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lovemyavatar · 1 year

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Irreplaceable

Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

based on this request

Warnings: angst, mild descriptions of injuries, fluff

Your eyes flutter open, squinting against the harsh morning light as it flickers into the tent.

Out of habit, you turn over, arms outstretched, reaching for the warmth of your mate. When they come up empty, your brow pinches in confusion, bleary eyes scanning his unoccupied side of the bed.

You’re alone…again.

A rough sigh falls from your lips. Disappointment weighs heavily in your heart, chest tightening with the twinge of loneliness you’ve gotten used to over the last several weeks. Your legs swing off the side of the woven bed frame, a new determination powering your steps as you get ready for the day.

Your gaze flicks over the bustling center of Home Tree as you emerge from your tent, searching the crowd. You don’t stop looking, not until he’s found on one of the upper levels of the massive structure. His attention is firmly locked on the task at hand, as he circles a group of young warriors.

They’re practicing archery skills, the long line of men and women pulling their bow strings back, then releasing them rhythmically as Neteyam’s laser focus dissects every movement.

“Yawne (beloved)!” You call lightly, a soft smile pulling at your lips.

Despite the less than ideal state of your relationship, you’ll always be happy to see him. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat at the simple mention of his name, the way your stomach flutters as you watch him help teach the clan.

His eyes cut to you for only a brief moment, hands falling to his hips in irritation as he corrects one of the warrior’s postures. You walk right up to him, fingertips brushing along his arm when he doesn’t stop to look at you.

“Ma ‘Teyam—”

“Not now, Y/N.” He says curtly, before walking away without so much as a glance.

You force down a thick swallow, embarrassment darkening your cheeks. You feel the glances, the judgement of the warriors as they watch him practically ignore you. Your stomach dips at his dismissal, but you press on, plastering another smile on your face as you follow his quick strides.

“I was just checking on you, Ma ‘Teyam. You did not say goodbye again.” Your voice quivers a bit with the effort of keeping it lighthearted despite the way his treatment splinters your heart.

“I am very busy.” His arms cross over his broad chest, tongue clicking disapprovingly at one of the warriors as they fumble their arrow.

He walks away from you again, correcting their stance with firm hands. All you can do is stare at his retreating back, heartache settling like heavy stones. Your gaze falls, a soft sigh falling from your lips.

You’re quick to make your exit, as it’s clear he doesn’t have time for you right now. He doesn’t have time for you at all, it seems as of late. Aside from waking up alone more often than not, he barely pays you any mind throughout the day either.

You know he has a lot on his plate. As the future Olo’eyktan, he has many duties around the clan. Especially as tensions—and his father’s expectations—only rise with each passing day. You try not to take it personally, try so hard to remember the version of Neteyam you fell in love with all those years ago.

But your loving, attentive, thoughtful Neteyam has been gone for weeks now. Replaced with this rigid, strict leader in training. He seems to have one goal as the sky people continue to threaten your home: protect The People at any cost.

Even if that means losing you.

Several hours later, you haven’t seen so much as a shadow of him. Dinner has long passed, the plate you made for him now ice cold. Only a sliver of the sun pokes from behind the moon, twilight bringing the world around you to life while you feel another part of yourself crumble.

You remain in the gathering area, stuck in place for many hours until he strides from the tree line, looking every bit as exhausted as you feel. His eyelids are heavy, face sunken with the effects of not caring for himself the way he should.

Within seconds you reach him. Your hands find his shoulders, palms soothing down his arms to slow his rushed pace. He stops, although begrudgingly, a rough sigh leaving his lips as his distracted gaze flicks toward yours.

“Sorry, baby girl. I’m headed straight to see my father.” His tone is dismissive, and he’s already trying to walk away, but you’re quick to block the path.

“Neteyam.” The way you say his name is firm, a pointed warning that he’s taking this too far. “At least sit and eat something. You are overworking yourself.”

“I can’t.” At this point, you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the moment his eyes soften, the tiniest hint of remorse darkening the usual bright yellow. “We have a big raid tomorrow, remember? There is much planning to do.”

One of his hands cradles the back of your head, guiding it forward to place a chaste kiss along your temple. You jerk back as his hold slips away, moisture blurring your vision. You’re left watching his retreating back once again.

Your jaw clenches, chest tightening with bitterness. Shaky fingers roughly clear the stream of tears coating your cheeks as you stomp toward the place you’d been sitting all night. Sitting and waiting for someone who clearly couldn’t care less.

You tremble with pent up anger and frustration as you grab the plate of food you’d stupidly kept for him, a quiet shout leaving your lips as you throw it into the embers of the evening’s fire. You practically run home, back to the tent you know will remain empty for many hours.

When morning comes, you're alone again, but this time, it’s expected. Jake and the rest of the warriors have been planning this raid for weeks. You were prepared for them to depart long before the sun broke free of the moon's shadow, in hopes of catching the humans off-guard.

You're awake for no more than a few minutes when Kiri comes barreling through the entrance of your tent. She's frantic, eyes wide with panic as they search for you. She runs to your side, fingers curling around your arms tightly.

“Y/N, we need to go.” She jerks you toward the door, causing your legs your stumble as you try keeping up with her rushed pace.

“Whoa, Kiri. Wait a second. What—”

“My dad called over comms. They need help. Now.” She doesn't stop, tugging you out into the main area of Home Tree.

Breath catches in your throat, heart rate doubling at her words. That's never happened before. There's never been a mission that wasn't successful, that didn't go off without a hitch. Fear licks down your spine, a tremble of unease wracking your entire body.

Now matter how difficult or perilous the mission, Neteyam has always come home to you. The mere whisper of danger, of something going wrong, has you reeling. Your mind races, thoughts of him in trouble, injured—or worse—cloud your judgement.

In an instant, you don't have a single care about your own safety, the need to aid him, to make sure he comes home, overwhelming. You jump into action beside Kiri, mounting your Ikran as she does hers, soaring into the sky without hesitation.

The second you arrive on the scene, it's clear the clan is outmatched, and outnumbered. You guide your Ikran upward, hovering over the action while Kiri dives right in. Your eyes rapidly flick over every Na'vi in sight, heart leaping in your chest when they land on Neteyam and his Ikran in the distance.

In a flash, you're weaving through the chaos, trying to reach him as quickly as possible. Breath lodges in your throat, stomach dipping with panic when you see a helicopter swing around the perimeter, humans with huge guns perched at the open doors.

And they’re pointed right at him.

“Neteyam!” Your voice is hoarse with anxiety as you yell his name as loudly as your lungs will allow, hands waving wildly.

His head instantly jerks to the side, brow furrowing in confusion and alarm when he sees you.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing?” His heart is already slamming between his ribs at the mere sight of you among the bloodshed. “Get out of here!”

One of the only things that helps him focus during missions is the knowledge that you’re home safe. It pushes him, reminds him to act carefully. Knowing you’re protected within the layers of Home Tree keeps him sane, allows him to devote all his attention to defending the clan.

He isn't paying attention, hasn't noticed the weapon aimed in his direction. Your mind is moving too fast, thoughts too jumbled from blind panic to see any other option but to put yourself in the way. Without hesitation, you swoop down, forcing Neteyam to jolt to the side.

You block the onslaught of bullets as they rain down from the helicopter. White hot pain sears through your middle, one of your hands leaving your Ikran to cradle your side. Your fingers tremble as they pull back, crimson smeared over dark blue.

“Y/N!” Neteyam cries, eyes popping wide as he can do nothing but watch you sway before tumbling to the ground.

Your face scrunches with another intense wave of agony, stomach flipping as your Ikran calls out and nosedives from the sky. Darkness dots your vision, eyelids growing heavy. Nausea curls in your gut, heart slamming between your ribs harshly.

Neteyam races after you, but he’s a second too late, only catching up just after you crash into the unforgiving earth. He leaps from his Ikran instantly, clambering toward you hastily. He kneels next to your broken body as you lay in a heap on the dirt.

Panic cinches his heart, makes his breath stutter as he forces it from quivering lungs. Shaky hands grip your shoulders, turning your upper body gently to assess the damage.

“Nete…I-I think— ” A pained groan leaves your lips, moisture blurring your vision as you blink up at him.

“No, don’t talk, baby girl.” The words rush from his mouth in one quick exhale. His palms fan over you, as if unsure what to do.

Sharp pain radiates from your side, and suddenly, it’s just too much. Your breath slows, chest rising shallowly as your racing heart settles.

“I’m going to get you help. Okay, baby?” You don’t see the tears rolling down his face, don’t register the turmoil he couldn’t hide even if he wanted to.

When you don’t respond, his head jerks up, eyes widening at your unconscious state.

“No! Y/N? Ma muntxa (mate)?” His hands find your shoulders again, shaking you roughly. He feels the ground shift beneath him, resolve crumbling when you remain limp in his hold.

One of his arms slips under your knees, the other supporting your head as he lifts you from the ground. All thoughts of the mission are long gone as he mounts his Ikran, racing back to Home Tree.

Erratic sobs jostle your body in his tight hold as his chest trembles from the force of rising grief. He’s flying blind, tears clouding his vision as he counts on muscle memory to get him back safely.

The moment he touches down, he’s sprinting toward the Tsahik tent, silently praying to Eywa that it’s not too late.

Neteyam’s head lurches to the side at the sound of quiet shuffling on the other side of the room.

His heart leaps in his chest, not fully believing the sight of your eyes fluttering open. He crosses the distance in a few long strides, kneeling beside the bed that’s been your home for the last three days.

He hasn’t left the Tsahik tent. Not to eat, to sleep, not even when his father tried demanding his help with another raid. He wouldn’t—couldn’t leave you. Not even for a second.

He’s had little else to do but mull over how he’s treated you the last several weeks. His chest hurts, stomach rolling each time he replays the times he ignored or dismissed you.

He’s tried, desperately tried, to remember the last thing you said to him. And he can’t. No matter how long he stares at the wall, willing his brain to recall the information, he just can’t. Each lapse in memory tears at his soul, rips another hole in his battered heart.

He’s gone through endless scenarios, imaging all the terrible ways his life would collapse without you in it. He’s beat himself up, called himself every name under the sun. But nothing will give him that time back. The time he wasted prioritizing everything but what actually matters.

A low groan falls from your dry lips, pain emanating from your ribs at the slightest movement. Your face tightens, and another piece of Neteyam’s heart breaks. His hands clasp yours tenderly, thumbs smoothing over your skin.

“Mawey (calm), sweetheart.” He coos, releasing his hold to swipe a stray braid from your forehead.

You blink rapidly, clearing days of built up moisture to see him clearly. Slowly, you come to, surroundings gradually focusing until you realize you’re in the Tsahik tent. At once, the events just before you passed out flash in your mind, making you wince once again.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” Your gaze finds his, chest tightening at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes. He’s quick to swipe away the tears as they slip down his cheeks. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your brow furrows with confusion, unsure why he’d be apologizing. If anyone is to blame for your condition, it’s you. You put yourself in harms way, and he had no control over that. Your mouth has barely part in protest before he shushes you, fingertips pressing into your lips gently.

“I’ve been a terrible mate, Y/N. But that stops now. Okay?” His voice is full of conviction, expression hard with determination. “I would give anything to take back those days I dismissed you. But I can’t, so I will spend every day moving forward making up for it.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, a wobbly smile splitting your face. Though you never would’ve chosen such drastic measures to make him aware of the way he’s been treating you, gratitude overrides your previous animosity at the words you’ve been aching to hear for weeks.

His lips caress the backs of your hands, planting sweet kisses against your skin before he stands suddenly.

“What do you need, sevin (pretty)? Are you hungry? Thirsty? I will get anything you want. I can even go—”

“Oh, Nete. I-I just need you…” The words are a mere whisper, your voice hoarse from lack of use.

“I’m right here, baby girl. But you need to eat. I bet you’re starving. Let me go get—” Your hands find his arm, latching on tightly to keep him from walking away.

“Please, don’t go, Nete. Lay with me?” Moisture blurs your vision instantly at the thought of him leaving you alone.

A soft breath falls from his lips, shoulders dropping in defeat. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but right now, he can’t deny you anything. Especially not with that wounded look on your face.

“Okay, okay. Don’t cry, honey.” He shushes you gently, lifting the blanket covering your body so he can nestle against your side.

He gingerly drapes one arm over your hips, the other snaking beneath your neck. You settle into the familiar embrace, tense muscles unwinding for the first time in weeks. A contented sigh leaves your lips, eyes fluttering closed as a wave of exhaustion washes over you.

“I will give you one hour, and then you’re eating something. Understood?” Neteyam gently pulls you closer, lips trailing against the column of your neck as he murmurs softly.

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your chest as you send him a little mock salute.

He rumbles against you, pressing his face into your skin to hide the way his lips stretch into a grin at your teasing. You succumb to sleep quickly, at last finding peaceful rest within his protective hold.

@fanboyluvr @minjix @daeneeryss @aonungsmate

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bestillmyslashyheart · 3 years

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for @antiforlexpropaganda. sorry it’s very very late (and a super thank you to @caitlesshea for rewatching the scene for me and writing a transcript so i didn’t have to)

Maria knocked again, a quick rap that echoed inside. It was early but she knew Alex was used to getting up with the sun so she wasn’t too worried about waking him up. Or at least she hadn’t been before she spent multiple minutes knocking on his door. Just as she was considering leaving and coming back later, the lock turned and the door cracked open.

Alex looked faintly surprised to see her. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he accused lightly.

Maria shrugged. “Well, I learned you and all of our friends have been lying to me about aliens and murders and resurrection, so I haven’t been feeling particularly social. That being said I fell for your ex, so I’ve decided that even though I’m not speaking to them you and I are even?” She questioned hesitantly. She hadn’t actually spoken to Alex about Michael since that day at the bar and she definitely hadn’t talked to him before or after her and Michael’s very brief foray into a relationship but she knew he had heard about it. There was no way he hadn’t.

There was a look in Alex’s eyes, something Maria couldn’t place, but it was gone before she could try to figure it out. “That’s fair,” he replied. “What’s up?”

Maria let out a small breath of relief. She held up her mom’s laptop in answer. “Forgot the password.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “And you want me to use my NSA intelligence cryptology training to hack into your laptop?”

Maria sent him a coy look in answer, unwilling to come out and say that yes, she wanted him to commit a crime for her. Thankfully, Alex let out a little huff of a laugh. “How does any straight man survive you?”

“They don’t,” Maria grinned and follow Alex inside when he stepped aside. He led her into the living room and settled on his couch, his right leg stretching out in front of him. He waved a hand to invite her to have a seat. She did, perching herself on the edge of the bench in front of Alex’s piano and looked around. She had stopped by right after Alex moved in but hadn’t been by since. He hadn’t done too much with the place but it definitely looked less like waystation now. More like a home.

Alex sat patiently as she looked around. She felt his eyes on her but she waited a moment before turning to him.

“How come you’re not mad at me?” She finally asked. It was what she had feared, why she had waited so long to come around.

“For Michael?” Alex asked, like there was anything else he could be angry at her for. She nodded and he sighed. “The mess between us will never be your fault. And plus you didn’t know my history with him until after you hooked up. That’s my fault. I should’ve told you.”

“No,” Maria argued. “When I found out I should’ve stopped.” Because while she hadn’t known in Texas, she’d definitely known after.

“Yeah, okay, you should’ve.” He was only agreeing with what she’d just said herself but it hurt to hear him say it. “But you couldn’t. How could I be mad at you for falling for Michael Guerin? It’s the easiest thing in the world.”

Maria wasn’t sure she agreed. “Yeah, until it’s not.”

Alex shook his head, a soft look coming over his face. “Don’t write him off yet, okay? He keeps secrets because of how much he loves Max and Isobel, not because of how much he loves you.” Maria privately thought it was a little early (or late depending on you looked at it) to be calling it love.

She had to ask. “You told me once that you would stay in Roswell forever if the guy from the museum would just keep kissing you. But you did leave. What happened?”

Alex closed off and looked away. “He stopped being that guy.” His eyes flicked away, focusing on something behind her. “I begged him to get it together, then he got busted for stealing hubcaps.”

“He was pushing you away. He does that.” Maria had watched him do it to Max Evans countless times over the years. “He hurts people to see if they let him go. Made out with Lindsey right in front of me.” There was that look on Alex’s face again, the one she couldn’t identify.

“Yeah, well,” Alex shrugged. “I didn’t need much pushing. He’d become this walking bar fight and I just could not deal.”

“Hey,” Maria said softly, aching to reach out to him but feeling like it wouldn’t be well received. “You grew up in an abusive home. It makes sense that you didn’t want to be around all that anger.”

“Yeah, and then the irony of enlisting to escape violence,” Alex huffed. “He was locked up the day I left. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

The words felt loaded, more so than Maria could understand. She didn’t know what to say. As the silence stretched on, she cleared her throat and stood up to get the laptop she’d placed on the counter on the way in. “So. Want to show me some of those famed skills of yours?”

Luckily, Alex took the out and followed her over to the counter, easing into the seat and lifting it open. He had to push aside an empty coffee cup and plate to make room. She almost offered to move them to the sink but Alex quickly ignored them so so did she. Maria watched him work for a few moments before asking, “are you in?”

Alex hit a few more keys before the screen changed to the home screen. Maria let out a sigh of relief. Alex eyed her carefully. “Did I just commit a felony?”

Maria shifted in front of the computer, absently settling in Alex’s lap. She only had a moment to enjoy the feeling before realizing how stiff he was, his hands in the air a careful distance away from her body. Swallowing her faint disappointment, Maria straightened with a wry look. “It’s my mom’s computer. Her nurse said that two weeks before she went missing when she wasn’t trying to escape she was talking to someone online. I wanted to find out who.”

“They let her have internet?”

“She’s a patient, not an inmate,” Maria retorted. Alex stiffened but didn’t say anything. “She uses her computer to watch Netflix and stuff. I don’t know. I just want to see her browser history.”

Alex clicked around quickly. “Somebody cleared her search history,” he announced before tapping away again.

“No,” Maria shook her head, suddenly realizing that they were really treading the line between concern and invasion of privacy. “My mom was the last one to use this computer. If she deleted it, she obviously didn’t want anyone to know what she was doing online.”

“You know that if somebody clears their search history, they’re usually hiding something,” Alex warned gently.

Maria scoffed. “I thought she wasn’t telling me her password because she couldn’t remember it. If she didn’t want me to see something then hey...” She shrugged.

“All the more reason to see it,” Alex offered.

Maria blinked. “I’m not investigating my mom. I just want to know how might have taken her, but she’s a victim. I’m not gonna invade her privacy over it. She has a right to her secrets.” Alex shot her a look at that but Maria ignored it. Maria heard a noise from down the hall but Alex didn’t even look up so she ignored it.

His phone buzzed before he could say anything and he checked it quickly. “It’s Valenti. I’ve got to go.”

About that... “I like Kyle,” Maria started, “but he was terrible to you for so long. How have you forgiven him?”

“Kyle and I aren’t friends,” Alex objected. “I’m doing this because it’s my responsibility. I’m doing this for Liz. You know, something I learned in the last 10 years is that sometimes showing up is the most important thing.” It felt like a rebuke and Maria glared at him for it. He shrugged. “Can’t stay mad forever. People have a right to their secrets,” he shot back at her.

Maria rolled her eyes. She was about to reply when a louder noise came from down the hall and Maria finally registered it for what it was: the sound of water running coming from the bathroom. Maria’s eyes widened as she looked around the kitchen again and noticed the two coffee mugs and two dirty plates. “Alex,” she hissed. “Someone’s here.”

Alex raised any eyebrow. “I’m aware.”

Maria huffed a laugh. “Sorry I interrupted.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t.”

Maria glanced down the hall though she couldn’t see anything. “Is he hot?”

Alex hummed. He closed the laptop and stood up, rounding the counter to fully enter the kitchen. He busied himself pouring another cup of coffee. She was about to refuse one herself when she realized he never offered her one. “In that sex-in-a-truck-never-introduce-him-to-your-momma-kinda-way,” he replied idly. It took a moment for the words to register. The realization hit her a split second before Michael’s voice carried down the hallway.

“Where’s the other towel?” He shouted at Alex.

“Under the sink!” Alex called back. He gazed evenly at Maria as he lifted the coffee to his lips and took a sip.

“What the fuck?”

Alex tilted his head in question but didn’t say anything.

“No,” Maria stated. “Seriously, Alex. What the fuck? Guerin’s here?”

“He sleeps over occasionally.”

“Occasionally.”

“Mhmm.” Alex looked at her. “Problem?”

“Yes,” Maria replied immediately. It had only been three days since she kicked Guerin to the curb and he was already in Alex’s bed? “Is he incapable of sleeping alone? Were you just waiting for me to get tired of putting up with his shit?”

Alex’s gaze grew cold. “Since you never bothered to tell me you two were starting something, I can’t imagine why I would be waiting for you to end it.”

Maria glared. “You knew. You knew we were together. You knew where he parked his Airstream.”

“It was hard to miss,” he agreed.

“Why is he here?” Maria demanded.

“Currently, he’s taking a shower,” Alex replied.

“Alex.”

“Maria.” He took another sip of his coffee. “I didn’t realize I needed your approval on who’s allowed to use my shower.”

“We broke up three days ago and you’re already having sleepovers with him? Did you think for a second how I would feel about this?”

“Strangely,” Alex mused, “my relationship with Michael has nothing to do with you. And also, you didn’t seem to think about how i would feel about you dating him.” Maria flinched.

She opened her mouth to reply when movement down the hall froze her in her tracks. Michael had his jeans and socks on, his shirt in one hand, a towel in the other as he scrubbed at his hair. “Thanks for letting me-” he froze when he looked up to see Maria. The hand holding the towel slowly dropped to his side. “Maria. What are you doing here?”

“She wanted me to hack into her mom’s laptop,” Alex answered for her. There was a strange note in his voice and Maria turned to him only to find him gazing appreciatively at Michael. The look in his eyes made something in her stomach churn.

“Oh.” Michael blinked. “Well. I should get going.”

“No,” Maria said quickly. “I should go.” She snatched up the laptop and fled with only a hurried thank you over her shoulder to Alex. Only when the front door was closed behind her did she stop and close her eyes. She didn’t understand it, she’d been the one to end things with Michael, so why did it hurt to see him in Alex’s home, clearly comfortable and not out of place at all?

----

Alex took another sip of his coffee as Michael stared at Maria’s back as she almost literally ran out the door. “You’re an ass,” he accused lightly.

