#I fought her over a bottle of sprite

[whimsyprinx]

neurotypical people don’t understand the importance of floor time, like sure i could lay in the empty bed but the floor beckons me and who am i to ignore it’s call?

#whimsy whispers #the floor is comfy okay #I use to sleep in the floor because I wanted to as a child #I had a bed #but sometimes you see a spot on the floor and go ‘is anybody gonna lay there?’ and not wait for an answer #anyways I laid on my roommates mawmaw’s floor today and people very kindly told me I could lay in bed to which I was like ‘nah I’m good down #here’ #I like the floor #I was also very tired and had a headache and wanted to pester try Alexia which I could not do in another room #I fought her over a bottle of sprite #I only ‘won’ because she eventually gave up #I didn’t even wanna drink her sprite I just wanted to pry it from her grip and we were just tangled both trying to yank it out of one #another’s hands #full disclosure: this would’ve gone on forever if she didn’t just give in because like I am not very strong #twas fun #at least once a week I need to physically mutually attack someone or else #the other week kane and I attacked each other in the kitchen I can’t even remember why #oh yeah I put my soapy hand on their arm and then did something back to me and it resulted in me being bear hug attacked from behind while I #tried so very hard to bite them

[awlimagines]

Fact and Friction: Chapter Three

Pony groaned at the sharp sound of a small dog's barks. Why couldn’t her neighbors do something about their mutt? She rolled to face the wall, angrily yanking her blankets with her to try to sleep through the racket. Her purple eyes snapped open in sudden realization. She moved to Forget-Me-Not Valley from the city yesterday. Her dog was barking at the crack of dawn from what the clock next to her bed read. Ignoring her pounding headache, Pony scrambled from bed to hastily pull on clothes and yank her hair up. She squinted at the sunbeams as she flung open her door to face her first day on the farm. 

“You have food! Why are you barking?” Pony asked, crouching next to the new doghouse. Takakura must have built it while she was out partying with others at the beach last night. He even took the time to feed Sandy after stating he didn’t care much for dogs. The conditions for her living here were to help with the farm, and she was already falling behind. She needed to focus. Pony brought her hands to firmly slap her cheeks, earning a startled yip from Sandy. 

“Well, you’ve got food, so I guess we should feed the cow next,” Pony mused. She needed to give her cow a name. The creature deserved better than being called a cow for its life. Pony pondered a name as she wandered into the barn and located the feed Takakura left. She dumped the fodder into the bins and apprehensively observed the large animal. The cow bent her head to eat, unconcerned with Pony’s hesitancy. Pony quickly flipped through the book of notes Takakura left to read about what to do. 

Cautiously, she placed a hand against the black-and-white speckled side. The cow was softer than Pony expected. She fought against stumbling back when the cow mooed and turned to nuzzle against her. Heaving a sigh of relief, Pony struggled just a moment before successfully milking her first cow. She kicked the barn’s dirt over where she missed the bottles at the start. It was a waste of product, but only a small one and part of the learning curve, she assured herself. 

“Let’s get you outside to enjoy the day, Queenie.” 

Pony huffed a sigh as she observed the close-cut grass in the paddock. She should focus on providing food for her singular cow next. The fodder she had wouldn’t last forever, and growing her own would probably save money down the road, too. Pony had a slight sweat by the time she moved the bags of fertilizer from storage and spread them across the field. The sun had barely moved, Pony was pleased to note. 

Next, she should plant the seeds Takakura gifted her. The seasoned farmer's reference guide distinctly listed the steps. The smooth wooden handle of the hoe told Pony the tool had been used for some time. She dragged the tool along with the watering can, tomato seeds, and a sapling to the field by her house. Before long, Pony’s back ached from the unusual motion of heaving the hoe above her head before bringing it hard into the packed earth. The soil was littered with small rocks and other impurities. Leaning against the hoe for a break, she heaved air into her lungs and worried. She had only ever seen the rich black soil of potted plants. Would anything grow in this? Takakura said it would, but Pony doubted herself. 

Shaking her head, she quickly encased the seeds and apple sapling in the field. She poured a generous amount of water on the dry ground and stood back to frown at her work. She would pray for a good harvest if she had more faith in the Harvest gods. All the ones she had known had only brought misfortune, and Pony doubted this one would be any better. She hadn’t seen the odd little sprites around today either. Pony cast an uneasy glance around the farm. It would be too good to believe she had lost the ability to see them. They were probably busy with spritely things, whatever those might be. Pony jumped slightly in shock as a voice spoke, breaking through her thoughts. 

“Oh, you’ve already finished. I was going to help walk you through it, but good job, kid,” Takakura praised, looking over her work. 

“Thanks,” Pony beamed with pride before hesitantly asking, “What should I do now?” 

Takakura shrugged. “I’ll take care of daily maintenance. You can spend your free time however you want.” 

“Right, I guess I’ll go look around town then,” Pony faintly smiled. 

It was nice to know Takakura wanted her to have the freedom to socialize. Right now, though, Pony already wanted to collapse back into bed. She had never done so much physical labor in her life, let alone within half a day. Her respect for Takakura and her father had increased in the past few hours. It was no wonder her father couldn’t drop everything to follow her mother and Pony around the world for visits. 

She paused outside the farm momentarily before veering to her left. Takakura had briefly mentioned an archeologist and his assistant living near the waterfall. Pony had been instantly interested in their work. She enjoyed the museums she had visited during her travels, and curiosity had always nagged her about what a dig site looked like. Her interest only increased when Rock mentioned Flora being around their age but intently focused on her work and unlikely to attend gatherings when she had work to do. 

Pony was disappointed to see an empty campsite when she arrived. She wondered what to do when she heard slight noises from where a blue tarp covered the ground. Creeping closer, Pony glanced down a flight of carved steps leading beneath the ground, where the faint sound of voices came from. Of course, it made sense they would still be working during the day. She hoped she wouldn’t be a bother as Pony started down the stairs. She thought it would be dark beneath the earth. Packed dirt walls made a shelf running the room’s perimeter, holding lanterns that bathed the space in warm light. Pony could clearly make out the curious gaze of a blonde woman looking up from her work. A man stood with hands on hips, his stern gaze focused on her.  

“Um, hi,” Pony awkwardly greeted the man, hoping he wasn’t angry with her intrusion. “I’m Pony. I just moved in with Takakura at the farm. I thought I’d come to introduce myself.” 

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, his face splitting into a large grin. “My name is Carter, and my assistant is Flora. Would you like to help?” 

“Can I? I don’t know what to do.” 

“Of course, it’s no problem!” 

Carter eagerly placed a trowel in Pony's hand as he rapidly explained the process. He had no sooner uttered the last word than he turned from Pony.  She shifted from one leg to the other, contemplating interrupting his focus on an artifact to ask for a slower explanation of what she should do. Pony’s gaze flicked over to Flora, and saw the woman gesturing her closer. 

“He speaks slower in lectures. Professor Carter’s enthusiasm gets the better of him at the dig site. I can show you what to do,” Flora whispered. 

Pony murmured thanks as she knelt beside Flora to observe how to dig correctly. Unlike her crude methods of hacking the earth apart to plant crops, Pony was shown how to carefully but quickly shift small amounts until tapping against something. Flora’s steady hands guided Pony in removing a rusted metal coin from the ground.  She felt a rush of pride at finding her first artifact and Flora complimenting her for catching on fast. Pony focused intently on finding something else until Flora tapped her shoulder. 

“We’ll close the site soon if you want to step outside.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

Her disappointment grew when Carter confirmed the coin wasn’t a substantial find. Pony had a slight spark of excitement that she could keep the thick slice of silver. She had no idea what to do with it, but at least it was a nice souvenir. As Pony stretched outside, she was shocked to see the sun beginning to dip for the evening. It hadn’t felt like she was at the dig site for so long. Every inch of her body screamed discomfort now that she wasn’t focused on a task. Pony sighed, getting ready to drag herself home. The water before her steadily flowed over a raised path past the pool where the waterfall crashed. She could save time by crossing the river here rather than returning to the bridge.  

“Pony, just a moment,” Flora called, emerging from the tent flap. “You should wear gloves to protect your hands, especially if you plan to help us alongside your farmwork. These are an older pair I didn’t use much, but they’re a start.” 

She turned the gloves Flora offered over to examine them. It was something she had thought about. The angry red swells from tilling earlier had faded, replaced by the beginning of small blisters formed across her palms. 

“Thanks, Flora!” she exclaimed, yanking the gloves on. 

“Be careful going home. The professor mentioned a weird guy wandering around here lately. I swear, if he does anything creepy, I'm gonna... Well, it won't be pretty…” 

Pony’s eyes widened in fear as Flora cracked her knuckles, her purple eyes darkening dangerously behind her glasses. She needed to ensure she did nothing to surprise or threaten Flora. She hadn’t expected the quiet, scholarly woman she had spent the last few hours working alongside to be so intimidating. Pony gave a final farewell to Flora as she headed for the riverside. The water swirled around her boot as Pony stepped on the slightly submerged bridge. The current lightly tugged at her foot, beckoning her to flow out to sea. Pony ignored the summons to splash across.

She recognized Daryl as she stepped out of the river. He was behind some trees near the water’s edge, his hands held behind his back, his foot tapping the ground as he gazed ahead. Pony followed his gaze toward Flora. His view of Flora was unobstructed in the campsite’s clearing. From where Flora stood, she was sure the young archeologist was unaware of his observation. Carter must have caught sight of him and warned Flora. Fury rushed through Pony’s veins at the thought of Daryl hanging around like this. Flora didn’t deserve to have some guy creeping on her. 

“What are you doing?” Pony demanded, stomping forward to shield Flora from his gaze.

#fanfic nanowrimo #harvest moon #story of seasons #story of seasons a wonderful life #harvest moon a wonderful life #bokujou monogatari #sos awl #hm awl #awl imagines #awl daryl #pony is jumping to conclusions faster than the speed of light

[raredrop]

Things from my dream

Frye was a character in some fighting game

I can't remember enough details but i don't think it was smash?

I was playing against a girl I'm pretty sure was supposed to be an old friend from school

I don't remember my username/account name? but it was mispelled (i wrote it like Bt(something) it didn't start with B was the mistake)

I think she was playing as callie but idk its callie now

I was...pretty good? Which is weird I'm bad at fighting games

Fryes attacks i don't remember much outside of them using her solo as she fought

I even kinda juggled callie in the air a bit

But who knows bc it went from a fighting game to us? Watching a cutscene or something

Frye said that Callie was just like her .... with see through tubes in her arms (idk what was in them) and big ol monstery paws.....

Idk if this was something only frye could see... or if it's normally hidden

I remember after all of it i just was like THERES LORE?!

Anyway

Back at home there was someone who i think was supposed to be an artist i was/is? Friends with

They were sick or something and staying over

Also there were these things on the wall in a room (junies maybe? But before it was their room) that looked kinda like a thermostat

One was two parts with text on the dials that i nearly broke (i was told not to touch it bc idk what I'm doing)

And one that looked like it worked like some kinda diffuser

I took that one bc the guest needed it

And then in the fridge i wanted to get them something to drink.....

The fridge was almost totally empty

Like one water bottle, one thing of chocolate sauce? And a half empty large bottle of sprite

I was like THERES LIKE NOTHING IN HERE

Still grabbed the sprite (Why not water??????)

Last thing i remember was the guest drawing in like mspaint upstairs (the room almost looked like it did back when my dad was here)

#julie has weird dreams #sorry this jumps around my dream is just like that

[nitannichionne]

Captain--Doctor? Syverson, Esquire, at Your Service

Please feel better! I'm not feeling too hot myself....must be in the atmosphere....

"You did what?" Sy was outraged.

You cringe. "I fainted."

"Fainted," he repeats, but you hear the growling timber in his voice. "And why aren't you home?"

"I've got a few hours to go," you whimper, hoping you don't sound like you're complaining.

"You should come home...now," he says. "right now."

"It's just my period, Sy--"

"And I'd agree if you haven't lost consciousness."

Three, two, one....none. No words. Oh, no....

"I'm comin' to get ya."

"Sy, no!"

"Feelin' better, baby?"

"I--I--"

"We said we'd never lie, baby."

You exhale in defeat.

"See you in a few."

"Sy--" You release a small cry as the line goes dead. What are you going to do?

You start trying to finish as much work as possible. Sy was nothing to mess with, and you knew it. The unknown injected you with adrenaline as you finished anything due immediately. You come out of your haze to hear a deep voice request you at the front office.

"May I ask who you are?"

"Captain Syverson," he replies. "my fiancee is ill, and I'm here to get her?"

"She gets off at--"

"I said, my fiancee is ill and I am here to get her," he growls the next word. "now."

You scramble to your feet and collect your belongings.

"Going home, hon?" one of your coworkers asked.

"Yeah," you exhale. "under orders."

You roll your eyes at your coworker's snicker. You make your way to the front listening to the conversation play out.

"So you are aware she fainted?" Sy asks accusingly.

"She said she is fine--"

"She's not," he interjects. "If someone loses consciousness in a workplace environment, medical professionals are usually called, or the employee is sent home."

"She declined--"

"Oh, you like workers compensation, or making employees feel uneasy and singled out in vulnerable situations due to workload--"

"Of course not!"

"Understandably, and she can't go home alone in this condition, which is why I am here." He takes a deep breath, and you know how that looks: jaw clenching, muscles expanding with adrenaline, shoulders loosening and fists curling in pre-attack mode. You'd seen it at a few bars. "Last time, where is she--"

"I'm here."

He comes around the desk to you, his eyes locked with yours. He stops and gently wraps his hand around the back of your neck. You automatically lean back a little, your body instinctively against his, and his eyes glitter with thought and concern. "You're warm." He moves his hand slightly and you know his finger is on your jugular. "Uh-huh. We're out of here." His arms slides around you, and now his body is an anchor that guides you out. "Good night."

You don't say a word. THere is no sense in it, anyway. You are barely touching the ground as he tucks you at his side, moving effortlessly to the car park. You blink in irritation as a simple city light seems to cut through your eye sockets. "Sy, that was my boss."

"How long have you had that headache, baby?"

"SInce I passed out," you sigh, feeling all wind go out of your sails to argue.

"You've worked sick," you grumble.

"I worked to survive, to come home to you," his voice is soft. "I fought for your right to come home to me on days like these."

You take a deep breath.

"Uh huh," he nods. "here." He hands you a bottled water. "Sip, baby."

You obey but the liquid feels good going down. You start to swallow.

"Easy."

You stop and wipe your lips with the back of your hand. He looks at you and shakes your head, starting the engine.

"You didn't drink enough water and you're losing fluid 'cause of your friend Red, and you need food. No one faints around lunch unless it's just before or they didn't eat."

You give a small smile. "You sounded like a lawyer in there."

He laughs, "Esquire, at your service." Then he looks slightly more serious. "Anything to keep my baby safe and happy," he purrs, leaning over the middle of the seat. "Anything."

You feel tears come to your eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he kisses your nose. "Onward and homeward."

"What do you prescribe, Dr. Syverson?" you ask softly as you drive away.

"I prescribe plenty of fluids, your favorite toasted mozzarella sandwich with tomato basil soup, and a big ol' gruffy teddy bear to cuddle up and watch Netflix with."

"Sounds like cure to me," you smile.

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @mary-ann84 @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @sunshine96love @michelehansel @thelastsock @tumblnewby @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog@forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic @tamychm @nikkilynn303 @circesgirl1 @xoxohannahlee @pixie88@fckdeusername @maan24 @kaatelyyynn​ @october505​ @absentmindr​ @introvertedmouse​ @sassy-pelican @griscka75 @kebabgirl67 @its-carlerr

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanficton #henry cavill x you #captain syverson #henry cavill fanfic #captain syverson x you #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill fluff #sick #sick day #cheer up

[murderousginger]

Everybody Talks

Tommy x OC

Song here requested by @imagine-that-100 ❤️

Warnings: None. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 1638

He had been watching her since she entered the busy Garrison alone. She had walked to the bar, her head high as she moved through the men and sat at one of the few open seats near Harry. The men had parted easily, their tired eyes sharpening as they noticed the woman's bright dress practically shining against the dirt and drab colors of their work uniforms.

A flurry of "ma'am" and head dips were left in her wake. She simply smiled and continued on as the men searched for her invisible escort.

Tommy watched from the booze door in the private room tucked beside the bar.

Harry hadn't noticed her yet; too busy getting the Blinders their drinks, blustering about with a curse under his breath. Tom waited, watching the men grow increasingly uneasy around the woman as they realized she had no escort.

Harry brought a bottle and multiple glasses to the booze door, mumbling apologies for the wait.

"Right busy night, it is," Harry said as he handed the goods over.

"The woman," Tom said, "she's not a regular."

"I seen her," Harry grumbled. "I'll kick her out next. No trace of a man at her side."

"No," Tom said. "Explain the rule, but give her the drink. Then send her my way."

"I can deal with a whore, Tom," Harry stammered. "You no need to get involved."

Tom met Harry's eyes for a moment as he licked his lip, his brows curling together before he closed the booze door and sat back down around his brothers.

"What are you bothering with small business, brother?" Arthur said as he slid the bottle and a glass to himself and started to pour a drink.

"She pretty, then?" John laughed. "That's what it is, in it?"

Arthur looked at John before looking at Tommy, who had settled in to the spot directly in front of the door without saying a word. He muttered a curse and started to chuckle to himself as he passed John the bottle.

"Well lookit that," Arthur said as he leaned back. "Our brother's still warm blooded after all."

Moments later she walked in the room without a knock, looking between the bored man in front of her and the two slack-jawed men sitting further away.

"I see," Arthur murmured behind his glass.

"Who bloody well couldn't," John said louder, earning an elbow to his side.

"Right," the woman said, returning her gaze to Tommy.

"What kind of man sends another man to bring a girl over?" She asked, one eyebrow raised. Whether it was in defiance or amusement remained unknown.

He paused, waiting a breath or two, eyes locked on hers as the gears in his head churned. He wasn't slow -- quite the opposite -- but he learned at a young age that making people wait on you makes them uncomfortable. Makes them feel like they need you. And it gave him time to decide his next ten moves.

