in greeting. “I hear a congratulations are in order?” You wiggled your eyebrows in amusement. The idea that Alexander’s kid brother was now a father still astounded you somewhat.

Bill’s face split into a wide grin and it caused your heart to ache just the slightest bit. “Who would’ve thought, hey?” He winked.

Gustaf scoffed beside you and took a sip of beer, setting it down with a resounding clank. “Not me, that’s for sure…” This caused the three of you to dissolve into fits of hearty laughter and after that eventually subsided, Alexander caught the eye of a waitress and waved her over. You glanced down at the glossy drink menu beneath you and ordered a pint of Belgian Moon.

The longer you basked in their company, the longer it felt just like old times again. Blissful vacations spent in Sweden with the whole clan, blurry nights out at film festivals and premiers, hungover Sunday brunches at your favourite spot in the city. It astounded you how easy it was to fall back into old memories, how much like breathing it was to be around Alexander and his family even after the dust had settled over everything.

“I’m really glad you decided to come tonight,” Alexander murmured while Bill and Gustav were deep in conversation about something. He was leant towards you across the wooden table, and the urge to ghost a fingertip down the length of his stubbled cheek was overwhelming.

You took a hearty sip of beer and shrugged, eyeing the soft-looking blue t shirt he had on. A worn leather jacket hung from the hook beside him. “Yeah well… I’m a glutton for pain I guess.”

Alexander smirked at you. “Not much has changed then, I see.”

You blamed the blush that had creeped into the apples of your cheeks on the near-empty beer wedged in the grasp of your hand and not at all on the memories of how good the elder man had once made you feel. You cleared you throat and deposited the rest of the golden liquid into your mouth. “You’ve been well?”

Alexander smiled but it never really touched his eyes. “As well as can be, I suppose. Production was halted on a lot of projects I had lined up for last year and this one.”

“Work isn’t everything.” You murmured.

Alexander laughed lightly, the mere sound of it as familiar as hearing an old favourite song. “It is when it’s all you’ve got.”

It did not take you long to appreciate the mild buzz you had acquired thanks to the three beers you had nursed throughout the course of the evening. Gustaf had just finished happily regaling you with stories of his arctic adventures and of his work with Green Peace. You told him of your tentative plans to visit Ireland when it was safe to do so, and by the time his bill was paid, he’d already texted you a wonderfully long list of places he thought you’d love, whenever you got around to going. You got up from the booth so that you could let him out and Alexander did the same for Bill. Gustaf hesitated a beat before pulling you into his arms for a bear hug, the heartfelt gesture leaving you almost breathless. When he pulled away, he was beaming at you again. “It was lovely to see you again, kid. And hey- he gestured to the phone in his pocket. “If there’s anything you want to know about Ireland- feel free to get a hold of me, yeah?”

“Thanks, G.” You smiled and turned your attention to Bill. “Squeeze her tight for me, okay?”

Bill wrapped his arms around you as well and nodded his head. “Be happy to. Hope to see you again soon.”

Alexander hugged each of his brother’s goodbye and watched them snake their way past the half empty tables to the front of the bar. He stood at the head of the booth for a while after they left, hands wedged into the front pockets of his jeans. “You know, it’s almost embarrassing the amount of times they ask about you.”

“G and Bill?” You asked mildly.

He let a small laugh loose. “All of them.”

A pang of something- it felt remarkably close to intense heartache, hit you hard and winded you for a few moments. What could you say to someone you used to know better than yourself? Where did you go from here?

“When do you leave?” You asked after a while.

Alexander scrubbed a hand down the length of his face and sighed. “Uh… in about two weeks give or take but-” He was about to say something else when the waitress returned to your table with the bill, which Alexander paid for wordlessly. You made a mental note to slip him some cash later.

The journey home was a quiet one; the only sounds in the mostly empty subway car were that of the one-sided conversation from a woman a few seats down and the rhythmic chug of the wheels against the track. You were keenly aware of Alexander, though. Of the heat radiating from his body next to yours, and of how badly you wanted to lay your weary head against the crook of his shoulder blade like you had so many times before. If you closed your eyes tight you could almost feel the way his hand used to wrap protectively around the top of your thigh.

Not everyone who leaves wants to. Remember that.