Michael shrugged. “Did you want me to tell her I was in the kitchen when she came in and heard your entire conversation? I still don’t know how she didn’t see me.”

Alex didn’t know either. Michael had been downing his second cup of coffee when Maria had come in and he hadn’t moved until Maria went for the laptop.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said suddenly. Alex looked up at him in surprise. Michael’s hands were clenched around his shirt and towel. “For fucking up that summer. For not saying goodbye. I didn’t want to have to watch you leave.”

“Thank you,” Alex said quietly. He understood Michael better now, understood why he’d acted the way he had that summer, but it was still nice to hear. He cleared his throat. “You planning on staying here again tonight?”

“If it’s not a problem,” Michael confirmed. “The generator is still on the fritz and I haven’t figured out how to fix it yet.”

“Guest room’s yours as long as you need,” Alex assured him. It wasn’t the first time Michael had crashed at his place when the Airstream was less than hospitable and Alex was sure it wouldn’t be the last. When it happened, they functioned well as roommates and nothing more, even when they were on better terms. Neither one had ever been willing to blur the lines between their relationship and their temporary living situation. No matter what other people, Maria, thought, nothing had happened between them the night before. And nothing would happen so long as Michael needed a place to crash.

Michael nodded at him in thanks and tugged his shirt on. “I’ve got to get to work. I’ll see you tonight?”

“I’ll order Chinese.”

“Sounds good.”

They exchanged soft smiles before Michael headed out, a quick detour to toss the towel in the laundry room on his way. Alex fixated on the motion for long moments after Michael left, at the easy way Michael moved around his home. It made his chest flutter warmly.

It wasn’t a bad feeling. Not at all.

#malex fic #roswell fic #rnm #my fic #anti maria deluca #just to be safe tho i don't think its too bad

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stovetuna · 3 years

Note

Oh! Oh! Your Tony-finally-accepts-Steve-Loves-him fic was so lovely. A+ 🥺

And the reverse-ish! The first time Steve realizes Tony doesn’t actually believe him when he says I love you and how Steve both reacts and comes to term with the situation (does he plan on talking about it? Love offensive with super romantic dates? Figure out that the solution to this problem a marathon not a sprint?)

aaaaaahhh I am gonna EXPIRE

can you imagine?? the moment I think about it my heart absolutely BREAKS in the best, most bittersweet way, because oh, Steve. you really thought the moment you kissed Tony the first time—you were sitting next to him on the living room sofa, a whole empty seat on either side of you because you were so unnecessarily close together, but then you were struck by the thought not close enough, and you were in the middle of listening to and watching Tony watch the Lost in Space reboot (so many science critiques you didn't understand a lick of but you are more than happy to play audience to the things Tony cares about, loudly) when you leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on the corner of Tony's motormouth, which apparently was all the invitation Tony needed to crawl into your lap and press his warm, warm, warm lips to yours and kiss the breath out of you—he understood.

because it was so easy to go from best friends to romantic partners, and you had years of friendship between you to hearken back to. Plenty of moments when you thought you'd made it clear to Tony that you loved him, that you cared about him, that you admired and respected and yes, deep down (not that deep, really) were very much attracted to him.

you thought.

so when you kiss the first time, you think he knows. when you go on your first real date and play footsie all night under the table and hold hands the whole walk home, you think he knows. when, a few days later, he slides inside you, deep and hard and wet, and butterfly-kisses the tears from your eyes and tells you how beautiful you are as he fucks you, wailing, into the mattress, you know, down to your soul, to the basest atoms of your existence, that Tony loves you as much as you love him.

but something isn't right, because even as weeks, months go by, and you move into Tony's suite and fall asleep wrapped around him almost every night (except those when he's in another country, and the bed is almost as cold as the ice, or when he's consumed by some project in the workshop and loses track of time), and you tell each other "I love you" out loud multiple times, and say it without words in a million other ways, you get the feeling that Tony. doesn't. believe you?

you're baffled. genuinely, it doesn't make sense. you've loved each other for years. even when you fought, bloody and fierce and deeply, horrifically wrong, you loved each other. it wouldn't have hurt nearly as much—felt like a piece of you being ripped away, phantom pain aging you inwardly until every step in any direction that wasn't toward Tony was agony—if you didn't.

but even though Tony says it back, and he does, every time, even when you're yelling at each other after a battle goes "tits-up," thank you, Logan, he has this look in his eyes, and the only word you've been able to put to it is doubt.

at first you think it means Tony doubts you—your feelings, your intentions, yourself and all the baggage that entails—but that thought quickly passes. because you know he doesn't. you know, from experience, that Tony's worst thoughts and feelings very rarely have anything to do with anyone other than himself. which means Tony doubts himself. maybe even reality. not in a "you might be a Skrull" kind of way, but in a "this is too good to be true" kind of way.

and doesn't that just break your fucking heart.

for months you watch this doubt flicker like a guttering little flame in Tony's bright blue eyes, every time you say "I love you, Tony" with your voice. it's never there when you're brushing your teeth next to other in the morning, bumping hips and giggling like the children you never got to be; it's not there when you silently hand him his coffee and kiss him on the temple on his way out the door to a morning meeting, grousing on the phone even as he blows a kiss to you before the elevator doors close; it's not there when you sit down next to him after a battle, on the steps of some middle-of-nowhere courthouse that just got blown up by some no-name villain, taking unspeakable comfort in the radiating heat coming off the armor that kept Tony safe in combat, and without having to ask or say anything at all Tony takes the helmet off and you lean your foreheads together and just breathe each other's air, too relieved and too exhausted to kiss; it's not there when you make love to him, slowly, excruciatingly sweet, your hips rolling in a steady, undulating wave between Tony's long, golden thighs, his arms loose around your neck, his gorgeous voice gone raspy and quiet from screaming through two orgasms already, and you tell him to look at you as you come together one last time.

it's only when you say it. put words to it. make it real. that's when that banked ember of doubt flickers to life, and it feels like you have to start all over again. which isn't a hardship, per se. not at all, really. it's an honor and a privilege and an absolute pleasure to be a part of Tony's life like this. it's also frustrating, and infuriating, and dangerous, but that was always the case. the only difference is now, you can have make-up sex.

you fight about it first. it starts out in earnest, a forthright—if frighteningly vulnerable—conversation over dinner that turns into a shouting match to rival anything from the war that of course gets cut short by the Avengers alarm going off and having to Assemble before you can clear the air. he almost dies in the battle, short-circuited by an exceptionally advanced EMP that takes out the RT (and whoo, boy does that make you spiral, thinking back, to the moment you did that to Tony, almost killed him, and thinking those thoughts while you keep vigil at his bedside for days makes you wish harder than you ever have before in your life that you could drink yourself to death), and you're too relieved when he opens his eyes and the first word out of his mouth is your name, like he's the one who should be relieved, to bring it up again.

you love him. he loves you. it works. better than that, it's good. and eventually—quickly, even—you learn. you learn tell him in every which way you can think of, without words, how much you love him, and why. you text him pictures from your runs through Central Park (he makes the photo you sent him that spring, of the adolescent raccoon emerging from a hollowed-out tree, his lock screen for a week before he changes it back to a picture of you in bed drooling onto your pillow). you help him take off the armor when he's dead on his feet. you feed him. you train with him. you listen to him ramble on about bad movie science and cheer when Matt Damon mentions him in that Mars movie. (You literally cry laughing when Tony picks up the phone at the end of the movie and calls Matt Damon and tells him to text him next time, "I'll come pick you up, just stop getting lost in fucking space, asshole!")

you kiss his scarred fingers, with their fresh cuts and scrapes and bruises from working in the shop, with a reverence. you draw baths for him and don't join, even though it's one of your favorite things to do in the world, because you can just tell Tony is going through something and he needs the space to work it out for himself. you're always there to fish him out when the water gets cold, and by that time Tony's ready to tell you about whatever's eating him.

you call him every foul, dirty name in the book when you fuck him loudly against the wall and sob yourself hoarse when he makes love to you for what feels like hours, so slow and deep and steady you honestly lose track of how many times you come. you clean him up after and tuck him in. you kiss him on the forehead before you go on your morning run, every morning without fail (except for those when you're apart, and you still, even after almost two years, catch yourself mid-motion sometimes, about to kiss empty air—you text Tony about it and he laughs every time).

you learn to be patient. you learn to show more than you tell. because you realize that Tony was lied to his entire life, about so many things. Lied to his face about who he was, who he was going to be, who he never would be allowed to be. Told over and over again by liars and cheats and villains and friends and lovers and family that he wasn't worth the effort of loving. that he would never be loved for anything other than the black credit card in his wallet, the cars in his garage, the houses and the private jets and the clothes and the money and the things he invented—the things he made—that were supposed to help people but only ever ended up killing them.

money, and blood.

it's no wonder he doubts.

so you set yourself to the long and genuinely joyous (if at times frustrating) task of convincing Tony that not only do you love him, more than you've loved anything else in your life, ever will, but he is lovable. not worthy of love, not deserving, and he is those things, but inherently—he is a sweet, caring, kind, fierce, sexy, strong, dangerous, incredible, dorky, suave, fumbling genius of a man and he is loved for those things.

it takes time. good things always do.

you've had a little velvet box hidden away in your bottom bedside drawer for four months when Tony wakes up and sees you in bed with him, realizes you've been watching him sleep—so peacefully, the furrow between his brows erased, as you play with his slightly overgrown hair (you wish he'd keep it, but it's a hazard, in your line of work). you kiss him on the forehead and say good morning, sweetheart, because it is, even if it is pouring down rain outside.

maybe especially because it's raining outside. because here you are, high up among thick grey clouds that smother every inch of the city, so it's just you two, in this bed, together in your own little world, and you're watching that stubborn ember of doubt in Tony's eyes finally get washed away.

read part one

#responses #rachel writes fic #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #stony fic #superhusbands #PHEW OKAY TIME TO GO CRY NOW #I can't remember the last time I wrote something in second person?? WHO AM I

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anightflower · 4 years

Text

Come and Find Me

Chapter 3: Ring, Ring!

Things are heating up my loves!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, swearing

Masterlist here

“Breaking news. After countless weeks of Quantico in fear, the murderer of five innocent women has been caught. Andrew Curtis, age 29 has been accused of first degree murder and will face trial in these upcoming weeks. Curtis was caught before laying his hands on his 6th victim, 24 year old Emily Bloise-”

You groaned, awakening to the sound of the TV blasting the news. You didn’t even remember turning it on before going to bed last night. Hell, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You pulled the blankets over your head to block out the noise, as you shifted your legs, you heard a jingling of chains and became aware of the cold clasped around your ankle.

Your body jolted fully awake and you shot up as everything came crashing back to you. You hadn’t been able to sleep last night, you were too nervous for your presentation tomorrow. You were meeting with the one and only Lila Archer. She had gotten word of your design company and was so impressed with your work, she had contacted you to meet with her to discuss designing her vacation “workspace” home in Florida. This was your first celebrity job that would most certainly put you in the big leagues if you got it right or put you six feet under if she hated it. So needless to say your brain would not shut down for the night.

You had given up on the idea of falling asleep on the rock hard bed the hotel had provided you. Instead you had thrown on some shorts and one of Spencer’s oversized t-shirts you had stolen from him and made your way to get some snacks from the convenience store that was just up the block from your hotel.

You cautiously made your way up the street, pepper spray in hand. It was 3am and you were no idiot. You were still haunted by the Andrew Curtis case, and you knew deep down so was Spencer. He had gotten you new pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a keychain alarm after the case. He made you promise to carry it everywhere you went and you had held to that promise. It was the haunted look in his eyes that had bothered you the most.

The bell on the door let at a shrill ring as you entered the store. You gave a small smile and a wave to the man behind the register which he returned. It looked like you were his first customer in a while.

You wondered the aisles waiting for a snack to catch your eye, when the bell rang again signaling that someone else had entered. You didn’t really pay much attention to it, as you were focused on your very important task at hand; salty or sweet.

That’s when you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was a male silhouette. You struggled to make out any of his features. He had his hood up, with a ball cap pulled low to block his face. Yet even without seeing them, you could still feel his eyes on you.

Ice went down your spine. Something was not right about this, and you always trusted your instincts. Grabbing a random bag of chips and some chocolate covered pretzels you walked quickly over to the register. You could feel the hooded guy’s eyes burning into you even as you handed your money over to the cashier.

The cashier didn’t seem to pick up on your discomfort and took his merry time with your purchase. You rushed out of there as soon as he handed you your change and bag.

You had the urge to call Spencer, but you didn’t want to wake him up if you were just being paranoid, he hardly got enough sleep as it was.

Glancing over your shoulder, you realized there was no one behind you. You slowed down a bit and caught your breath, chastising yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

That's when you felt a muscular arm encircle your waste. You began to thrash and scream, but a cloth was thrust over your mouth and with one inhale, you were met with darkness.

And now you were here; a dingy little room with soundproof walls and chains on your ankles.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whispered glancing around. Your fear doubled when your eyes landed on the small TV near the foot of your bed. On it was reruns of the news footage for the Andrew Curtis case. The news footage recapturing every horrific detail.

You got out of the bed slowly, trying to figure out how to move with the chains around your ankles, and began to take stock of anything that could be made a weapon, but the room did not have much. You paused when you realized this room held details that looked like they were taken right from your home.

The gray and white duvet was exactly like the one you had on your bed in your apartment, it’s complex design hard to miss. The lamp on the bedside table, which was unfortunately glued down, was the exact replica of the one you had found while thrifting. How this person managed to get a similar one, you had no idea. You shivered when you realized there were cameras all over the room. One in each corner of the room, one on top of the TV and one glued to the bedside table.

You slowly made your way towards a curtain blocking off something. You took a deep breath and ripped it open, only to find a tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a door. You rushed to the door and attempted to open it. The doorknob rattled, it was locked.

A voice boomed from a PA system above. “Aw my darling, you’re awake!” The voice was clearly distorted to sound deeper. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “I’m sorry your quarters aren’t that nice, but don’t worry, after we win the game, you and I are going to go someplace where you’ll have everything you’ve ever desired.”

“Who the hell are you?” You growled, your head whipping back and forth to see if there was anyone in the room. “Someone who cares very much about you. Someone who’s been in the shadows waiting for you for a long time.”

“Why don’t you come out and show your face instead of hiding behind a little PA voice system? Only a coward hides in the shadows.” You growled trying to seem unafraid, but your body trembled.

“Oh no my sweet, there is a game afoot and as tempted as I am to reveal myself, I have something better in mind and I can’t have you ruining it.” He purred.

“Why the fuck am I here?”

“Because darling, I had to open your eyes. You’ve been blinded by awe for your Doctor and you need to see the truth! He doesn’t deserve you, he can’t give you what I can! He leaves you so often, discarding you like a broken toy, only to return later to pick up the pieces.” The voice hissed.

If you weren’t so terrified you would have laughed in the man’s face. “You’re wrong. Spencer is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” You argued.

“You’re a love-struck blind bitch who can’t see the truth.” The voice snarled. “He took so much away from me and I won't let him take you away too. He disgusts me. Stumbling around spewing bullshit and everyone regards him as a God. Guess I am the devil who has to show him the truth.”

________________________________________________________________

Reid glanced around your room, he hated how nothing seemed out of place. Part of him wished it was ransacked so he could find a clue as to who the unsub was, so he could see wrath or vengeance or some sort of motive, but there was nothing.

Instead he just saw you everywhere. You liked to joke that your room was organized chaos. You had a large calendar above your cream-colored desk with important dates and meetings on it, color coded by importance, yet your desk had your design plans and pencils strewn about it. Pictures of you and Spencer were taped up precariously around the calendar. Cliché photo-booth pictures that you had begged Spencer for, silly selfies you had taken of the two of you, and some pictures you had snuck of Spencer when he wasn’t looking.

Spencer ripped his gaze away as his heart shattered. He instead dragged his gaze around from that glancing at your bookshelves nearby. Design, fantasy, and sci-fi books were strewn all about the shelves. Spencer dragged his hand along the spines, remembering how you had teasingly refused to read any of Spencer’s “real-world” books. “The real world is too boring, I need my escapism and magic.” You said, sticking your tongue out at him as you had gone to the adult fantasy section of your favorite bookstore. Spencer had followed you, eager to explain the science magic tricks he knew.

Spencer shook his head, he needed to focus, yet every part of your room held a precious memory. He made his way to your bed, smoothing out the ornate pattern of your gray and white duvet. Your bed was made, each fluffy blanket folded and decorative pillow in place.

The thing that truly hit Spencer was the lone stuffed animal that sat on the bed. It was a chubby bumblebee stuffed animal. Spencer had surprised you with it, after he witnessed you squeal in delight at it through a storefront window. You had claimed it was your most prized possession and that he would be your snuggle buddy when Spencer was away on cases.

Emily popped her head in through the door. “Hey Reid, any luck? I didn’t find anything.”

Spencer glanced up at her. “No, everything looks normal. Not a damn thing out of place.”

“Who’s that you’re holding?” Emily asked gently.

“Reid. (Y/N) named him that, he would be by her side when I was away. (Y/N) joked that he protected her while I was away. A lot of good he did for her.” Spencer grumbled, shoving the bee back onto the bed.

That’s when it caught his eye. The empty picture frame. The one that usually held the photo of you and Spencer, the one that had been mutilated and sent to him in a Curtis-like box.

Spencer observed the frame, turning it this way and that. He heard the tiniest rustling sound of something moving within the frame. He opened the back of it and a folded up piece of paper fell out.

Emily rushed to Spencer’s side to see what it said. Spencer slowly reached to pick up the paper and opened it.

Good job Doctor! You found something. Hopefully you find her on time! Ring, ring!

Emily looked at Spencer confused. “Ring, ring?” As if on cue Spencer’s phone began to ring. “What’s up, Garcia?” Spencer asked urgently.

“You need to get back to base, now.” Garcia sounded like she was near tears.

________________________________________________________________

You tried to tear your eyes away from the screen, but you couldn’t. The news reruns had turned into home videos that Curtis had made. You remember how Reid had explained that they had found the camera Andrew Curtis had used, but no physical films had been found. “Like they had disappeared.” He had said.

It had driven him and his team nuts because Curtis had worked alone, so who could have taken the film?

“Aren’t they beautiful darling?” The voice crackled through the PA. “Drew and I put so much work into them. It’s a work of art that Picasso would envy.”

“It’s perverse and disgusting, and it proves how truly sick you and Curtis are!.” You yelled, holding back a sob.

“Yet, part of you can’t bear to look away can you? Have you noticed yet?” He purred.

You didn’t answer, tears flowed down your cheeks.

He chuckled at your silence.

“Oh you have, haven’t you? I bet you thought it was a sick coincidence that they looked like you, huh?” He mocked. “Drew told me all about the haunted looks in your Doctor’s eyes. How weak your Doctor was, how your Doctor could never find them in time. They were always dead before they got there.”

“Spencer worked his ass off to catch Curtis. He managed to stop him and he saved so many more lives than what Andrew Curtis took. Spencer is not weak for not getting there in time. Curtis is sick for killing those girls in the first place!” You snarled through your tears.

“Ah, ah, ah darling. Drew is not a sick man, he’s a hero. He was like the big brother I never had, he protected me, he made sure even when he was caught I was not. Nobody would know I was even involved with him, so I could achieve my goal of having you- of putting that ridiculous Doctor in his place.”

You remained silent, your body trembling at his confession. Whoever this man was he had worked with Andrew Curtis and he had done it just to get you.

“Every girl was a mere tool to prepare me for when I got my hands on you. Drew told me my time would come. Even when he was caught, we wrote letters back and forth, we had a code you see. Nobody really trusts communication between a prior serial killer and innocent boy, they’ll corrupt you apparently. But we found a way around those who separated us. You see, Drew, my guide, my brilliant mentor, the man who taught me so many things, was right, now I have you right in my hands.”

“What are you going to do?” You asked terrified.

“Play a game.” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice.

________________________________________________________________

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chubbybuckydumpling · 3 years

Text

A Daughter’s Tale

words: 3.6k

pairing: Bruce Banner x desi!daughter!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, people being in love, Valentine’s Day

A/n: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! I hope everyone enjoys this and has an incredible day. This is part 2 to A Doctor’s Tale

My Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your hand hits the edge of the pool and you push your head up to gasp for air. The wet hair clings to your head, some droplets of water rolling down your forehead. Your chest moves in time with the heavy breaths you take in, the tight nylon adjusting to your body. The daily morning swims quickly became part of your routine. It wakes you up and helps you relax before your busy schedule sets in.

You’ve come to enjoy living with your father in the tower, but you spend most of the time studying or working next to Bruce in his lab. Tony’s equipment is far superior than your own devices back in Kolkata and yet your father keeps reminding you how impressed he is with you and how proud he is - all the things he couldn’t say in the past decade and a half.

You don’t really interact with the rest of the Avengers. You’ve met them, of course, but they make you feel shy. They’ve saved the world multiple times, it’s intimidating. Most of your days are spent with Tony, Natasha or your father. They worry about you, but you’re mostly fine.

The water sloshes against the tiles when you heave yourself out of the pool. Your feet pad against the warm floor, leaving little trails of liquid on your path. The soft material of your towel feels nice against your skin, a warmth spreading through your limbs. Your stomach rumbles in yearning for breakfast, the cool air flowing over any exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its way.

The warm water of the shower relaxes your muscles, hot steams rising through the air. Puddles of shampoo land on the floor as you scrub away to get the chlorine off. The smell of flowers and spices fill the space, a gentle reminder of your childhood. You feel calm when you exit the gym, exercise usually makes you feel good. The elevator doors close, “Good morning, Miss Banner. How was your swim?” You smile at the ceiling, “It was just fine, Thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y”

Once you arrive on the floor your father and you are sharing, the smell of pancakes fills your nose. You trudge into the kitchen to find a stack of the food, a small sticky note next to them. ‘Good morning shona! I hope you’re doing well. I am working on a project with Tony, feel free to step by. Love you, daddy’, it reads. “Aww, dad”, you mumble, smiling while you put his memo into your sweatpants pocket.

The pancakes are fluffy and you can’t help but grin. Bruce has been trying really hard to be a good father, making sure you eat and drink enough, that you’re happy and satisfied. His efforts left you with a light heart and a fluttering feeling in your chest. This is exactly what you have craved all for all these years, you just wished your mother was still alive and with you.

Thinking about her still makes your heart ache and you immediately long for a hug. Tears cloud your vision and you take in a shuddering breath. This sudden sadness makes you go back to the elevator, your father did say you should visit him, right?