"The important kind," he finally said, even toned, practically bored in comparison to her voice.

"You don't look so important to me," she said as her eyes ran over his vest, shirt, coat. Her voice danced around like a sprite on a summer's breeze. "Nice enough outfit, but nothing flashy enough to mean money or any real power."

She took a sip of her drink, reenacting Tommy's pause. John barked a laugh.

"Bird's got a mouth on her," he said as he rolled next to Arthur, who was doing his best to hide his smile in his moustache.

"My brothers were just leaving," Tommy said, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. "Sit."

Arthur broke into a grin as John climbed over him and they both rolled out of the booth. John stumbled to his feet and grabbed the bottle off the table as he saluted his brother, making eyes at the woman as he brushed past her. Arthur stood and tried to walk by her with a nod and a "ma'am" before shooting his eyebrows up suggestively behind her toward Tom.

"You're not from here," Tommy said once the brothers shut the door as he eyed her new dress. "Too clean cut to be from a local family."

"I'm Mary's cousin, Elsie," she offered with a smirk. "From London. My father decided I was too wild and sent me to dirty little Small Heath to find a job and be a proper girl."

"Your father sent you to Small Heath to be proper?" Tom said as his brows raised and he smirked into the cigarette dangling from his lips. "That may well be a first, Elsie."

He rolled her name around his tongue, appraising the woman in front of him. Her dress was stiff and bright, as if she had never worn it before, but it fit her like a glove. She was either from money or waltzed into Small Heath hoping to make an impression.

"I thought I told you to sit."

"You did," Elsie said as she casually sipped her drink. "You never got up to let me in beside you or given me your name."

"Tommy," he said, standing to let her slide beside him in the booth. "Tommy Shelby."

"Tommy, not Tom or Thomas?" She smiled as she brushed past him. She smelled of strawberries and rum. "How cute."

They toyed with each other through the night, pressing boundaries and examining each other like a new creature they discovered. Tommy was intrigued. It has been so long since someone hadn't flinched at the name Shelby.

At the end of the night, he offered to take her home. Elsie smiled, playing with the lapel of his jacket before looking up at him and shaking her head no.

"Can I kiss you, Elsie?" Tommy asked, suddenly very aware how close their faces were.

He licked his lips and could almost feel her breath on his tongue. She looked up at him with her bright eyes and kissed him first. He froze, confused for a moment before he melted into her warm kiss. Her hand at his lapel wrapped around the fabric and pulled him closer as his hand found her cheek.

"Money's counted and everything's cleaned, boss, do you want me to leave you--" Harry said as he walked through the door, nearly hitting them both. He grunted and swiftly tossed a stack of money on the table before closing the door behind him.

Elsie pulled away at the noise, her eyes wide as Harry rushed out. She looked up at Tommy, giggling in embarrassment as she pressed her face into his neck and shoulder.

"I believe that's my cue," she said as she took a step back. "I'll see you around, Mr. Shelby."

Tommy had never felt such a chill as he did when she left his side and disappeared into the night.

---

Weeks later, Elsie had found herself a respectable job as a seamstress apprentice at a suit shop on the edge of Small Heath. She had settled in fine after she got in terrible for her first night in town when she had visited The Garrison.

Something she would have to get used to. The place was too small, too interwoven to allow her to move without eyes following and mouths wagging back to her relatives. But the gossip of a small town hadn't been all unwelcome. She had learned quickly that Tommy Shelby had been an important man just as he had said he was.

Her face scrunched as she concentrated on the hem she was mending. She heard the bell for the door ring but she was too busy to look up. She heard one of the other girls greet the customer and went back to concentrating on the garment she was working on.

"Elsie?" Mrs. Lundy called, "I need help with pinning this man's jacket, be a dear and come help."

Elsie sighed, frustrated at the interruption, and set the garment down on the counter as she headed to the back where the fitting rooms were. She grabbed a cushion of pins as she rounded the corner and saw a familiar set of blue eyes.

"Elsie, dear," Mrs. Lundy said, her smile tight, "this is Mr. Shelby, he's--"

"A very important man," you finished for her as your eyes dipped to his jacket. "Yes, I've heard of the Shelbys."

"Have you?" Tommy said amusedly.

"Yes sir," Elsie said firmly as Mrs. Lundy instructed her to pin the bottom as she pinned his sleeves. "Everybody talks."

She no longer would meet his eye and her playfulness had disappeared.

"So you have," he said evenly, looking back to the wall as they finished.

After a few moments, Tommy cleared his throat.

"Mrs. Lundy, if you could be so kind as to tidy up my bill, your apprentice can finish the last few pins," he said to the woman. "I've got business to attend to and really must be off."

"Of course, of course, Mr. Shelby," Mrs. Lundy said with a smile as she shot a look to Elsie, who was almost done with her pins. She disappeared quickly to the register.

"What happened to the reckless girl at the pub, eh?" Tommy said as Elsie checked over the pins on his sleeves. "I'd like to see her again."

"She's in trouble for spending her first night at a pub with a gangster," Elsie sighed. "I didn't know you were dangerous."

"Who said I was dangerous to you?"

"Everyone."

"Everyone talks too much," Tommy sighed as Elsie took off his jacket. "Especially in Small Heath. Have dinner with me."

"Is that a request or an order?" Elsie snapped as she folded the jacket. She stilled as her eyes grew wide.

Tommy's eyebrow raised as he fought a smile.

"There she is."

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #storytime with murderousginger #tommy shelby x oc #john shelby #arthur shelby

[roselen-mylady]

the game | part two

Part One

Steve hated to admit it but he had always been a jealous person. As a child he was jealous of the way so many other kids had dads that tucked them in at night. As a teen he was jealous of how easily Bucky made women swoon. As an adult he was jealous of Stark when he attempted to woo Peggy. And now he was jealous because it seemed everyone but himself was able to easily talk and even kiss Y/n.

Oh how badly he had wanted to.

And he almost did during that game of spin the bottle. Yet he'd lost his nerve. And lost his chance.

Thor's laughter had drawn his full attention toward the pair. Not that his eye had ever left Y/n but now the man before him was blatantly being ignored as Steve's entire focus was on Y/n and Thor. He strained to hear whatever was being said by her but he could hardly pay attention as Thor lifted her into the air and spun her around like a princess.

He could've done that.

His blood nearly boiled as he watched Thor kiss her. It was innocent, he knew that, but he just couldn't help it. He was angry at the world and Thor but mostly himself.

Before Thanos he thought he'd have all the time he needed to work up to confessing his feelings for her while she stayed in Wakanda watching after his best friend. But when she was snapped away he realized he had made a horrible mistake. A mistake he regretted every minute of every day during those long five years.

But now he had a chance to fix it.

Yet he hadn't been able to talk to her since she returned. The friendship they'd had before then was bashful but strong yet during her absence he had distanced himself from the idea of her in order to cope.

When she returned all the emotions he felt came rushing back in waves. And he was still blowing it.

•••

"I'm so tired of watching these two pine after one another." Wanda spoke suddenly, making Bucky turn toward her, dragging his gaze away from the pair.

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, looking back at them as Wanda came to stand at his side, watching them with him.

"You mean you haven't noticed? Y/n's in love with Steve. Steve's in love with Y/n. It's agonizing to watch, really." She sighed, rather vexed with the entire situation. It was her after all who had watched them through the years. They'd known each other ever since before the accords and all that time they'd had an awkward friendship in which feelings were obvious on both ends yet neither had the courage to act.

She hated to imagine how Y/n's death might've affected him but yet it still hadn't given him the will of the courage to act. It pained her to watch the two fall back into their old ways.

"Y/n loves Steve?" Bucky mumbled, disbelief evident in his features. Wanda nodded, her eyes trailing Y/n as she made her way to Peter, who was standing haphazardly close to Steve.

"More than life itself, though she'll never admit it. I saw it when I had to enter her thoughts years ago during a mission we had in Germany." Wanda explained. She remembered the overwhelming feeling of Y/n's emotions. They crashed into her stronger than any wave could and even after all these years they were just as strong.

"Then why haven't they done anything?" Bucky asked. He looked down at her finding the same lost expression on her face that was more than likely on his.

"I don't know. Y/n told me last week the same thing she told me all those years ago. Things are too complicated and she can't risk losing him if he doesn't feel the same." Wanda quoted Y/n, her annoyance seeping through her words.

Bucky scoffed, recognizing the excuse as something very similar to Steve's and he shook his head, feeling the same defeat Wanda did. "Just like them to be too stupid to be happy." He groaned, looking up at them.

"Yeah. But hopefully when he kisses her one of them will do something." Wanda hoped her statement might encourage their boldness.

"Unless it's a repeat of spin the bottle." Bucky said, dreading the chance that it might happen. Wanda cringed, shaking her head.

"Y/n won't allow it. She takes the game too seriously." She replied, more to convince herself than Bucky. It was true. Y/n would get Steve to kiss her whether it was for the win or her own motives. That is if her nerves didn't take over.

"Let's hope."

•••

"Well, if it isn't Spiderman." Y/n called out, grabbing Peter's attention. He smiled brightly, finally being called by his preferred name and not Spiderboy.

"Ms. Y/n! What-what are you doing here?" Peter's sore attempt at small talk made him wince but thankfully Y/n didn't seem to mind, looking down at his glass.

"Just mingling. Whatcha drinking?" She asked curiously, wondering if Tony had allowed the poor boy a drink while dealing with all the people who no doubt asked him millions of questions regarding his presence and age.

"Sprite. Mr. Stark said he can't allow me to 'drink and swing'." Peter adjusted his glass, using his fingers as quotations before letting out a short giggle at the phrase.

Y/n laughed as well, trying to appear relaxed as she felt a certain pair of eyes on her. Steve was standing just a few feet away with Tony, not within earshot but close enough to send butterflies to her stomach. With each kiss she collected she felt more and more anxious knowing eventually she'd reach Steve. Was she ready for that?

"Well, that simply won't do. It's a party, Peter, and I can't allow you to not drink. When I was your age Tony was slipping me drinks left and right, it's only fair I pass on the tradition." She explained, leaning forward carefully as her hand brushed his.

He blushed, his eyes widening like saucers as she skillfully slipped his glass out of his hand, replacing it with her own. Glancing at Tony as if expecting to be caught, he was relieved to find his father figure blissfully unaware of their treachery.

"Ms. Y/n, I really shouldn't-"

"Don't worry, I'll drive you home if you're that worried. I got you bro." Y/n promised, nudging his arm with a kind smile. "Now tell me you've at least tried champagne. You've been to like three of these parties now." She laughed her smile growing as he joined in.

"Yeah, well, I mean a little bit from my Aunt May's glass." Y/n shook her head, putting her hand on his shoulder, a dramatic look of sorrow on her face.

"My poor boy. I have many things to share with you. Speaking of which, Shuri is asking if you're coming with me to Wakanda next week." Y/n sipped the soda watching as Peter's fingers danced happily against his own glass.

"Really?! I mean, of course! If you want me to. I've never been, what's it like?" Peter rambled, his face lit up in excitement, making Y/n chuckle at how thrilled the boy was.

"You'll see soon enough. I'll come get you next Friday and bring your suit, I'm sure Shuri would love to tinker with it." Y/n advised. Peter nodded wildly, psyched for such a trip.

"Thank you, Ms. Y/n." Peter grinned. Y/n wrapped an arm around his shoulders turning him in the direction of where Tony was standing.

"Peter, Y/n is fine. Trust me, I'm one of the few people in this world who know what it's like to have Tony as a father figure and anyone who can handle that is okay in my book." Y/n laughed, pointing at the man in question.

As if sensing their shit talking, Tony turned around, catching sight of them. A suspicious glare was sent their way but Y/n could hardly notice it as another figure stepped into view, following Tony's gaze.

It was then that they were forced to look at one another head on. Not at a glance or a sneaky peek. They might as well have been standing in front of one another as they both froze.

If Y/n's heart decided to stop in that instant, she wouldn't blame it. The pure intensity of Steve's gaze was enough to make her shudder and she fought her every molecule to stare back. There was a warmth in his eyes, one that sent a flutter of giddiness through her.

A small smile crept onto his face and Y/n gasped, forcing herself to return the gesture and not just gawk at him. She was at a loss for words. It was the first time since Thanos that he had given her any sort of acknowledgement. While it hurt that their friendship had seemed to diminish while she'd been gone, she knew that rekindling it was a two way street. But now he was smiling at her. And she was smiling back.

She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until Peter stepped in front of her, his hands resting on her shoulders and his brows furrowed in concern. "Y/n? Are you okay?" His voice was soothing and it helped her recover her loss of breath from her moment with Steve.

"Huh? Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Just...uh, thinking." She mumbled, her eyes drifting back to Steve once more. His smile had faltered slightly, his face beginning to match Peter's concern but with a small curve of her lips, she assured him that his worry was senseless.

"About the game?"

"Hmm?" Y/n questioned, directing her attention to the boy once more. Peter eyed his glass carefully before taking a cautious sip.

"The game you play with Ms. Natasha and Ms. Wanda. You're playing, right? I saw you earlier with Thor." He explained. Y/n's face flushed, a little embarrassed that her moment with Thor had been witnessed by someone she knew. What if Steve saw? Would he be jealous?

Y/n nearly shook her head, convincing herself that she wasn't worth being jealous over. Especially to Steve.

"Oh, yeah. We are. That reminds me, you like Star Wars right?" She smirked, looking at him as she sipped his soda, the pink on his cheeks making her giggle.

"Well, yeah, I mean lots of people do. I'm not the only one-that would be weird. Unless you like it, not that you liking it would make it less weird. Not that you're not weird! Weird-"

"Peter!" Y/n laughed, putting her hand on his as she lightly brought the drink down. "Whew boy, maybe alcohol isn't your thing. Then again you've always been a rambler." She gently took the drink back from him, watching as a wave of relief washed over him.

"Have you eaten yet? I think there's hors d'oeuvres around here somewhere." She muttered, glancing around for any servers. Peter shook his head accepting his soda back before looking back up at her.

"No I'm okay, really." He told her, his heart warming at how much she seemed to care. It was nice and he enjoyed his relationship with Y/n. She allowed him to do things with her like travel, patrol, even hang out in the lab and she quickly became another idol of his.

"Are you thinking of watching Star Wars?" He asked her, referring to her previous question. She smiled, shaking her head.

"No, I've already seen it, I'm just thinking of a pick up line for the game. Tonight's rules are if you like my line I get a kiss and I fully intend on winning tonight." Peter nearly choked on air as his eyes widened yet again.

"A kiss? From me?" Y/n giggled, tapping her finger to her cheek.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Parker. A kiss on the cheek will do." She teased, making his face impossibly redder. He shook his head frantically trying to display as best he could that it wasn't his intention.

"I'm kidding. Now are you ready to hear my cheesy pick up line or will I just have to forfeit?" Peter's head didn't seem to stop shaking as he urged her to continue. "Alright here goes."

"Hey, sweetheart. Do you like Star Wars cause Yoda only one for me." With a wink she smiled, enjoying the scrunch of Peter's nose as he cringed at the line. 

"Not doing it for ya?" She laughed. Peter scoffed, trying to hide the smile that threatened to show.

"I hate to admit it, but it was kinda funny." He sighed, ashamed to have enjoyed such a horrible line. Y/n's grin grew, pointing to her cheek once more.

"Then pay up. I've got two more kisses to collect." Peter smiled, leaning forward and pecking the space her finger had been. "Thank you. Now find someone to mess with. I won't be the only one reeking havoc tonight." She poked a stern finger into his chest. With some convincing he eventually promised to at least pull a prank on Sam and Bucky.

With that she began to make her way to Tony. A knot formed in her stomach as she paced in his direction yet it wasn't Tony who made her nervous. No, only Steve Rogers could make her feel so squeamish and turn her legs to jelly. And she was making her way straight toward him.

Y/n could barely hear the click of her heels and the chatter of those around her over the pep talk she was giving herself in her head. She refused to embarrass herself in front of him. This was going to be her second chance and she wouldn't allow her nerves to ruin it again.

"As I live and breathe! Do I stand before Iron Man and Captain America? I do hope this isn't a dream." Steve's soft chuckle seemed to go straight to her core and she feared her heart might beat right out of her chest.

"Don't encourage her, Cap." Tony grumbled, turning his gaze to Y/n. "Well, if it isn't my favorite niece."

"Your only niece." Y/n corrected, a short glare focused on him as he smirked.

"Let me guess you're here to win the game. Let's hear it so poor Cap here can get a turn. I don't think he's kissed a woman since the 40s." Tony leaned down, whispering the last part and making Y/n giggle.

"Hey!" Steve objected in vain. But what Y/n said next sent any duty to protect his pride out the window.

"That's a crying shame. The ladies must not know what they're missing." Y/n froze as the words left her mouth. What was she thinking? Her face burned and she hid behind her glass trying to muffle her embarrassed groan with her champagne.

"Jeez, get a room." Steve and Y/n both glared at Tony but he didn't seem to care, instead shrugging innocently.

"Alright, here's your line you impatient ass." Y/n scoffed, deciding to use a particularly bad line for the annoying man she dared call her father figure.

"Was that it?" He smirked.

"Shut up, I gotta turn around and approach this again or else it won't work." She hissed, earning a heartfelt laugh from Steve. Twice. She'd made him laugh twice. Her heart was practically singing at the thought. Maybe she'd actually get to kiss him?

With more determination than before, she turned around, taking a few steps away before dramatically turning back to them. Using theatrics she no doubt learned from Tony Stark himself, she put on a smile before holding her arms out in a grand gesture.

"Well I'm here, what's your next two wishes?"

"That was horrendous." Tony said almost immediately while Steve tried to contain his laughter behind them.

"Well, I couldn't very well waste my best lines on you now could I?" Y/n jested, taking the glass in his hand and pouring what remained of his drink into her now empty glass.

Tony's teasing expression fell as he painfully watched Y/n sip her glass. "I can't believe you're related to me." Y/n smiled back at him proudly.

"Only by marriage." She shrugged. Tony sighed, leaning down and pressing a fatherly kiss to her forehead just along her hairline.