He had sent it roughly a month after the two of you split for good and you had spent a few evenings crying yourself to sleep over that particular combination of words. Now, right in this moment, you understood that statement better than you ever had before. “Can I tell you something?” You asked rather suddenly.

Alexander glanced up from his clasped hands to stare out the window at the passing lights of the city for a few moments and then turned to gaze at you. “Go for it, kid.”

“I- you swallowed hard. “I don’t think I would have given up.” He let the silence settle around you before he said anything. “I think I would have fought for us.”

Alexander shook his head sullenly, his gaze downcast. “I made a mistake. One that I have agonized over for the better part of eight years.” He scratched at the nape of his neck uncomfortably. “I’m not proud of admitting that I took the easy way out in that situation but believe me when I tell you I regret it deeply, nearly every damn day.”

The train trundled to a halt and you got up from your seat wordlessly. You were half expecting him to stay where he was, but he joined you at the doors and waited next to you for them to open. You walked the few blocks in silence and when you were about five minutes away from home, you turned to him. “I just wanted you to know that no matter what happened, no matter what was said, no matter how far away you traveled from me, I would have loved you just the same.”

“I know.” He consented. You sighed heavily and continued walking, trying in vain to blink away the tears brimming in the depths of your eyes. You could just make out the wrought-iron lamppost in the distance signaling the stairwell leading to your foyer. The sound of hurried footsteps on pavement could be heard beneath the buzz of your muddled thoughts and Alexander caught up with you in front of your apartment. “Listen kid,” He murmured. “We fucked it up the first time. Both of us,” His breathing was steady, measured. “We just couldn’t seem to get the distance and timing right. But we could do try it all it again you know.”

We could try it all again.

“Would you like to come upstairs?”

Alexander nodded his head wordlessly.

You fished the keys from the depths of your bag and pushed it into the lock, allowing the elder man to go ahead of you as you held the door open. He knew the way well. Everything had mostly remained the same since he had last seen it, you figured.

“You have a cat?” Alexander asked in genuine surprise.

Except for that.

You glanced back at the orange, Rubenesque tabby cat eyeing Alexander rather suspiciously from her perch on the pain-chipped windowsill. “Oh yeah. That’s Estelle. I got her in the divorce.”

Alexander’s face fell slack, his blue eyes widened in horror. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m kidding, Alex. I uh… got her a few weeks before everything went to shit with the pandemic.”

He elicited a dry laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “A lot of time has passed. Anything could have happened. I was actually a little surprised to see that you weren’t snapped up yet.”

You pulled a bottle of wine from the wooden rack next to the fridge and uncorked it, setting it on the marble counter top to breathe. “Yeah well, I could say the same about you.” Sometime in the last fifteen minutes it had started to rain, and now you watched the drops race themselves down the length of your kitchen window.

“There was one point about two and half years ago that I thought I may be finally ready to move on,” Alexander offered. You pulled a wine glass from the top cupboard and passed it to him wordlessly. “I bought a ring and everything. And then uh… the night I had set my mind to it, I couldn’t go through with it.”

“You couldn’t?” You asked quietly.

Alexander shook his head slowly, his gaze trained somewhere outside the kitchen window. “Something felt inherently wrong, you know? I couldn’t put my finger on it until last night.” You poured him a glass. He cocked his head to the side and cleared his throat. “What shall we cheer to?”

“To gut feelings and fresh starts.”

He smiled softly at this and lifted his glass in greeting. “To gut feelings and fresh starts.” You were quiet as you savored the slightly jammy flavour on your tongue. Alexander allowed himself a healthy sip and placed it carefully back atop the counter. “Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to touch you this evening?” You had been about to reply, but he stopped you. “I don’t even mean that in an outrightly sexual way. I mean that in a,” He pursed his lips together as if trying to locate the perfect way to express himself. “I mean that in a completely innocent way. I wanted nothing more than to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, to reach across the table and take your hand in mine,” His tone was hopelessly wistful.

“You could do it now,” You offered almost inaudibly.

Alexander lifted his gaze to yours, smiled at you, and pushed himself from the edge of your counter. He closed the distance to you in seconds, and took your face in his impossibly warm hands. Kissing him for the first time in eight years was like coming home after an unbearably difficult day. No matter how far away either of you roamed, he would always be home to you.