The door to the lab is closed, the shimmering, milky glass stopping your vision. You step forward, ready to enter, but the door doesn’t budge. You reach out to open it yourself, but no matter how hard you push, you can’t come in. “Uhm, F.R.I.D.A.Y, why can’t I go in?”, you probe the AI, the confusion obvious on your face. “Mr Stark asked me to lock the doors to the lab, Curious Kitty Protocol”

You raise an eyebrow, Tony’s antics never fail to both fascinate and irritate you. “Well, can you ask if I may enter then?”, your voice taking on a teasing tone. “Will do, Miss Banner”. After about half a minute the door bursts open and you take a step back, hand on your heart, “Gee, dad, what’s wrong with you?”. Bruce’s face is red, forehead sweaty and lips pink. He pants heavily, his chest moving and falling rapidly.

“Uhm, are you okay?”, you question, sounding slightly scared. He holds out a hand, the other one resting on his thighs as if to support his weight. “Daddy?”

“I’m okay”, he gasps, “what’s up, Shona?” This moment Tony turns the corner, equally sweaty as Bruce, but a smirk playing on his lips. “Hey, little miss Banner, come on in, the magical den awaits you”, he bows down, throwing a subtle wink in your direction. To his dismay, you hesitate, making him throw an arm over your shoulders and pulling you inside, “We don’t have all day, hurry up”

Tony pushes you into a chair and dramatically walks up to his desk, his hips swinging with every step. “Tony!”, hisses your father and walks over to you, his eyes shining with worry. “Shona, are you alright?”

In your confusion, you can’t form any words, mouth opening and closing helplessly.

The lab is chaotic, empty mugs littered everywhere and the robots are standing with their faces to the wall.The floor-to-ceiling windows are darkened, leaving the room under a shadowy gloom. A weird smell is lingering in the air, a strange note of pineapple the most noticeable.

“What are you working on?”, you ask the men, a suspicious glint in your eyes. “A project”, Bruce answers quickly, averting his gaze. “What exactly?”, you retort warily. “Top secret, sorry not sorry”, Tony chimes in. He is now sitting on the table, legs dangling through the air carelessly, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Okay?”, a confused whisper leaves you. Whatever is going on is highly suspicious. “Now, why did you come up here?”; Bruce’s voice is much calmer now. “I really wanted a hug, but you look really sweaty and I just took a shower”, you state, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. He pouts at you, fluttering his eyelids, “You don’t want to give your old man a hug?” He spreads his arms for you to fall into, to which you comply. Reluctantly. “Gross”, you mumble.

The air smells like lemon, the air perfume keeping it present, a wish you quickly opened up about when you first arrived here. It reminds you of home. A wave of spice reaches your nose from the kitchen where Bruce is cooking. He has been trying hard to recreate the Indian dishes he remembers. They’re not quite your mum’s cooking, but they’re good. Unique, just like your father.

“What are we having, dad?”, you shout. A heavy chemistry book lies in front of you, the pages filled with exercises. Your father insisted that you continue school. “It’s a surprise. It’ll be delicious, Shona, don’t worry. I’ve got this”, he shouts back, “I hope”, he mumbles afterwards. You smile at your father. Aarohi told you about this, how Bruce often doubts himself even though he is doing just fine. You’ve noticed this quite often, sadly.

“I’m sure you’re doing great, Dad”, you yell in hopes of cheering him up, “I love you!” His reply comes immediately, “I love you too, Shona” Your heart flutters, just like whenever he tells you these words. You’ve missed this for so long and now that you can have it, no matter when or where, it makes you feel giddy.

Time flies by and when you’re next called, dinner is set on the table. “You’ve made Aloo gobi! Oh my, dad, you’re the best, I can’t wait for this”, you smile and run to hug your father. He laughs and wraps his arms around you, a warm feeling filling your body.

The food is delicious and you have to force yourself to eat slowly, “Dad this tastes so good”. The man grins at your words, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Thank you. I’m glad you like it”. Bruce is twirling around with his fork, not really eating much. “Are you okay?”, you ask, concerned. “I’m fine, don’t worry”, his voice sounds quiet, subdued even, “But we do need to talk after dinner. Nothing bad, don’t worry”.

The rest of the meal is filled with tension, tight and uncomfortable. A flood of worry rummages through your body, fear in your veins. Nothing good ever comes out of a ‘don’t worry’, right? You wipe your hands on your legs, sweat covering the surface, a sign of your nerves that you inherited from your father. Once the food is gone you offer to do the dishes, but Bruce stops you, mentioning he’ll do it later.

The two of you sit on the couch, avoiding eye contact. “So?”, you start in an attempt to overcome the fear, “Are you okay, dad?” He sighs and places a hand on your thigh, “I’m fine, I promise. I just…”, he interrupts himself. His eyes look cloudy. “Promise me that whatever I’m going to tell you, you won’t hate me”. Time seems to still as your fingers twitch anxiously, “What, dad, of course not”

You reach for the hand on your leg and wrap your own around it.”You can tell me anything”, you hope to reassure him. “Okay then, here goes nothing”, he takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “You know how Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, right?” You cock your head subconsciously, “Yeah?”

“Well, I have a date”, he says and looks away directly after, his hands really cold. It feels like your head is spinning, his words not registering. You feel your breath quickening and rip your hands away, quickly getting up from the sofa. “What?”, you plead, voice quiet. “Hey, Shona, please calm down, I know this is scary, but-”

“NO!”, you shout, “What about mum? Do you not love her anymore?” Tears are shooting into your eyes as you become more and more upset for every second that goes by. “How could you betray us like that! Don’t you love us?” Bruce gets up as well, his eyes misty too. “Of course I love you and your mother, nothing could ever change that” He reaches for you, but you shy away. “But how can you be with someone when you love mum? That doesn’t make sense!”

A sob wrecks through your body and you hug yourself, turning further away from the man. “Please, don’t say that. I love your mother so much, that will never change. But I can’t control how I feel. You have to understand, please”, his voice sounds pained and it makes your heart ache, but an overwhelming sense of irritation overcomes you and you lose control.

“So you’re just going on a date, huh? Are you trying to forget mum?”, the accusation silences him as the tears continue to flow down your cheeks. You grab a hoodie that lies on the couch and rush to the door. “Please don’t leave”, Bruce whispers and you slow down to a halt.

“I still love you, dad. I just need a minute. I’ll be back soon”, you whisper, not raising your eyes from the floor. Your vision is blurry as you run through the lobby and out the doors. The air is dry and cold, snow piling up on the sidewalk. Its crystal structures are clearly visible, beautiful and unique forms that usually fascinate you leave you feeling blank now.

The freezing temperatures leave you shaking as you mindlessly sprint through the streets. Suddenly you run over a patch of ice and slip. Your arms wave through the air as your body rushes down to the ground. The impact leaves you breathless, pain rushing through your back. You violently close your eyes and curl together into a small ball.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you sob helplessly. The temperature sinks into your flesh and bites at your bones. “Shit”, you whisper, the energy leaving your body as the adrenaline wears off. “Well, what are you doing on the floor, Y/n?”, a voice asks. You turn your head to come face to face with Natasha, her vibrant hair a strong contrast to the snow.

“Nat?”, your voice sounds croaky. “Come on up, I’m bringing you home. Don’t want you to freeze now, huh?”, she speaks softly and begins to heave you up. Her arms are strong and she is warm, so you nuzzle into her chest. “Now, why did you run away into this freezing cold?” You sigh and rub your arms to create some more warmth, “Did you know dad is dating someone?”

“I did”, she replies. You nod and stare at the floor, “It just came as a scare to me, I guess. It hasn’t even been a year since mum died” Her hand glides over your shoulders gently, “I get that. But your father is really struggling too. This hasn’t been easy on him” You shrug, but guilt slowly creeps up on you. “He tried killing himself, you know?”, her voice is careful, but her words shock you, making you stumble.

“What?”, you ask, desperation seeping into your voice. “He felt so guilty for leaving you and your mother, he wasn’t in a good spot. Tony helped him to become better, but Aarohi’s death set him back quite a bit” Tears stream down your face, silent and in agony. “Are you going to talk to him?”, her voice is stern. She seems to care for him a lot. “Yeah”, you mumble, still shocked at her confession.

You spend the rest of the way in silence, words and sentences floating through your head, a repetition of your outburst playing over and over again. You feel shameful at your childish behaviour. You should not have acted that way, that’s not how your mother raised you.

The warmth of the lobby envelopes you and you release a relieved sigh. You didn’t realise just how cold you are. “Nat?”, the woman turns to look at you, her posture as graceful as always. Your voice is raspy, throat hurting slightly, “Do you think mum would be happy for dad?” The woman grins at you and brushes a hand through your hair, “From what I’ve heard? Definitely” Your lips twitch, “Yeah, I think so too”

The woman accompanies you to the elevator and pulls you into a hug, “You’ve got this”, she whispers into your head. You take a deep breath to calm down, a determined glimmer in your eyes. When you enter the floor you find your father hunched over on the couch. Tony sits close next to him, one of his hands rubbing circles over his back.

“Dad?”, you whisper, the nerves crashing back down on you. His head whips around and his eyes find you. They are red like he’s been crying. You figure you look similar. Bruce gets off of the sofa and runs over to you to engulf you in an embrace, “Oh, shona, I was so worried”, he cries, “You’re so cold! Come on, let’s warm you up”

“No, dad, I have to apologise, I totally overreacted.I’m so sorry”, you stutter, voice breaking, “so, so, sorry” Tony coughs in the background, “I’ll fetch you some warm clothes, Y/n”. Your father pulls you even closer, your wet clothes staining his button-down. “It’s fine, Shona. I know this is hard on you” You cry into his chest, tears seeping into his clothes, “That doesn’t give me a reason to yell at you. I’m so sorry”

“I forgive you. I’m just happy you’re back again”, he whimpers. Being in your father’s arms floods you with a comforting calm. “Dad?”, your voice is barely a whisper, “Are you happy? With your date I mean”

Bruce presses a kiss on your head, “I am”, he answers, “I really am”.”That makes me happy too. Do I know them?” A loud sigh leaves his mouth, “You do. And I promise you I would have told you sooner, but I wanted to make sure this works out before I drag you into this”

“You’re scaring me, dad”, you whisper, pulling out of the hug slightly, “Who is it?” Bruce’s big hands grasp your elbows gently, his face swollen from his crying, “It’s Tony” your eyes widen, “You’re dating Tony Stark?” The tone of your voice is unbelieving, as if he told you he is dating Bigfoot. “The one and only, billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist”, the voice of the mentioned man rips you out of your trance and you blink.

Taking a step back, you shake your head in disbelief, “This is insane. For how long has this been going on?”, you question, but then stop, “No, you don’t have to tell me. Really. I’m just glad you’re happy dad”

Bruce smiles at you, the skin near his eyes crinkling. Tony takes a step towards you, some warm and thick clothes in his hands, “You should probably change. I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to heat up the bathroom for you”. You accept the familiar clothing and force a weak smile on your face, “Thank you, Tones. I’m really exhausted, I’ll probably go right to sleep” Your father hugs you once more, “I love you, Shona”.”I love you too, dad”

Tony was right, the ensuite is comfortably warm, just perfect to thaw your body. The jumper is big and soft, just like the thermo leggings you pull over your legs. You use the loo and brush your teeth before you retreat into the bedroom. Your father is already sitting there and once he sees you he lifts your weighted blanket so you can slip right under. The feel of your bed makes you relax immediately, letting your eyes fall close.

“Shona, you know I could never forget your mother, right? She was an incredible woman, so confident and sure of herself. I always admired that about her. Aarohi was my first love, you know?

Once I saw her, dark circles under her eyes, dirty work clothes and all, I knew that she would be the one for me. And she was, for such a long time. She gave me the best gift I could have ever asked for. You, of course.”, his voice sounds far away.

“And even now that she is gone my heart still beats faster when I think of her. But it does so when I think of Tony too. He doesn’t show it that often, but he is very caring. He helped me through hard times, always staying by my side. A real sweet guy. He takes good care of me”, Bruce smiles, but when he looks down at you, you’re already asleep.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Sleep well, Shona. I love you” With a last loving look he stands up and heads for the door quietly, turning off the light on his way.

“No, you have to dress up a little. Come on, it’s Valentine’s Day”, you sit on Bruce’s bed, giggling at your father who is currently in a horrendous pair of underwear, a half opened button-up on his torso. “At least put on some slacks, a pair of nice suit pants” He turns to you, an anxious look on his face, “I don’t know what to do”

You jump up, gracefully landing on your feet, “Don't worry, daddy, I’ve got you” You eye the closet critically, taking out pieces that you deem worthy, “You’ll look good in blue”. The navy slacks with the matching blazer look expensive, perfect for a date with a billionaire. “Button-up, buttercup”, you tease and present your choice to Bruce.

“I guess I’ll try it on, Thank you, Shona, for everything. My hair has never been this pretty”, his deep voice is already less anxious. “Well, duh”, you retort playfully, “Once you stop sweating it stops being greasy. Now, put on the suit” You point into the direction of the mirror and then skip out of the room.

All of a sudden the elevator door opens and Tony walks in. He wears a dark suit, his typical glasses sat right on his nose, “Good afternoon, kiddo”, he grins, one of his hands holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, “Where’s Daddy-O?” You raise your eyebrows and pretend to widen your collar, “Wardrobe malfunction”, you whisper.

Tony’s mouth takes on an ‘O’-shape and he nods in understanding. He shifts his weight from one foot to another. Is he actually nervous? The sound of footsteps behind you sound through the room and you turn around to see your father come out of the room. The suit hugs his body nicely, almost making him look like he’s glowing with confidence. “Woah, Bruce, you look-”, Tony pauses to gesture at the other man in astonishment, “really handsome”.

“My dad’s a real catch, nothing new”, you chime in, smirking. “Y/n!”, Bruce hisses, but Tony shushes him, smiling, “No she’s right” Bruce walks closer to the man until he holds out the flowers, “For the prettiest man” After saying these words, Tony looks at you, mouthing “You did not see that”, to which you raise your hands in surrender.

Your father takes the bouquet, “I’ll just put them in a vase. Thank you”, But before he can move you snatch the flowers, “I’ll do it, you two head out” Tony smiles at you appreciatively, “You heard the woman, let’s go” Bruce takes the man’s hand with a blush and grins coyly.

“Goodbye, Shona, take care”, he mentions before following his date out the door. “Goodbye, have fun!” Once the lock clicks you put the flowers into some water and smile. This is a weird adjustment, but you’re ready to compromise. Your father has tried everything to make you happy, so you will do the same. And if that means accepting his relationship, you’ll have no problem achieving it.

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#Bruce Banner #Bruce Banner x Reader #bruce banner x desi!reader #bruce banner x daughter!reader #bruce banner x daughter #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x you #hulk #hulk x reader #marvel #mark ruffalo #father!bruce banner #father bruce banner #dad!bruce banner

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arvandus · 4 years

Text

Touch (Pt 5)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Special thank you to @salvator-heartbreaker who has helped me hash out this chapter and some future plot details; this would not be as amazing as it is without her help!

Chapter warning: This’ll get a bit heavy; just a heads up. Please be aware of the warning tags.

Recommended Chapter Song: Put Me Under by Grandson

Part 1 Part 4

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 5 - The Beast

Dabi walked down a long hallway, dark wooden floors cast in a dim orange glow from the mounted wall sconces. Every feature was cast in heightened detail – the color of the walls, the pictures on them, the ceiling with its wooden planks mirroring the floors like a fun house. But something was off about it. The sound of his footsteps was strangely absent, the faces in the pictures blurred by a shadow that shouldn’t exist.

It was familiar, this place. It filled him with a strange longing mingled with vague trepidation.

The whisper of voices came like a mist, seeping from the walls and soaking into his skin, cold and clammy. The voices were familiar, voices he thought he’d long since forgotten the sound of. He couldn’t make out the words; they jumbled together, swirling into a single hum that vibrated his bones and made his pulse race. Through the din, he thought he heard the sound of crying, a mother’s wail.

Fear seized him, a paralyzing fear he hadn’t felt in years. He had to leave this place. He took the door closest to him, turning the handle to step into black nothingness and suddenly he was falling, falling. He screamed, his voice the sound of a boy, his hands small like a child’s, wrapped in dirty bandages grasping at nothing. Blue flames erupted underneath him, devouring him like an ancient beast come to take him down into hell.

Dabi sat up in his bed with a jolt, his nerves screaming and his sheets drenched in sweat as the sound of his heavy panting filled the room. It was dark, except for the moonlight that crept through his window carried on a cold night breeze with each soft billow of the curtain.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tried to steady his pounding heart. The nightmares were coming back.

Dabi’s head pounded. Every muscle in his body ached, his damaged nerves on fire. A wave of nausea overtook him, and he rushed to the bathroom, retching and gagging in the darkness. Once he was sure there was nothing left, he flushed the toilet and sat down on the lid with his head in his hands while his dark world spun around him. He was a celestial body, knocked off its axis and careening into the burning sun of reality. There was no soft curtain between himself and the harshness of the cold floor under his feet, the sour taste in his mouth, or the loudness of the crickets outside his window. There was no comforting haze to cocoon himself in, his chrysalis torn from him before he could finish his transformation. He felt incomplete, broken, hungry.

Your pills weren’t enough. They had helped a little at first, but his body was already burning through them and adapting, wanting more. The addiction was a raging beast that couldn’t be satiated, and right now, in the stink of his bathroom with his sweat drying on his skin, he could feel its familiar pull. It was a siren’s song, played on the strings of his nerves in an off-tune melody that only he could hear. It sang of old promises, a promise of freedom from pain and suffering, a promise to protect him against his nightmares like a faithful guardian, a promise of sleep… if only he could pay the price.

He needed more. More of your pills, more of his own… just more. Anything to make this feeling go away, to put this beast to rest.

There was no peace for him when he was like this.

He thought of you. You had said he could come to you at any time. Did you really mean it? If he knocked on your door at this hour would you let him in? Would you give him what he needed?

Would you understand?

Desperation made Dabi pull himself up from the toilet, and he stared at himself in the mirror. Disgust filled him. In the dark of his bathroom, the shadow of his face looked downright terrifying. Would the sight of him late at night cloaked in shadow scare you? Would you scream?

You said it would be okay.

Another wave of nausea hit him, and he leaned over, his forehead pressed against the cold porcelain of his sink as he forced deep, long breaths into his aching lungs. He didn’t have a choice. He quickly rinsed his mouth with water to rid himself of the taste lingering in his mouth and made his way out of his room and down the hall.

Dabi stopped outside your door, hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on your doorknob.

He hesitated. A vague memory of your wounded expression drifted into his tattered mind. He had forgotten that he had hurt you, and he wondered if that would make a difference now. Were your words just words? Empty promises to be abandoned as soon as you got stung?

The beast of addiction growled threateningly. If you abandoned him, it would take what it needed by any means necessary. Its survival was paramount.

Not a lot scared Dabi. But in that moment, the thought of him hurting you to feed his addiction made him almost turn around and go back to his room. Or leave the building all together. Anything to get himself away from you.

But his feet wouldn’t move. They were rooted into the ground, his body poised like a blood hound who’d caught a scent. The beast knew where the drugs were and wouldn’t let him leave.

Maybe he’d apologize. He hated apologizing; he never apologized for anything. But in this case, it’d be worth it, if only you’d open that little bottle to alleviate his suffering so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Shit, maybe he’d even mean it, if it meant seeing your smile again.

Just as Dabi was about to take his hands out of his pockets to knock on your door, a familiar grating voice cut through his mental fog like high beams on a dark road.

“You’re up late.” Shigaraki commented.

Dabi clenched his hand into a fist within the pocket of his sweatpants and turned to face the pale man staring at him in the hall with as much boredom as he could muster. “So are you.” Dabi replied.

“I’m always up late.” Shigaraki commented. He cocked his head to the side curiously, a glint in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Dabi couldn’t tell him. Wouldn’t tell him. It was none of his business. Anger bubbled in his chest, a raging dragon threatening to spew fire. He bit his cheek hard enough to draw blood, feeling a metal ring clink between his molars. The pain cleared his head, but only slightly.

“Nothing.” Dabi replied. “I was about to head downstairs for a drink.”

Shigaraki stared at him for a moment longer, his gaze calculated. Dabi knew he didn’t believe him, but he wouldn’t give him the luxury of confirming his suspicions. Finally, the hint of smirk turned the corner of Shigaraki’s chapped lips, and he began to turn to leave. “Make sure you wash your whiskey glass this time. I hate hearing Kurogiri complain in the morning before I have my coffee.”

As Dabi watched his back disappear into his room at the end of the hall, he let out the breath he was holding. He stood there a minute longer to make sure he was gone. It was the most he could handle before his hand, with a will of its own, knocked softly on your door – loud enough to hopefully wake you, but not loud enough that others could hear it.

No response greeted him, and Dabi stared at the door, his blue eyes burning holes into it in anger.

You had said you’d be there for him. Why didn’t you answer?

He resisted the urge to pound on your door, waking everyone in the process. Instead, he leaned his forehead against your door, desperation filling him like an overflowing cup. “Open the door.” He whispered, as if his words could reach you in your sleep. The phrase repeated, over and over, like a chant. “Open the door, open the door…”

Did you lock your door at night? Or could he just open it and walk in? What would he do then? Would he wake you up, or just take what he wanted?

Just as his hand was about to reach for the doorknob, he heard shuffling on the other side, and he watched as light spilled out from under your door into the hallway where his own feet waited like tree roots. Sweet relief filled him and he mentally thanked whatever God existed.

You opened the door a crack, eyes bleary as you rubbed the sleep out of them. Light flooded across Dabi’s features and he closed his eyes against the brightness, his arm going up defensively.

“Dabi?” you sleepily mumbled. “What are you-?”

“Kill the light.” Dabi gruffly demanded. His tongue felt dry and heavy.

You closed the door, so it was open just a crack, and he unshielded his bloodshot eyes in time to see the light in the room go out. A moment later, the door opened again, and you stood before him, dimly lit by the hallway, in a tank top and pajama pants.

Your grogginess had dissipated like fog on a windy day, you senses on high alert to the man in front of you. Dabi braced himself against your doorframe as if to keep from falling, his tall, lanky frame filling the space. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, which clung to him with sweat – he hadn’t even bothered to change it before seeking you out; you wondered if it even registered for him. His breath coated you, a staleness to it that was unmistakable and made you want to hold your breath.