"Thank god." He ignored Y/n's squinted stare, turning to Steve. "I think I'm going to go get another drink, since mine was so blatantly stolen." Tony glanced at Y/n who shamelessly smirked.

"But first I wanna hear your pick up line for Cap. Please be something patriotic. Maybe sing him the national anthem." He suggested, nudging Steve forward to where he stood before Y/n.

Not expecting Tony's push, Steve stumbled nearly crashing into Y/n but thankfully he caught himself, only having a redder face than before.

"I'm not sure the national anthem is a pick up line, Tony." Y/n replied, focusing on anything but Steve. At this distance she could smell the familiar cologne and feel the heat radiating from him. It reminded her all too much of the days before the snap. When he'd hold her whenever she was hurt or when he'd pick her up to launch her toward an enemy. Reminded her of the few hugs they'd managed to share.

Reminded her of their last before she dusted in his arms.

"I don't know. He's really horny for America, it might work." Tony refuted, earning a threatening gaze from both Steve and his niece.

"Fine, y'know what? Have privacy or whatever in the middle of this crowded party. See if I care." Tony said, a little butt hurt that he wouldn't be able to witness the awkward exchange first hand.

He was no idiot when it came to his niece's attraction to the super soldier. While at first he disapproved, even more so when it led to her being on the opposite side that day in Berlin, years had led to forgiveness. He couldn't really stay mad at her even if he tried. Only sorry he hadn't apologized before the snap.

"Thank you, Tony." Y/n spoke quietly, sending him a grateful look. Whatever was about to happen already made her nervous, she didn't think doing it with Tony there would be possible.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved a dismissive hand, beginning to walk away.

It wasn't until he had Morgan that he realized he was already a father. Y/n had been his first and no matter his guilt, she would always forgive him. Always need him.

"Don't get carried away." He threatened suddenly, pointing to his eyes before twisting his hand back to them with a menacing squint.

Y/n rolled her eyes, looking back to Steve as Tony finally left.

"He's protective." Y/n explained, trying to be annoyed. It was actually kinda touching the way he cared despite his usual selfish smartass exterior.

"For good reason." Steve agreed, making Y/n's head tilt confused.

"You think I can't take care of myself?" She questioned defensively, ready to prove her worth no matter who he was.

"No, of course you can. Just-..." He trailed off, a sorrowful expression taking hold of his features against his will. "We've both failed you before. Numerous times." Steve confessed, his eyes falling downcast as Y/n realized what he'd meant.

She’d never truly thought about how her absence might have affected him. Before the snap he never gave any hint that he wanted to be more than a friend to her. But now she studied that look in his eye, that one she hadn’t recognized before. Heartbreak. 

"Steve, you didn't fail me." She insisted. Her hand had come to his own, grasping lightly at his loose fingers and ignoring the buzz in her skin and the rapid pace of her heart.

"No, I did. I turned you against your family. I got you arrested. I dragged you back into the fight and...you got snapped away." His voice broke at the end, years of depression and misery washing over him all over again.

"It wasn't your fault. We all lost that day." Y/n argued but her words didn't seem to stick.

"I'll never forgive myself." Steve's words were barely above a whisper, each syllable falling further into him unable to escape.

The sight alone made her heart ache but it was the way he'd spoken that truly shook her. They were the words of a broken man, a man that had lost it all. Had she done that to him? Did he care about her like that? Maybe he was scared too.

“Well, it's a good thing I already did.” Y/n smiled hoping to bring back the smile that she'd been able to give him moments before. Her hand stayed planted to his own more terrified to release it than she was to keep holding it. Would she ever work up the courage to do it again?

Steve looked back up at her, a tender glimmer in his eye as he moved his hand to hold her own. “I missed you.”

The statement alone wasn't nearly enough to convey how much he'd longed for her in those five years, left without any hope of ever getting her back. Didn’t show her the sleepless nights or the endless tears. Didn’t show her first few years he spent, alone and secluded. Didn’t show her how many times he prayed to any god that would listen for them to bring her back. 

But her eyes seemed to tell him that she understood. Y/n knew exactly how he felt even if she'd been relieved of it for five years. She remembered when she was arrested, screaming at the guards that they'd never find Steve. Remembered the sobs that racked through her when he came to free her, relieved he’d made it out of the war safely. Remembered their time on the run, unable to tell him how she felt. Remembered volunteering to stay with Bucky when Steve's worry became too much. Remembered him coming back and bring a war with him. Remembered him catching her before she dusted, too fast for her to tell him her greatest truth. 

She loved him.

“I missed you too.” She said softly, her face burning under his gentle gaze. They’d become so unbearably close at that point, making her breath ragged and her heart race. 

Clearing her throat, she looked away, trying not to reveal how flustered he made her. “So do you wanna hear my pick up line or not?” She once again changed the subject, making Steve smile at her lovingly. 

“Definitely.” He replied. 

“Alright. On a scale of 1 to America, how free are you tonight?” She gave him the first one that came to find, silently groaning when she realized she'd done exactly what Tony suggested. Curse their horribly similar minds. 

"That's terrible." Steve chuckled, staring at her with adoration unlike he'd ever done before. She was absolutely perfect in his eyes and he refused to waste anymore time being scared. 

"You didn't like that? I have more." Y/n rambled, oblivious toward Steve's affectionate gaze. "Can I tie your shoes? I don't want you falling for anyone else." 

Steve laughed, shaking his head as he stepping forward and shifting his hand to her waist as he pulled her closer. 

The action on flustered her further, dragging another pick up line out of her. "Or I like your last name, can we share it?" 

Steve's smile grew, his heart swelling with each word. He loved listening to her lines even if they were cheesy. But he was determined now and he wouldn't let either of their nerves stop them anymore. 

"I lost my number, can I have-"

Suddenly he leaned forward, cutting her sentence short as his lips latched onto her own. 

The kiss was so tender she practically melted in his arms, her hand coming to his chest while the other shifted to behind his neck, her fingers filtering through the lower part of his hair. His grip around her waist tightened as his heart pounded under her palms, the aftermath of anticipation rushing through his chest. 

It was effortless the way they molded together and it left him breathless. He couldn't believe he'd never just kissed her before and after believing all these years he'd never get the chance to, he was so grateful to have her now. 

"I've waited too long for that. I think I'm gonna need interest." Y/n gasped as they pulled away her eyes half lidded as she tried to process what had happened. 

"Was that another pick up line?" Steve's brows furrowed, his lips a beautiful shade of darker pink. 

Y/n smiled up at him, pulling him close once more. "Shut up." 

••• 

"Who's gonna tell her she didn't win?" Wanda questioned suddenly, glancing over at Nat. 

Sam raised his hands in surrender, passing off the duty as soon as possible to avoid any type of rage the woman might've wreaked on him. 

"I don't think she'll really care at this point." Nat spoke, pointing a finger toward the couple across the room. 

They didn't seem to care that they were in a room full of people, instead remaining engrossed in each other as they stared at each other lovingly. It was touching really but what Nat assumed to be their confessions had lost Y/n the game. 

"Wait does this mean the games with stop?" Sam questioned suddenly. 

"No, it'll just make them more interesting." Nat smirked.

#bucky barnes #marvel #avengers #endgame #buckybarnes #infinitywar #steverogers #first avenger #tonystark #iron man #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #bruce banner #thor odinson #peter parker #captain america #captain america x reader #tchalla

[btxtreads]

✒️ opposite attraction 🖋

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: WISH

↳ Pairing: Kang Taehyun x Reader

↳ word count: 1.7k words

↳ rating: PG

↳ genre: fluff, so much fluff

↳ warnings: underage drinking, sunhee tries to sell herself too much, sunhee verbal smackdown

a/n: I lied. There is a chapter in Beomgyu’s house and it’s written. 🤡anon big brain that’s so sexc

IMPORTANT: i dont know if you guys know this, but this smau was inspired by two of my favorite mangas-turned-jdramas: Itazura na Kiss: Love in Tokyo and Hana Yori Dango. This chapter was inspired by Hana Yori Dango Season 1′s theme song: Wish by Arashi. I think the upbeat hopeful tone of the song describes Taehyun and Y/N’s relationship a lot lol. You can read the english translation of the lyrics here. Enjoy! 💖

Taehyun leaned on the counter doing what he does best—observe.

In his hands was a cup of grape soda, which he was told was Hueningkai’s specific request.

All around him were strobe lights and drunk teenagers.

Beomgyu, sporting a can of sprite, was actively avoiding Minjeong as he made his way to Taehyun.

Minjeong was behind him, tipsy and drunk as she called to Beomgyu.

Both boys knew she already downed three shots upon arrival.

“What’s up!” Beomgyu greeted happily as he reached Taehyun, slinging an arm around the shorter male.

“She’s wasted,” Taehyun noted, pointing over to Minjeong.

The said girl swayed as Ara, equally as drunk, approached her with a giggle.

Beomgyu winced.

“Yeah, someone saw her down three shots in one go. Is she even legal yet?”

“Nope,” Taehyun shrugged. “That’s what you get when you throw a party with an open-for-all liquor bar,”

Beomgyu chuckled as Taehyun raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re already legal though, and it’s your party. I’m sure you could drink,” Taehyun said. “Why aren’t you?”

“I have a mission and I can’t do it when I’m drunk,” Beomgyu shrugged. “Also I’m not in the mood, maybe later.”

Taehyun rolled his eyes.

Beomgyu’s phone rang with an alert.

“Oh, they’re here,” Beomgyu muttered.

Taehyun whipped his head to the boy, heart suddenly pounding as he fought to maintain his composure.

“Oh, are they?” Taehyun asked nonchalantly as he looked back at the crowd.

Beomgyu snorted, patting Taehyun’s back.

“Yeah, so is Sunhee,” Beomgyu teased before a hand gripped Taehyun’s shoulder.

“Hi, Tae!” A shrill voice called.

Taehyun turned, raising an eyebrow at the girl.

“Beom, this is Sunhee?” Taehyun asked, frowning as the boy nodded.

Sunhee’s eyes brightened as she straightened her posture, smile widening.

“Oh, It’s you,” Taehyun hummed.

“It’s me?” Sunhee blinked flirtatiously, hand landing on Taehyun’s arm. “Ah, have you been looking for me?”

Taehyun remained stone-faced as the girl flaunted her short dress.

“I dressed up for you, by the way,” Sunhee giggled, gesturing to her awfully tight dress and sky-high pumps.

“Can you even walk in that?” Beomgyu asked incredulously.

“Oh, of course, Gyu!” Sunhee giggled, making Beomgyu form a face of disgust.

“Please don’t call me that,”

“But Y/N calls you that?” Sunhee replied, her smile tense.

Taehyun’s head whipped up at the mention of the girl.

“Why can’t I, Gyu? We’re friends, right?” Sunhee continued, her arm snaking around Taehyun’s.

The boy’s eyes wandered around as Beomgyu shook his head with a firm no.

Taehyun’s eyes locked onto Y/N, who had the prettiest white dress on, walking across the room with Hueningkai.

They conversed by the snack table, Hueningkai grabbing them two bottles of grape juice, before Hueningkai was pulled away by Ara.

Y/N shot a gaze over at their direction, locking eyes with Taehyun.

“Tae, babe? You okay?”

Taehyun flinched, looking down at Sunhee.

In a span of the few seconds he was looking for Y/N, the girl manage to press up even closer to him and procured a can of beer in her hands.

“How old are you?” Taehyun asked.

Delighted, Sunhee giggled.

“You must be so curious about me,” Sunhee tilted her head and hummed.

Beside them, Beomgyu muttered under his breath as he shoved a nacho chip in his mouth.

“I asked you a question,” Taehyun rolled his eyes. “Are you deaf?”

There was a beat of silence before Sunhee laughed obnoxiously, making Taehyun glare at the girl in irritation.

“That was so funny, babe!” Sunhee giggled, lightly hitting his arm. “Hm, well, I’m the same age as you,”

“So, you’re not legal?”

“Oh,” Sunhee raised her eyebrows, smirking as she tilted her head flirtatiously. “That wouldn’t be a problem,”

“It actually is, since you’re drinking under legal age,” Taehyun commented, gesturing to the can of beer in her hands. “Stop calling me babe, we’re not close. Don’t call me Tae, we’re not friends.”

Sunhee blinked in surprise as Taehyun shook her off with an irritated sigh.

“For the record, I don’t like girls who sell themselves too much,” Taehyun rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Tae, I’m just teasing,” Sunhee rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Yeah? Well, it’s not cute or sexy or whatever you’re going for so stop,” Taehyun snorted.

“Oh, but you looked at me like I was when you said ‘It’s you,’” Sunhee said suggestively.

Behind Taehyun, Beomgyu sat at the counter as he watched the exchange in amusement.

“I was just wondering who you were since you assumed my tweet yesterday was about you,” Taehyun scoffed. “Which isn’t, since I have no idea who the hell you are. Stop holding me, god.”

Before Sunhee could reply, Taehyun backed away from the girl, who tried to take his arm again, and turned back to Beomgyu with pursed lips.

The said boy was cackling silently at the side.

“She’s so annoying,” Taehyun hissed as Beomgyu snorted. “Anyways, have you seen—“

“Y/N?” Beomgyu teased, wiggling his eyebrows at a fuming Sunhee behind Taehyun.

“I might be looking for Kai,” Taehyun said, turning back to Sunhee. “You’re still here? Why are you still here?”

“I was hoping that we could—“

“Are you stupid?” Taehyun groaned. “I was asking you to leave,”

“She’s at the garden,” Beomgyu said, nodding at the direction of the backyard.

“Whatever,” Taehyun snorted before glaring at Sunhee. “Don’t follow me,”

Beomgyu snorted, wandering away to save Hueningkai, who was stuck trying to get away from a drunk Ara, as Sunhee stewed in her spot.

Taehyun made a beeline over to the door to the exit, standing at the veranda.

He always found Beomgyu’s massive mansion beautiful—especially the backyard that was decorated with hanging plants and twinkling lights by the pool and the gardens.

The way the backyard looked right now made him doubt a little.

The tanning beds by the pool we filled with booze and beer cans, with the crazy students swimming around the pool in their outfits.

The pathway to the gardens, however, was much more peaceful.

Past the short pathway was a big space with a table in the middle, with bean bags and a fire pit at the side for campfires.

Lying on one particular bean bag, was a girl in a white dress.

Slowly, Taehyun made his way to the coffee table, taking a seat as he observed the girl who opted to observe the stars.

The girl slowly raised her head, blinking over at Taehyun.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

Taehyun frowned, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” He replied. “What are you looking at?”

Y/N cracked a tiny smile and leaned back, gazing up at the stars once more.

“The stars,”

“There are no stars,” Taehyun deadpanned, making Y/N laugh.

“Well, yeah, but you can imagine,” Y/N said.

Taehyun sighed, observing the girl.

She was so carefree. She looked like someone who doesn’t think things through and just goes with whatever was handed to them.

Taehyun didn’t like people like that.

“The news said there would be a shooting star tonight,” Y/N said. “At 10.”

“You’d be looking at a dead star,” Taehyun replied.

“I should make a wish,” Y/N hummed, ignoring the boy as she gazed at her watch. “Oh, that’s in 10 minutes,”

Taehyun cracked a smile.

Taehyun can stand her though.

He stood up and moved to the bean bag next to her, positioning himself to look up at the sky.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking,”

“At what?” Y/N frowned.

“The stars,” Taehyun replied, raising an eyebrow at the girl. “Now, shut up and wait for the shooting star,”

“Are you going to make a wish?”

“Maybe.”

“You’d be wishing on a dead star,” Y/N teased, making Taehyun snort.

“Original,”

Y/N giggled as she checked her watch again.

6 minutes.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyun said, his eyes trained at the sky.

“What are you apologizing for?” Y/N asked turning to the boy in confusion.

“I’ve been a big asshole lately,” Taehyun replied, before shaking his head. “I’m an asshole to everybody, but particularly to you,”

“Ah, it’s no big deal,” Y/N shrugged. “Co-captain of the basketball team, president of the student council, top student of the school and trying to ward girls off of you—must be so tiring,”

“I guess,” Taehyun sighed, making Y/N shake her head with a chuckle.

“I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to take the worst out on me,” Y/N smiled over at the boy before looking back up.

3 minutes.

“Beomgyu said you’re amazing and stuff,” Taehyun hummed. “I wondered what all the fuss was all about since you didn’t seem so confident and amazing when we did the project,”

“Well, I was—uh—dealing with some stuff,” Y/N replied. “Class, friends, bullies. You know, high school.”

“Bullies?”

“Oh yeah,” Y/N snorted. “You know Sunhee? She and her friends—what a peach. Locked me in rooms and poured lunches on me,”

“Sunhee?” Taehyun furrowed his eyebrows, remembering the girl cozying up to him earlier as he sat up. “We should do something about it,”

“No, it’s okay,” Y/N smiled. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it,”

Taehyun turned to the girl, frowning.

“But, Y/N—“

“Trust me,”

“Okay, then,” Taehyun sighed, lying back down. “If you say so.”

Y/N smiled.

One minute.

“Hey, what are you wishing for?” Y/N asked, eyes darting around the sky to look for the shooting star bound to fall anytime.

“Uh, good health? grades? to win basketball finals?”

“I wish we can be great friends,” Y/N smiled over at him.

Taehyun smiled back.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “Me too.”

Overhead, a white streak darted past the night sky.

Y/N snapped her head to it with a gasp.

“Oh, there it is!” Y/N said, sitting up. “It’s a shooting star!”

Her hand reached out, taking a hold of his arm.

“Yeah,” Taehyun smiled at her. “Yeah, it is,”

He was more interested in looking at the star sitting next to him.

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[livingmybestfictionallife]

A Cobra’s Eros | 2

2. "It's a stick shift, you know." "Hardly my first."

Chapter Summary: Althea makes the acquaintance of a drunk man she knows only as ‘Johnny’ by stealing his car keys and insisting she keep him from killing himself. The pair find themselves together on the beach late at night and Althea decides it’s time to be selfish for once in her life per Johnny’s advice. See warnings below.