Right now your little pleasures exist in the weight of his lips on your own, the utterly familiar flux and flow of a rhythm that never stopped working. They exist in the notion that no matter what transpired between the pair of you, you would always love him just the same.

[darlingsdevil]

The Setting Sun (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

I sincerely apologize again, I cannot add a read more tab on mobile.

Summary: Your marriage with Arthur isn’t going too smoothly.

F!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, verbally abusive relationship, degrading terminology pertaining to women, violence.

Words: 3.6k

A/N: Sorry for the angst.. I guess? This will be a two part fic.

Slight spoilers

•••

You had heard the whispers around camp as your marriage fell apart. The women slyly mumbled about your fighting, and how they were sure you didn’t sleep in the same bed as him anymore. The men were more open about their observations and their rumors, especially Micah who nearly begged you to take his hand in marriage the second you called it quits with Arthur. Both the men and the women grumbling in the morning when your fighting seeped into the late hours of the night. But it wasn’t either of their talk that drove you mad, it was the disapproving look from Dutch. He looked at you like you had failed his son, which you had.

You were hot headed and Arthur was spiraling down a path of rage. The way he looked at you these days were cold, filled with anger, even when you weren’t fighting. Arthur looked sick at even the sight of you, like you were a monster in his bed. Arthur was met with cold glares and disapproving eyes when not fighting.

It was awful, nearly every night tears fell from your eyes when you decided to cool off by the river while Arthur got to sleep in his tent, scribbling away at that stupid journal. Your face hot, voice scratchy from screaming.

Hosea had asked you once if you would like to leave for a month or two and come back, once the dust had settled between you two, and your marriage could be repaired from the little threads that were still holding it together. You decided if it became that bad, you would, but you wouldn’t let Arthur run you out of your home that easily. Perhaps it had gotten ‘too bad’ too long ago. You had been in the gang nearly just as long as he had been and you grew up together.

Arthur hated fighting with you, he could tell your jabs at each other were pent up emotions from long ago. But when things got firey, and the truth was spewed from eachother, you felt the riff grow larger and larger between you. You didn’t like fighting, neither did he, but something in your blood got hot and your eyes blinded by rage, the moment your husband said anything. He was the same, like everything he said would come out ten times worse than he meant it, like he couldn’t control himself from letting every mean thing he thought of, come from his mouth. Every jab, every screaming match, every fight tore you from him.

You tried your best to remember every good moment with him, how he used to make you feel. How you felt when he would catch you staring or the first time he kissed you, blushing faces and shy glances. But the worst moments with him stuck in your mind even when you weren’t upset with him. It felt like the bad was outweighing the good. Bad memories clouding your mind, covering the good ones.

Arthur left for jobs more frequently, taking the longest ones so he wouldn’t have to see you. Arthur was so sick of fighting, he had to get away.

Apologies were never frequent. He rarely ever slept besides you, that had long since been out of the question. You were like a stranger in his bed, nothing more than a common whore he could use whenever he wanted, nothing like the sweet Arthur who would be so gentle with you, slow touches like he was afraid that you would break.

Your marriage was falling apart, and you were both the culprits. You barely felt anything for him besides anger, your pride refusing to allow yourself to miss him. But deep down, your heart ached every time you let him walk away, let him turn his back on you. Where did it all go wrong?

It started with simple bickering, turned into infrequent fights, and then arguments that left you sobbing and dizzy, his words repeating in your brain, over and over until that’s all you could think about.

One afternoon, when Arthur had been gone for days, you found a letter in Arthur’s trunk. You were looking for an old skirt to make into a blanket, the Heartlands air was unforgiving at night and without Arthur’s body heat next to you, you were frozen.

You noticed how the envelope was already opened, gingerly, not with a letter opener or even torn. You weren’t going to look inside, you weren’t that nosy, but the name on the outside left you pondering.

Mary Linton

Judging by how carefully Arthur had opened the letter, the letter stuck out to you. Something wasn’t right. While Arthur’s absence was not uncommon, you were perplexed by the name. Why did it stand out?

Until it finally hit you, your heart dropped to your stomach. You felt sick. Mary Linton was Mary Gillis, Arthur’s ex fiancé. He had convinced you years ago she was nothing to worry about. You were about to examine the contents when you felt someone behind you.