Your pills must have worn off already, and he was quickly descending deep into the throes of withdrawal.

Without hesitation, you grabbed him by his hand, taking note of the hot clamminess of it, and pulled him into your room. As you closed the door behind you with a click, darkness fell like a blanket, and all you could see at first was the outline of his tall, black form as his ragged breaths rattled from his chest.

You guided him to the edge of your bed, pushing him down gently by his shoulders. “Just wait here.” You said softly, your words just above a whisper. You retreated to your bathroom and closed the door to keep the bathroom light from blasting into your room where he sat. Immediately, you grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the cold water of your faucet.

You weren’t in there long. You came out a moment later, leaving the light on and the door cracked to let some of the yellow glow filter into the room without being overwhelming; you needed to see what you were doing, after all.

You should have known better; as you made your way to Dabi, you realized he had your supply bag at his feet, your pill bottle in his hand. In your grogginess, you had forgotten that you kept your bag next to your bed, to keep it within reach in case of emergencies. Of course, he’d be tempted by it in his current state.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Dabi,” you warned. “Don’t.”

Dabi didn’t respond to you; his eyes stared at the bottle in his hand, his eyes reading over the name on them, realization rising slowly like a hazy dawn.

“These have your name on them.” Dabi stated.

“Dabi, give me the pills.” You ordered, your tone firm.

“Why do you have these?” Dabi asked. You knew the question was probably rhetorical – he was in no condition to really listen to your answer. Still, you bristled, the question too personal.

“Dabi. Give. Me. The. Pills.”

“I need them.” He replied, his grip tightening around the bottle.

You kneeled in front of him, and you got déjà vu of your visit in his room just a day prior. How quickly the addiction takes hold…

You placed a hand on his forearm, noting the texture of his scars under your fingers. “I know.” You said softly. “I’ll give you some. Just give me the bottle. Please.”

His grip tightened as your hand touched the lid of the bottle. “Trust me.” You whispered, trying to capture his downturned eyes with your own. His eyes finally caught yours, and you placed your other hand over his hot fingers and gently pried them open until he relinquished the plastic container. Once it was safely in your own hands, a breath of air escaped your lungs in relief.

You opened the bottle and handed him three pills. He stared at them.

“I need more.” He said.

Your heart throbbed painfully. “I can’t.” you replied.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” His eyes shot up to glare at you in betrayal.

“I have to make them last.” You replied.

“It’s not enough.” He said.

“I know.” You replied sympathetically. “Take these for now, and we’ll see how you feel in a little bit. We’ll keep a close eye on how long they last this time.”

You could tell he wasn’t satisfied with that, but he swallowed the pills anyway.

“Come on.” You said. “Let me change your bandages for you since you’re here. It’ll give the pills time to start working.”

Dabi didn’t have the will to fight you in that moment. His world was spinning, and his stomach was roiling against the drugs hitting his empty stomach. As if you could read his body like a book, a bottle of water magically appeared in his field of view.

“First, drink this.” You instructed. “And I have crackers I want you to eat.”

“I’ll drink the water, but to hell with your crackers.” Dabi grumbled.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, at least your personality is still intact…” you commented dryly.

You watched him like a hawk as he drank as much of the water as he could; about half of it remained. You wanted him to drink more, but you knew that his nausea was probably keeping him from finishing it. You really hoped he didn’t throw up the pills he just took; you had counted your pills and set a schedule. There was just enough to make sure you didn’t run out before your refills arrived in the next day or two.

Once you were sure he was done, you stuffed the pill bottle into the pocket of your pajamas. Dabi’s eyes followed your every movement. “We need to take off your shirt.” You said.

Dabi pulled the damp white tee over his head and letting it drop on the floor. Your pulse pounded shamefully in your ears; you couldn’t help it. Even with all that was going on, it felt surreal having him here on your bed of all places. You were still mad about what he had said earlier, but when he arrived on your doorstep looking two steps away from death, none of that mattered. You had promised him that you’d be there for him.

You watched him for a moment, taking in his shallow breaths and the way he gripped your comforter against the pain he was enduring. His suffering tortured you; all you wanted to do was to put your hands on him and pour your quirk into him, to caress the rings along his chest and follow your touch with gentle kisses… or to take his head into your arms and hold him close, to whisper that he’d be all right and you’d help him through this…

You pushed the ache away as you averted your eyes. No point in tormenting yourself over something that wasn’t even yours. Besides, right now certainly wasn’t the time for such thoughts. You had to let the drugs do the work… or at the very least, wait until he asked for you. He was vulnerable right now, not really in his right mind. He would go with anything you suggested, if it promised to alleviate his withdrawal. How would he feel later on once he got back to normal, knowing that you did things for him that he might not have normally wanted? Touching him outside of what he explicitly requested was a line you refused to cross.

“Lay down on your stomach.” You instructed.

He did as you asked without comment or complaint, his long body easily filling up the space, the bottom half of his legs hanging off the edge.

You placed the wet washcloth on the back of his neck, and a low, muffled groan fell from his parted lips into your comforter. You applied your quirk to his back before removing the bandages. It was supposed to still be active, lasting until late morning, but there was no way to be certain with his body reacting the way it was. You pushed a little extra into it, to make sure it would last a bit; he was already suffering enough as it was. You paused momentarily to see if he would ask for you to do more, but he never did; his eyes stared listlessly in the direction his head was turned, not really seeing; his body seemed to be in conservation mode. The bandages were starting to come off, losing their stickiness from his sickly sweating. They peeled off easily, like skin off a baked chicken. You scrunched up your nose as you threw the soiled items in the trash.

As you worked carefully, an odd silence filled the room, the kind that only seemed to exist late at night when all of the city was asleep. It was a time when noises were quieter, but shadows seemed louder. A time when everyday life felt muted while the ethereal danced in the streets, the streetlamps their spotlights.

Small sounds filled the silence. Dabi’s steady breaths, the shift of your body on your mattress as you reached for fresh bandages, the sound of paper tearing as you opened a new gauze patch.

You and Dabi were a liminal space, where neither of you lingered. It was a place of impermanence, a space to pass through, filled with brief visits without the intent to stay. Despite that, even now with all that had happened in the past 24 hours, it felt private… intimate. It filled you with an unspoken longing, a desire to capture the beauty of life’s fluidity like a painter captures a landscape. You wanted to take the impermanent and freeze it in time so you could appreciate its nuances in the shape of dark rugged scars and piercing blue eyes framed in wild hair. To be able to stare openly instead of stolen side glances, trying to catch a ghost in your peripheral vision. How did you end up being so drawn to him of all people?

His harsh words from the night before echoed through your mind, a rude reminder. You swallowed the lump in your throat. How cruel it was to be needed by someone but not wanted.

Despite that hurt, you knew wouldn’t abandon him; not like this. You had a responsibility.

“Dabi,” you whispered, checking the face of the man spread across your bed. His eye shifted to look at you, but he didn’t move. “You can get up now.”

Slowly, he sat up, and you handed him his shirt, the sweat on it cooled. You watched as he pulled it back on over his head, his back muscles rippling. A slight shiver passed over him as the damp shirt made contact with his sensitive skin. He paused for a moment, assessing himself. His body aches were lessened, and the nausea was milder. But it was still there, and his head still hurt. And the hunger… the hunger was there too.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

“Better.” He replied. A half-truth. Or was it a half-lie? But weren’t all half-truths just lies in disguise?

“Good.” You breathed with relief. “Do you want me to check on you in a few hours? Or do you want to come to me when you’re ready?”

Dabi turned to look at you, really seeing you for the first time since he arrived. You seemed so kind, so pure… so trusting. A guilt nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it.

“I’ll come to you.” He replied. “I’m gonna go lay down.” He admitted. Why did he feel the need to tell you that?

“Of course. Get some rest if you can.” You replied with a nod.

Dabi stared at you for a moment, taking in your patient face, trying to place the feeling within him. Or was it feelings? Some good, some bad…

His head hurt too much to sort it out. Without a word he left your room, you following him to the door to give him a small wave and a “goodnight” framed in a gentle smile. Something about it seemed off - were you sad?

It was his fault, but he couldn’t remember how. Memories were too heavy to hold right now. Rest. He needed rest.

As you closed the door behind him, Dabi put his hands in his pockets. He felt something in them that wasn’t supposed to be there, and he pulled his hand out to stare at the contents.

Three pills sat in his hands, the weight of them strangely heavy. Or was that the weight of his conscience?

How did he get these? He stared at them blankly.

He couldn’t remember.

But Dabi knew for certain you didn’t give them to him.

A voice in his head told him to turn around and give them back. To apologize for breaking your trust, for violating the fragile agreement you had both mentally signed.

But there was another voice. One that swam in his blood like demons and controlled his muscles.

More, more, more.

He swallowed the pills.

_________________________________________________________

Part 6

_____________________________________________________

Taglist: @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #soft dabi #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha #mha #TW: drug abuse #TW: drug addiction #tw: withdrawal #dabi is not in a good place #dabi is touya #dabi is a todoroki #touch #dabi touch #angst

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alexandenigtscreations · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Poisoning, Poison, Heist gone wrong, Peter Nureyev has ADHD, Rita defiantly has ADHD, Nonbinary Juno Steel, crime against crime itself, No Beta, we die like the friends of Sasha Wire, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, The Penumbra Podcast, TPP, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe Summary:

After Nureyev get's poisoned on a mission, he's determined to see it to it's completion. He and Juno make quite the team after all.

Chapter 2

Babe-" his brow knitted together as someone shook him gently. "Babe, time to wake up." The touch was so tender- and yet it set his head off hammering.

Nureyev groaned, hiding his face in the nook of Juno’s neck. A few more minutes in bed wouldn’t hurt.

“Come on Ransom, we’re home.” There was a hand running through his hair he leaned into the touch. Juno’s words caught up with his mind, we’re home. More importantly, they weren’t alone.

Nureyev’s eyes flew open and locked onto Jet, his expression unreadable. This was not their bedroom aboard the Carte Blanche, this was the hanger, the Ruby; and once again, he was making a scene in front of Jet. Confound it all.

He unfurled best he could, breath catching with the unexpected wave of nausea. His hand pressed to his corset front so that he nearly fell back into Juno.

“Babe?” Through the thick molasses of thought, Nureyev dragged his attention back to the Detective.

“Hmm?” His voice came small and weak, even to his own ears. Still he was determined to project some semblance of normalcy. He forced leadend limbs to extricate himself from the Ruby, Juno right behind.

“The Big Guy has something to say.” The Detective jerked his head towards Jet, his pearl earrings dancing in the light.

“Indeed-” he turned to Nureyev, an extra crease forming in his brow “First, are you alright Ransom? You do not look well.” the Ruby whistled as if in agreement.

Nureyev hummed “Nothing a little rest won’t help-” he rubbed absently at his throat, sure that bruises had made themselves visible. “What- were you going to say?”

“Buddy set the family meeting to take place in one hour's time.” Jet explained. “As we could not hear you during the mission, there are details we require about Mx. Balsa and-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah Big Guy, we know how the Family Meetings go by now.” Juno cut in hand on hip.

“I find it beneficial to go over procedures to ensure quality performance.”

“Okay, yeah. Guess that makes sense, but-”

There was an explosion that shook the entirety of the carte blanche, nearly toppling Nureyev. Half formed thoughts of security and debt collectors flashed through his mind.

Were they there? We're they coming for him?

Before they could so much as ask a question, Rita started to wail and Vespa cursed loudly from the direction of the kitchen. Jet excused himself and went to investigate leaving the pair alone with the Ruby.

“The hell was that?” Juno was tense, every muscle in his being straining towards the commotion. His goddess was ever the curious one. The scene was enough to make Nureyev smile.

“Oh go on Juno- she may require- your services.”

Juno’s head whipped back to face him, the pearl earrings flashing in the warm light. “But what about you?”

“Me? Why I’ll be fine- Detective.”

His eye was large, soft and unsure. He so wanted to check on his friend and yet, was plainly reluctant to leave Nureyev’s side

“But-”

“We can play doctor later. For now- go-”

That seemed to do the trick. He flushed prettily at that, “Well, if you’re sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” he turned and Nureyev could hear him muttering under his breath “Damnit Rita- If this is another one of your snacks I swear-” before disappearing from sight.

Fine, as it turned out, may have been an overstatement.

As soon as Juno left, he realized just how unwell he felt. He'd half a mind to call the Detective back, or call Vespa-

Vespa-

His head throbbed at the thought of having to see her in such a state. No, a good lie down should surface.

Nureyev wasn't sure how he'd managed to make it back to his room. He felt heavier and heavier with each foot fall, each movement becoming more of a labor. Pain flared at his core, tripping him up. He fell hard into the wall smacking his temple hard enough to see stars.

Get a grip on yourself, he chastised, frustration flashing bright and hot within. He hissed as his stomach lurched, acrid saliva rushing to pool in his mouth. Reflexively, he pressed a hand flat to his stomach, trying to breathe through it. Now he was just being foolish. All that he could do was will himself to not be sick.

Then where would you be- he shook himself glancing up. Still the corridor stretched out long and treacherous. Unyielding in it it's length and tedium.

There was nothing for it but to tredge on.

The closer he got to his room the greater the pain in his abdomen. He leaned on his door and put in the security code with shaking hands. Sweat trickling down his face, his back, plastering the finery to skin.

A fresh stab of pain slammed into Nureyev just as the door swooshed open. He toppled in, the world blurring in a dizzying kaleidoscope of color. It was as though he was in a Martian teleporter again, careening through space and matter, no discernable surroundings, just the fall. He flailed. An eternity later his knees hit hard into the sea of debris masking the floor.

What just happened? He was left to wonder, face pressed into a pile of clothes. Gasping, he attempted to pull himself upright but he couldn’t manage. It didn't make sense! Arms strong enough to scale a building should not feel so weak, so very hard to support- as though bone had been replaced with cast iron.

Nureyev shifted, trying again to sit, maybe get to his bed, his comms- pain ripped through him. This time he couldn't hold back the strangled yell as he convulsed around his middle.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind he realized he could die like this, and there would be nothing he could do.

He sent a silent apology to Juno.

"The Thief still isn't here-" growled Vespa.

"Yeah, I know." Said Juno. It wasn't like Nureyev to be late, especially to something scheduled by the Buddy Aurinko.

"So what could be taking him so damn long Steel."

"Well I'd say it's the sabotage plan Vespa, I hear those are pretty lengthy."

"Oh very funny!"

"Look, I know about as much as you do okay?" Juno shot back, irritation getting the better of him. Okay, so the man didn't give them a name, why the hell did they have to continue to gang up on him? "Last thing he told me before Rita's microwave mishap-"

"It said microwavable on the tin Boss!"

"Yes but you have to take it out before you- god, Okay, look, not the point! Ransom said he wasn't feeling well and wanted a nap before the meeting."

"You are thinking he fell asleep like he did in the Ruby." Jet added thoughtfully while Rita wove elaborate braids into his hair and trimmed away the singed ends.

"Mista Ransom ain't feeling well? You should give him a kiss and make him feel better Mista Steel. Oh! Like in Jovian Princess! Lights Out, where the beautiful princess is awakened from her slumber of a thousand years by the other princess from a warring kingdom! And-"

"Rita dear, you bring up a fine point." Buddy interjected smoothly, "Pete's not here and the only one who can tell us why is Pete. And seeing as he made up a significant part of the heist-"

Juno knew where this was going and was already half out of his seat "I'll get him."

"Thank you darling." Buddy smiled.

The door to Nureyev's room was, predictably, closed. Juno knocked "Babe? You in there?"

No reply.

Frowning he tried again "Babe?"

Nothing.

"I'm coming in."

The doors swooshed open to reveal the environmental hazard that was his boyfriend's room. The bed was empty, if you didn't count crumpled paper, and mounds of equipment and clothes. Hell, the man could use a few cleaning tips-

He spotted a molded plate of- something-

Or an encyclopedia...

He cast his eye about, trying to make sence of the "I-Spy" chaos of the room, before giving up to look elsewhere when he spotted a leg in the mess.

"Nureyev!" Juno couldn't help but call out fear spiking in his chest. The man was lying on his side, curled up around his middle, racked in tremors. Tangled in the mess around him enough to be camouflaged. "Nureyev! Hey, hey hey babe-'' he dove to his side, carefully rolling him up into his arms. He whimpered faintly, protesting the movement. "I'm here, what's wrong?"

Tenderly, Juno smoothed back the hair sticking to his clammy brow. Hell, why was he so cold?

"Ju-no-" normally, Juno loved the way Nureyev said his name. As though it were a damned love language all its own. But now it was a small broken thing as though he'd put all his strength into it. As though he were surprised Juno was there at all. He was looking at him with those eyes again, but the brightness was…. strange- glassy. It was taking him too long to focus. "Ju-no-" his chest stuttered "I- ugh-" he collapsed further in on himself, face contorting in pain. All this took seconds, but might as well have been an eternity.

"Nureyev! Come on babe, don't do that!" Juno's mind spun wildly. He wasn’t dealing with some mask now, not Rex Glass, or Duke Rose, not even Peter Ransom. No, this was Peter Nureyev striped bare- and he was in serious pain. The man keened in a way that was so very wrong for him. The sound was barely above a whisper yet cut Juno to his core.

“H-hurts-”

“I-I know babe, just- just give me a sec- Just-”

That's when he saw it, the odd discoloration of Nureyev's lips. He'd missed at first because of the faint pigment that clung to his features. His words of a few hours ago came floating back 'just a tad under the weather... something I drank…'

He had told him.

Hours ago.

He had told him hours ago and Juno had done nothing.

Steel you goddamned idiot! He scrambled for his comms, murmuring assurance to his thief as he went, trying to ease him back open. He couldn't squash the rising panic now.

"Steel, what the hell-"

"We need help! Vespa- please!" Nureyev stilled again, his chest working overtime, producing short, shallow bursts of air. Arm wrapped over the corsets front.

Goddamned it! His corset!

Juno swore loudly into the comms, tossing them down on speaker, "I went looking for him, and, Christ-" his hand slipped on a fastening, slicing deep into his palm. Why were these clasps so hard do undoo? "H-h-he's sick Vespa, really sick. Dammit I- I think he was poisoned-"

“Poisoned?” Even through the fear fogging his brain he could hear the scrape of chairs and pounding feet. “What do you mean by that Steel?”

“Poisoned! You know, when something gets into your body that isn’t supposed-” Nureyev’s hand closed around his wrist, shocking him out of the pointless rant. As if trying to stop Juno from undoing more of the fastenings. “It’s gotta come off babe-”

“Nn-no-” he choked out.

"You need to breathe Ransom-" he said, easily breaking his grip. That too was wrong but there wasn't time for that. Nureyev curled with each fastener undone, gasping and trembling. It was hard for Juno to not feel like the worst girlfriend in the Galaxy.

"Course I know what poisoning is!" Vespa snapped "what I don't know is how the hell did he manage to get himself poisoned."

At some point Nureyev had turned into Juno, a hand tangling in his shirt, the other clamped around his stomach as tightly as he could manage. The movements were odd clumsy things that lacked his usual precision, his grace.

He was quite then, an eerie silence that spoke of years of hidden spaces and dangerous places. Normally he'd be trying to be as useful to Vespa as possible, filling her in on the necessary details. But not now.

Juno hated that more than anything else.

"The mission. There was some sort of stupid test- a-a-and he told me not to drink it! Damnit it! He told me! I-I never even thought that he might of-"

“Cool it Steel.” Vespa cut in, not unkindly. “I’m getting the Med Bay setup. You gonna bring him to us, or should I send the gurney?”

Nureyev was long, lean and wiry. Not the easiest person to move around but Juno managed it before. Admittedly, those were more entertaining moments, but the presidents still stands.

“I’ll bring him.”

“Great. Move the thief, and I’ll be ready for you.” at any other time that may have sounded like a threat, but now it sounded like the most reassuring thing he’s ever heard.

All he had to do was move Nureyev, he could do that.

Juno glanced down at the man holding onto him like a lifeline, his face tucked into the popped collar of his coat. He hadn’t even taken it off. God-

Carefully, Juno shifted him, Nureyev hissed, pressing closer.

What was he supposed to do with that? Juno took a deep steading breath of his own, running his fingers through Nureyev’s damp locks in what he hoped to be a comforting manor.

“Okay babe, we’re going to have to move you” perhaps telling him would make it easier. He tried again, sweeping his arm behind his shoulders and lifting. Only for his foot to catch on the coat trane, he tripped shaking the nameless thief something fierce-

Nureyev cried out at the jostling- folding so that his gangly form nearly slipped through Juno's grasp. They just made it to the bed before his hold broke. The Thief spilled onto the unmade covers, holding his stomach, eyes squeezed shut. Breathing, just, breathing.

Juno knew that look. And Dammit he was the one that put that look there. After he swore to himself that he’d never hurt him again.

Nope, no, ugh-ah, no way in hell could he do this- He’d have to call for a stretcher after all.

“You comin some time this century, Steel?”

How long had they been there? “I- it’s hurting him.”

“Jesus Steel! Better pain than death!”

"But-" his brain caught up to his mouth, "yeah-" what the hell was wrong with him? He'd try again but first the coat had to go.

The Detective essed an arm over his shoulders before gathering the rest of the thief. Long limbs sitting strangely in the Lady's hold. There was a lot to manage, but manage, Juno did. It got easier after the hell scape of Nureyev's room.

Nureyev's head lolled against Juno's neck, as though he couldn't support its weight.

"Hang on babe." Juno wheezed "just- for me, please-"

His lungs were tight and his legs burned, his burden heavier with each step, but it hardly mattered, they were nearly there now-

"Vespa!" He shouted, he'd forgotten the comms, "I got him!"

"Bout damn time! A Rengian sea slug could of moved faster!" She said, all the same indicating the operating table.

Juno had to raise up on tip toe to clear Nureyev onto the bedding. The man fell away with a piteous groan, fingers digging into the ruined shirt front.

"I know Babe, I know- We are having you looked at though."

That didn't seem to calm him down, if anything he became more distressed. Tried to raise himself up, move his legs, only to collapse back.

"Babe- babe come on-"” at a loss, Juno cupped Nureyev’s face in one hand, while the other was planted firmly on the man’s chest, mirroring the frantic dance of his own crappy lungs. “Ransom- babe, you’re- okay now”

“Jun-no- I don' feel- well-” it looked like it was hard for him to say, and not just because the words came out heavily accented and slurred.