Warnings: Alcohol use, cursing, NSFW content towards the end. Don’t read if under 18 or if it makes you uncomfortable--you will be able to see things heating up. You won’t miss anything in terms of plot other than (SPOILERS) Johnny’s insecurities about his age and the fact that Althea and Johnny hook up.

A sigh of relief escaped Althea's lips as she glanced down at her phone to see her brother decided to get dinner with a friend. She was glad Demetri was responsible enough to send her the address of his friend's home, as well as their parent's phone number, but shame continued to swell within her as she sipped from her vodka-Sprite. Within ten minutes of her arriving at her mother's side, a nurse came in to administer pain medication and informed Althea that it was not suggested she stay given the possible negative side-effects of the medication.

Althea had always done everything in her life by the book, and in spite of doing everything 'the right way' life's cruel and unfair nature had crawled under her skin and attacked her heart. Without a second thought, Thea ordered a Lyft, placed herself in the back of a stranger's car, and made her way to the one place she could think of where it was acceptable to be this emotionally low in public: a hole in the wall, dive bar. She let the liquor burn against the walls of her throat and remained motionless as the bubbles from the carbonation in the drink scratched on the way down. Slowly, her vision began to blur again as her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away before anyone could notice her pain. With another long gulp of her drink, Althea tried to numb her heart and mind from the world.

The bell above the door jingled to signal another patron had entered, but Thea remained focused on how cold her fingertips were when she touched the part of her glass that contained ice. She was content to feel anything at that moment, even if it was the bitter cold bite of ice against her skin. She could hear the bartender mutter obscenities under his breath as his eyes gazed over the individual that had just entered the bar, and Thea furrowed her eyebrows as she looked up at the mirror before her. Despite the dim lights that lit the bar, she could see the reflection of the room, and tried to focus her attention on the individual the bartender was complaining about. Although she was uncertain of the culprit, she figured it would be safe to assume that the blonde man that staggered and swayed through the room on his way towards the bar was the cause of the bartender's frustrations.

It appeared to Althea that the man had been drinking heavily before he arrived, so she flattened her back and extended her elbows to the side in order to appear as if she was taking up more room than she was. Her efforts of keeping the stumbling drunk man away from her failed when he dropped against the stool beside her, pointed to a bottle of Jack Daniels, and slurred, "I'll take a fifth." The man struggled to enunciate the last word, which led to a slur of 'f' and 'th' sounds coming from his mouth in random intervals.

"I'm not sure if I can legally serve you," the bartender sighed as he looked over the man's disheveled appearance. Thea too examined the man from out of the corner of her eye: his shoes were untied, his shirt stained with what appeared to be blood, and she assumed it was the same blood that seeped through the poor excuse for a bandage that was wrapped around the man's right fist. His face looked tired and worn, and his blonde hair was shoved in different directions, but what stood out most to Thea was the small pools that collected in his weary, light blue eyes.

"Just give me the bottle, man," the man beside Althea slurred as he slammed his injured hand down on the bar in a fury. It was clear to Thea that the anger in the man's voice and movements masked the pain that caused those small, almost unrecognizable tears to form. Had she not been in that same state of anguish and anticipation of grief, she would have overlooked his watery eyes, but having fought against her own tears all damn day, Althea could see his pain. With a huff of aggravation in his tone, the bartender turned, grabbed the bottle, and handed it to the intoxicated individual only for the man to stand up and stagger away with the bottle draped down to his side.

"What the hell?" the bartender yelled out across the room as he watched the blonde walk away. Onlookers and bystanders turned their heads from the person who had shouted to the man who currently held a middle finger over his head as he slowly made his way from the bar. "Piece of shit," the bartender continued to grumble as he reached for the phone to call the police. Curiously, Althea's eyes remained on the stranger as he paced away, and she would have let him leave had she not notice him reach into his pocket for his keys. In a rush, she placed two twenty-dollar bills along with a ten down on the counter, and told the angry man behind the bar to keep whatever change was left before she finished off her drink and followed the stranger into the parking lot.

The blonde man staggered, stumbled, and drug his feet as he tried to figure out where he parked his car. With his equilibrium off, the top half of his body swung and swayed around in a desperate attempt to stay above the bottom half despite not knowing where the bottom half was going. In this attempt to stay standing, his shoulder collided with that of another, much bigger man than himself, which sent him spinning, only to be forced backwards into the chest of another burly biker. Althea had just exited the bar to see three men well over six-feet tall and weighing more than two-hundred pounds apiece form a circle around the man she had followed out of the bar. She was too far away to hear the brute grunts of words as the men began to antagonize the outnumbered individual, nor with slurred comments being spout in return, but she could see their mouths moving in a violent and angry manner. Before she could make her way any closer to the scene unfolding before her, Althea watched as the blonde man with a bottle of Jack took a fierce, collected swing towards one of the biker's faces. She could hear the collision of knuckles cracking against a mandible and wrapped a protective hand around her dominant hand as if she felt the pain absorbed by the blow. For a moment, it seemed as if things would remain stagnant, but Althea had been a witness to too many fights to know that after being struck, it's instinct to strike back.

The man who received the blow immediately clutched his jaw in his hands, and his two friends each took hold of his attacker. Althea tried to walk faster as she watched the man deliver blow after blow to the already bloodied man, but there was a slight fear within her that told her this wasn't her fight. There was no reason for her to be there, to intercede and help this man. In all reality, she couldn't do much to stop what was happening, but she knew could do more here than she could with her mother. Her mother's cancer wasn't her fight and that fact had been gnawing a hole in Althea's heart since her mother first got sick. She couldn't take the treatment for her mom, she couldn't diffuse the situation or negotiate the cancer away, she couldn't do anything but sit and watch as her mother's pain grew each day. With the man before her, she could jump between him and someone else, and at least if she got hit she would feel something.

Althea's walk turned into a jog and she quickly grew close enough to hear the conversation the men were having in between hits. She watched as the leather-vested men holding onto the blonde man each kicked the back of his legs and forced him to his knees. In a quick and violent motion, the main culprit grabbed a fistful of the blonde man's hair from the back of his head and pulled back so that the lights shone on his face and he was forced to look up at his attackers.

"It's messed up that back in high school we used to be afraid of you, with your Kung Fu fighting and your little posse. Where's all that power now?"

"You're nothing but a waste! You made fun of us in school for being losers; well take a long look in the mirror, bud!"

"You're fucking worthless!"

Althea narrowed her eyes as she noticed the a fist being raised above the man attacker's head and a figured a hard blow to the face would soon make contact if she didn't put an end to their ruthlessness. Quickly, she asserted herself between the pair, and sent her foot flying into the attacker's groin. As the man doubled over in pain, she grasped him by the back of his head and pulled his head downward as her knee soared up and made contact with his nose. Almost immediately she regretted her decision as she felt the ache in her joint, but the man was too stunned to notice her pain.

"What the hell, bitch?!"

"Back off," Althea growled as she stared the man down. She hadn't thought through what to do if the other two came after her, and she regretted not having a solid plan before breaking the man's nose on her kneecap.

"He's an asshole and a worthless piece of shit! He'll always be those things, so why don't you take your pretty ass somewhere else and let us finish what we started." The man's voice was deeper than it had been before, as if he was trying to intimidate her with a sultry tone, but Thea took a solid step towards the man before her now with her eyes narrowed upon his gaze.

"From where I'm standing, you're the asshole." Her voice didn't raise above a conversational tone, but it was fierce and sharp, and the man before her pursed his lips for a moment before he waved his hand for his buddies to join him as they wandered away from the scene. With the three men in leather biker vests pacing away from her, Althea turned on her heel and knelt over to offer the man on the ground a hand. With his left hand, he took hold of Althea's arm and used the woman to help him stand up.

Johnny had expected her to fall over the second he tugged his weight against her, but she remained rooted in the concrete. Johnny slung his arm over her shoulder and flinched slightly as he felt her arm rest carefully across his back. He hadn't seen who had stepped between him and that dick from his high school, and he didn't know what was done to get them to leave him alone, but the second he heard a woman's voice calling out from above him, his heart sank even lower than where it had been sitting all day. A woman had to step in and defend me...a fucking woman. Women were the ones meant to be protected, not the ones meant to do the protecting. Sure, he had learned otherwise since then—some of his most talented and devoted students were girls—but he never anticipated a woman having to keep him safe.

"Are you okay?" her voice called out again as she followed his footsteps, acting only as a means of support as he paced towards his car.

"I didn't need you to jump in," he grumbled as he pulled his arm from off her shoulders and attempted to stand up straight on his own.

"I could see you had the whole thing under control," the woman beside him sighed with sarcasm dripping all too obviously from her tone. With a huff in his voice, Johnny jingled his key ring around his fingers in order to try and find the key to his car as he neared his vehicle. Before he can even stretch out his arm to unlock the door, the woman had jumped in front of him yet again, this time however, he couldn't help but look. She was tall for a woman, and stood maybe five inches shorter than he did. Her dark hair framed her fair face and almost made her look even paler than she was, which gave him the impression of a dainty waif of a woman. His eyes traveled across her face first, taking in her sharp, determined eyes that had to have been one of the most stunning sights he'd ever seen; accented by long dark lashes, her light eyes twinkled under the lights of the parking lot like an icy moon, and he knew he had to look anywhere other than those eyes, lest they hold him prisoner. Upon further examination of the woman before him, Johnny realized she was anything but dainty; she had an athletic build with beautiful curves which his intoxicated mind had become lost in as he quickly looked over her hips and chest before his eyes traveled back up to meet her eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" Johnny's voice came out of his mouth much more aggravated than he intended to sound and he bit down on his lip to keep from cursing himself. Ever since he was young, he found it easier to push people away before they had the chance to throw him out like week old garbage. It was easier to be standoffish and rude than it was to be open to kindness, especially when his experience with kindness was always manipulated for someone else's favor.

"You're going to kill yourself if I let you get in this car," Althea stubbornly said as she leaned her butt against the driver's door and remained a barrier to this man.

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," Johnny snapped in return as he took a step forward to insert the key into the keyhole to unlock the car. Althea refused to move during this process, making it difficult for Johnny to turn the key without grazing the woman's hip and damn near impossible for him to open the door without her falling into him. The moment he pulled his hand back from unlocking the door, Althea grabbed the keys from the man's hand and let them fall gently in her own hand as her fingers twirled around the key ring. "What the hell? I've had a shitty fucking day! Just let me drive my damn car!" Johnny hated that he was screaming at this woman who was doing everything she could to keep him from wrapping his car around a pole, he hated that on some, if not any level, he was the same bitter, angry person Kreese had molded him to be.

"You're not the only person who's had a shitty day!" Althea hissed back at the man as she finally brought herself to look him in the eyes since they'd been speaking. "And I'm not going to let you kill yourself because you're too damn stubborn to call a cab or let someone else drive." The man's hooded eyes were swollen from trying to hold back tears and bloodshot from failing to do so. Althea couldn't stop herself from examining the man's physique. He wore a faded charcoal heather-grey t-shirt with a flannel wrapped tightly across his back with the sleeves stretching over his biceps and rolled up to his elbows to reveal his strong, muscular forearms. His jeans seemed old, but they still hugged his thighs in a flattering way, and Althea had to pull herself from her subconscious, knee-jerk wish for him to turn so she could see what his ass looked like. Suddenly, she remembered the tears she'd seen in his eyes at the bar and she took a deep breath. "Let me just drive you somewhere—anywhere—and we can share that bottle of Jack. It's the least you can do for me since I bought it." After watching the man purse his lips and consider her offer, Althea welcomed the gentle nod that came from the man as he took a few relenting steps toward the passenger side of the car.

"It's a stick shift, you know," Johnny muttered as he dropped into the seat and pulled the door shut behind him. As the engine roared to life, Althea pushed on the clutch and put the car into first gear.

"Hardly my first," she said with an ambitiously curt wink at the man beside her before she pulled out of the parking lot and into the street. A cocky smirk fell over Johnny's face as he replayed her words in his head, but he didn't have much time to laugh about it with himself before he had to spout off directions. As he raised his arm to point at the street she needed to turn on, Johnny noticed his stomach had already begun bruising from the beating he took and immediately wanted to be distracted.

"So, do you have a name?" Johnny felt like a dumbass the second the words left his mouth. What the shit? Of course she has a name. You sound like a damn clueless virgin asking 'do you have name?'

"Althea," the woman responded in a gentle tone before inquiring the same, "and you?"

"Johnny." Silence again engulfed the car only to be interrupted with him intermittently giving directions. With uncertainty in his voice, Johnny spoke again. "Um, do you—"

"We don't have to say anything to one another, Johnny," Althea said softly as she made the turn he had instructed her to.

"You'd rather sit in silence?" he huffed with a slight agitation in his voice.

"Some time in 1896, this Italian guy made a pretty great invention called a radio, and in 1920, it became a more widespread concept and was broadcasting globally," Althea said in a snarky tone that made Johnny's eyebrows furrow as he gazed at her.

"That was a really round about way to say you want to listen to music," he muttered as he jammed his index finger into the power button of the car's stereo. The unmistakable chorus to Scorpions' Rock You Like A Hurricane came blasting through the speakers so loudly it initially took Johnny by surprise. Quickly, he reached for the volume, only to have Althea's hand reach up and stop him. Her fingers were thin and soft compared to his, but he could still feel the remnants of callouses along the base of her fingers on the inside of her hand. Althea wasn't expecting to gently squeeze Johnny's hand in hers as she kept him from changing the volume or the station, but once her skin grazed his, her hand seemed to go limp under his touch.

"Don't change it! I love this song," she said and then released Johnny's hand from her own.

"Really? You know who this is?" People who lived in the eighties still had their qualms about listening to eighties music nowadays. He didn't understand why people thought the hair metal bands of his adolescence were overrated or shitty, but it drove him up the fucking wall. He didn't expect the woman beside him to be interested in the Scorpions, partially because his girlfriend back in high school couldn't stand them, and partially because of the fact that Althea was much younger than he was. Her skin was still tight across her body, her eyes didn't have visibly noticeable bags hanging from them or crows-feet peering from the corners, her lips were full and without frown or laugh lines, and her hands were free from the crevice's of aging he'd gained over the years. Sitting beside her youth and beauty, Johnny became all too familiar with his age.

"Of course! Love at First Sting is one of my favorite Scorpion albums," Althea said as she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the drums.

"No kidding," Johnny sighed as he listened intently just incase he could hear her singing beneath the volume of the song. "So how do you feel about Warrant?"

"They're okay. They don't rank as highly on my all-time favorites as other bands though," Thea said as she looked over to the man sitting beside her, jealous that he had the opportunity to see all of these amazing bands she grew up loving at the beginning of their journeys.

"You've got my attention," he muttered with a smirk as he tried to keep his eyes from drifting too deeply into hers. "Top five bands from the eighties, go."

"Top five? How can I narrow it down that quickly?" Thea laughed as the music flowed through her ears; meanwhile her laugh tickled his more than the music ever had.

"Easy: Ratt, AC/DC, Aerosmith, Metallica, Speedwagon." A curious smile formed over Johnny's face as he watched Althea nod along in agreeance of each band he added to his favorites list.

"Those are good, but I would definitely have to go with Mötley Crüe, Ozzy Osbourne, Metallica, Pantera, and AC/DC," Althea said as she carefully chose each band on her limited list of favorites.

"Bullshit! Pantera doesn't count," he called out as Althea brought the vehicle to a stop in a parking lot by a semi-enclosed portion of a beach.

"They formed in '81!" she protested passionately against Johnny's comment.

"But their biggest hits came from the nineties! That doesn't make them an eighties band." Althea opened her mouth to scoff at Johnny's comment and turned in her seat to face him.

"I left Nirvana off the list for this exact reason!"

"Nirvana wasn't a thing until well into the nineties," Johnny countered as he adjusted his position to better argue with the woman beside him.

"Nirvana was formed in 1987, technically making them a band from the eighties—"

"You're stretching for that one, Althea," Johnny chuckled. As the corners of his mouth tugged up into a grin, Althea smiled at the sight of his laugh lines as they stretched over his face in momentary joy.

"That's why I didn't include it, so you can at least give me Pantera since I'm allowing REO Speedwagon!"

"What's wrong with Speedwagon?" Johnny scoffed as he noticed Althea's hands becoming more and more fidgety as they sat in the car without purpose. Instinctually, he reached for the door handle and pulled himself from the vehicle with her following suit to continue the conversation.

"They were formed in '67, therefore, they're not technically an eighties band," she said with a smirk as she pulled her arms tight over her body and shivered slightly as the night air of Los Angeles carried a lightly chilly breeze.

"Fine, you can keep Pantera and I'll keep Speedwagon," Johnny chuckled as walked alongside Althea until they found a secluded portion of the beach and lowered themselves into the sand. Being trained in karate meant he was able to perceive even the slightest of movements in his opponent, so Johnny quickly noticed Althea's slight shivering and shed his flannel from his torso. With one of his arms extended around Althea's back holding up the shirt, and the other held on the side of her body he sat next to, she slid her arms through the sleeves and sighed a soft 'thank you' into the night.

There was a familiar tug in Johnny's chest, the one that convinced him to ask Ali Mills out all those years ago, the one that convinced him to open Cobra Kai, the one that told him to strike first, and with ever fiber of his being, he wanted to. He wanted to lose himself in the woman beside him, to forget about his worries and just worry about pleasing her for a moment so he could keep his mind from the bad he'd convinced himself he'd done—not to himself, but to Miguel and Robbie, and all the kids from his dojo that were going to become pawns in Kreese's sociopathic understanding of karate. He wanted to get lost in someone else rather than himself, but something he hadn't experienced in a long time kept him from making a move. In the back of his mind and the bottom of his heart, Johnny felt the pangs of rejection and inferiority.