Arthur snatched the letter from your hands, glaring at you. His eyes shot daggers right through you.

“What the fuck is that, Arthur?” You asked accusingly.

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” Arthur growled in response. He held the letter behind him, guarding it like it was something precious.

“Why did that whore send you a letter?” You couldn’t control the words coming out of your mouth. Anger rose in you at the disrespect.

“Don’t look through my things again,” Arthur turned away, ready to walk off.

“Nope. You don’t get to walk away, tell me what that woman wants from you,” You yelled at him, Arthur swiveled around, his entire face enraged.

“What the hell are accusing me of?”

“I don’t know. What’s it sound like?” You spat back at him, crossing your arms in a defiant stance.

“You’re accusing me of cheating on you?” Arthur scoffed.

“I’m sure you’ve done a hell of a lot worse while you were with me,” You shot back. It was verbal war, and you were both stuck in the crossfire.

“Shut your mouth, woman. You’re walking on thin ice,” Arthur said in a low voice, inching closer to you.

“I might as well dance then. Don’t tell me to shut my fucking mouth, tell that slut to shut her fucking legs.”

Arthur’s nose twitched, he didn’t care about holding back. He would already regret saying something bad.

“You really think I’m banging Mary?”

You were silent, glaring at him. You looked at him like he was the most vile thing on the planet.

“Well then you’re dumber than I expected. Maybe if you had snooped around my stuff before I got back you would have been able to read it,” Arthur held the letter, waving it in front of you.

“I fucking hate you,” Your voice rose, anger building up in you like it was the only thing you could ever feel again.

Arthur nodded, turning away from you, “Like I don’t already know that.”

Hot tears began trailing down your face, as you covered your mouth. You didn’t mean to say that. Your heart beat rushed in your ears. Everything felt awful, Arthur started walking away from you.

“Don’t walk away, you smug bastard!” Your voice cracked, like you were begging him to turn around and tell you everything was alright. You felt your knees almost give out, everything felt dizzy as the blood rushed to your head. Your chest heaved with sobs, your legs giving out as you fell to the ground with a thud.

Arthur continued walking away, he couldn’t handle the shouting, he couldn’t handle the pain. It was suffocating. He held his chin high, as he felt the ground underneath him. Arthur’s emotions were bubbling underneath him, he so desperately wanted to turn around and ask to stop the fighting, the pain, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself.

“I never want to see you ever again!” You shouted as your heart completely shattered into a thousand pieces. You leaned against his trunk, sobs racking through your body, pain erupting through your entire body.

Arthur didn’t turn around, not even to look around at your ruined state at the foot of his bed.

You had to get out of this camp, away from this gang. The members of the camp already began their gossip, a few sneaking glances at you. Their gossip was loud, bouncing off your skull, every rumor suffocating you.

You stood up quickly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, their judging eyes piercing through you. You rummaged through your things from Arthur’s tent, grabbing only your essential items. You took the blanket off of his bed and made a makeshift sack out of it, tying all your things in it. You took one last look at your family, they might not even be here when you left but that was a chance you were willing to take. You were willing to go it alone for awhile if it meant things would cool down.

You rushed to your mare, you hopped on her and stormed away, through the thicket. You heard someone shout your name but you didn’t look back, leaving behind everything you had ever known.

The sun was beginning to set in the western sky, so you rode towards it, feeling like you were untouchable yet breakable all at the same time. Like a pound of bricks couldn’t hurt you, but a light feather could easily. You were like a bomb, one wrong move and everything could come shattering down.

The cool air was freeing, you only slowed for your horse to breathe, though she adored the run. When you began thinking clearer, it had been too far to turn back. It was completely dark out now, it would be foolish to continue riding.

You found a nice spot on a cliff's edge, hidden by a thicket of trees. It was your home for the night, not perfect but it would do. You unrolled your blanket and set it down on the stone. The cliff overlooked all of the Heartlands it seemed. The sky was a brilliant blue, with speckles of diamonds sewn in, weaved throughout.

Arthur was likely looking at the same sky, you wondered if he was thinking of the same things. You wondered if he was looking for you, waiting for you to come home to him.