“I know babe, Vespa is on it.”

"Vess-pa?" He glanced over, eyes widening at the acid green.

"Yeah Ransom, it's me."

Was it his imagination? Or did Nureyev seem to recoil? Shrinking in on himself as though trying to protect vitals.

"Ransom, hey hey hey-" he tried to refocus him.

"Hold 'im steady, I need a blood sample."

"Rr-right." He said, pressing Nureyev back into the covers. The man offered no resistance and Juno was left anxiously thumbing his cheek while the deed was done.

Vespa pushed him out of the way after that, cursing at her inspection of the thief and kept barking questions Juno's direction like:

"When did he get poisoned?” and “How much did he take?” and “What symptoms did the thief present?”

There were only a few questions Juno was equipped to answer. The mounting unknowns were only adding to his pile of worry. God, if Nureyev dies because he wasn’t paying attention- dies because he hadn't watched him more? Or at the very least got him checked out after puking his guts out in an ally.

The man had been poisoned right in front of him and Juno hadn’t noticed.

The man had been poisoned right in front of him and hadn’t thought to tell Juno-

Juno couldn't help but wonder why?

Vespa cut away Nureyev's shirt, exposing the narrow muscled frame and the delicate criss cross of scars. The ones he didn't bother remove.

Weren't they partners?

She attached wireless monitors over his heart, his pulse points. Getting Juno to help clear away the rags.

Did he still not trust him?

There was more swearing as their resident doc looked at the blood readings, already plugging something into the system. Christ, he was useless with computers, but even he knew that heartbeat was weak.

He couldn't help feel as though he were useless to Nureyev too-

Then he noticed it- Nureyev's chest had stopped moving.

"Vespa!" He called out fear clawing at his insides. To her credit, she saw it right away.

"Goddamn it thief! I'm not done with you yet!" Rather than trying to get his lungs working again, she tore into her supplies with the care and ferocity of a sewer rabbit navigating it's tunnels. Everything remained impeccably organized, if a little man handled. The monitor started to sound urgently.

"There-" she said in triumph, holding out a large vial.

He couldn't understand what the big deal was-. Too preoccupied with the still form Infront of him. "Vespa, he's not-"

"It's liquid oxygen moron," she said, filling a syringe "this way we have time to intubate."

"Intubate?" That was- serious- hell, Juno had it done before and the weeks of respiratory therapy were enough of a deterrent to avoid a third encounter-

Well, as much as someone in his line of work could-

The needle was worked into Nureyev's arm, and the contents released. The monitor began to calm down, but Vespa didn't slow.

"You need to leave Steel." She growled. "Now."

He looked at her incredulous, how the hell did she think that he could leave at a time like this? He was about to say as much too when she elaborated

"You don't want to see this."

"But"

"I Said Out! I can't babysit you both!"

It might as well have been a knife to the gut. Juno took one glance more at Nureyev, frozen on the table, and walked out.

(Thank you for reading <3 Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated)

#Juno Steel #Peter Nureyev #TPP #the penumbra Podcast #junoverse #fanfic #my writing #my fanfic #see part 1 if you haven't XD #AlexandeNight #tw poision #hurt comfort #whump #hurt/comfort #tw negative self talk #tw needles #writing Nureyev's messy room was legitimatly painful #XD

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butgilinsky · 4 years

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angels & demons // rc

warning; angst, language, drugs, alcohol, alludes to violence but not graphic, basically everything that comes with rafe cameron, a toxic relationship

summary; y/n knows that rafe has demons, but for some reason she can’t pull herself away from him

word count; 1.8k+

i’m in no way trying to romanticize things that rafe does in the show, and i sure as hell don’t condone any of it. i’m not trying to romanticize toxic relationships or anything that comes w them, i just LOVE this song and it gives me rafe vibes soo.. idk i recommend listening to this song, it’s v good and this fic kind of reminds me of my dark writing style. if you’ve read my unfinished series rivals, it gives me those vibes a little.

based on angels & demons by jxdn

Two face, two face, yeah Black white, left right, yeah Up down, all night, yeah

the second they entered the house, rafe was ripped away from y/n. she rolled her eyes at the empty feeling in her hand, knowing that it would’ve happened sooner or later, despite the string of promises she received on the way to the house.

“baby, i’ll be by your side, i promise.”

the promise was empty, but most of the promises that rafe offered were. she’d fallen accustomed to the lies and the broken promises, barely batting an eye anymore.

so she linked her arm around her friend’s neck and smiled at the happy expression she received. the girl locked her arms around y/n and swayed from side to side, rambling about how she didn’t think she’d see y/n at all tonight.

the next time she saw rafe he was high, though that didn’t surprise her either. his arm wrapped around her abdomen, a soft kiss pressed to the back of her head before she leaned back and offered her lips to him.

“you smell like beer.” she commented softly, hearing him hum before disregarding the statement all together.

“i’ve had a lot.” he shrugged softly, the alcohol barely a factor in his behavior due to his tolerance. with the help of his height and his build, rafe had built a tolerance over the years. excessive drinking in high school had helped with that.

she turned back to her conversation, smiling drunkenly at the girl that had been talking to her for the past half hour before rafe tugged on her waist subtly. the girl that was talking wasn’t picking up on rafe’s sudden urge to leave, but y/n was painfully aware of it all.

“let’s go.” his lips pressed to the back of her ear, gripping her hip tighter when she didn’t respond right away.

she smiled at the girl again and told her she had to go since it was getting late, before turning and looking up at rafe who wore a dazed smile. she nudged him softly, hand falling in his before he pulled her through the crowd and out of the house.

Can't escape it ever Don't forget my name I don't feel the same On a trip, no train

rafe’s head fell backwards, his eyes screwed shut as he sighed out into the air above him. the breeze was cold against his searing skin, and his nose began to itch. it had only been a few lines, but it was enough to drown out the voice in his head, numbing the thoughts but not the ache in his chest.

his eyes locked on his girlfriend, just a few yards away from him talking to a boy he’d forgotten the name of due to the lack of interest in it. her eyes found rafe’s quickly, and it only took a clenched jaw from rafe to dismiss herself from the conversation.

she sent the boy a polite smile before stalking over to rafe, his hand reaching out for her when she was close enough. he pulled her into his lap easily, ignoring the fact that she definitely did not want to sit at the coke covered table.

her head fell on top of his, her cheek smushing to the side slightly while she let her mind drift off elsewhere. rafe was talking to somebody across the table but she wasn’t paying attention, absentmindedly bringing her cup to her lips to drown out the sounds.

“you alright?” she asked rafe after he’d gone quiet after a while, and he nodded shortly. “you look kind of out of it.”

“need another line.” he said simply, tapping the side of her thigh quickly.

she sighed but shuffled out of rafe’s lap at the silent command. she stayed close by, knowing she’d be sought out for if she wandered off, and it would ultimately cause more problems than not.

And all these angels and demons Keep shouting and screaming I'm falling from Eden

she knocked on the door quickly, bouncing on her feet impatiently while waiting for the door to swing open. when it finally did, topper threw his thumb over his shoulder and she slid through the doorway.

she jogged upstairs and around every corner, hearing the shouting all the way from the front door. the sight of her boyfriend pacing around the room filled her vision. he was tugging at his hair and mumbling incoherent thoughts while kelce stared at him in defeat.

“rafe.” both pair of eyes snapped up to meet hers, finally allowing her to see the tears running down rafe’s cheeks as he crashed.

he sighed softly, sending her an exhausted look before she walked over to him. she wrapped her arms around the boy, smiling at kelce when he excused himself out of the room to give the couple space.

y/n pulled rafe to sit on the bed, letting him lean into her fully and cry into her chest. she knew how it was when he came down from a high, especially when his high was meant to cover up a shitty day.

“i can’t stop thinking.” she sighed, trying to calm the boy, despite the constant ringing in his ears.

“i’m right here, baby. you’re okay.”

So fuck me like a rockstar Dancing on a cop car Nothing in the world can stop me now

“rafe, get down, right now!” rafe scoffed loudly at his girlfriend five feet below him, waving her off when topper reached up to hand him a freshly filled cup.

“dance with me, baby.” he bent his knees, nearing her height but still hovering over her. he held out his hand but she pushed it away quickly, glaring at him in the process.

“rafe you’re going to get arrested. you can’t sit in a jail cell while you’re high, baby, get down.” he rolled his eyes and stood back up, wearing a drunken smirk while he ignored his girlfriend’s pleas.

she watched for a moment longer before turning on her heels and storming off. she wasn’t going to sit around and watch rafe dig a hole from himself, though she seemed to be doing that for years at this point.

Fucked up like a rockstar Ridin' in a cop car No one in the world can help me now

she grabbed her card back from the woman across the desk, not even bothering to smile while she signed multiple papers. her head snapped at the sound of a husky voice she’d recognize anywhere, though this time it made her growl in anger.

“baby, i’m so sorry. thank you for coming-”

“i don’t want to hear it, rafe.” she handed the papers back to the woman and waited for the man to unlock rafe’s cuffs before she walked out of the station, rafe hot on her heels.

“y/n, please, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to fuck up again baby, i swear.” she stopped on the sidewalk, turning to face the boy as her anger practically seeped out of her.

“that’s the thing, rafe. you keep fucking your life up no matter how much i try to stop you. i can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped, rafe.” he looked down at his feet, the words he’d heard her say multiple times ringing between both of his ears. “just get in the car. you’re lucky they didn’t call your dad, rafe.”

Everybody said that I'm falling Took another line I'm calling I'm so sick of the nonsense I'mma dive into the mosh pit

“can you stop lecturing me for one fucking second?” his voice was loud and harsh, and would’ve knocked anyone else down a notch. fortunately for the girl in front of him, she’d grown to figure out how to stand her ground for the time being.

“i’m not lecturing you. i’m trying to help you, rafe-”

“well you’re not fucking helping! i’m sick of the bullshit, y/n. i’m sick of trying to make everyone happy, so just let me deal with my own shit.” she stood firm in her place on the sand, watching rafe stomp off.

she ignored the burning gazes on her, turning around and walking off of the beach. if rafe didn’t want her to bother him, then she would stop bothering him. so she left the boneyard, slipped into her car and drove away.

I don't really think I'm the problem I don't really think it's a problem Me plus me is a problem One gun shot could solve 'em

her back leaned against the door, her eyes trained on the carpet below her though she was painfully aware of the sobs that filled the room. she hadn’t spoken in almost an hour, listening to his string of apologies and excuses. one minute he didn’t think anything was wrong with him, and the next he claimed his world was crashing around him.

he fell to his knees in front of her, digging his face into her stomach and gripping her hips. she sighed softly, ignoring the single tear rolling down her cheek and dropped her hand on top of his head. she scratched at his scalp gently, hearing his sobs turn to sniffles.

“i’m so sorry.” he spoke softly, almost too soft for her to hear.

“i’ve hear that too many times, rafe.” he shook his head quickly, looking up at y/n with wide eyes that glistened from the sheen of tears that covered them. the moon that seeped through his window casted a beautiful light across his face, one that reminded her how she’d ended up in this messy love story.

“i mean it, y/n. i know i went too far this time and i’m sorry.”

she wanted to laugh. too far was an understatement. he’d committed, arguably, the worst crime known to man, and he called it ‘too far’. every day of her life before this one, she would’ve sworn that anything like that would’ve driven her away from a person, no matter her ties to them.

but somehow, the boy on his knees in front of her looked up at her with a look in his eyes that she couldn’t imagine never seeing again. she couldn’t imagine never waking up next to him, or never feeling his lips pressed against hers. she couldn’t imagine a life without rafe cameron, and part of her hated that.

unfortunately, she saw how rafe tried to rationalize his actions. she saw how deeply rooted his demons were, and she saw how his mind ticked in such a way that she’d never seen a person tick before. she knew his intentions were less than pure, but they were far from malicious.

“run away with me.” he looked up at her with such desperation, the thought of a life where the two of them could forget about everything around them bringing him a joy he hadn’t felt in years. “baby, let’s run away.”

she hated that that sounded like heaven to her.

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mysterioh · 4 years

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hello neighbor [ 1 / 10 ]

Pairing: Writer!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: Brooklyn Heights’ residential playboy has got his eye set out on the new girl across the hall. She’s got it all. The looks. A killer smile. A pretty laugh. Two cute kids……………..wait a second.

Taglist Open!

Masterlist

Bucky wakes slowly, blinkingly.

He slept a sleep that boasts of the bottled ruby red Burgundy sun, the whispered tune of slow jazz wafting in a dimly lit room, and her eager fingers running across his tailored suit.

There’s a smear of red hot lipstick on his pillow with traces of it marking his cheek. Sunshine pours into the room through the window. The curtains add an orange glow to the morning sun. Warm in its color; cool in its embrace. The songbird beckons with a lively song but the air in the dull-colored room is thick with sleep, emptiness, and her.

The slow rise and fall of her chest, naked against the white sheets. Bucky can hear her breaths, heavy and slow. He doesn’t need to turn over to picture her golden waves against sand-colored skin. The bed is enveloping, tempting, and teasing, but he slips out anyway.

He rubs the side of his cheek, smearing the red onto his fingers as he exits his room and goes straight to the Keurig. After making a cup for himself, he slides open the door to the tiny balcony of his apartment and steps out.

In an instant, the gentle summer sun warms his skin — like kisses from the divine.

Kisses from the divine.

That’s a good line, he thinks to himself and files it away for when he sits to write.

A chorus of birds dancing in the breeze drone out the dull sound of ongoing traffic while the strong aroma of breakfast reaches his nostrils all the way from the cafe across the street. Leaving his mouth watering at the smell of warm bread, scrambled eggs, and sizzling bacon.

Bucky leans against the railing, coffee mug in hand as he observes the start of the day for his neighbors. The owner of the corner store lifts the steel rolling door with ease while another shop owner pulls out a rack of clothes and tables of trinkets with eye-popping signs that denote some sort of sale when the prices weren’t really worth it. Children run by, hollering and teasing, heading towards the park and it’s like torture to his ears. Shrill and coarse. It ruins the delicate mood. He huffs while taking another sip of his coffee, hoping it’d help alleviate the pain.

Sadly enough, it’s run cold and to make it even worse Charlotte from the night before finds him in the solace of his balcony.

“Hey there,” she murmurs sleepily as she rests her chin on his shoulder. She’s wearing his shirt and he's trying to figure out who gave her the right to. “You left me all alone there,” she pouted.

Oh God, she’s a clingy one.

Bucky groans quietly, but she doesn’t notice.

“I had fun last night,” she whispered into his ear, seductively like she’s begging him for more

Bucky chuckled at her. Maybe five years ago it would’ve been a huge boost in his ego but now it’s just another lackluster compliment.

She slides her hand against his bare chest. “Come back to bed,” she cooed.

Bucky turns towards her with a sardonic smile.

“Listen, Amy,” he starts and her hopeful smile falls.

“It’s Nora,” she replied as if he cared.

“Whatever,” he lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, shaking his coffee cup. She stands straight, sleepiness gone in an instant. “I had fun last night, but that’s it. We’re done here,” he said flatly.

She’s left in shock, mouth ajar and eyes wide. He was blunt and straight to the point, and it threw her off.

“So, enjoy this cup of coffee,” he hands it to her, “while I go take a shower. And by the time I’m done, I better not see that pretty face of yours around here,” he ordered with a sweet smile. “You got that?”

She nodded dumbfounded and slightly ashamed.

“Good,” he walked inside, the sound of a moving truck rumbling down the street. “It was fun while it lasted. See ya.”

Bucky locks the door to his apartment before walking down the hall. He scrolls through his phone, searching for Sam’s number.

The elevator bell rings signaling the doors to open. He hears footsteps exiting the elevator and quickens his speed to make it in before it closes. Eyes glued to his phone, Bucky doesn’t notice a small pair of brown eyes watching him from the corner of the hall.

His little fingers were wrapped around the handles of the nerf gun. He aims his gun at Bucky walking down the hall, following his every step through the sight of the toy. Like a sniper ready to fire, he waits for the perfect moment to strike. Bucky pauses in the middle of the hallway to read something on his phone, giving the boy a perfect moment to take his shot.

He pumps his rocket blaster back and aims straight for the head. He shoots at Bucky and it hits him smack dab in the middle of his face.

“Haha!” the boy jumps out from the bend at the end of the hallway with the gun in his hand.

Bucky mutters a curse underneath his breath while rubbing his nose.

Oh, how he hated kids.

“What’s the matter with you?” he questions the boy. “Watch where you’re shooting that thing!”

The boy laughs with a smug grin. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going, grandpa!”

Grandpa? Who the hell is he calling grandpa?

“Don’t call me that,” Bucky snaps at the boy.

“Oh yeah and what are you gonna do about it?” he boldly asked.

“Ezra!” you shouted, stomping down the hall.

The color fades from the child’s face and his confidence begins to diminish quickly.

Bucky turns around to see who was calling and freezes the minute his eyes fell on you.

His world seems to slow down just a little as you walk towards them. Your sun-kissed skin shines under the dull lights of the hallway, rather distractingly. He’s caught in the wonder of your gentle features, the loose strands of hair that swept past your face, the crease in your lovely brows, and the down curve of your full lips.

Bucky remains still as you scold the boy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask him with your hands on your hips.

“Nothing,” Ezra shrugs innocently. You press your lips together and just stare at him. He doesn’t falter but instead flashes the sweetest face he could muster up.

You sigh, letting your hands drop, heart softening every time he blinks. You try your best to remain firm, but he knows he’s won.

You point down the hallway. “Inside now,” you order. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He nods and dashes down the hall.

You turn to look at Bucky and there’s a shine in your eyes that has him falling closer. One full of mystery and the expanse of the galaxy hidden within.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologize, taking a step closer. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Bucky smiles. “Kids will be kids, y’know? Just moved in?”

A smile stretches across your face. “Yeah,” you chuckled and it’s like a pretty melody to his ears. “Just down the hall. Apartment 216.”

“No way,” he exclaims. “That’s right across from mine.”

“Really?” you asked with twinkling eyes. Damn, she’s pretty. “Nice to meet you, neighbor,” you extended your hand.

His hand slips into yours immediately and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, too,” he replied calmly, despite his insides twisting by the touch of your hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

“Bucky?” you say with a bit of a chuckle. Your hand falls back to your side.

His cheeks blush a soft pink as his hand goes to scratch the back of his neck. He lets out an embarrassed, breathy laugh. “It’s just a nickname from when I was a kid. My name is James, but everyone calls me Bucky,” he explains.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend—”

“No, it’s totally fine, um?”

“Y/N,” you replied, “I have no nickname, so just Y/N.”

Bucky nods with a laugh.

“Sorry about Ezra again” you repeated, still feeling guilty, “he’s a bit of a troublemaker.”

Bucky shakes his head with a wave of the hand. “He’s a kid. What would you expect?” he says, although inwardly he wanted to repay the action. “I’m guessing he’s your brother?”

Your cheeks burn a bright red and bite the side of your lip. “Ah no,” you reply, “he’s my son.”

“What? He’s your son?” Bucky blurted. It only made the red hue of your cheeks darken.

“Is it really that hard to believe?” you questioned, with a slightly defensive tone and a scowl forming on your face.

“No, no!” he puts his hands up in front of his chest. “I was just—I mean you’re so young.”

The scowl on your face fades and an embarrassed smile appears in its place. Your blush is still a bright red. You shake your head with a chuckle.

“I’m not as young as I look,” you state.

“But you look great,” he exclaims.

Bucky screams inwardly. “Why did I just say that? Now she thinks I’m a creep!”

Bucky didn’t like to brag, but he was a bit of a Casanova of modern times. A “gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets” sort of man. Although the past ten minutes could have proven otherwise.

“Um, thank you,” you reply sheepishly.

“Hey Y/N!” a voice calls from behind Bucky.

Bucky turns his head to see a woman with brilliant red hair sticking her head out the door of your apartment. She has a box of books in her hand.

“Where do I put these?” she asks.

“Oh, just put them anywhere for now,” you chuckled with a shrug.

“I should let you unpack,” Bucky says, wanting to escape. “I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Oh no,” you assured. “It’s fine!” You take a step past him as if you were running from him.

Not like he wasn’t expecting that.

“It was nice meeting you again,” you wave, “hope you have a nice day!”

Bucky nods with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, you too.”

He turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. He pressed the button and waited silently for the doors to open. The metal doors slid open and he entered the elevator.

“If she has a son, that means she’s probably married.” he thought. He presses the main floor button and sighs.

“What a tragedy.”

The doors close as he leans against the wall. He can’t seem to get that pretty smile out of his mind.

“But I don’t see why that should stop me.” He ruminates on that thought for a while and wonders where that will take him. He shakes his head in refusal.

“What the hell, dude, you’re disgusting,” he mutters.

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#bucky barnes x reader #star's celebration challenge #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fluff #single parent au

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theoldaeroplane · 3 years

Text

HARDWIRED - 8. Wonders

CW: ethnic slur

April is in her truck. Her shirt is wet where she used it to dry herself off, because she was not given the chance to find a towel. She has that disgusting just-woken-up taste in her mouth. Shep sits in the passenger seat, his face pushed up against the glass.

April is in her truck, and Dell and his mother are in the apartment. She is in her truck and not in the apartment because Dell all but shoved her out, and she is not sure if she's grateful to be away from the howling bitch or angry that Dell evicted her and not his shrieking animal of a mother.

His mother.

It defies belief that Dell could be in any way related to that thing. The woman who had broken in and thrown water in April's face looked the part, at least, a stout white women with white hair dyed yellow and a Texas drawl to rival Dell's own.

April takes a brief moment to consider her actions, and decides she does not regret slamming this particular old woman into the wall.

She's thinking about slamming Dell into a wall, too.

---

The problem with April is that---it's a sour truth, Dell thinks---she simply doesn't understand about family. He doesn't fault her for it. The chance to learn was taken from her, and she's only found her blood in the last two years.

The fact of the matter is family's family, like it or not, and anyway he's got to do even more damage control.

So of course April barges back in, dog in hand, just as Dell's started to get his mother to lower her voice. The only good part of this is Shep goes straight to Janet Conagher with a wagging tail, the prior sins forgiven, because of course he remembers her: she was the one who appeared on Dell's doorstep with a puppy he had not known he would be receiving some seven years ago.

All eyes, of course, are on April. She stares them both down, and says: "I have to use the bathroom."

Then she's gone down the hall.