Before Cobra Kai he'd known these feelings all too well; between his neglecting step-father and being bullied at school for being a loner without friends, Johnny knew what it felt like to not be wanted, to not feel good enough for someone to want to have around. The younger woman beside him could do better than a divorced, border-line alcoholic, small business owner with an eighteen-year-old son that hated him and a kid he'd come to love as his own that he blamed himself for being in the hospital right now without knowing if he will survive. She was beautiful and vibrant with an entire life before her; he was old and withering—his glory days were long behind him and trying to relive them as a sensei was a mistake that had begun to kill him. For once he'd met a woman too far out of his league that he was too cowardly to even take a swing, and the thought of her laughing at him or slapping him for making a move would be too much to add onto his existing stressors.

"Why don't we start in on this," Althea suggested as she unscrewed the cap from the Jack Daniels bottle and took a quick swig. She needed an escape from the endless circular reasoning and downward spiral that her mind had become. She thought that being just shy of thirty meant having a solid portion of her life figured out, or at least enough figured out to have a five-year plan, but with the twists and turns her mother's condition was taking, Althea couldn't even seem to develop a six-month plan for herself. The doctors still weren't certain on the current state of her mother's condition, and the only thing they could tell her was that the cancer was back and aggressive. There was no estimated time left, no plan for treatment other than chemo for now, and no telling if this was something she could bounce back from like before, but Althea knew deep in her bones that her mother had given up. She didn't want to face the reality that in a matter of days or weeks she could be calling her employers to say she would be moving back to Los Angeles to assume guardianship over her brother and begging them to keep her on as a remote employee. She didn't want to face the fact that she would have to find a way to deal with planning and paying for a funeral, looking through her mother's assets, combing through her will, and all of the other unpleasantries that people don't let you know about when a family member dies. She didn't even know how to talk to Demetri about what he wanted through all of this. Did he want to stay living in their parents' home without their parents' presence? Would that be too painful? Would it be comforting? He was so young when their father died, would losing his mother now be more devastating? As all of the questions came sprinting back to Althea's head, she quickly took the bottle of Jack from Johnny's hands, which forced him to spill a splash on the sand, and drank about three shots worth before reluctantly handing it back to the man beside her.

"Shit," Johnny muttered as he brought his attention from the shoreline to Althea. His shirt fell nicely over her body and made her look even more like a punk-rocker than her general appearance portrayed her as, and he had to admit it looked good on her, but his face fell and his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to get a read on her expressions. "You good?" It was a quick and emotionless question that received a nod and then a long exhale from her tight, apprehensive lungs. "You sure?" Johnny asked again after he took another swig from the bottle and then placed it between the two of them.

"I'm fine," Althea muttered helplessly as she watched the water slowly inch its way up the beach with each rolling wave as high-tide approached. "I'm not the type to burden others with my issues." Johnny exhaled deeply as he leaned backwards, propped himself up on his elbows, and gazed out at the water.

"I'm not a good listener, but if you need to bitch about life, I can bitch about it with you," he said as he watched the woman who seemed much smaller than him take another long drink from the whisky.

"It fucking sucks, doesn't it?" Althea let the words escape in anger as she picked up a rock that rested beside her and threw it as far as she could towards the water. "You try to do what you think is right—what the world makes you believe is something you should do—and the reward is what? Your life is never truly your own! You're constantly having to deal with other people's shit, other people's issues, all of the baggage that comes with being a person with other people relying on you."

"It's so much easier not having to deal with other people or developing relationships. Stick to yourself and you don't get hurt." He said the last sentence as if he were repeating a personal manifesto--one that Althea found herself jealous of.

"I wish it was that simple. I wish I didn't have to take care of anyone else and that I got to be alone and on my own for once, and I know that's a selfish and bitchy thing to wish, but I'm struggling to figure out what the fuck I'm supposed to do," Althea sighed as she pulled her knees up, rested her elbows against them, and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.

"What, are you pregnant or something?" Johnny asked as he grabbed the bottle of Jack instinctively just incase his assumption was correct. When he saw Althea's head shake dismissively back and forth, he placed the bottle back down after he took another drink from it.

"It's just family stuff," she tried to dismiss his inquisition and brought the bottle to her lips again. The glass lip of the whisky bottle tasted faintly of the beer Johnny had been drinking and something else, a flavor she found intoxicating but couldn't place for the life of her.

"Fighting with your husband?" Johnny asked as he took the bottle from Althea's hands and brought it to his mouth again. Hidden faintly by the burn of the liquor, he could taste the sweet notes of coconut that he assumed came from whatever balm or Chapstick that caused Althea's lips to shimmer so seductively.

"Is that your subtle way of asking if I'm married?" she returned in the same dry and emotionless tone Johnny had used to ask his question. After watching him pretend not to know what she was talking about, Althea smirked. His cocky smile was something she'd overlooked as arrogant rather than coy and playful, and she found herself getting lost in the grooves of his lips and cheeks as he flashed an intoxicated grin at her in the darkness. "No, no husband," Althea sighed as she felt her desperation begin to get the best of her. She didn't have any friends in Palo Alto to talk about her issues with, she couldn't burden her mom with her concerns, and she refused to make Demetri feel like his existence was a burden to her, so she kept everything bottled inside...until she looked into those peering, weary, needy blue eyes before her. "My mom is losing a battle I can't fight for her and soon I'll be the only person left in my family to take care of my little brother." Johnny bit his lip and sighed empathetically as he leaned in towards Althea and pressed the bottle to her lips for her. She tilted her head back and allowed him to dump whatever amount of whisky he planned to down her throat, but was thankful he only gave he a small swig.

"Was your father a dick like mine and take off on your mom?" Johnny asked bitterly as he brought the bottle to his lips, mostly just to taste the coconut he knew came from hers.

"He was killed by a drunk driver nine years ago," Althea muttered into the cool air around her and Johnny immediately felt like an asshole for his comment.

"I'm sorry, Althea, I didn't mean to insult him," Johnny said as he tried to extend his hand to apologetically rest on her arm, but lost his balance and ended up pressing his shoulder against hers. Unexpectedly, he felt Althea gently lean into him, so he extended his arm out behind her back to keep them both from falling over due to their intoxication.

"You didn't," she sighed as she clumsily reached across Johnny for the bottle of whisky that sat in the sand on the opposite side of Johnny's body. "Sorry about your dad being a piece of shit though," she said in a light, almost distant voice as both Althea and Johnny began to come to terms with their level of intoxication. The bottle had been full a mere ten minutes ago, and now it barely had enough liquid in it to make a sloshing sound when Althea plucked it from where it rested beside Johnny's hip. She was glad to feel the burn of liquor against the walls of her throat, happy to at least have that physical pain to distract her from the emotional pain that had been tearing at her heart for years.

"Dad, stepdad, they were both pieces of shit," Johnny sighed as he balled his hand that rested on the ground into a fist and gripped tightly to the grains of sand between his fingers and in his palm. "It's probably why I'm such a piece of shit." His hands grew tighter and his mind was focused on the tension in his fingers as he continued to pull his hands into tighter and tighter balls of anger.

"You can't be that much of piece of shit," Althea sighed as she leaned off of his shoulder for a moment to gently place her finger tips along his bicep as a way to get him to look at her.

"I'm a shitty father to my own kid who left him and his mom just like my dad did to me, except I didn't do it before he was born; he got to know me—he got to be used to me being there, and then I left," Johnny began his sentence as a mutter, but with each word his voice grew louder until he seemed to be cursing himself.

"Would his life be any better if you stayed with his mom?" Althea asked as she absentmindedly began to trace her thumb along the seam on the sleeve of Johnny's t-shirt.

"She and I hated each other!"

"So, no?" Althea interjected. "So, he would have grown up with hate and anger being the foundation of his life? So even if he's bitter at you now, he at least he doesn't resent you, right? If it means your kid will have a better chance in life, sometimes leaving is what you have to do."

"I never wanted to be my father or my stepfather, and now I'm fucking both," Johnny sighed as he forced the almost empty bottle into the sand between himself and Althea and then shoved his fingers through his fine, blonde hair. "You don't know me, Althea. Everyone who does would tell you exactly what I'm saying: I'm a no good, loser, piece of shit! Those assholes were right foe beating the shit out of me." Hesitant to show weakness, Johnny fought the urge to let any emotion other than anger escape his lips, so he folded his legs over one another, leaned forward, and stared out into the open, desperate to keep his eyes from meeting Althea's.

"If you're as much of a piece of shit as you think, you would have told me to fuck off for trying to make sure you didn't kill yourself, you wouldn't be letting me bitch about my life to you, and you would have called me out for being a selfish bitch." She slurred her words together with strange intervals of silence between certain phrases, but Johnny was also drunk and understood her slurred speech as the native tongue of the alcohol infused.

"You're not a bitch, Althea. I wouldn't have ever said that," Johnny sighed as he turned back to the woman beside him. The sun had begun to set on their drive to the beach, and with every passing second that led to the darkness they both currently sat in, Johnny thought Althea's beauty couldn't be matched as the golden rays of the sun danced over her skin; however, seeing her in the moonlight, he knew this was her purest form of beauty. It was as if her eyes were meant to be stars with the purpose of guiding lost souls to joy, as if her skin was meant to glow like a beacon under the light of the night to bring the wandering home. "You're dealing with a lot and deserve to be afraid of losing the ability to be selfish. All I've ever been was selfish, and it's screwed me so many times."

"All I've ever been is selfless, and now it looks like I'll never have the option of putting what I want first," she said gently as the fingers on her right hand began to trace small patterns in the sand in the sand between her and Johnny's hips.

"You're still so young! You have time to figure things out—"

"I could become a parent to a teenager in a matter of weeks or even hours!" Althea protested, "It's not like I have a lot of time to figure this out!"

"Use the time you have left to take what you want before life starts taking everything from you. Be selfish now!" Johnny's chest heaved as he spoke, and although Althea was partially focused on finishing the rest of the whiskey, she couldn't keep her eyes from him. There was a passion in his words that he expressed with his body, and something about what he told her, or the way he said it, forced all the courage she had pent up in her body to come spouting out. With the bottle still in her left hand, Althea reached up, wrapped her left arm over Johnny's shoulder, and placed his neck in the crook of her elbow before she leaned forward to meet his lips. For some reason she expected them to be rough, but as she placed her lips to his, she felt comforted and welcomed by their soft embrace. Slowly, she tugged against his shirt as she leaned back in an attempt to signal him to follow. Johnny listened to her movements and placed his hands on either side of Althea's shoulders as he leaned over and felt her legs wrap around his waist. He wanted to see how far he could push this, but the same feeling of uncertainty that kept him from striking first was back and left an embarrassing hole in his heart. She doesn't want you. She's just drunk and you're just here. She could have anyone, why would she want you?

Althea's eyes flicked open the second she felt Johnny's lips leave hers and his hands attempt to push her legs off of him. "Shit," she muttered and quickly hid her face. "I misread this, didn't I?"

"You're drunk, Althea; I'm not going to take advantage of you like that." Had the man he had been three years ago heard him just now, he would have punched himself. Getting drunk and finding drunk chicks to hook up with was who he was back then; maybe she was right, maybe he wasn't such a piece of shit. "I don't want to hurt you or have you wake up tomorrow thinking some asshole took advantage of you."

As Althea lay beneath Johnny, her arms stretched out over her head in the sand, her feet now on the ground, and knees positioned on either side of his torso, she took a deep breath and stared up into his baby blue eyes. "I'm not going to pretend like I'm the most sober person in the world right now, but you told me to be selfish—to take what I want before life starts taking things from me, so that's what I did." With a hesitant breath escaping her lungs, she added, "if I crossed a line, I'm sorry, I just thought—"

"Are you sure?" Johnny's voice echoed out over hers as he stared down into those damned eyes of hers.

"Am I sure of what?" she asked with a rather confused look on her face. How could she be any more blatant about her intentions? She told him she wanted him and apologized for crossing a line with him—if anything, in her mind, she was the one taking advantage of someone and should be apologizing.

"Are you sure you want to do this with me?" His voice faltered only for a moment, and he was certain Althea hadn't noticed, but the fact that his voice was getting caught in his throat and he kept second guessing whether or not a woman was into him made Johnny feel like that dorky, nerdy, loser he used to be who didn't believe he was worth anything. Why does it feel like this--like I don't know what I'm doing? Like I'm trying to tell her I'm a mistake?

"Why? You don't have something you haven't disclosed, do you?" Althea asked with an eyebrow raised up at Johnny.

"No!"

"Then why are you asking me if I'm sure about you?" Johnny stared down at her, baffled that she wasn't seeing the clear as day elephant that plagued the room.

"I'm not exactly close to your age," he said in a slow, hesitant manner. He tried to convince himself that surely this time she'd push him away and grumble about some old creep coming on to her, but instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, lifted her body off the ground and pressed it to his.

"If anything, that means you should really know what you're doing," she whispered against his ear and her hot breath against his neck caused his hair to stand on end. Johnny lowered himself to the ground until he felt her breasts press lightly into his chest. He lowered his forehead to hers and lightly pressed his lips against hers. For some reason, he expected the soft, delicate kiss she initiated to be the one he received, but he was met with a passion and lust as Althea's lips crashed against his. He quickly adjusted to her pace and gently grasped her bottom lip with his teeth. Instantly, she began to bite his upper lip, so he slipped his tongue between her teeth and began to explore her mouth. She tasted the same as he expected he did, like Jack Daniels, and it was refreshing. Slowly, he pulled his lips away from hers again, but this time he did so to admire her. His shadow moved away from her face and the moon quickly lit up her eyes and smile. "Are you that worried about the age thing?" she asked as she took a breath. Johnny was sure Althea wasn't trying to be as sultry as she was coming off as, but everything she did was just so enticing.

"You're just so beautiful," he softly said in response to her question before he leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on Althea's lips. Beautiful. The word hung in her mind and his voice repeated it in her head as her hands found their way up his shirt. She hadn't had anyone look into her eyes and tell her she was beautiful, she'd been called sexy and hot, but never beautiful. She'd had guys complain about dating her for so long without her putting out, but never had someone question whether she was sure she wanted to be with them. She'd often be forced to be on top, and was foreign to feeling the weight of a man on top of her. With Johnny laying on top of her, Althea could feel every breath he took, every movement he made, and his weight against her that pressed her into the sand made her feel safe. Even though she was fully clothed, if she were to be sitting on top of him and straddling his hips, she would have felt so exposed and vulnerable. Lying beneath him with his arms on either side of her, she felt protected. Suddenly, she felt Johnny shift his weight off of her and a chilly breeze caught her off guard.

"Hold on a second," he said as he stood up, "I'll be right back." As Johnny hurried back to his car, Althea could hear the steady rhythm of his feet being absorbed into the sand fade as he jogged away, and then crescendo on his return trip. Althea had sat up when he rolled off of her, concerned she had taken it too far again by sliding her hands under his shirt, but a small smile fell over her face when she noticed him return with a large blanket.

"Do you keep that handy for your beach hook ups?" she teased. It didn't matter to her if she wasn't the first woman he'd been with her or anywhere, but Johnny immediately corrected her with a very serious look on his face.

"I work late sometimes and fall asleep in my office, which is always freezing," he responded before he dropped down and resumed his position between Althea's legs. "I noticed you were cold, so I thought it would help," Johnny said as he pulled the blanket around his shoulders and let it drape over him as he leaned over Althea and pressed his body down into hers.

"Sorry about my hands," she said softly as she pulled them away from Johnny and held them against her hips.

"Don't be," he sighed as he gently took her arm and moved her hands back to his stomach. Her hands were freezing to the touch, but Johnny couldn't remember the last time a woman had touched him so selflessly. Even as Althea was trying to be selfish and take what she wanted, she was still so kind, and despite how her hands felt like ice against his skin, she was warm. Johnny cursed himself as he caught himself thinking too much into how he felt. That's not what you do with hook ups, Lawrence, he mentally growled at himself, but as her hands gently grazed his stomach and chest before the found their way to his shoulders, he leaned into her and how he felt being with her. Slowly, he pulled a hand from where it rested by Althea's face and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. As much as he wanted to see her body under the light of the moon, he didn't want to strip her down in a place that didn't have the privacy provided by a locking door. His fingers traced against her skin and he could feel small indentions of her abdomen. Fuck me, Johnny thought as he imagined what Althea looked like with abs. Just how athletic is she?

Althea took a deep breath as Johnny's hand found her breast, and she could feel him lightly trace where the lace of her bra met her skin. They're usually done by now, she thought as she remembered the majority of her previous sexual encounters. An ache ripped through Althea's stomach as she felt Johnny's fingers leave her breasts and slowly trace her skin along the hem of her pants. There was an anticipation that rattled her bones and seemed to shake her to her core as he found the button on the inside hem of her dress pants and then tugged the zipper down. Johnny's knuckles grazed the lace on her underwear as Althea shifted her pants slightly lower down her legs, and a lump rose in his throat as he tried to focus on what he was doing. As he gently maneuvered his hand between their bodies and along the lace underwear she wore, Johnny could feel Althea's body lightly shake beneath him and he realized she really did want him.

Johnny's core seized up the second he felt her palm him over his pants, so he shifted his lower body away from her reach and shook his head lightly. "Be selfish," he said softly before he pushed her underwear to the side and slipped two fingers inside of her to wet them. She let out a soft groan the second he entered her and then sighed when he pulled away. Slowly, he leaned over and kissed her again as his index finger swirled around on her clit. It was a slow, agonizing motion that Althea took as him teasing her, but as he continued, she became weaker and weaker to his touch. Slowly, he quickened his pace and altered between pleasing Althea internally and externally, with each sound from her mouth and each expression on her face driving him more and more insane.

Althea tried to be selfish, she tried not to touch Johnny when he was within reach, and so she leaned back and enjoyed what he did to her. She allowed her stomach to tighten and her legs to shake; she allowed herself to be selfish and be the only one that was pleasured, but the thought crossed her mind that she could be selfish with him. With Johnny still hovering slightly above her, Althea unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and pulled him from his underwear. He tried to protest, but she had already pushed his hand aside, placed his cock at her entrance, and bucked her hips up so that she was wrapped completely around him without him even having to thrust. There was no arguing with her, she was ready for him and she was taking him.