You loved Arthur, you did, you loved him since the day you met him. You didn’t want to fight with him, ever.

Maybe you would’ve warned the young girl you once were if you had gotten the chance, but there was no turning back now.

Surprisingly, the night brought you peace, a stark contrast to the heat that burned you during the day.

You wondered if this was the final straw with Arthur, if you had fucked things up too badly. Mary Linton was no rival, you knew Arthur would never do such a thing. It hurt to remember what you said to him, to the man you loved so dearly. Vicious words cutting so deep, that you were even surprised they had come from your mouth.

You were both to blame. Your hearts no longer beating in sync, a riff in between you. A stranger in your own bed.

“I never want to see you ever again!”

The last thing you said to him. You hadn’t even meant it. You wondered if the universe would play some cruel trick on you for saying such an awful thing.

Sleep came rather peacefully, drifting away while you thought of everything you should have done differently.

The night sky twinkled, Arthur stared at it from the edge of his bed. Regretting his actions during the day, he couldn’t sleep. If only he had just told you that Mary needed his help, instead of hiding it. No one knew where you went and he was worried sick. Arthur wondered if this was it, after all the verbal cyanide, the brutal end to a sad story.

He hoped it wasn’t.

•••

Three weeks passed, since you had taken a break from the gang. A well needed break, that was for sure. You no longer hated the thought of Arthur, instead you missed him, wondering how you could be so blind. You craved Arthur’s touch, for him to hold you, for the first time in what felt like years.

When you would return, you would apologize for everything that you had done, you would make it up to him. Everything would go back to normal.

No one bothered you as you lived off the land, you had been to Valentine only once. You prayed no one would be in town while you were there, luckily no one was. You had even gone as far as to scope out Horeshoe Overlook, it was still thriving, you could see almost everyone through your binoculars. You even caught a glimpse of Arthur, he tried to hide his distress but you could tell something was troubling him. Arthur was talking with Dutch, Dutch looking nearly as distressed as him. After a few moments, you decided to leave before anyone came snooping around.

That was a week ago, you were going to return to camp in a day. Uneasiness grew on you throughout the night, you wondered if Arthur would ever take you back.

At night, you watched the sky again, it was clear again, not a cloud in all of it’s endlessness. You ate your supper for the last time in your small home, it had become rather nice. You bought a tent from Valentine and even found some books to go along with it.

Your expedition into the wilderness left you with a lot of time to think, but tonight your mind wouldn’t muster a single thought. Like all your thoughts had suddenly vanished.

Sleep didn’t come quite as easily, your body not allowing yourself to drift into the realm of sleep. Though your body felt heavy with worry, you felt nearly weightlessness, like you were drifting on a cloud, above everything.

As you stared into the black sky, you heard a snap behind you. You immediately reached for your gun, on high alert. Your fingers trailing over the trigger. Anyone who dared mess with you would get a face full of lead.

Another crunch. This was no animal, animals were not that quiet.

“Who’s there?” You called out, your voice rising above the trees.

A third snap, you turned immediately to where you heard it, aiming your gun towards the thicket.

A man with a wolfish grin stepped out, looking at you like you were a piece of meat.

“What’s a little lady like yourself doing out here all alone?” The man inched closer to you, taking slow steps. The shadows casted on the man, making him look unnatural, almost like a monster.

“Another step and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” You barked, aiming your gun at his head.

A second man stepped out from behind you, you swiveled around to face him, the first man pulled out his own gun and aimed it at the back of your head, you felt the cool metal on your head. You narrowed your eyes at the second man, your veins growing hot.

You thought for a moment, weighing your options.

Almost instantly, you elbowed the man behind you, knocking his gun out of his hand, before the second man could react, you shot him in the face, he fell to the ground in a gorey mess.

“Oh, you little bitch!” The first man shouted, delirious and enraged. He tackled you, right as you were turning to face him. The man pinned you to the forest floor, your mind was being taken over by the survival instinct. He punched you directly in the face, the force of it making you see stars, you kicked out your legs, staggering him for a moment so you could throw a punch, right in the nose, his nose cracked underneath your knuckles. The man fell off of you, his nose spewing blood, the bone in a crooked shape.

He cradled his nose with one hand, the other scrambling for his gun that had been knocked out of his hand. Your mind was fuzzy, you got up as quickly as you could, your face aching.