Janet turns her gaze on Dell, the dog's nuzzling gone ignored. "What a nice girl," she says, the words thin, sharp ice. "If you faked your death to spare me that, I'm almost grateful."

Dell's head is throbbing. It's only seven thirty. "I'm going to make us all some coffee," he says, getting up.

---

The fact there is now sugary, junked-up coffee in her hands is currently the only good thing that's happened to April today.

Dell and his mother are on the couch. April is trying to remember if she had seen this woman yesterday, either in that glimpse through the door or in the parking lot. She can't remember. They all looked the same.

Janet Conagher, ne Ringbacker, is currently ignoring her coffee in favor of glowering at the way the dog has stuck to April's side. "Dell, baby," she says, making a point of turning to him, and with the most saccharine voice imaginable, "make Sheppie come see me again. I missed him."

Dell exhales and April is given a flash of an apologetic look before he calls to the dog. It at last seems that April has one ally, though: Shep pricks his ears, but does not move. Dell gives up after a second half-hearted attempt. "Oh, for heaven's sake," says Janet, rolling her eyes. "Shep! Sheppie, baby boy, come see mama!"

Shep does not move. At most, his tail thumps the ground once as Janet's cajoling ratchets up. "Bad dog," Janet snaps, finally. "Stupid thing."

"Don't call him stupid," April says.

Janet acts as if she does not hear her. "Honestly, Dell," she carries on. "I said you should get him trained! He's a working dog. He's not meant to lie around the house. Why, keeping him cooped up in this little apartment all day, he must go mad."

Dell does not, this time, look to April. "Actually," he says, "Shep lives with April now. She's got a beautiful stretch of property---"

"Oh," Janet says, flat. "Until you find a new house. I see."

"Well, no. He's been with her about two years now. Don't see a reason to uproot him again."

"Because he's your dog," Janet says. "Two years! Don't be silly. I got him to keep you company! A man ought to have a dog. You shouldn't be so alone."

Even when she can tell she's kicking the hornet's nest, April can't stand by for much more of this. "Shep is our dog," she snaps. It feels good to say it, surprising her: it's the truth, but neither of them had ever bothered to articulate the specifics. It feels almost as good as the next thing that leaps from her mouth: "And I'm Dell's girlfriend, so he's not alone, either."

That's a word she had never thought she would apply to herself. She's still not sure it belongs on her, but it stabilizes her in the wake of the awful morning.

The way Janet's lips curl would put a lemon to shame, and it's the first thing to lift April's mood all morning. She cannot, however, help but glance Dell's way after she says it, unsure of what she is looking for. He is---as he always is, under pressure---wholly unreadable.

"Dell," Janet says, "is this true?"

"I'm happy to say she's right."

Dell may be unreadable, but something confused and thrilled twists in her stomach at the way he answers: like it's plain as day. It almost distracts her from the sudden, fat tears that well up in Janet's eyes, or at least it does until the bitch begins wailing.

April is so completely unfamiliar with this sort of crying that all she can do is stare. It's the kind of crying she would associate with the sudden death of a child, or the news that the world is ending. It's such an overblown reaction to what was said that she finds herself combing over it again, trying to figure out if something else had slipped past her notice. But, no: Janet starts carrying on exactly as if she's been slapped. Through the blubbering April can get snatches of what she's saying: highlights include might as well be dead and stealing my baby and awful redskin.

April has been called just about everything under the sun by this point, and the insult is more irritant than anything else. She does not expect much else from someone who woke her up screaming about her choice of bed. Dell, though, very carefully sets his coffee down and gets to his feet. The flash of flint in his eyes sets April's blood cold; the last time she saw that was when it was pointed at her, in Coldfront.

But it is not her he turns to. "Mom," he says, all calm, unyielding steel, and even Janet cuts short her howling. "If I hear that word come out of your mouth again, ever, you will go to your grave and never hear from me again. That is a promise."

The whole apartment is still.

"I was only," starts Janet.

"I think it's time you be headed out," Dell says, taking her coffee cup from her and placing it (delicate, firm) on the table. He takes her elbow, too, and April thinks he's a little less delicate and a little more firm when he pulls her to her feet. "And you're going to give my spare key back."

"I don't have it!"

"I know for a fact I locked that door last night."

"Well, maybe your girlfriend," and she sneers, and the light in the word that had come into it when April said it vanishes on Janet's tongue, "unlocked it after."

Nothing more comes from Dell. April watches, dumbfounded, as he not only marches his mother out the door but all the way out to her car; she stands on the threshold, hand tight in Shep's fur, and watches the two of them continue to argue right up until Janet finally climbs into her car and pulls away. The moment the car is out of sight she can see him sag.

---

The only thing Dell wants in the world is to go back to bed. Every step back to the door is leaden, and when he finally shuts it behind him something nags at him. "Gonna have to change the locks," he says, half to himself. "I know she took the damn key. Wouldn't be the first time."

The apartment is still silent. He looks up at last to see April standing by his small kitchen table, studying him like she's going to be quizzed in a moment. God, and he's got a lot that needs saying to her---

"No one's ever done that," she says.

"Huh?"

"No one's ever," and she breaks off, her brow a deep crease in her forehead. Dell fills in the blanks: no one's ever thrown water in my face, no one's ever screamed at me in bed, no one's ever called me a whore. He winces at each one. It makes the other half of the sentence all the more of a surprise. "I mean, I guess June kind of did once, but I think that was because I almost died."

This makes less sense than the rest. "What?"

"No one's ever stood up to someone for me like that," she says, gesturing helplessly, and she looks as surprised as he does.

Dell's heart was already weary with the night before, with the treatment of April by his own flesh and blood, and now it cracks. He checks the lock again, for all the good it will do, and crosses to her. His hands find her arms, warm and solid; all he can think to do is gather her close. It takes her a second, but she returns it, in time.

"I'm so sorry," he says, once, and then again. He's too tired to be angry that he's been put here, that April has been once again dealt a vicious hand and that she's so used to it that it was unexpected for him to defend her. That will come, he knows, but right now he's just---empty. "D'you want anything? Uh, breakfast? Or, the, the shower's---"

In his head he's anticipating her to brush him off, brush the whole thing off in her typical way of not reacting when someone has been monstrous to her; at best he's expecting that she might ask for his mother's head on a pike, and right now he's of a mind to grant her that. It's a startle, what she does ask for.

"Can we go back to bed?" she says by his ear, breath tickling the skin. "We can talk about it later. I think I just want to lay in bed with you."

Wonders never cease.

#hardwired #corgiwrites!#tias hardwired #HI SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE A LOT HAS BEEN HAPPENING

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Run! ~ KTH [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 5.8K

↬↬↬Genre: AU! Run!AU the events taking place are all fictional and I’ve taken some from the webtoon to bring a bit of back story into it for the characters. Hope you enjoy it sweetie. This takes place in the Run era and Webtoon world

↬↬↬WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, alcohol consumption, blood, and death

↬↬↬Pairing: Taehyung x Fem!reader

↬↬↬A/n: Really hope this is okay for you sweetie.

Taehyung had invited you to hang out with him and the rest of the boys so you didn't see why he was acting so weird all of a sudden, he was being really standoffish towards all of the boys and with you especially.

"What's wrong?" You asked when you finally got a minute alone with him, you'd all gone for a drive around the streets and somehow managed to end up in an abandoned empty pool. Taehyung was sitting on an old mattress holding up a photo of you all, you stared at it and smiled at the memories. You'd all gone to the beach after Jin came back from America and it was great, you'd missed all of them but you all sort of drifted apart when Jin left except you and Tae, you'd always been close since you lived right next door to one another in an apartment block.

"Remember when you ran into the ocean and you complained because your socks got wet?" You giggled looking at the image, Taehyung was staring at the side of your face debating telling you everything he thought about you. He'd had very strong feelings for you since you were teenagers but he would never admit it out of fear of losing you but over the years they'd grown stronger and having you this close to him now was making him want to spill his guts out to you but instead, he was coming across as hostile to try and push you out of his life.

"Nothings wrong." He pushed the photo into your hand and walked away from you sitting in front of one of the pool walls while you watched him, there was something seriously wrong with him and it was starting to bug you. Namjoon's hair was the first thing you noticed when he came to stand with you, it was a bright pink colour with an undercut and it looked great on him,

"Joonie...Has he said anything to you about why he's so-"

"Temperamental?" You nodded at his use of the word and he sat down beside you while you both stared at Tae, he was looking anywhere but over at you both. Whenever he saw you close with the other boys he grew angry wanting them to leave you alone so he could have you to himself.

"No, he seems fine to me. Maybe it's because you're moving soon?" You hummed looking down at the picture, you were leaving to go to university so it meant no more days like this together for a long time.

"I just wish he'd tell me instead of pushing me away and making me feel like shit," Before Namjoon could talk to you Jungkook screamed about going back to Jin's place for a party you looked at Namjoon and he shrugged his shoulders helping you up off the mattress and you all began walking to the car. You stayed a couple of steps behind so you could walk with Taehyung but he put his hood up and shoved passed your shoulder marching to the front with Jin.

"I called shotgun," Jimin pouted when you all reached the car, it was odd Taehyung was normally the first to offer to sit in the trunk of Jin's boot with you and look up at the sky while you drove.

"Come sit with me Jimin, I have an extra blanket." You offered but he stared at Taehyung expecting him to go with you but when he didn't Jimin jumped into the back beside you.

"We need refreshments so stop at Joonie's station," You told Jin through the small window and he agreed, starting his engine and starting the long drive back to the city.

By the time you reached the gas station where Namjoon worked Jimin was asleep with his head resting on your shoulder so you gave Namjoon your card to get you all drinks while the rest of the boys all filed into the small shop to find snacks leaving you alone in the truck with a sleeping Jimin and a moody Taehyung who was staring out of the window with his hood up.

"You look like an angsty teen Tae," You giggled trying to lighten the mood up a bit but he was having none of it, he shot his head around and gave you a glare only it softened when he noticed that he'd upset you by doing so.

"What did I do to piss you off so much?!" You yelled waking up Jimin, he rubbed his eyes and saw that you and Taehyung were fighting so he tried to get out of the truck as slyly as possible but Tae beat him to it walking down the street so you chased off after him.

"Seriously?! You're going to walk the next 24 miles home?!" You asked him grabbing onto the leather sleeve of his jacket but he shoved you away from him telling you to back off.

"Tae!" You yelled at him and he froze hearing you raise your voice, you never did it and he knew it was because your father was always yelling and screaming at you and you'd sworn never to do it,

"What have I done?! Is it because I'm leaving because I won't be gone that long...My course is a year or two at the most." He kicked the stones down by his feet and shook his head at you,

"It's not the university." You stepped closer to him holding onto his wrist and silently begging him to tell you what was going on in his head.

"I- I just, there's something I have to tell you but you can't tell the boys," You nodded telling him he could always telling you anything that was troubling him. He took your hand in his ready to tell you everything when Jin pulled up at the side of you and he dropped your hand.

"Get in, it's freezing." You both jumped into the back of the truck since it was the only free space now and he pulled the blanket over your body not wanting you to get cold while you drove home in the middle of the night.

"Tell me." You whispered to him but he pointed up at the open window and you nodded asking him to tell you later instead. You laid your head down on his shoulder while Jin drove, it was a natural thing between you to by now but it still made Tae's head spin and sent his stomach into a frenzy of somersaults.

Spray paint decorated the walls of Jin's apartment since you all regularly partied there - most of the designs on the wall were from Tae since he was the artistically talented one of the friend group - it annoyed you at first whenever they would spray paint the walls but Jin assured you that he wasn't bothered since it was his father paying for the place anyway.

"Drinks!" Jimin cried out going over to the kitchen and pouring everyone something to drink while Yoongi made his way over to the speakers to put on some music for you all to get into the party mood for. Joonie's pink hair caught your eye and you looked over to see him and Taehyung pinning Jin to a wall before spraying around his body online and putting a cross over him making you giggle,

"LOUDER!" You cried out for Yoongi to really blast out the music before joining Hoseok to get a drink from Jimin.

Jin grabbed a video camera filming things happening in the apartment and you giggled as you started dancing with Jimin swinging your hips back against his in time to the music,

"Jimin?!" You both turned to see Taehyung starting at you angrily and you froze not knowing what to do Taehyung had never looked at you that way before but Jimin pushed himself away from you and you pushed yourself against Taehyung, already feeling the effects of five drinks.

"Tae dance with me." You begged him but he grunted pulling you out of the apartment to get you some fresh air,

"You need to work on your tolerance." He chuckled as you walked in front of him.

"You need to work on your mood swings." You shot back at him as you walked over a large bridge that connected Jin's apartment block to another one,

"Y/n I'm sorry." You stared back at him and shook your head, you were still waiting for answers from him.

"Tell me now, we're alone so just tell me what's bothering you." He walked closer to you as you got to the end of the bridge, he walked you down to the river bank and you sat on the wall looking at the water.

"It's nothing really, I'm just really bothered about you leaving I guess. We just got everyone back together," It was only part of a lie but you knew right away it wasn't that that was bothering him,

"You said it wasn't me going away earlier so tell me the truth." You put your hand on top of his and he tensed up at the sparks shooting from the simple touch and you looked at him.

"I like you, I like you a lot y/n." You blinked at him not knowing how to respond to him, you'd seen it in all of the movies when the crushes would finally admit their feelings but you were brain fried. Nothing was working and all you knew what to do was lean in and kiss him passionately, he smiled against your lips knowing this meant you felt the same way and his hands worked into your hair pulling you closer to him as you made out in front of the river.

When you got back to the party everything was quiet, the music was off and there was blood on the stairs where Yoongi was sitting and holding a bag of frozen peas to lip while Jungkook was holding a bag on his knuckles,

"Don't ask." Muttered Jin as he went on the hunt for a first aid kit,

"I'll take Y/n home," Taehyung said as he noticed the party was going to continue anymore, you only lived a short walk from Jin's place and he walked you both out of the apartment complex telling Tae to text him when you both got home safe.

"Can I stay at yours tonight?" You questioned as you walked back to your apartment hand in hand, Taehyung thought about it for a moment trying to come up with some kind of excuse for why you couldn't but you could read him like a book.

"Is your dad drinking again?" He nodded slowly and you looked at his hands, he was starting to shake at the anger he had for his father.

"Well, we'll take your sister to mine and then we'll have a big sleepover like we used to." He agreed with you finding comfort in being away from his dad for one night but he knew it was only going to get harder when you left for college.

"She'll be locked in my room so when we go in be quiet." You knew the rules of sneaking around Taehyung's house after his dad had been drinking all day it was nothing new to either of you.

"You grab her and I'll get her things." You whispered as you entered through the apartment door, the lights were all off and there were empty glass bottles of Soju and beer everywhere so you knew the man was wasted by now or passed out in the apartment somewhere.

As Taehyung came back into the living room he glanced at you and you told him you were fine,

"Take her to mine and I'll get her things," Her room was right behind Taehyung's dad so you were doing your best to sneak through when a glass bottle slipped from the table and smashed onto the floor alerting him that someone was in the apartment.

"You!" He screamed getting up from the sofa making you back up a little but you knew there was only wall behind you until you got to Taehyung's sisters door,

"Mr Kim. It's just me, Y/n." You were shaking as you tried to tell him it was you but he was too drunk and in a rage to see sense.

"YOU FUCKING LEFT US!" He screamed out slapping you across the face sending you stumbling backwards into the wall, Taehyung was standing in the door when he heard you scream and everything just sort of morphed together as you heard him yelling then his dad was pushed against the wall beside you.

"TAE!" You cried out as he took a broken bottle and began hitting his father in the stomach with it repeatedly, you tried to cry out and make him stop but he was in a blind rage that someone had even touched you like that and he couldn't think straight. He'd finally snapped and had enough of his dad hitting him, his sister and now you. The person he loved the most in the world.

"Taehyung!" You cried out and he stumbled backwards dropping the broken glass onto the floor and watching as his dad's body slumped down onto the floor in front of you both. The room fell silent and all that could be heard was Taehyung's panting as he realised what he had just done, he raised his hands to his face and ran them through his hair.

"Shit." You whispered as you heard the sirens coming from down the road, you rushed into Taehyung's bedroom grabbing his passport and then coming back out and finding him still staring at his hands in silence staring at the blood that had coated them.

"Tae, with me now." You cried out and he stood up following you out of the apartment and down towards the garages where no one ever went because they were 'scary' at night. You lifted up the door to yours and sat Taehyung inside handing him a bottle of water you'd grabbed from the apartment and he stared at his hands.

"Tae. Don't move okay, I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Don't move." He said nothing and you rushed out of the garage pulling the door down and locking it from the outside so you could get back in and Taehyung couldn't get out just yet.

You walked up to your apartment telling his sister that his dad was being taken away by the police and she was confused as to what was happening,

"Just stay here and if anyone asks you haven't seen us okay?" She nodded as you walked around your apartment hunting for things,

"What are you looking for?" She was 17 and wasn't stupid so she knew that something had happened in that apartment but if you told her that her dad was never going to be able to hit her again then she didn't care.

"I need my phone, charger, passport and money." She rushed around your bedroom knowing where everything was since she was always there and you smiled at her,

"It'll all be okay." You promised and she hugged you telling you to take care of Taehyung and you knew in that moment she knew something awful had happened but you would never be able to explain what had happened to anyone. You didn't even want to remember what had happened in that apartment but it was going to be forever sketched into the back of your mind,

"Wait-" You stopped still when you noticed a police man going towards the apartment next door and once he went inside you walked down the staircase and out into the street sprinting in the direction of Jin's apartment.

"I need your truck keys." You ordered as he opened the door, he frowned at the sight of you. You were drenched in sweat and carrying a huge bag as you pushed your way into the apartment, you were shoving food and water into the bag when he handed you the keys without questioning anything. You rushed into his room next grabbing clothes and throwing them into the bag, you couldn't stay in yours and you knew you were going to have to find a way to burn Taehyung's.

"I'll bring it back soon. My mums keys are in her top drawer at my place, go there tomorrow for her car if you need it." He tried to question you on everything as he followed you down to where he had parked the truck but he didn't know where to start, you checked inside the car to make sure the blankets and pillows were all there.

"Do you still have all that old camping equipment in the back?" You asked not waiting for an answer and going to check the hatches in the truck boot everything was inside.

"Will you slow down?!" You stared at him and he looked back at you only not noticing the blood on your white shirt and on your face.

"What happened-"

"I can't explain. Just- You never saw us." He watched as you jumped into his truck before speeding off back in the direction of your apartment, he rushed into his trying to call you but you sent his number to voicemail not knowing how much time you had until the police were swarming the apartment complex looking for you both.

"Taehyung! Move!" You whispered to him but he was in a state of shock and he wasn't even aware of anything happening around him until you forced him into the back of the car laying him down on the seats.

"How did you wash your hands?" You asked looking at his now clean hands and he pointed over at the empty water bottle and you nodded at him getting into the driver's seat and leaving the scene.

Taehyung was staring at you as you got out of the truck, you'd been driving for the last four hours and it was still pitch black outside but you were right on the edge of town in the middle of the woods. Nothing around for miles except an old abandoned house that you and the boys found one day when you went for a road trip, no one knew it even existed since it was all out in the middle of nowhere. You walked around to Taehyung's side of the car and helped him out grabbing the bag from the boot and then taking him into the house.

"Sit." You told him as you threw down the bag onto an old mattress which was on the floor, you remembered bringing it up one summer when you all came out here for a party together. Just to get away from everything at home but you never thought you'd be back like this,

"Take your clothes off." You mumbled to him as you handed him some of Jin's clothes but he just stared at them as you started to strip out of your clothes he didn't even look up at you.

"Tae?" You questioned shaking his shoulder and he stared up into your eyes his were filled with tears as reality came crashing back to him over what had just happened and where he was now. You tugged his shirt off him and added a clean black one over his shoulders before telling him to change into the black jeans.

"Can you get my purse from the bag?" He did as you asked and watched as you struck a match lighting up some paper in the fireplace that was in the house. You began throwing the bloody clothes onto the fire and he stared at you as he sat back down on the mattress,

"Aren't you scared of me?" You heard him finally speak and you slowly turned around to look him in the eyes, he was crying as he realised what had happened and he'd just killed someone and you moved closer to him the warmth of the fire hitting you even from far away.

"You did what you had to do Tae, it was self defence." He shrugged his shoulders,

"I just hope the police see it that way when I go to them." You shook your head at him,

"T-Tae no, you can't go to them, we can't go back there. We keep driving and driving until we can't drive anymore." You took hold of his hand and he stared at the way you interlocked your fingers.

"I killed my dad-"

"And I covered it up, we're both criminals now." He swallowed the lump that was in his throat and you knew it was getting late now,

"We need some sleep before we start driving tomorrow night. Get some rest." You laid him down on the mattress and he pulled you down to lay in front of him. Neither of you spoke but neither of you were asleep,

"Why did you help me?" He questioned out of the blue and you looked down at his arms that were wrapped around your waist,

"I love you...You did what you did to protect me Tae and I'll do what I have to to protect you." He hummed and you snuggled back against him hoping he would fall asleep soon.

Stirring woke you up at first and then came the yelling in his sleep,

"Tae." You grumbled trying to shake him awake but it was no use, it had been a month since you went on the run and so far there was no information about the murder being connected to you both but you didn't want to risk going back yet. Taehyung was having vivid nightmares though he would never tell you what any of them were about it wasn't that hard to guess when he would yell out your name before crying in his sleep.

"Y/n?!" You pulled him against your chest as he cried out about another nightmare, you had hoped they would calm down but they hadn't yet.

"We have to go back." He whispered to you but you shook your head telling him there was no going back now, whatever was back there was gone.

"Jin will want his truck back soon." You knew Jin was after his truck, he'd been leaving you countless voice messages full of questions and concerns for you both the last one was still playing over in your head.

''We know what happened, come back so we can help you.'' Taehyung had heard the message and was convinced that they would help you but all of you were in your early 20's what could you possibly even do to get away with a murder except run.

"Maybe if we go and see them..." You looked at Taehyung knowing he missed them but he was missing his sister more. You'd been getting regular updates from her about what was happening, the police had no leads and you were off the suspect list since her and Jin had come together to say you had left at 10 that night to go on a romantic getaway

"We go, we see them and we leave." You told him as you loaded up the car, you'd been driving around for the last month and you were in desperate need of a shower that wasn't in a crummy small gas station with no hot water.