Next Chapter

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence fanfiction #johnny lawrence cobra kai #johnny lawrence fanfic #johnny lawrence x ofc #johnny lawrence fic #johnny lawrence smut #cobra kai #cobra kai johnny lawrence #a cobra's eros

[barsoleils]

✧ ; 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 / monstadt volume.

last updated on march 29th, 2021.

warning - spoilers for the prologue, the monstadtians’ story quests and their respective pasts.

desc. - below is a list of my personal headcanons for the city of monstadt and its people, made mainly for my own personal reference as my big brain has long since run out of space and i didn’t want to accidentally forget them like a clown. c:

please feel free to use these headcanons for any of your creative works, the only thing that i ask for in return is for you to let me check out what you’ve made if ever you were comfortable with doing so. no pressure!

temp. note - found this in my drafts! i figured i should probably publish this so it can serve as a starting point for this blog’s writing section. but please keep in mind that i’m still thinking about polishing these a bit more at a later date!

TRADITIONS

as a nation widely known to accept foreigners and immigrants with open arms, seeing orphaned children abandoned near their walls isn’t an uncommon sight in monstadt. the people of the church of favonius are the ones who stepped up to the task of caring for and assigning the the children with individual given names if they still didn’t have one.

when it comes to the matter of naming the children, the church’s sisters typically huddle together to think and decide. but as they are not their real family, the names that the church give these children would merely serve as placeholders until the children themselves have grown old enough to decide whether they would like to keep it or change it.

as time passes, the orphaned children the church had taken in would eventually get adopted and receive the name of their chosen family, but on the off chance that one doesn’t get adopted, they will have three choices. if they’ve decided to accept monstadt as their true home, they can choose to be blessed and receive the surname “monstadt”. if they don’t fancy the first idea, then they can choose to travel to other nations in search of their real family/other families that they could possibly get adopted into. but if neither of the former ideas are to their liking, they can simply choose to remain without a surname at all.

the orphans would live and help out around the church once they are taken in but would not at all be forced to join the nation’s religion.

WIND SPIRITS

elemental beings found in the northern lands of teyvat and whom serve directly under the anemo archon.

a new wind spirit is born alongside every infant, and their sole duty is to listen and relay the prayers of their assigned child to the god of anemo their entire lifetime. but even though such a task is regarded as their lifetime duty, they are generally not obligated to obey their fate.

a spirit’s lifespan is directly tied to their child’s, so when the child passes away, so do they.

wind spirits have only two forms: a gust of wind, or a small sprite similar in appearance to barbatos before he had taken on the form of his late friend.

these little guys appear invisible to most people, with the     exception of those who possess traces of anemo energy in their soul. these exceptions are usually the reincarnations of wind spirits or anemo vision wielders.

anemo-based magic have no effect on them whatsoever, which is why they were and still are fully-able to pass through the storm barrier surrounding old monstadt at any time. small items would also become immune to such so long as they fully drape themselves over it, not allowing even an inch of the object to come into contact with the magic.

they are generally rather vulnerable to negative thoughts and emotions, and if a single wind spirit were to be exposed to too much of  them whether from their own mind or others--they always end up taking on the form of a small whirlwind and would stay as such until they manage to calm down. a hoard of these spirits, however, would cause a much larger whirlwind. they are one of the three main causes of such natural phenomena in northern teyvat.

the two other causes of whirlwinds are: (1) the anemo archon’s uncontrolled anger, which forms a massive dust devil, and (2) natural disturbances.

VENTI

about his past...

venti used to be a wind spirit; but contrary to what you might have  thought, he didn’t play hooky as often as you’d expected him to in the past. in fact, he spent most of his time tending to his human; leaving them little gifts and notes every now and then. Indeed, he was that fond of them.

one fateful day, venti found one that was able to see his kind; a boy with a lyre who lived on the next street over. and so, from that day onwards, he started spending time with the boy during the times his human was out like a light.

when the boy one day asked for his cooperation in freeing monstadt, it didn’t take much to convince him. after all, his beloved human too sought to see the world beyond the storm barrier.

once he became the next ruling archon in monstadt, it was then his turn to be served by the wind spirits; but not wanting to impede on their freedom of choice, he immediately made sure to let it be known that they weren’t obligated to serve him. In the end, they all decided to stay---for their childrens’ sake, and for he who fought for their freedom.

more about him.

venti likes collecting little pieces of trivia and has learned to fluently speak all existing languages in teyvat---yes, even hilichurlian---all for the sake of richer song compositions.

like klee, also buries his treasures (read: stolen wine) outside of monstadt because he doesn’t really have a permanent home; but he only really does so near venessa’s tree in windrise.

now you may be wondering, where does he sleep? anywhere really. so long as the place doesn’t have any cats hanging around the vicinity, he’ll kick up his feet and relax, maybe even with his lyre or a bottle of wine in his grasp.

AMBER

more about her.

the original baron bunny toy was a gift she’d received from her      grandfather early into her childhood. she began making explosive variants of the toy only after seeing klee tinker with and cause the explosion of the baron bunny rip-off she had made during her free time in an attempt to improve her sewing skills.

in line with her job as an outrider, amber has a keen sense of danger.

OTHERS

in progress. please return at a later date!

#genshin impact #genshin #monstadt #genshin venti #genshin amber #headcanons #sunup rendezvous

[zaffrenotes]

elpída: part iv

Book: The Royal Heir, Future Rating/Warnings: PG (subject matter) / Character death(s) will be mentioned Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * OCs are my creation * Set roughly 20 years into the future of the TRH timeline. I was inspired to write this based on an ad I saw last November. This does not follow the full TRH timeline from the book * elpída is the Greek word for “hope” * Word Count: +/- 1300 

Perma & TRR/TRH Taglist: @annekebbphotography​ @ao719​ @blackcatkita​ @brightpinkpeppercorn​ @desireepow-1986​ @gibbles82​ @innerpostmentality​ @loveellamae​ @smalltalk88​ @thecordoniandiaries​ // @aestheticartsx​ @aworldoffandoms​ @bascmve01​ @bbrandy2002​ @burnsoslow​ @custaroonie​ @darley1101​ @dcbbw​ @gardeningourmet​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @iplaydrake​ @lodberg​ @lovemychoices​ @missevabean​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @superharriet​ @the-soot-sprite​ // @kimmiedoo5​ @msjr0119​ @omgjasminesimone​ @princess-geek​ @queenjilian​ @riseandshinelittleblossom​ @texaskitten30​

It’s a small gathering within the palace chapel. Heads of noble houses are in attendance, some with their children – the newest generation in a long line of nobility. They’re all loyal to the Crown and friends of King Liam and Queen Katrina. Royal Council members are there with their families, along with government officials. The space is peppered with Olivia’s Scarlet Sentinels – the reformed guards she trained during the war – standing guard for potential threats.

Eighteen year old Teddy cried out in frustration as she fell to the mat, the outside of her ankle stinging from where Olivia’s wooden staff struck her. As Olivia spun around to strike again, Teddy swung her legs over her head and back the other way, using the momentum to flip up off the ground. With her own staff out of reach, Teddy pulled the wooden daggers from her belt and blocked Olivia’s attempt to knock her down. She moved to sweep Olivia’s legs out from under her, only to double over in pain when her aunt struck her across the abdomen, and again across her back.

With the air knocked out of her, Teddy fell to the floor on her hands and knees, a dull pain at the base of her skull as Olivia pressed one end of the staff against her. “Ha!” Olivia exclaimed, pulling the staff away from Teddy’s head. “Get up, girl, let’s try again.”

Teddy sat back on her heels, trying to catch her breath. “Theía, this is insane,” she wheezed. “Do we really need to keep running these drills?”

Olivia sighed, extending a hand to help Teddy up from the mat. “I was training with real blades at thirteen, young lady.” They walked over to a bench, and sat down, before taking swigs of water from their water bottles. “We’ve got to make do with what we can right now, but if you were in Cordonia, I’d have you training with the finest steel Lythikos could offer. You know your parents fought with less in their day, right?”

Teddy began fixing her hair again, yanking the elastic free before working to pull her hair up in a high ponytail. “Mama told me about fighting Anton on their wedding day and beating him with a stick.”

Olivia’s hand moved to touch her side, remembering the day vividly in her mind, and the wound she sustained. “Yes. You’ve got to be able to work with whatever you have, to defend yourself and your family.” She took a long sip of water before continuing. “Be it a gun, a sword, or a chunk of wood, you need to know how to fight…how to stand up for yourself.”

Teddy let out a long sigh, staring ahead of her at nothing in particular. “Theía, how do you think people will react, when it comes time for me to return?”

Olivia dabbed at her temples with a small towel. “The people miss you, just as they missed your parents before this whole thing started,” she answered softly. “There may be some that will resist the change, but I only took the position because we needed a leader. I won’t lie and tell you I haven’t enjoyed parts of being queen.” Olivia laughed softly, seeing Teddy make a smug face. “The perks are great, you’ll see. But even with all my experience as a duchess, there was a massive learning curve. I don’t know how your parents handled it and still had so much time for you and your brother and sister.”

“A little bit of magic, a lot of help, and Mama’s ridiculous organizational skills,” Teddy chuckled.

“Gods, did your mother like to organize,” Olivia sighed. “Always full of surprises, that mother of yours. Barely any combat training, and she could swing a sword with finesse.”

Teddy took a long swig of water from her bottle. “How’re Liam and Minty doing with their training? You just saw them, right?”

“Liam’s doing well with hand-to-hand combat, much like your father,” Olivia surmised. “Amynta is showing some real prowess with a sword.”

“Minty’s training with swords already, and I’m still on bo staffs?!”

“I’m training you with everything, you need to learn how to stay on your feet and adapt!”

“Not so easy when you’re always knocking me off my feet,” Teddy taunted.

“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” Olivia huffed playfully.

“And if you can breathe, you can stand, right?”

Olivia turned her head to look at her honorary niece, who looked more like Katrina with each passing year. She pursed her lips into a satisfied grin. “Finish the sentence.”

“If you can stand, you can fight,” Teddy replied. The Nevrakis family motto was one she and her siblings memorized at a young age, as soon as Olivia started training all of them how to fight.

“Damn right,” Olivia grinned, standing up. “Since you’re still breathing, how about one more round?”

Teddy nodded her head and stood up. “Show me the sweep combo again?”

Teddy came out of hiding not long after her twenty-first birthday; the age at which a Cordonian monarch could rule without need for an appointed regent. In a surprising move, the Council overlooked the marriage clause, as they did when Olivia was crowned Queen, given the unprecedented state of affairs.

The news of Teddy’s return was mostly positive – the Cordonian people were thankful to know the Rys heirs were alive – but there were many questions concerning Teddy’s intention to resume her place as rightful heir to the throne, when Olivia spent the better part of the decade defending the country and working to restore it to its former glory.

There were numerous appearances and interviews of the reigning queen and queen-to-be together; stories confirming that Olivia, of course, had always known Princess Eleanor was alive and well. There were records of Liam and Katrina’s approval to have Olivia Nevrakis rule the country in their absence, having become a trusted friend and ally to the Crown. She painted a new side of the Nevrakis name – one that could be regarded to rule without unnecessary bloodshed.

---

Teddy stands behind the chapel doors, hearing processional music on the other side. The whole thing feels like a marriage ceremony, and she wishes her parents were there to reassure her. Instead, she glances down to the bracelet dangling from her wrist, and her heart aches lightly in her chest. She takes in a deep breath, a pair of Sentinels swing the chapel doors open – and she begins the long walk to the altar on her own.

The crown is heavy on Teddy’s head, much heavier than when she practiced wearing a replica weeks ago. Her hands begin to sweat, holding the scepter and orb, and the weight of the robe on her shoulders tugs at her back, threatening to slip off at any moment. The priest continues on in Greek, reciting prayers, and she smiles to herself, realizing that her father was in a similar position during his own coronation so many years ago.

She repeats the words addressed to her, pledging her loyalty to the Cordonia, followed by more prayers. Once she’s seated on the throne, clergymen swear their fealty to her. Family follows, led by none other than her Theía Olivia, paying homage to their new queen. Leo bows before her, along with her sister and brother, and their Theíos Drake. Theía Hana pays homage on behalf of her house, followed by her uncles Maxwell and Bertrand Beaumont. The rest of Cordonia’s major noble families pay their respects, and there’s a procession out of the chapel.

Church bells toll throughout the capital, signifying the coronation of Cordonia’s newest monarch, Queen Eleanor Theodora Bailey Rys. Cries of celebration and joy carry through the streets long into the night, and there’s an air of optimism that hovers between pleasant conversations. It’s a moment the people have anticipated for many years, knowing that Queen Olivia was a good ruler, but they have renewed hope for Queen Eleanor to lead them into a long and peaceful reign.

#the royal heir fanfiction #TRH fanfic #TRH AU #the royal heir au #choices fanfiction #playchoices fanfic #tw: death #tw: character death #the royal heir miniseries #elpida miniseries #zaffrenotes fanfiction #zaffrenotes writes

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #37)

(cw: alcohol mention, fire) ----------

01/25/88   11:53 PM

Hey.

I wish I could say that I walked away from that heated encounter at therapy with little to no after effects. That I marched on back to my game, got some sleep, and continued on my road to recovery without missing a beat. I wish I could say that.

But that would just be unrealistic. 

When I went back to my game after the whole thing with Worluk, I told my cousin what happened. He reacted just about the same as I’d expected him to. Horrified, relieved I was safe, glad justice was served before she could hurt anyone else. He also told me how proud he was of me for not using violence to solve my problem. The praise felt a little misplaced, given how much I did actually fantasize about ripping her to shreds, and I told him that. But that just made him all the prouder, he said. It was the fact that, unlike so many past instances, I didn’t act on those impulses.

It was a pretty big deal for me. But I still didn’t quite know how to accept his pride. That much hadn’t changed.

I felt pretty sick, so I turned in kind of early, but I didn’t sleep well. Some of the old confusing flashbacks were eating at me again. I’d be nearly asleep, just dipping into dreamspace when phantom memories of fire and explosions and echoing screams would jolt me awake. I hadn’t had visions like those in a while, but I also hadn’t been quite that sober in a while.

The next morning carried on like any other at first, apart from me being quieter than I’d normally be. Fix-it had his breakfast and morning coffee. He yammered at me for a little bit. Some Nicelanders showed up, and then he yammered at them for a little bit. Then, after wishing me a good day, he left with the others, and the arcade opened.

I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. But since painting had been so soothing before, I figured I’d try that. It certainly couldn’t hurt. I hauled out the tarp and Fix-it’s paints and papers. I sat cross-legged by the blank sheet for a while, feeling dry of creativity. But I forced myself to start anyway, trying to let my thoughts and feelings fall freely and paint along to them.

What was I feeling, anyway?

I took a deep breath and tried to meditate on that question as I painted.

Grey. Unsure. Numb. Lukewarm. I wanted to be happy about Worluk being arrested. It should have been closure on her traumatic chapter of my life. But I just wasn’t satisfied. What she had said about her sister’s ‘burning body’ just opened up too much mystery for me to put her out of my mind and move on. It wasn’t really the idea of me jumping over a burning sprite to get to you that was so disturbing. It was just the fact that I couldn’t remember it. I kept trying to brush it off and say that Worluk was just some raving lunatic spouting nonsense. But what if she wasn’t?

White. Blank. Cold. Lost. I couldn’t stand not remembering that day. Not remembering how you died. Not knowing your whole story. Out of anyone, I should have been the one to know. No one was closer to you than me. I was your friend. Best friend. Or something else entirely.

Yellow. Confused. Nauseous. Anxious. 

I paused. Three colors splotched the canvas in aimless, abstract shapes. Part of me almost laughed, but in a really joyless way. This palette I’d been subconsciously putting together out of distress reminded me of something that used to make me happy. It was just missing one color.

Red. Demanding. Arrogant. Bold.

You.

I’d almost painted you by accident. Not in the right shapes, but the right colors were there. Some of them, anyway. Just the surface colors, the ones I could see on your pixels. Just seeing all of them together was enough to put a pang of what I could only describe as ‘miserable affection’ in my chest. It suddenly felt like it had been so long since I even took the time to think about you. I’d been so occupied with counselling, I guess I just didn’t want to give myself the chance to miss you too much and derail things.

But I was taking a break from counselling. I was alone. I had nothing but time to spend remembering you. And whether I thought it was a good idea or not, it was happening. You poured down on my mind like heavy rain.

So, without really thinking about what I was doing, I kept painting with every color you inspired in me. 

Black for your smoky, metallic scent. Red-Violet for your overheated body. Sienna for your voice. Salmon for your genuine, high-pitched laugh. It did not take long for me to run out of space. I didn’t care. I kept painting. I smeared heaping gobs of color until the paper was slathered with glistening, muddy slime that was likely too thick to dry. 

Eventually, I stopped. I could have just gotten another sheet of paper, but I felt too heavy to stand. I just sat there, staring at my gloves that were speckled with tiny flecks of paint. My heart, I finally noticed, had been pounding. I’d been running for so long from how I felt when I remembered you. The hurt. The betrayal. The moments of resentment. Worst of all were the moments when I simply, truly missed you.

This was one of those moments. 

I wish that I could say that by that point, I’d learned to stop running away. That I didn’t have it in me anymore. I’d like to say that I just went limp and sank into the feeling until it inevitably either drowned me or I learned to breathe through it. But I wasn’t ready to believe I could do that. I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust reality to remain sound. But you were raining on me whether I chose it or not. I was neck-deep, floundering.

And then the desperation, as it has so often done, turned me a little strange.

The first thing I did was remove my gloves, and then my smock. It felt like all else in the world went quiet as I wet my fingers with a rainbow of paint. Keep it together, I told myself. Deep breaths. It was just color. All feelings, all memories, are just color. And color is choice. I could choose not to hurt over you if I just redirected. If I took every color that you were not, and wore them like armor to protect myself from all thoughts of you.

So I just… painted myself. 

There were too many shades to rightly recall. Teal, bronze, vermillion, lavender, aqua, magenta, seafoam, you name it. But they didn’t keep you out. They just invited you in. For every color, there was some emotion, or some memory, that reminded me of my time with you. I fought to keep it together, but I couldn’t. I spiraled, and I spiraled hard. I grabbed onto my hair, and it clumped together in the paint between my fingers. I told myself that I’d done enough. I had taken a moment to mourn you, but I wouldn’t let it get to me. Not like it had done in the past. I was beyond that. I’d grown past it. I kept repeating: Don’t let it get to you. Don’t let it get to you. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him right now.