The man reached for his gun, you aimed your own, on the ground he aimed at you and fired. You fired your own gun, both bullets seemingly moving in slow motion as they passed each other. The gunshot was loud, nearly deafening. The man was dead, the bullet went straight through his head.

You almost didn’t feel the bullet until seconds later. Pain erupted in your abdomen, you felt the slick blood pool out of you, darkening your blouse.

The bullet tore through your flesh with every step you took, you rushed to your horse, wincing. Blood got all over her silky coat, like an abstract painting. You set off back to camp, through the forest and deserts of the Heartlands.

Pain continued to develop in your stomach, your mind started going fuzzy. The air whipped around you, as you rode hard back to camp. Every jolt shot pain in your stomach. The only thing you could think about was reaching camp, being home finally.

Black spots began clouding your vision, the terrain slowly becoming more and more familiar. You felt weak, like all your limbs were ten times heavier. Blood continued to pool out of you, a slow, but steady stream.

You leaned against your mare’s head, your own head too heavy to keep up. She was a pretty horse, strong and loyal.

Why had you been so foolish to leave camp? Why had you been so foolish to be horrible to Arthur? Where did it all go wrong?

You regretted a thousand things it seemed. A thousand things you would never get to see, it seemed. Repairing your marriage with Arthur, owning a small farm with him when things cooled down, having a little girl and a little boy that looked just like him, growing old with Arthur, simple things. You would miss it all.

You could barely see now, your mind slowly going blank. Your limbs no longer feeling attached to your body. You could just barely make out Horseshoe Overlook in front of you, the lights dim and shapeless.

This was death, it seemed so distant and so close all at the same time. Peaceful and painful. You let your eyes close for the final time, just as you reached the outskirts of the camp.

You slowly slipped off your horse, into the grassy ground.

This was death. You had gotten your wish.

•••

Arthur heard a scream from the other side of camp, immediately shooting up from his bed. It sounded like one of the women. The other men came rushing to that side of camp, Arthur grabbing his own gun and dragging himself out of bed.

A large group gathered by something on the ground, it was silent, no one saying anything. The entire group turned to Arthur, splitting to make a path for him.

You were on the ground, bloody, and lifeless. Arthur’s eyes widened as he kneeled next to you. He could barely believe what he was seeing.

“No, no, no, no. Wake up, come on darlin’, wake up,” Arthur shook his head, grabbing your limp hand. At first, he was sure you would wake up.

“God damnit, wake up,” Arthur said louder, shaking you. Anger, grief and disbelief in his voice.

“She’s not waking up, Arthur,” Susan said from behind him, her voice breaking. He heard sobs from behind him, someone put a hand on his shoulder.

It was silent, everyone holding their breath. They watched him with intent, making sure he would not crack. The crickets chirped in the distant, the air from his lungs being sucked out.

Everything cruel he had ever said to you, everytime he had ever convinced himself he hated you, flooded his mind. Everything he did wrong, everything that went wrong.

Arthur brushed the hair from your face, holding back his tears. The crowd dispersed from behind him, leaving him alone with you. He covered his mouth to stop the sobs that would escape his mouth otherwise.

The anger and sadness that ripped through him, a sudden pit in his stomach that would never go away from now until he died. His entire world had been knocked out of place, thrown off track.

His chest heaved with pain. He was never able to make it right with you, and that would live with him forever. Knowing you died thinking he hated you, it was unbearable.

“You weren’t supposed to go like this,” Arthur whispered to you, he lightly held your face like you were fragile.

Arthur slowly picked you up, holding your cold body in his strong arms.

“We were supposed to make up, get out of this life, have a few kids, run a little farm,” Arthur poured his heart out to you, carrying you to the outskirts of camp. The patrons of camp bowed their heads as he passed them, a silent goodbye.

“I’m so sorry,” Arthur said to you, clutching you close to him, his hands shaking. Blood getting all over his clothes, staining them, even when the blood went away he still could smell the stench of blood on them. A forever mark on his soul.

Arthur buried you that night, on a little hill surrounded with flowers, overlooking the setting sun. A part of him died with you. He would remember the last words you had ever said to him, and how he had simply walked away.

Arthur never forgave himself.

•••