"We can restock on supplies while we're out." You nodded at him and began the long drive back to the boys. Calling Jin and telling him to meet you out at the abandoned pool with supplies and Taehyung's sister deciding it was the safest bet for you both.

"Tae Tae!" His sister screamed wrapping her arms around her brother as soon as she came in sight of him, he bent down hugging her tightly while Jin came over to you.

"Where are the boys?" You whispered taking the bags of clothes he was giving you,

"I told them not to come, it's best they're not connected. Here." He handed you a large brown envelope and you looked inside to see fake passports and a bunch of money inside. There had to be around 6 grand in there and he handed you a black credit card,

"For when you get to America. There's tickets in the bottom, you're a newly wedded couple going on a honeymoon." You shook your head at him,

"Jin Tae wants to come back, we're safe the police don't think we're-"

"The police haven't told anyone anything but I know they think it's you guys, you have to get him out of Korea." You looked over at Taehyung who was still hugging his sister and then you noticed Jin had suitcases behind him.

"There's more money and clothes inside to keep you both going and to make the wedding seem believable." He slipped a diamond ring onto your finger while you were still trying to process everything he was saying to you,

"You have to talk to Tae, he won't listen to me if I tell him." There were faint sirens in the distance making you flinch and look around, Taehyung stared over at Jin and you took his sister away to talk to her about anything else except this.

The airport was rammed full with people all getting ready to leave on their holidays while you and Tae walked through hand in hand and carrying bags behind you.

"You okay?" You questioned as you noticed him frantically looking around,

"I feel like we're being watched." You were in an airport the furthest away from Seoul as you could get there was no real reason why he should feel like he was being watched but once he said it you began to notice it too it felt like eyes were burning into the side of your head. That was when you really took a look around and noticed that none of the people going on holiday looked like they were going on holiday, they were just walking around aimlessly trying to look busy.

"Tae." You whispered as you reached the gate of your flight,

"It's a setup." You whispered again as you got to the flight attendant who looked uneasy and nervous about having to talk to you.

"FREEZE! You're surrounded! Don't make any sudden movements, Kim Taehyung you're under the arrest for the murder of Mr Kim. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law! Do I make myself clear?!" He held his hands up and nodded as he got down onto his knees holding his hands behind his head but you frowned.

"No! He didn't do anything wrong! This isn't his fault!" You cried out and then guns were aimed at you, people who were really at the airport for holidays screamed out in terror and you shook your head.

"He was defending me!" A gun shot rang through the air sending the airport into a massive frenzy people rushing around trying to leave when an office tackled Taehyung to the floor.

"Don't touch him!" You screamed out but another shot rang through the air and you let out an banshee like scream.

"Tae! Tae!?" You whimpered as you felt the warm blood leaking from your side, Taehyung elbowed the officer in the face when he noticed the blood on the white shirt you were wearing.

"Y/n! Y/n!" The officer let him go when he rushed over to your side holding you close to him and putting pressure on your right side where the bullet had hit you.

"What happned?!" You held your hand over the blood as you questioned him and he shook his head at you,

"You got shot baby, it's okay. It's okay! GET A FUCKING AMBULANCE!" An officer came closer to try and arrest Taehyung but he shook his head,

"I will go with you when she's fucking safe!" You gripped onto his arm as a pain rushed through your body making you whimper out his name,

"Don't shout baby, you'll be fine. You did it to protect me, self-defence." You reminded him and he sat down on the floor holding you close to him to keep the pressure on the wound.

"Am I okay?" You questioned as you started to feel dizzy,

"You're okay baby, you're okay! AMBULANCE! PLEASE!" He begged and the same officer who had shot you was calling an ambulance to the scene. A second officer took off his jacket and laid it down on the floor so Taehyung could lay you down and he was sobbing,

"Taehyung you have to go with us." You gripped onto his hand as the shaking began to happen, you were getting colder by the second.

"I'm cold Tae, hold me." You begged him and he looked at the officer pleading with him to stay by your side until he knew you were going to get taken care of.

"We'll look after her-"

"YOU SHOT HER!" He yelled out making you flinch as you felt him moving too quickly, you hissed as he touched the wound that was still leaking blood out.

"I called you! I told you where we would be and to arrest me! You didn't have to shot her!" You frowned not processing everything but just that he was the one that had turned himself in to the cops,

"You did this?" You whispered feeling tired, your words were slurring and Taehyung looked down at you.

"I did it for us, baby, I did it so we wouldn't have to keep running." You were starting to gasp for air when Taehyung screamed for the ambulance to hurry up,

"They're getting here as fast as they can." The officer who was talking with Taehyung said and Tae gripped you tightly.

"I want to go home Tae." You whispered looking up at him as he looked down at you nodding frantically,

"We'll go home, I know. We'll go home and we'll be okay." He told you as he held you in his arms, craddling your head in his arms as you stared up at him. You were no longer shaking from the cold it was numb to you now, it was as if you couldn't feel the wound anymore either.

"I want to go home," Your eyes were rolling backwards and he gripped your face in his hands not caring that he was getting your blood on you.

"Look me in the eyes, look me in the eyes Y/n." You stared at him trying to keep your eyes open but it was a losing battle as you whimpered out before coughing up blood,

"No, no, no baby, No." He groaned as you spat the blood out beside you,

"That's a lot of blood." You slurred and he shook his head at you,

"You're going to be fine Y/n, okay. I'll get you home. I'll take you home, let's go home." You nodded at him and he cradled you in his arms.

"We can go home." You repeated back to him and he pulled you closer trying to keep you warm when your eyes rolled backwards.

"No, Hey! No!" He started rocking you back and forth in his arms as he cried out for the ambulance to get there to you.

If you don’t want a happy ending stop here ;)

Taehyung stared down at you in the hospital bed as the beeping of your heart filled the room, you'd been hooked up to the machine for the last four months and you hadn't shown any sign of improvements.

"You need to go home and shower," Hoseok said when he came in to take over Taehyung's shift of watching over you. They were all taking it in turns to watch you in case something happened,

"What if she wakes up..."

"Then go and shower in the nurse's lounge, they already told you that you could." Hoseok sat down where Taehyung had been sitting and Tae kissed the top of your head going to find the nurse and ask where he was supposed to go.

"You've got to wake up you know, he's going insane and I think you're the only one that can convince him to shower properly." Hoseok joked as you laid there, he sighed going back to his phone.

The machine began to beep quicker than usual and Hoseok lifted his head up to see you stirring in your sleep, trying to rub your eyes but the IV drip was stopping you from moving your arms.

"Y/n?!" He asked and you turned to look at him squinting due to the bright light in the room and he rang the nurse's bell to get their attention.

"H-Hobi? Where's Tae?!" Your voice was coming out hoarse as you begged for answers but nurses were rushing into the room shoving him out.

"Where's Taehyung?!" You screamed but no one was answering your questions they were too busy trying to assess you and note everything done about you. Taehyung was standing in front of Hoseok in a pair of sweatpants and a top, his hair drenched.

"She woke up?!" You looked through the window as you heard his voice and you begged the nurses to leave you alone and that you were fine.

"Tae?!" He sprinted into the room cupping your face and looking at you to make sure he wasn't dreaming,

"What happened?! How are you here?! Why aren't you in prison?!" He chuckled as you fired of questions for him and he sat down in the chair next to you going on to explain everything.

"You had a trail?" He nodded and sighed taking your hand in his,

"I was supposed to hand myself in to get less of a sentence and we proved it was self-defence, my sister took the stand to speak about what he used to do to us and a neighbour took to the stand to tell them about it as well...Witnesses came forward to talk about how nice we both were when we were on the run and it lowered the charges. I was charged with running from a crime scene as well as tampering with evidence but I got away with a month community service once they played the footage of us in the airport." Your side hurt at the thought of the airport again and he sighed kissed your hand gently.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you to open your eyes." He whispered kissing your forehead and then your hand again,

"Four months is a long time." You joked laying your head down on his shoulder, he smiled softly for the first time in months truly happy that you were awake and by his side once again.

"I love you." He whispered to you as you linked fingers together,

"I love you too." You repeated back to him.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @chimchims-stories-and-tales @fan-ati--c @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @btsiguess-kpop @rjsmochii

(If you want to be added or removed from the tagline let me know)

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sweetwatersong · 3 years

Text

take up the torch rating: g characters: Natasha Romanoff & Clint Barton warnings: none

The red in her ledger is spread out across a hundred books, tucked into a thousand poems. The truth of her past is broken into fragments to make sure in her next life she remembers. To make sure she is ready.

In the snow, in the quiet, one librarian has gathered them all. It's time to wake up again

AO3 link

She stands poised on the edge of the sidewalk, fingers cold where they are gripped around her phone. The text from her roommate apologizing for leaving her stranded in the sudden storm hangs unread on her lock screen.

"God damn it." Her lips bite off the edges of the words cleanly, precise like scalpels, shining and steel like surgical tools. She cannot control the storm, cannot control the roads, but she can control this much. She's always been good at controlling herself.

The librarian stays tucked into the entryway, shoulders braced under his dark jacket, while the wind scatters drifts higher than her knees across the parking lot and the bus stop that will be empty for hours to come.

"Come back inside," he tells her when the snowflakes begin to catch in the curls of her red hair, collecting and running like ice down the nape of her neck.

Slowly, flushed with anger and dismay, she does.

“These look interesting." She surveys the books piled up on the librarian's desk, his hands caressing each like an old friend. Her interest had been piqued by the age of the volumes and their variety. If there was a pattern she couldn't guess it off-hand; it seemed a jumble of titles and subjects that can have no possible connection. Budapest, Children's and Household Tales, The Art of Dramatic Writing. Her own hands are small on the bindings as she glances through them, hovering over surnames and covers with care but not recognition. “Why do you have them?”

"Because they have something in common,” he replies quietly. There's an air of expectation that makes the skin between her shoulder blades prickle. "Since we’ve got time to kill until the snowplows can dig out my car, why don’t you see if you can figure it out?”

"Is that a challenge?" She asks him, amused and intrigued all at once. The tea cup sitting beside her, the grad school homework tucked into her backpack, the slouch of his knit sweater; there is something comforting about them, how they are a solid presence in a world where nor'easters can spin up in minutes, can sweep in from thin air.

He raises a single eyebrow, his answer clear in the quirk of his lips.

Of course.

She considers the stacks, weighing Russian Fairy Tales in her hand as the reassuring air of the library wraps itself around her shoulders and warms her, grounds her.

There are worst ways to pass a few hours, and besides. This feels familiar, this feels expected, like she's been waiting for this all of her twenty-six years of life. It doesn't make sense, but it does, and she opens the first book to its title page.

"Clint," she gasps, the word a stone and anchor on her tongue even as her fingers dig into the desk. There are hands on hers, gripping her wrists, keeping her upright, but as soon as she opens her eyes the librarian pulls away and steps back, holding his hands out to show he means her no harm.

Natasha chokes on a throat gone dry with winter's cold, swallows a laugh too bitter and weak to be let out, because it's Clint. There's never been a life in which he truly meant her harm, and if he ever did he would need to catch her at a worse point than remembering her oath to the Torch. Remembering her life - lives - life?

It's too much, the memories swirling and jostling in the eaves of her mind for space, for order. She drags her focus onto the books scattered in front of her, staring desperately at the black and white print as her mind struggles to contain itself. Herself. Her. It's always been her. All of this is her.

Like the snow falling outside everything finally settles, soft and quiet, as the memories imprinted in the book fall into place.

"Did you find yourself?" Clint asks when she's calmed. His voice is intent and hopeful and not quite right, off enough that another laugh dies on her lips when she looks, truly looks at him. It's his face, his hands, his shoulders under the thick sweater. But there's an emptiness in the corners of his mouth where his self-deprecating humor should be hiding. There's a lack of lines on his face from the ever-present awareness of his surroundings and its threats. There aren't any shadows to his gaze. It's Clint and it's not.

She wonders if she would have that same sense of unsettling déjà vu if she were to take out the IDs in her backpack and thumb through them, looking at the girl who had been Natasha Romanoff until she woke up.

Until she was woken up.

"Yes."

Relief passes over his face, unmistakable and endearing, even as this not-Clint relaxes.

"Then it's possible. Then you did it."

"Clint," she starts to say and cuts off, another girl's loose cardigan hanging off her shoulders, a pea-coat she has never purchased chafing her neck. He sits down in his chair, slumps against the back of it with gratitude and ease. "Have you?" Natasha asks instead, already seeing another table full of books in her mind's eye, Robin Hood and The Far Side and Lord of the Rings opened to let his memories out.

But he hesitates, stills, shakes his head slowly.

"I can't find the books."

How can you know, Natasha wants to ask, how can you say what books are the ones you need? And yet the multitude of tomes in front of her is reply enough, the torch on their bindings a flame in the night; a promise against the destruction that is coming.

"Doesn’t matter," he continues, dismissing himself in a way that makes her sick to her heart. "You're back. You're going to be okay."

Natasha swallows, lips tasting of a chap-stick she's never used before, and all the words fall to ashes in her mouth.

There is no set pattern to their wakings, scattered as they are across the millennia, but there is always a rhythm that feels like the truth. For the two of them it is as simple as the Hawk waking the Spider, as forever standing side by side to help the Torch of Alexandria rage against the darkness. It's the first life where he hasn't remembered before her, though. In the long stretch of her memories it feels like a tenuous foothold. Like a moment where one misstep will lose him forever.

Like last time they may have saved enough of humanity, and yet not enough of his memories.

"How did you know?" She asks in the pale blue glow before dawn, the night air cutting through her coat. He shrugs.

"I don't know. I just knew they told your story. It was scattered, yeah, just bits and pieces stashed here and there. Maybe the authors didn't know what they were doing, or maybe they always meant to bring you back. But when I started reading, I knew what I was looking for, and I kept looking until I found you."

How, Natasha wants to know, fingers curling into fists, when your own story isn't here, when you could have no memory of who I am to you? But this not-Clint is standing by the door, her backpack in his calloused hands and a lopsided touch to his lips, and the answers to her questions will not come.

She has looked, hunting volumes through the university library with nothing more than a vague sense of rightness for what is needed this time around, and despite all her efforts she has no more than a dozen books. If he's right, if they didn't write down enough of his story to make it complete in this era, if the memories she needs were excised or lost and never replaced -

"I'll find you," she promises softly, taking the backpack from his hands with its burden of books she won't let out of her sight. He nods in that rocking motion she knows so well, amused and knowing and already two steps ahead in the game, but this isn't a game.

He's never been a game to her.

"I'm okay," Clint tells her, without alien inflections, with that heart-wrenching voice. "I am, 'Tasha."

When Natasha freezes, from more than the cold on the wind or the snow, he cups her face and runs his thumb over her cheekbone.

"Stay safe," he whispers, and vanishes back beneath the surface of a stranger.

She leaves with her mind and her soul intact, snow catching in her hair as she makes her way to the waiting Uber, and in the curve of her heart there is a fire that has never died.

Ten months later she arrives with the first winter storm, a satchel full of priceless books slung over one shoulder, to look up into a face both familiar and strange.

"I found you," Natasha says, triumphant and fierce, and steps inside.

#avengers #natasha romanoff #clint barton #clintasha #mcu #my writing

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losing-victor · 3 years

Text

The Red Strings of Fates – Solangelo Your Name AU ficlet

This story is inspired by the anime, Your Name which is a movie that depicts how the red string of fate ties the two protagonists. This story will adopt some scenes from the movie but formed to fit the storyline better. Like in Your Name, they also switch places with their bodies, at first thinking it was a dream. But after some getting used to, they manage to live with their switched lives laying down some ground rules, the ones they figured out when they learned to communicate. But there’s a greater purpose for the switch, a greater purpose in which they only realize later on. In Your Name, everything was bound to be forgotten like a dream because the switch came with a cost: a sacrifice. In this story? I do not know yet.

Maybe I’ll upload on ao3 once I’ve finished uploading all the parts in tumblr, but for now: here is the prologue (or premise Idk really) of “Red Strings of Fates”:

“According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

When he woke up, it was disorientating. The drab room painted in gray spun around while his vision tried so desperately to stay awake. The gust of wind outside is what woke him, making him shiver. In his head, Niccolò thinks, Bianca must’ve forgotten to close the windows again. He turns to look at the side of his cot, trying to reach for a mother that was never there. His arm relaxes and instead looks for his sister.

“You’re awake,” Her sister strode into the room, strands of hair peeking out from the laced cloth that covered the crown of her head. The loosely tied fabric was hastily done as if she had done it by herself because usually it would be done by mamma. She tightens the belt that cinches her waist and for a moment, Niccolò sees a look of conflict on her face as she glances at him.

Niccolò did not know what to make of it.

“Get dressed,” Her voice was sharp but it was forced, seeing how it quickly cracked at the end. “Your robes are already in bagno, while your hat is in the living room.” Her gaze softened when he finally stood up and looked up to meet her gaze. “Sbrigati, per piacere,” And Bianca was gone.

Niccolò looked outside of the window, his eyes glazing over the dead town. A town they would probably have to leave without knowing why. But mamma knows, Niccolò has crept up in the living room on nights he couldn’t sleep because he craved for warmth his mother so often could not give as their country is on the brink of a war. No, he corrects himself, there is war. But for some reason, they do not receive the hellfire of it. That is probably why mamma prays to God, why they go to church to pray the rosary every 6 am. Niccolò might be safe, but there’s something that makes him feel restless as he watches every reason to stay become meaningless. At 9 years old, Niccolò might have the privilege to not participate in a war, but feels like a victim.

There was the cold wind again, Niccolò tiptoed to shut the window and headed to the bathroom.

He stood before the sink of the running cold water and splashed his face. He looks in the mirror and almost slips when he sees his eyes. The bagno was thankfully small because it was the wall that his back slams against that prevented the fall. Niccolò blinks, his eyes were black again. But he could’ve sworn they were blue. He shakily straightens his body and takes the quickest shower under the cold water that for a second makes his skin feel like it was on fire. He jumps a foot in the air but for the second he wills himself to stay put.

He closes his eyes and sees blue.

Niccolò rushes out, hair dripping and his cloth belt hastily put on that the creases of his robe were certain to not appeal to his mother’s. Bianca meets him from outside holding out a hat in one hand, a brush in the other. She hands him the hat, which he takes and hugs close to his chest. Tenderly, she brushes his hair, carding her fingers through the wet mess of his unevenly trimmed locks that looked like spaghettini. She then puts her attention to the belt, fixes the crease with little to no effort at all. He wonders how she can put that much effort into him but not apply that same to her own.

“Grazie,” He says, a little ashamed.

Bianca tilts his chin in order for them to meet gazes. “You’re welcome,” She squeezes his shoulder, “You should introduce me to Anatolio, when we get to the church,” Niccolò’s eyes widened. He had male friends?

Niccolò bit his lip, how did he not remember that? Mamma said that younger boys like him if stuck around older boys, would be teased but he knew what really meant. (It meant torture.) It was why his mother says to stick around a girl. A girl he likes while Bianca had to choose a man to befriend. He doesn’t quite understand but he tries to anyway.

“Niccolò, Bianca,” the voice of his mother made him shake off the hold his sister had on him as he skips over to her, clutching on her dress as if on instinct. The palm on the back of his head was comforting. He looks up and sees her smile. “Let us go,”

They go out of the door and they keep huddled together with heads down. He wonders if from here he could still hear the shouts and screams of the tortured. He takes a glance to his side and looks down once more. He sucks a breath and wonders why he feels like he is suffocating. Then he remembers it’s the 1920s in Italy.

Everyone was holding their breath for some miracle to come, and Niccolò was no different.

“You’re up early,” Naomi Solace watches her son, illuminated by the dim light emanating from the open refrigerator door, freeze while getting a carton of milk when he hears her voice . The sun had barely risen but it already gave its position away, peeking from the clouds.She wrapped the cardigan closer to her body.

“Sorry, mom,” Will’s shoulders sagged, and put the carton of milk back before he gets a glass of water instead and drinks.

Naomi raised an eyebrow, her look directed at him filled with concern. Why was his son sorry for drinking milk? But it goes unnoticed by the 9-year-old boy who was now sitting at the stool bar of their kitchen island.

“I’m always telling ya to wake up early,” She walks over to him and ruffles his blond hair. “Why are ya sorry for, huh?” He doesn’t speak and only stares at the empty glass. It’s when she gets really concerned and sits at the stool beside his. “Okay, maybe I didn’t mean early as in quarter to 6 but I won’t get angry at ya, what’s wrong?”

“Bad dream,” is what he only gives. Naomi’s eyes widened at that and gave him a hug of which was warmly welcomed by her son. She could not imagine the day she loses him, Not yet, too young, she prays, “It’s so real, mom,” He sniffles in his cardigan. “And you weren’t there,”

Naomi did not understand, but she knew she had to begin to ease him into this world, a crazy world and so she sits back down the stool, the wood screeching a little when she drags it just a tad to let her be closer to her son. Naomi wipes the tears from his face with a swipe of her thumb and began,

"Honey, how much do you know about Greek Mythology?"

Will shook his head, "Not much, just these gods and they're many."

Naomi smiles, "Many indeed, how about a fun story?" She offers and he perks up significantly. She runs a hand through his shortened blond curls, and her palm rests on the side of his cheek to which he leans. She takes that as an invitation, "In Greek Mythology, there are soulmates…"

Will Solace listened intently to every word as if he was keeping it close to his heart. At 9 years old, without the knowledge of his mother, Will Solace dares to dream to find his own soulmate.

(Will will hold his breath for then until then.)

Okay folks, search for Your Name Nandemonaiya English Version by Akane Sasu Sora and you'll see why I had inspiration for this fic and mind you I think I'll have major plotholes and man, I'm gonna fuck this up, but yeah if you bear with bad writing I swear I have a point.

Actually can you just watch Your Name? Without the language barrier, it'd be oscar nominated, it's that good. Anyway, the twist in that was heart-wrenching. Okay bye, this fic is found in #RSF part whatever so yeah. Let me know if you wanna be tagged for the next one!

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zecretsanta · 3 years

Text

FIC:

To: @hugepolecat3298

From: @yamibakuraofficial

AO3 LINK

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!

Later on, the night would come back to Aoi in snapshots.

His fists banging against metal, his voice raw as his screams mixed with Akane’s. The heat rolling off the walls of the furnace as he stumbled in. The way what remained of his sister fell to pieces in his desperate grip.

He would remember the way the boat lurched beneath his feet as the man- the police officer?- grabbed his arms, forcing him back up the metal stairs. The echoing sound of frantic footsteps climbing ever higher. The cold air that stung against his tear-stained face.