Don’t think about his smarmy smile. Don’t think about his pointy ears. Don’t think about the lisp he worked so hard to hide. Don’t think about how he constantly bit his tongue. Don’t think about that time he rode an Excitebike and broke his nose. Don’t think about how his hands were rough from mechanic work. Don’t think about the times we spent sending Don’s sailboat models down the Frogger river in flames. Don’t think about the time he fell in an open grave in Ghosts n’ Goblins. Don’t think about pranking him for the first time. Don’t think about your bar fight at Tapper’s after. Don’t think about the trashy music he always played in his garage. Don’t think about how terrible he was at dancing. Don’t think about how tightly he’d hold you when he thought you were asleep. Don’t think about his stupid hair that always had to be a perfect mess. Don’t think about his actually really cool abstract contour line drawings. Don’t think about the time we microwaved six eggs just to watch them explode. Don’t think about the first time he brought you takeout without being asked. Don’t think about the first time you let him touch you. Don’t think about how it sometimes felt like you were the only two sprites in the arcade. Don’t think about how he made you feel like you belonged somewhere.

Don’t think about how you’ve forever lost your chance to tell him that.

That was it. 

That did me in. 

The good ol’ unreality came crashing back -- it couldn’t be true. You couldn’t be gone. It wasn’t real. By extension, nothing was real. Niceland was just a popsicle stick model that would collapse on top of me at any moment. Everyone I’d spoken to for weeks were just holograms. Even I didn’t feel real. I didn’t understand how I could be so numb and still be in so much pain. It was a nightmare. I needed to get away. I needed intervention, some kind of release, anything to chase the horror away.

I stood, feeling like I was in a trance. I had just the faintest control over my body. Everything I’d learned in counselling flashed in my head, but it did not take. I was driven by almost life-or-death urgency, as if I’d ingested poison and desperately needed the antidote. I shambled into the kitchen, marking cabinets with rainbow fingerprints as I looked for absolutely anything alcoholic. But Fix-it’s not a drinker, unsurprisingly. I wish that alone had been enough to stop me, but I carried my search into the bathroom. And there, on the spotless porcelain sink, sat a bottle of blue mouthwash.

Technically alcoholic.

I grabbed it. It seemed like the paint itself was trying to dissuade me, making the bottle so hard to grip. As I struggled to twist the cap off, I was screaming at myself internally to make the right choice. Make any other choice at all. But I needed it, I thought. I was in so much pain and I needed a drink or I’d…

I paused, shaking, the uncapped bottle almost to my lips. I finally saw myself in the mirror, smeared with a rainbow of garish war paint that covered almost all of my exposed skin and stained bits of my clothes. I looked beautiful, honestly. But the bottle of mouthwash in my hand, about to be my one last pathetic attempt at drowning my sorrows? It spoiled the beauty. It was below me. No matter how badly I was hurting, I knew better.

Pain explains, but it does not justify. 

Yeah. Damn it. Damn it all.

That was enough time for the bottle to slip from my fingers and hit the floor with a sloshing thud, spewing its bright blue contents over the floor, and along with it, my last chance to run from the pain. My back hit the wall as I stumbled, a sticky hand clapped over my face. I sank to the floor. It was there that I cried harder and longer than I have in my entire life.

There was just no escape from how much I missed you.

My best friend.

I stayed there for hours in Fix-it’s bathroom after my crying breakdown, crumpled in the corner. I might have fallen asleep a little bit, because I remember sort of waking up as the arcade closed. I heard the rumbling of Wreck-it pounding the building stop for good, and then the parade of little footsteps overhead as Nicelanders descended the stairs and returned to their homes. Which meant Fix-it would not be far behind.

And he’d see me. In my… state.

That couldn’t happen. I couldn’t deal with that, not after such an atrociously messy breakdown. I knew it wasn’t the right move, and I knew he would have only wanted to help, but I sprang to my feet and locked his front door anyway. When that didn’t satisfy me, I grabbed a chair from the kitchen and propped it under the door handle. 

There was something awful driving me. Some deep panic. It felt avoidant, like I just couldn’t face whatever was coming. But it wasn’t just Fix-it, I noticed as I feverishly paced. I couldn’t carry on with things the way they were. I was done. I was sick of it. I was sick of you being gone and me just having to live with that, with no memory of you passing. I couldn’t stand that I had to carry on just convincing myself our story had ended, while it seemed like everyone else had witnessed it first-hand. It wasn’t right. I had no closure. I just had nightmares of explosions, screaming, and fire.

Fire, fire, fire. 

It was always fire. It seemed like no matter what happened, fire would not leave my head. Even the yellow, orange, and red colors of my brush were all fiery, and I knew that wasn’t a coincidence. I’d been so hung up on this stupid mysterious fire for so long. Then there was my odd fear of the fireworks. And the sea of gasoline in that dream, when you told me, “Come find me in the fire…”

I froze. ‘Find me in the fire.’ 

The front door handle jiggled and the door struggled against the chair. I heard Fix-it’s confused grunt. “Mavy?” he called. “Mavy, are you in there?”

I didn’t answer. He was nearly drowned out by the pounding in my ears. 

Whatever happened on August 7th had fallen out of my mind. Well, sort of. It’s not that the memories were gone completely, they were just virtually inaccessible. Bits and pieces had been haunting me since you left. Fire brought vague, horrifying flashbacks of painful memories I didn’t recognize. But what if I wanted to recognize them? What if I didn’t run away when things got painful? Could I bring back the entire memory if I walked up to my fear and stepped inside it?

‘Find me in the fire,’ you had said. ‘Find me in the fire.’

Listen. You know me. By now, you’d probably be able to guess what I was about to do. But in the heat of the moment, even I wasn’t sure. I was going full autopilot, possessed by some stupid idea that probably wasn’t going to work. I think my destructive instincts were relapsing after being peaceful and constructive for too long. In any case, I searched the apartment like a bloodhound for the means to bring my impulsive plan to fruition, and fast.

It didn’t take long. In Fix-it’s utility closet, I found paint thinner. The irony of which sailed clear over my head at the time. The little flame symbol on the label was all I cared about.

I felt completely outside of my body as I poured the foul-smelling stuff all over everything. The floor, the furniture, the walls, even the bathroom. Fix-it was pounding and yelling at the door by then, demanding to know if I was alright. 

“I’m fine,” I told him as I shook out the last drops. 

I heard him sigh. “Mav-- Why is the door locked? Wait--” he paused, and then he spoke with the urgency of a man who has dealt with me his whole life, “-- what’s that smell? What are you doing in there?!”

I stood in the middle of the living room, right next to my muddy painting. All the fumes were starting to give me a headache by that point, so I opted to hurry it up. I took my brush -- my coded, faulty brush -- in my hand, and with the color red, I painted into my palm a fist-sized cherry bomb. Then, painting an orange spark, I lit it.

“Art project,” I called out to him. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, I took just long enough to mentally hold my own hand and tell myself that no matter what I saw or didn’t see, I was gonna be okay. 

You may not have been fireproof. But I am.

I rolled the bomb in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Mavy?!”

Closing my eyes, steeling myself to the imminent blast, I said, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

BANG.

The bomb went off, and I was staggered by a wall of suffocating heat as the apartment roared with flame. I caught myself on the coffee table and, trembling, opened my eyes. They stung immediately, and I blinked hard against the vicious light. The very air seemed stained a dry, sick red. It was just as terrifying as I had hoped, watching arms of hellfire claw across the floor, over the furniture, up the walls, quickly filling the ceiling with a black sea of smog. Squinting through it towards the door, I could see that the blast had knocked a bookshelf onto its side, only barricading the door further. It seemed to shake as Fix-it presumably rammed against it from the other side. If he was still calling out to me, I couldn’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. 

So, what did I do?

I just stood up straight and… stayed there. I didn’t crouch beneath the smoke. I just let the flames crawl up to my feet and creep up my clothes, threatening to melt all my pixels together. The pain was quickly becoming too much to bear, but I focused on that. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to feel the fire eat all the confusing layers away, until I could finally see the truth.

So many horribly familiar sensations snuck up on me. The sickening smell of the burn. The hot ash reaching down my throat and choking me. The painful dryness in my eyes. Reality felt unsteady. I quickly became very dizzy from the suffocating fumes, and I could no longer hold up my own weight. I remember stumbling backwards, and my darkening vision fell on the kitchen just in time to see the oven split apart, erupting in an explosion exponentially bigger than the first.

I was forced back, I lost my footing, and fell into memories so vivid, I may as well have been living them again.

I’m just… going to need a minute before I tell you about it. But you can wait. 

Wherever you are, I’m sure you remember the day you died.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #turbo #make it mavis #original character #homesick

[perriewinklenerdie]

Wine and flying mistletoes (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! Christmas writing is fun, pass it on :D This fic came together throughout the day, got finished late at night, and I was replaying OH in between writing, so as you can probably guess, I’m an emotional mess, going through Ethan Ramsey withdrawal :D

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21731254

  Tag list:   @paleweasels , @lilyofchoices , @hopelessromantic1352 , @aloehasrose , @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie,@choicesobsessedd, @cassiusownsmyass, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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Christmas always reminded her of her family. How her father would come home from work with a perfect tree and then spend the next three hours figuring out the right place for it and then another two, tangled in strings of colorful lights. Her mother was in the kitchen, baking and cooking, laughing at the face her husband made when the lights were placed on the tree but just weren’t working, driving him mad. Claire left her childhood home when she decided to move to the US and study medicine there. It wasn’t an easy decision, given the fact that she was living right in the middle of Europe, and the flight to New York took 12 hours on the plane. She thought about it, long and hard, before finally deciding to do it, having full support of her family.

Her friends decided that they either decorate their apartment right, or they don’t do it at all, so by the end of the previous night, lights were hanging around the ceiling, a tree was standing by the window and a few candles adorned the free spaces, giving the room a soft glow when they were lighted. Not to mention the smell, spreading the warmth in every room.

Claire came home earlier than the rest of her friends, changing into the most comfortable clothes she had, preparing herself for the workout that would be baking and cooking. She was the only one of her friends that wasn’t going to visit her family for Christmas, as she was living too far away from them and she didn’t have that much money saved up to go back any time she wanted. Instead, she was staying at home, most likely with a good book and a warm blanket, enjoying the quiet evening. It wasn’t the first thing she would have decided on if she had a choice, she always preferred to be with people she loved in this time of year, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

She made her way to the kitchen, her bare feet making soft noises against the wooden floor as she went. Looking around the living room, she decided to turn on the lights they put up the day before, as well as the lights on the tree, and then deciding to light one of the candles too. She took a look behind the window as she walked to the kitchen counter but couldn’t see much. Snow was falling much more heavily now, nowhere near the delicate sprinkle that she experienced as she was walking back home. The world was slowly disappearing behind the thick curtain of white, making her feel as though she was on top of the world, all alone, not disturbed by all the troubles that she left behind the door when she came home.

Sitting down with a steaming cup of tea, she started going over her game plan. She wanted to bake something for her friends to take with them for the holidays and some festive food for herself, determined to make the Christmas feel like Christmas, even if only a little bit. She got up, prepared all the ingredients she needed and got to work. Time seemed to fly the more she got done, and she wouldn’t even have noticed that the afternoon turned into an evening if it wasn’t for the doorbell that broke through the silence. She grabbed the hand towel and walked over to answer it. Claire’s eyes didn’t focus on the door, instead observing the situation in the kitchen. Her hand grabbed the handle, opening the front door slowly.

“Do you always greet people with flour in your hair?” Ethan’s voice dripped with sarcasm, making her head whip around to look at him. He was the last person she expected to see that evening. She noticed the way his eyes dragged up and down her body, taking in the way she looked, before coming back to her eyes, spark of amusement in them.

“Dr. Ramsey! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, dropping the piece of material she was holding. Too surprised to pick it up, she left it where it was, staring at him with wide eyes. He sighed heavily, leaning down to pick it up, snickering at the flour that flew into the air when he folded it into a neat square.

“I’m here to pick you up for a party.”

“In that case, I’m terribly sorry I didn’t put my dress on.” she smirked, raising her eyebrow at him. Their eyes fought for a while, seeing who would look away first. She won. “Seriously, though, what are you doing here?”

“You left those in my office.” He lifted a handful of files, his face straight, expressionless. “I know it’s Christmas and you most probably won’t even look at them, but I thought you might need them later on, so just in case…”

She nodded, taking them from him, their fingers brushing against one another for a split second. She felt a spark run up her arm, barely there, but enough to make her startled. Neither of them said anything, just stood there wordlessly for a long moment. After a while, she seemed to have snapped out of a dreamlike haze, turning around to look outside the window. The snow was still falling heavily, seemingly even worse than before.

“Thank you for the files, Dr. Ramsey.” She spoke softly, a hint of a smile on his face as he took a step to say goodbye and leave. She called out after him, noticing how his shoulders tensed as he heard her voice again. “I don’t want to say anything, but it seems as though the storm is picking up and I would not be comfortable with letting you go out into that mess. Who will take over the diagnostic team if you freeze out there?”

Her giggle was what finally caused him to turn around, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He walked back to her side, watching her for a moment before getting inside, letting the door fall shut behind them. The warmth engulfed him like a blanket as he sat down in the kitchen, leaving the towel he was still holding on the counter. Claire went back to work, kneading the dough in the bowl for a while before dunking it out onto the flat surface.

“So, how was- uh, your day?” she asked, panting as she worked, force she was using making her a little tired.

“Wow, Rookie, your hospitality is one for the books.” He laughed, leaning forward, resting on his elbows. “It’s been long and tiring, as it is every year. Christmas songs should have a limit of how many times one can play it a day.”

“That bad, huh? And my hospitality is amazing, thank you very much. I would have offered you something to drink or eat, but I really needed to finish the dough so it can rise.” She scrunched her nose at him playfully, grabbing the towel he left and covering the dough with it. She sighed softly, training her eyes on him. “Okay, you have my full attention now. Did you come here by car?”

“And just why would you like to know that?” he asked, surprised by her question. He watched her as she walked to the other side of the kitchen, opening the cabinet.

“I have some wine that is best when it’s hot, and I think you’d like it, but I’m not going to give you alcohol if you have a car to drive later.” She explained, looking away from the shelf before her and back to him.

“In that case, I came by a taxi, so by all means…” he waved his hand, the corners of his lips lifting just the tiniest bit. Claire nodded, standing on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf, taking the bottle into her hands. He noticed how relaxed she was, moving around the kitchen with ease. It’s been a while since he last saw her like that, and it was a sight he welcomed eagerly. While he remained seated, she poured the liquid into the pot, adding a few spices and letting it warm up. Humming under her breath, she danced around the kitchen a little, almost as though Ethan wasn’t even there, giving him a first-row view of her being carefree. Claire poured the wine into two glasses, passing him one of them and then going back to work.

“Thank you.” he wrapped his fingers around the warm glass, running his eyes over the many dishes she had already finished. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Cooking. Baking. Drinking wine. Answering obvious questions from my boss.” She smirked, locking her eyes with his as she took a sip of her drink. He held her gaze for a moment before standing up from his seat, taking a short look around the space that surrounded him. With her permission, he went into the living room to do some exploring. As he was looking at the Christmas tree, he asked.

“Very funny, Rookie. I’m serious, though. Why are you here, cooking the amount of food that could feed an army?”

“I’m cooking for my friends and for myself. I do have to eat something for the next three days, and now that you’re here, I’ll send you home with some of the food too.” She answered, already looking for some sort of a container to pack the food for him. He opened his mouth to protest, but she already held her hand up, stopping him before he said anything. “There is no way you’re leaving here without food. It would be against my nature and my genes would most likely combust if I don’t show enough hospitality.” She laughed, walking to the fridge to fetch a bowl with filling for the cake she was making.

“What could you possibly mean by that?”

“My family is Polish, I would literally die if I didn’t give you food to take home with you. That’s just how it is, no use in arguing about it.” she revealed, her accent suddenly hard, completely different from what he was used to. While he was in a state of shock, she began rolling out the dough and spreading the filling for it.

“How is it that I’m finding out about it just now?”

“Well, we never really talked about anything like that, it never came up before. Ugh, I should have listened to my Mom.” She answered and then moaned immediately after as she stared at the cake before her.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, walking over to her, confused. She moved to the side, letting him stand next to her. “What kind of cake is that supposed to be?”

“Poppy seed cake. It’s a traditional Christmas cake in Poland, and that recipe is my Mom’s. She did mention that it would be hard for me to do, as it is my first time doing it, but I didn’t think it would be that hard.” Claire explained, leaning onto the counter with defeat spelled across her face.

“What do you need to do?”

“Roll it up, tight enough so that when it bakes, there are no big pockets of air in between layers. Which is going to be impossible to do, so I might as well just give up.” she shook her head, rubbing her forehead with her fingers.

“Okay, let’s see what we can do.” Ethan muttered under his breath, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. Claire stared at him with wide eyes, confused and definitely shocked at his willingness and eagerness to help her.

“You know how to bake?”

“Not exactly, but I’m sure we can figure out something together.” He stopped in his tracks, trying to think of the best way to get to it, before finally deciding that the most effective way to roll up the cake would be to stand behind her, his arms on either side of her. He embraced her gently, leaving space for her to push him away, and for a moment he thought she just might do that. Her whole body tensed the moment he touched her, and the sensation almost made him step away, but then she relaxed a bit, letting him come a bit closer, their hands next to each other. Working together, they managed to get the cake done, moved to the baking sheet and put it into the oven. Claire turned around to thank him, only to see him already looking at her, a spark in his eye being almost playful.

“You have some flour… here-“ He reached towards her with his hand, brushing her cheek delicately. His touch lingered for a long time, his gaze softening. She noticed a smudge of flour on the tip of his nose and reached for him too, swiping her fingers over it slowly. Their eyes met finally met, intense and deep with unspoken words and feelings, left to hang in the air around them.