The rowboat that was moored to the side of the ship was already crowded with other children, but the blind boy who had taken charge cleared a spot for them before they were lowered into the frothing waves. Vaguely, Aoi would remember the police officer rowing them towards the horizon and away from their brief prison. By then he had gone numb to the world. The frigid night air seemed to sink into his bones the further out they rowed, chilling him despite the coat he still wore.

The children were packed tightly into the rowboat, huddled together. One of the little girls was crying; the one with the pink overalls, who had previously in the night, clung to him in fear when they had found a shark suspended- lifeless- in a tank. Akane had laughed, later, when he asked if she had been scared.

“It’s okay, Aoi-nii,” she had giggled, “she needed it more than me.”

Now, it seemed, no one needed him at all. There was a horrible urge to throw himself into the churning water at that thought - at the idea that he had no reason to continue trudging through the horror story that was his own life. Wouldn’t it be ironic, to freeze to death in the waves where Akane had burned?

The world had never been kind to the Kurashikis. It was a fact that Aoi had made himself comfortable with long ago. He had survived the death of his parents, the death of their grandmother and their subsequent flight onto the streets. He had made it his mission to take care of Akane- to keep them from being separated or sent to an orphanage. The apartment they lived in was small, and he had surrendered the single bed to Akane at the very beginning. He was working any job that would accept a teenager with no experience, and often found himself up at odd hours coming and going regardless.

Every day was a challenge. Every night he went to bed exhausted, and would wake up the same way. But no matter what happened, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. A single, solitary reason to get up every morning. Akane’s smile was a reminder of why he had to keep going. She was what carried him through the hardships and into the next day.

But now there was nothing. Just the empty, gnawing horror inside of him and Akane, Akane, Akane , playing endlessly through his mind.

A warm hand slipped into his own, holding tight. It was the sort of grip Aoi’s sister employed to “keep him from floating away into his own thoughts”. But when he followed the line of the arm, he found the other boy from the ship. Light. The one with the clovers, who had helped Aoi wrangle the other panicked children hours ago.

His mouth was set in a grim line, but his grip was firm. No words were shared between them, and soon Aoi found himself turning to watch the tip of the cruise-liner disappear beneath the waves, taking whatever was left of his family with it. The hand in his own tethered him to their little lifeboat, keeping him prisoner by refusing to let him slip away.

Later, as the sun began to lighten the horizon, that same hand pulled him onto a cold and lonely beach. Aoi half expected Light to let him go to tend to the younger children, calming and organizing them as he had at the beginning of their ill-fated adventure. But the other boy seemed content to let the police officer take charge. He simply stood at Aoi’s side, letting him tremble as silent tears continued to streak down his face.

The police officer- who had introduced himself to the children as Tanaka- shot them several worried looks, but ultimately let Light handle the crying teenager. He directed their ragtag group down the beach, and Aoi found himself stumbling along.

The light of day was watery and weak through the overcast clouds, but after being locked on the Gigantic all night it was almost too strong. He squinted through his tears as they carved their way through the sand, shivering in the cold morning air. Aoi’s instincts begged for him to turn around. To find Akane and hold her hand. To make sure she was warm, and safe, and cared for.

But he had failed her. He had failed her and she was gone.

“It will be alright.” Light’s voice came as a surprise. Closer than the chatter of the other children, but softer as well. Aoi felt anger rise in him at his simple words, but only sniffled. He wiped at his tears with the sleeve of his free arm. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now… but you’ll be alright eventually.”

“Shut up.” Aoi’s voice broke in his grief. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I lost- I lost my-”

Light’s grip tightened as a fresh wave of tears overtook Aoi, his shoulders heaving with the force of his sobs. Vaguely, he wondered if he would spend the rest of his life crying, or if they would dry up eventually. “I know how it feels to lose someone. Like your entire world is ending.” Light continued to pull him along, voice as gentle as the rest of him. “I lost my father, when I was younger.”

“This is different.” Aoi whispered brokenly. “Akane was all I had left.”

“… Your parents?” Light turned his head slightly, tilting to face him despite not being able to see. Aoi was pathetically grateful, in a way, that his splotchy, tear-stained face was hidden from at least one person.

“Dead.” He replied, the hazy memory of his mother’s smile drifting through his mind.

“Where do you live?” Light’s voice was still gentle, though his grip remained firm.

“I have an apartment. We did. I… I dropped out of school. To work.” He admitted. Sometimes he lied to people- told them he was older than he was, to avoid suspicion. Three part time jobs with a face as young as his often got him strange looks. “But we’ve been gone for so long, I probably don’t even have my jobs anymore. And- and no one would know to feed our cat, and-”

His voice hitched again at the thought of the little kitten Akane had politely requested from Santa the previous year. It had been the most difficult present yet- he had scrounged and scraped what meager funds he had to pay for cat food and litter, even managing to find a few toys for his sister to give to the cat.

She had named him Mochi, because of how fat and spoiled he had been as a baby. The idea of

him all alone in their apartment brought Aoi to tears yet again. Light gently tugged them to a stop, letting the rest of the group get ahead of them. He reached out, gently patting at Aoi’s arms, and then up to his shoulders.

“I can’t imagine how overwhelming this is for you.” He said softly. “I know how scared I’ve been, these past few hours. Wondering if my sister is alright. And- and I’m so sorry, that this has happened to you.” Aoi brought his hands up, burying his face in them to try and muffle his own sobs. “But I promise, I’ll do everything I can to help you. I’m sure Officer Tanaka will as well- we’ll find somewhere for you, and…”

He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. It didn’t matter if Aoi went back to his empty apartment. Not if Akane wasn’t there, as well. He might as well take to the streets, or check himself into an orphanage the way he had so desperately wanted to avoid.

It didn’t matter anymore, after all.

The arms that wrapped around him were a surprise. Light held him close, clinging to him as tightly as he was able. It was the first time in years that Aoi was held and comforted, instead of the other way around. He clung to the other teenager, gripping the back of his coat even as he stained the shoulder with his tears.

Light’s voice was soft in his ear, whispering meaningless platitudes as he rubbed a hand in circles on Aoi’s back. As the two oldest children in the Nonary Game, much of the comforting had fallen to them. They had taken charge of the younger kids, ushering them through puzzles and down dark corridors in search of an escape. He had held himself together for Akane, and for the other children. He had pushed through and put on a brave face, as he had for the past two years.

It was nice, for a change, to let himself break down. To be held and taken care of the way he hadn’t been since his parents had died.

For a moment, Aoi didn’t feel quite so alone.

There was no way to tell how long they stood like that. The waves crashed against the beach behind them as the sun slowly rose. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before another figure joined them on that lonely beach.

“Hey… you kids alright?” The gruff voice caused Aoi to pull back, feeling like someone had wrung him dry. His tears were dry and tacky on his face, and the despair was still clinging to him like a spector. The absence of his sister would likely never leave him, but it was as though Light’s embrace had managed to hold his shattering pieces together, if only for a moment.

Tanaka looked down at them, something like guilt in his eyes. “We found a gas station, up that way. There’s a phone we can use to call your folks…”

Light nodded, pulling back. A shiver of unfamiliar panic ran up Aoi’s spine at the motion, but a moment later a hand slipped back into his own. “Thank you.” He said politely. He offered Aoi a soft smile, and a moment later he was being pulled forward once again.

Years later, the night would come back to Aoi in snapshots.

It wouldn’t be predictable. Sometimes he could feel when a memory was creeping up on him. On Akane’s birthday, or the anniversary of the game itself. The memories would sometimes leave him shaking in place, regretting what he was unable to save.

But sometimes they passed like a cold breeze. Chilling, and sad. But in the end, all Aoi could do was pull his coat tighter around himself and trudge on. It was easier with another person- sometimes Light, who had been there when it happened, and was always willing to listen. Sometimes Clover, who simply dropped herself into Aoi’s lap when she saw him having a bad day.

It wasn’t all bad, however. There were days like this one, where Aoi was curled up on the couch, legs tucked under him and Mochi in his lap. Light and Clover were across the room, happily bickering over a game of checkers. A fire was roaring in the fireplace nearby, and the empty spot next to Aoi didn’t feel quite so sad. He liked to think Akane would be happy, to see him so comfortable.

Light seemed to sense someone’s gaze on him, because he tilted his head towards Aoi as his sister explained where she was moving her pieces. The smile on his face was soft and familiar, and Aoi returned it, even though Light couldn’t see.

Moments like these, he didn’t remember the fire and the pain. All he could remember was Light standing next to him at that lonely payphone and the words he had spoken.

“I promise. You’ll never be alone.”

#zero escape #9 hours 9 persons 9 doors #hugepolecat3298 #yamibakuraofficial #zecret santa 2020 #submission

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years

Text

My Love

Chapter Seven

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Series Summary: After losing the love of his life, Liam is left with a newborn daughter and a council that demands he endure another social season quickly. Not wanting to move on, he gets help from an unlikely ally – his late wife.

C/N: This story is going somewhere different from how it originally started. I had said from the beginning I wasn’t sure how this fic would be taken because it would be so out of the ordinary. And while the first four chapters could be stand-alones, I always intended for it to continue on in this unconventional way. If you no longer wish to be tagged in it, just let me know and no hard feelings.

T.W.: Mention of a previous rape and examination. Mental health.

Thank you to @burnsoslow for beta reading, all of my snippet readers, and those who have messaged me several times about this story.

If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have not heard, I would still know you. –Lang Leav

It is said that the purest kind of love has the power to overcome any obstacle, break through any barrier, to make miracles happen where none existed before. For Liam and Riley, it was fate that brought them together in a New York City bar, and it was love that carried them through many, dark trials.

A passioned romance that started between a prince and a waitress became the epic love story legends were made of. After defeating every enemy that stood in their way, they married in front of the world, ruled side-by-side, and created the most significant symbol of their absolute devotion to one another – a daughter. Neither one ever imagined living in this life without the other … it wasn’t possible. They existed solely for the purpose and betterment of the other.

In what took an act of God to bring them together, took only the evil of man to separate them.

Liam had spent the weeks following her untimely death in a grief-stricken state of misery and torment. He never knew a heart could feel so much pain, nor a body experience so much affliction, missing the one who was the greatest part of himself. Riley was his joy, where none existed and comfort in every sense of the word. Ellie’s presence could only numb a portion of the sting, but not enough to fill the void his soulmate left behind. When Liam spoke to his wife each night, he never questioned whether his messages of eternal love and ’missing his girl,’ fell on spiritually deaf ears. Even with a vast abyss that divided their worlds … somehow … someway … Riley heard every tear he had shed and every expression of sorrow he spoke.

He needed her.

Where time no longer existed, Riley’s soul saw a tiny window of opportunity and literally moved heaven and earth to get back to her one true love. She knew she was the only one who could save him now.

____________

A broken, battered body laid motionless on a cold emergency room stretcher, surrounded by the hustle and hurried activity of doctors and nurses. In and out of consciousness, the woman’s eyes flickered open when a gloved hand prodded the open wound on the side of her head. The sensation of flesh being ripped away with each poke elicited a scream so chilling, a startled, first-year nurse dropped a tray of metal instruments that crashed and clanked to the floor.

The patient felt a chilly draft of air as the tattered remains of her shirt and bra were cut down the middle, exposing her marked and bruised breast. EKG electrodes were attached to her chest, and the tangled web of wires that were connected to the monitor came alive with erratic lines and buzzes. Her long brown hair that clumped together in sanguineous knots was swept to the side to remove her gold hoop earrings. Tweezers pinched and bore into the delicate skin of her murky palms, extracting deep thistles and thorns. What seemed to take hours while portable x-rays were shot, lesions stitched and bandaged, and several infusions of liquids and blood being attached to the tube that ran into her forearm – she was given clear and concise information about the intrusive examination that would soon follow.

A kindly hand held onto hers as another one gently rolled up the sheet that draped over her legs and nudged them apart. Questions were lobbed at her from all directions, but she had no answers. This woman didn’t know what happened, why she was in the hospital, nor the description of who did this to her. The only thing she remembered at that moment, before waking up on the bristly ground of the park, was Liam crying out for her in their bedroom.

Her gravelly voice went unnoticed when she begged for the examination to stop. It was clear from her feelings of utter filth, the kind that made her skin crawl, this body had been through quite an ordeal. She was told to remain still and relaxed; after what had happened to her, this would provide the evidence needed to ensure justice was served. The truth was, it wasn’t her that experienced what the former personal assistant-turned-nanny to the Cordonian Princess had gone through. What happened to this body took place before Amanda Talbert died, and the spirit of Riley Brooks took over it.

Riley flinched, and her fist gripped a little tighter to the sheet that covered the upper portion of her body. The first of several swabs and probes to her most sensitive areas made her stomach squeamish with nausea. An astute nurse noticed the greenish color that pooled into Riley’s face and thrust an emesis basin next to her cheek to collect the contents of the excretion she expelled. With tears pricking her eyes, Riley eased her throbbing head back onto the pillow when she was finished; the earlier words of a physician telling her ‘how lucky she was to be alive,’ playing over and over in her mind. If Riley didn’t feel like she had just returned to hell-on-earth, she might have found this ironic statement amusing.

A female officer scraped a wooden applicator under her fingernails, collecting debris, and dropped it into an evidence bag. “Miss, can you tell me your name again?” she asked while labeling the contents with a black marker.

Riley moistened her dry lips with her tongue as she blankly stared straight up at the ceiling. “Riley Brooks,” she whispered hesitantly, keenly aware of the low snickers her answer had drawn from everyone in the room each time the question was asked.

“Very well, Miss … Brooks.” Riley heard the officer reply with a loud exhale and a clipped voice before labeling the bag – Jane Doe.

This wasn’t the reunion Riley had anticipated. She knew her work would be cut out for her considering she didn’t know who she had become or how she would even get to Liam. Just that the perfect person and the perfect opportunity came along, that made it possible for her to be in his orbit. She would worry about the complexities of the situation later, but right now, Riley wanted to find Liam before he destroyed himself.

__________________

Drake poured another glass of water and handed it to Liam, who was sitting up in his hospital bed. He thanked his friend and took a long drink before handing the empty cup back. Liam rolled his head in an attempt to get the tension and knots that a month’s worth of stress had set in. His eyes glanced up to the doctor who paced silently at the foot of his bed, flipping through a chart full of test results and nodding his head in assent while he scrutinized each page.

Feeling frustrated by several minutes worth of silence that was then followed by faint mumblings from this doctor, Liam tapped his finger over his pursed lips with a peculiar expression he hoped the older man would recognize as impatience from his King. He finally scratched the back of his head when his antics hadn’t garnered the attention he had hoped for and decided to express his displeasure over his wait through other means. He let out a heavy sigh and flopped back boisterously into the stacks of pillows that were positioned behind his back.

Drake nudged Bastien in the arm and leaned into his ear. “What the hell did they give him?

The doctor gave a sideways glance before removing his wire-rimmed glasses and placing them back into the pocket of his lab coat. He stood a little taller and turned to face Liam with the opened binder that he had just analyzed cover-to-cover. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I wanted to be thorough in your care and ensure I had a complete understanding of your … situation.”

Liam bolted up at the chosen words to describe him and cocked his head. “What is my … situation … Doctor Ganos?” He asked with an embittered tone. Liam already knew the answer to his question. He had lost his wife, there were still no leads in her murder, he had been betrayed during that morning’s council meeting by Neville, he was now expected to take part in another social season he wanted nothing to do with and twice heard the voice of his late wife.

“Your situation - ” Doctor Ganos, replied nervously as he walked around the bed to Liam’s side. “you’re severely dehydrated for one. I would venture to guess you are also physically and mentally exhausted.”

“That is what caused him to lock the door, toss his clothes around the damn bedroom, and then collapse onto the floor?” Drake asked skeptically.

The doctor turned to Drake, not sure if he should answer his questions, but figured the King would speak up if he didn’t want anything pertaining to his medical records mentioned in front of him. “It’s certainly a huge part of it … yes.” His gaze turned back to Liam with a thoughtful expression. “Based on the very public knowledge of what you have been through since Queen Riley died and the symptoms you described experiencing just before collapsing in your room, I would surmise you had a panic attack. A complete mental breakdown.”

The conversation was interrupted by Bastien’s phone, who then apologized, excused himself, and walked just outside the private hospital room. Another guard took Bastien’s place in the room, and the doctor cleared his throat to continue the basis of his diagnosis. Liam may have felt some trepidation over the words, complete mental breakdown, yet wasn’t surprised by them in the least. He knew he wasn’t the same man he was before and had felt the excruciating toll his body and mind had undergone. He wanted to get back to Ellie, but Doctor Ganos insisted on keeping him through the night to rehydrate him through I.V. fluids and to observe him more closely.

Drake called the palace and checked in on Ellie for Liam, passing along to him that no one knew where Amanda was, but Hana was staying with the baby for the night, and she was fine. Drake crooked a finger through the closed blinds of Liam’s hospital room and peeked out, noting the orange and pinkish hues that colored the horizon as the sun started to make its descent over Cordonia. It had been one hell of a day for everyone. He knew when he woke up this morning that Neville’s call for a council meeting would turn into a shit-show, but never guessed his sworn enemy’s actions would cause his best friend to end his day in a hospital. He knew Neville wasn’t the only reason Liam was so broken, but he sure as fuck had an unnecessary hand in making things worse for him.

Drake slumped into a plush chair in the corner of the best room in the hospital – the one reserved for nobility. The last time anyone occupied this room, he reflected, was the night Riley died. It seemed almost cruel that Liam had to be subjected to such a memory, but the medication that was shot into his veins had somehow caused his friend to not even notice.

“I heard her voice, Drake.”

Drake lifted his tired head from the back of the chair and raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Riley … I heard her last night. Then again in the bedroom before … you know.” Liam glared at Drake for a moment, attempting to read his body language for a skeptical reaction, but felt relief when there was none. Curious to know what Drake thought and what others may be thinking as well, he let out a low sigh. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

Drake chuckled lightly. “Considering you let Maxwell have access to the palace armory, I think that makes you certifiable at this point.”

“Drake.”

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy. If you say, you heard her … I believe it.”

Truthfully, Drake didn’t know what to believe. If Liam was comforted in some way by what he thought he may have heard, then who was he to tell him otherwise. Inwardly, however, he was worried about his friend.

Bastien slipped back in and placed his phone in his pants pocket. A look of sheer shock entangled across his face. He nodded anxiously to Liam, who shifted in his bed towards his guard. In all of his loyal years of service to the Crown, he had never felt more like he was about to face a firing squad than he did at that moment. “Your Majesty, I just received a call on a breakthrough in the investigation of the Queen’s death.”

Drake rose to his feet, and Liam pushed himself up higher in his bed, his heart raced impatiently. He had been waiting for any development and was becoming increasingly frustrated by the lack of any leads. He insisted he continues.

“The guards working the investigation received an anonymous tip earlier. It seems -” Bastien paused knowing the implications of his reveal would be huge and unsettling for his charge, but also he felt a great deal of remorse for not finding this information out earlier. “it seems your nanny, Amanda Talbert, was in possession of the exact same cyanide capsules found in your wife’s body. Our guards were summoned to a local park where they found the pills in her purse. And … a more thorough look into her background revealed her name isn’t even Amanda Talbert, but that of Victoria Cirillo, a Monterissan citizen of birth and first cousin to …”

Drake dropped his head and groaned. “Amalas.”

The air became thick with an eerie silence. The sharpest sword and blade in the world, couldn’t have cut the tension that absorbed that room at that moment. After mulling over the intelligence he had just received, Liam sat up calmly … almost too calmly, and tossed the sheet off his body. He rose to his bare feet at the side of the bed.

Liam eyed Bastien with a merciless gaze. “What the fuck am I paying you for? How was all of this missed by the guards? I mean, this woman has been caring for my daughter, in my home, for weeks.” Feeling the dizzying effects of the medication he had been given, Liam sat back down on the edge of his bed, kneading the sides of his temples. “Is it too much to assume they have her in custody, at least?”

Bastien let out a shaky breath. “About that, sir … there is something else you need to know.”

______________________________

Riley woke to a cold, dark room, having slept off a good portion of the pain medication she had been given before being wheeled to a room. A sharp, stabbing pain ran across her head from the now bandaged wound at its side, into her throbbing, swollen eyes. Her shaky hand bounced on her bed, searching earnestly for the call button while she squeezed her eyes shut and willed the agony to go away on its own. A few minutes later, after pressing the button repeatedly, a nurse filed in with the relief she sought. It took longer than she anticipated to feel its effects, but once it finally kicked in, she was able to relax.

A warm flush came over her body, and she lowered the sheet down to her waist to cool off. She was tired still, but couldn’t sleep, and there was nothing to do, but lay there and wait. Wait for what exactly, though? She didn’t know.

Her mind began to wander to Liam and Eliie. She had no idea how she would be able to get to them, to see them, to be able to hold them both in her arms again. It would undoubtedly be a shock to him, yet in her mind, maybe, just maybe, he knew her well enough to be able to see through outward appearances.

A memory suddenly came to her about visiting a friend in the hospital several years ago. Riley lifted her hand and placed it on top of the tray table that sat next to her bed and rolled its top over her torso. She lifted the lid of the table and was relieved to find precisely what she was looking for. A small, rectangular mirror was pulled out, and Riley held it in front of her face. Even in the darkness, she was able to turn her head just enough to catch the moonlight shining through the window.

She looked closer, not sure she saw who she actually saw and then gasped. “Oh my god! Amanda?”

Riley was taken aback and couldn’t stop staring at herself in the mirror. Even with the cuts and bruises that littered this face, she couldn’t believe it was her personal assistant who had died so that she could return.

She had considered her a good friend, and they had grown quite close in the weeks before Ellie’s birth and following her delivery. Riley felt a sudden ache in her heart, knowing the hell her friend must have gone through before her soul left her body. It was clear from the wounds that covered her skin and the excruciating rape exam Riley had undergone earlier, Amanda’s ending was brutal and traumatic.

The lights from the hallway suddenly cast brightly into her room and caused Riley to squint her eyes and look away. She placed the mirror on top of the tray, knowing another nurse was most likely coming in to check her vitals. Glancing back at the doorway, that's when she saw his face. Her gleaming, brown eyes widened when it met his wrathful, blue ones.

“Liam!”

“Amanda.”

#king Liam x mc #king liam #liam x riley #the royal heir #My Love #liam x mc

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