“Claire…” he muttered under his breath, leaning towards her just a little bit, his lips tingling with anticipation. She seemed to begin doing it too, despite herself, wanting nothing more to feel him again, even if only for a short moment.

“Claire, I’m back! You better have that cake for me or I’ll be very- oh. Hi, Dr. Ramsey!” Sienna’s cheerful voice made them jump away from each other as though they got burned, standing on the opposite ends of the counter. She looked between the pair, a hint of a smirk playing on her face.

“The cake is, uh, almost done baking. Everything else is ready for you to pack.” Claire answered, refusing to look at Ethan again.

“Great! So, what are you doing this Christmas, Dr. Ramsey? Any plans, if I may ask?” Sienna asked, digging into her bag, searching for god only knew what. Ethan cleared his throat, drumming his fingers against the flat surface beneath them.

“I’m staying at home. Naveen gave me a few days off, I’ll spend it with Jenner.” He said, his voice back to the emotionless one that he used at work.

“Oh! So is Claire! You’re staying at home, right?” she turned to her best friend, only to see Claire’s eyes already on her, daggers practically flying her way.

“…Yes.”

Sienna didn’t say anything else for a while, finally finding what she was looking for. Using a moment of distraction, she threw something right at them. They both saw it at the same time, taking a step towards each other to avoid getting hit by the object. The said thing flew over their heads, a clean arch above them, before falling to the ground on the other side of the room. Claire turned to see what that was and as soon as she realized what Sienna did, she blushed a deep shade of red, killing her friend with her eyes once more.

“Rookie, what was tha- oh.” Ethan started speaking, only to be cut off by the sight of a small bundle of mistletoe, lying on the ground. Only moments ago, it was flying above them, and now it was right there, leaving them in a rather difficult position.

“Sienna, I don’t know what you wanted to achieve, but it doesn’t work like that.” Claire tried to find them a way out of a situation, but Sienna didn’t let her finish.

“No, no, no. Was it over your heads? Then it counts. Now come on, kiss already.” She giggled, shaking her head at how childish they were acting. It was just a kiss. Of course, Sienna knew that for these two, it wasn’t just a kiss, but she wasn’t about to let them get away from it.

Claire thought she was about to die, any moment now. Ethan’s eyes were staring at her intensively, just as unsure of what to do as she was. They both knew that there was nothing that Sienna could do to make them kiss, really, but the idea was very potent, and the opportunity presented itself. They were standing so close to each other that all she had to do was tilt her head upwards a little, and he had to bend down just a bit, and their lips would brush against one another. And that’s exactly what happened a few seconds later.

It somehow was better than either of them remembered it to be. It could, of course, have been the added factor of longing and the distance they kept between each other for the past few months, it could have been the undeniable chemistry that she always felt when he was near. It could have been the spirit of Christmas, or the risk factor that made their blood rush through their bodies quicker. Regardless of the reasons behind her strong reaction, she was almost certain that if she were to step away from him right this second, her knees would buckle underneath her and she would fall to the ground. Their hands, hanging by their sides, found each other, fingers tangling together and holding on for dear life. After what could have been mere seconds or millions of eternities, they leaned away from each other, their eyes once more locked in an intense stare that made their storm of emotions even more complicated and even more intense. Claire was breathing heavily, still holding his hand, and was about to say something when the timer on the oven went off, startling them both, throwing them back into the reality.

“Um… thank you for your help with baking. I don’t think I could have done it without you.” she whispered before moving to get the cake out of the oven, letting it cool down as she prepared the rest of the food for him to take home. A quick look out the window revealed that the snowstorm has died down and it was safe for him to go back home now. He grabbed his coat and walked towards the door, taking the package from her hands when she handed it to him.

“No point in arguing, right?” he asked with a slight smirk, looking at her one last time. She shook her head with a ghost of a smile.

“No.”

He was about to say something more, but ultimately decided against it. Nodding his head, he moved to leave, turning around by the door.

“Merry Christmas, Claire.”

“Merry Christmas, Ethan.”

The door separated them and Claire was once more alone. Sienna left to get her bags, letting Claire have a moment to process what had happened. She would be lying if she said that the thought of Ethan’s lips on hers wasn’t haunting her dreams. Now that she tasted him again, she felt the hunger that she was sure has been pushed aside and quieted months ago. Turns out, the feelings she had for him never went away, and now they came back to hit her twice as hard. With a wistful smile, she walked to the tree in the middle of the room, watching the lights flickering in the dim light. Her eyes caught the glimpse of something lying underneath it, a small box, wrapped with expertise and care. Ethan.

She picked it up, moving to sit on the couch, startled and speechless. She could pinpoint the exact moment in which he must have left it there, and a wide grin made its way onto her lips as she pulled the ribbon to open it. A small card was inside, along with the smallest piece of mistletoe she had ever seen.

If you find yourself alone this Christmas, you know where to find me.

She doesn’t remember the last time she got dressed so quickly, and she prayed that the taxi would not get stuck in traffic. Twenty minutes later, she was standing before the door to his apartment, looking into his eyes.

“Rookie.” He whispered, smiling at her gently. She smirked, holding up a piece of mistletoe he gave her, as high above their heads as possible.

“I heard that I could find someone here to spend my Christmas with.” She teased and he laughed, taking a step towards her, his hand running up and down her side.

“That would appear to be correct. But what made you come here?” he whispered, looking into her eyes curiously. She took one final step, their lips brushing together when she answered.

“Did you honestly expect me to stay away from you after a kiss like that?” Claire’s voice was low and filled with longing, so much more intense than he’s heard it in a while. Ethan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest, speaking final words before kissing her properly, dragging her into his apartment.

“I can give you so much more.”

#ethan ramsey #open heart #choices fanfiction #fic #fluff #mc x ethan #ethan x mc #dr ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey choices #dr ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

[harry-stylus]

HOSTAGE - harry styles

CHAPTER ONE 

ALL SHE WANTED was a drink; maybe a sprite, perhaps a coke. She had done it before, worked late at the diner and then nipped into the little corner shop a few blocks away from her small apartment complex while she walked home. Nothing out of the ordinary typically happened, not really. It was a routine somewhat.

But perhaps that was why she was the one to fall victim to the situation. Though, never did she expect this.

Layla hummed softly to herself, a familiar melody having invaded her head for the past couple of hours, as she gazed over the various drinks sitting in the refrigerator shelves. The distant sound of cars driving down the concrete roads and the closer noise of a cluster of voices as though they were outside the store, Layla took no notice of. She was used to it.

No one else was in the store except for her and Barney, the shop owner, though it was late at night so that wasn't strange.

Loose change balanced in the palm of the girl's hand as she compared the prices of the beverages to the amount she had. Tonight hadn't been the best night, tips-wise. Just a few silvers and a couple golds. But that was normal for the girl.

Money for Layla had been tight all her life. So this was nothing new. She knew how to budget, how to only spend money on necessities and not wants. She was used to it.

Letting out a sigh, Layla finally opened up the fridge door and quickly grabbed a bottle of plain water. That was all she could afford tonight; it was all she could afford most nights.

Closing the door back over, she couldn't help but let her gaze flicker to the stacks of sweets, chocolates and crisps all sitting temptingly for her on rows of shelves.

God, she hadn't had a Kitkat in probably years. Would anyone notice if she were to slip it into the pocket of her coat?

The poor girl hadn't eaten since breakfast, and even then all she had was an apple, before heading out to her long-houred shift. And God knows she'd most likely collapse straight into her bed when she got home tonight, not having the energy to find something to eat in her dusty cupboards. Hell, even she knew the last time that those cupboards had been fully stocked was when her mum had bought her groceries the first day she moved in, wanting it to be her house-warming gift. And that was maybe near a year ago.

Standing on her tiptoes, Layla took a look over the couple of aisles to where the old man stood at the cashier. He had a mug of tea resting on the counter beside the till as he read one of tomorrow's newspapers that had probably just been delivered to be set out in store for tomorrow. The point being, Barney's attention was anywhere but on Layla.

She could do it right now, nick the chocolate bar, and no one would know.

But she didn't. She couldn't.

Barney had always been so kind to her. He was the type of person who would slip her a free pack of gum simply because she visited the store so often; he would tell her of how his granddaughter had drawn him a picture at school one day, or of how his son – who was a well-paid doctor – had decided to pay him a rare visit to catch up, something that Barney treasured each time it happened. He was a lovely, kind-hearted old man that still kissed the photo of his passed wife goodnight before he went to bed, and every time Layla spoke to him, her heart swelled in warmth, and she could see the way his eyes always sparkled with pride and happiness when he spoke of his family. Barney never ceased to make Layla smile, so sweet and caring, and she saw him as a dear friend, really.

Hell, the old man probably wouldn't even have minded if Layla asked to have that damn Kitkat for free, but she couldn't do it without permission. She couldn't steal from him.

Huffing out a tired breath, she shook her head at the outrageous idea of theft. She was supposed to be twenty years old not twelve. She was supposed to be an adult, buying proper meals not debating on whether to steal a candy bar for her dinner. She was disappointed in herself.

Pulling her desperate stare away from the sweet-filled aisle, Layla couldn't fight the yawn that left her, while she brought one of her hands up to rub her eyes. It was obvious the exhaustion from that shift and the lack of food and energy in her system was catching up to her.

She then brought her hand up to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ear while turning to walk down the aisle to go and buy her water.

"Working late again, are we?" Barney said, looking up from his newspaper as she made her way towards him. Crinkles hugged the corners of his eyes as he gave the girl that warm smile he always wore. A thick pair of glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose while a flat cap perched atop his head. Clad in a shirt and woollen jumper, he looked like the adorable elder he was, one that you couldn't refuse to walk his dog or help him cross the street.

"Unfortunately," Layla smiled back, stopping momentarily next to the shelf holding the various magazine and newspapers of the week. One headline caught her eye; 'Old couple mugged and beaten and left for dead.'

She couldn't deny the lump in her throat that formed as she read the title. Maybe she was sensitive or too empathetic, but the girl couldn't help but be filled with so much sorrow in any sad situation, whether she knew the person or not. And this... well, she could never comprehend why anyone, no matter what reason, no matter what conscience, would mug an elder never mind beat them and leave them without help.

Pulling her gaze from the dreadful story, she turned back to Barney. "How are your family doing?"

Instantly – if possible – Barney's entire face shone even brighter at the mere mention of his loved ones.

"I got a phone call from Adam last night and he was wondering if I was free this weekend to come over for dinner on Sunday, isn't that great?" The excitement within his voice was enough to have Layla's heart swarm with happiness.

Adam was Barney's son, the doctor who became distant. Albeit Barney was a kind man, he didn't have a perfect past and his excessive drinking led him to have a very rocky and cold relationship with his son. And after years upon years of rehab and recovery and trying to make up for lost time, Adam's suggestion of a family dinner was the first time Barney had ever been invited to his son's home making it a very big deal for the old man. Layla knew this.

"Oh, Barney. That's absolutely wonderful. I'm so happy for you." She told him earnestly, a large grin pulling her lips tight as she tried to contain herself.

Barney was the same, adjusting his glasses on his nose as he opened his mouth to respond.

But then it all happened.

It was so quick, so sudden and neither of the two knew how to react. Those outside voices from moments ago that she didn't care for were suddenly a grave danger towards her.

All too fast, the glass door of the little corner shop had been busted open, causing Barney to jump back from the counter in fright and Layla to duck down behind the aisle in reaction, as the culprits – maybe a group of five – entered the shop.

Each of them wore all black, and each of them bared fire arms.

Terror suffocated the room.

She didn't know what to do, cowering on the floor with her hands covering her eyes. Layla was petrified, shaking and crying.

God, she knew this was the bad part of town. She knew that stuff like this happened all the time in this area. But never had it happened when she was there. So perhaps, for some naïve reason, she thought it as being false, not true, just a threat, just a rumour, since, until then, she hadn't witnessed this situation herself.

Jesus, how foolish could she be?

The rough voices of the attackers shot orders at Barney, but Layla didn't know what was said, for her mind was a chaotic hurricane, her ears ringing in alert.

What was she going to do?

Breathing heavily, she didn't dare make her presence known; as far as she was concerned, the intruders weren't aware that she was there in the store too, they only knew of Barney. And although she wanted to help the old man - by God did she - she was too scared. And so she only stayed where she was, on the floor, curled up. God, anyone would think she was a twelve year old girl by the way she acted, weak and frightened. She thought herself a coward.

Come on, Layla. You can't just sit there, her subconscious fought her, battling with her to gather up some bravery. She needed to help Barney, do anything to help him out. He would do the same for her, without hesitation. The poor man shouldn't have to endure this on his own.

But then it all happened so soon, before she could even blink to help him.

First came the nasty voice, its hellish words resounding through Layla's ears. "You've fucked up big time, old man," it said and then followed the sound Layla would never forgive herself for.

One, two, three, four, five gunshots shattered through the walls, the sound so thunderous and deadly, causing an earthquake within Layla.

And lastly, the dull thump of something heavy hitting the ground, of Barney hitting the ground, echoed through his store. Unmoving and un-living.

But then came the heart wrenching scream that took everyone by surprise. It was a sound itself that sounded so pained, so frightened, filled with so much devastation and horror all in one.

Layla's hands clasped over her mouth, fresh tears flooding her face as she pathetically fought back making any more noise.

How could she be so stupid, so careless. It was accidental, a reaction to the sudden death. She never anticipated it, though some perhaps think she should've. Yet, all that was branded in her mind was the poor old man dead on the ground, all his kindness and warmth leaving him. And she would never hear of his stories again.

So much captivated her in that moment. Guilt at how selfish she was as to not act in fear of her own safety. Trauma at even experiencing such a situation to begin with. And the sound of heavy taunting footsteps of a killer.

The killers had heard her scream.

And she was paralysed, unable to make her body move no matter what her mind screamed at her. Her muscles seized and her pupils dilated, the slamming of her heart bellowed in her ears.

She could hear them getting closer and closer to the aisle she hid in. And then they had stopped, the footsteps no more, only to be greeted by a sound so much worse, a voice. The same voice that barked those last words Barney would hear.

"Well, well, well. Look-ey 'ere." The deep cruel sound caused Layla's body to freeze even more, every single muscle tensing as she refused to open her eyes that were so fiercely clamped shut. Her mind pleaded for this to be her imagination, for this to all be some fucked up prank, anything to soothe her mind that this wasn't real, that this wasn't happening.

God, was she naïve.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, a tight grasp was wrapped around her forearm as the man that stood before her ripped her from her place on the ground and onto her stumbling feet.

She tried to fight the man, whoever he was, kicking, hitting, struggling to get his blood-stained hands off her skin. But he was too strong and before she knew it, he had brought her arm up towards her back, to the point where she was practically bent over in pain as the feeling of something cold and metallic was pressed to the back of her head.

"Move, sweetheart, or I'll blow your fucking head off." The malicious man spoke, a dark chuckle leaving him as Layla had no option but to do as she was told.

Staggering forward, her breathing was thick, her heart battling her rib cage as she was forced to walk to the front counter, the place where the rest of the gang of bandits waited along with the frail corpse of the poor shop owner. She couldn't bring herself to look at it.

"What'll we do with this one, eh?" The man with a hold on her taunted, speaking as though everything he said was some sick joke. It made the girl feel nauseous. "Kill her?"

A whimper involuntarily tumbled from Layla's mouth before she could stop it, as the idea of death approaching sooner than she anticipated haunted her. But the sound was out of line as the man grasped a tighter hold on her arm and pressed the gun even closer to her head. "Shut up, you little bitch."

Wisely making no more sound, Layla bit her lip her eyes squeezed so tightly shut. She was anticipating it now, her own death. It was as though her pain and panic was volted up higher and was sourced by the gun that rested tightly against her head.

Suddenly, she felt a harsh wrench at her hair, the evil man behind her pulling her head back roughly before he bent forward, his lips brushing the back of her head as he spoke the words; "I reckon we could have a little fun with her."

She could feel his breath slithering down the back of her neck, and although the act was barely, his words were disgusting and she felt nothing short of violated.

A couple of the other men chuckled in agreement, and she was sure her whole body writhed in filth. They wouldn't dare, would they?

Yet another symptom of her naivety, doubting the capability of a group of men that just killed an innocent man.

With her head still yanked backwards, Layla dared to peel one of her eyes open, her blurry vision catching sight of the attackers.

Every single one of them had their eyes on her, some with wickedness, some with hunger, one with sympathy.

Sympathy?

Her eyes flickered back to him, the man that held such a look. It was sympathy at her. His dark eyes bore into Layla's own, his gaze so out of place, so shocking.

Compared to the others, he seemed to hold a sense of uncertainty, maybe some sanity (and a conscience) flitting through his mind. Layla couldn't help but wonder why a guy like him would get mixed up with a group of guys like this.

But she scolded herself. She didn't know the man. For all she knew he could be the cruellest one of them all, and maybe his best skill was deception. She didn't know what he was capable of.

She didn't know what any of them were capable of. That thought alone choked her.

But then, finally, another voice spoke. It sounded deep, husky, rough. It was filled with authority, with power, and from the sound alone she knew whoever he was, he was in control. The words he spoke were slow, intimidating as though everything he spoke was with threat.

"Take her back." Was all he said.

Layla didn't get the chance to identify who the voice had come from, and before she could comprehend what the words even meant, an excruciating pain spread like wildfire through the back of her head until a darkness swallowed her.

--

A/N: hope you enjoyed part 1! lemme know if you would like a part 2 xx

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #dark harry styles #harry styles preferences #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x ofc #harry styles works #harry styles wattpad #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction writing #one direction imagines #harry styles prompts

[88missmarauder88]

Sirius x Reader / Remus x Reader -- Part IV

SO SORRY for the delay. Already working on Part V, so it won’t be far behind! And if I’ve forgotten anyone in this tag list, please message me and let me know!

Tag List: @ideas-nocturnas , @evyiione , @a-hopelessly-imaginative-girl , @intense-sneezing , @ghostlyrose2 , @peasantview , @la-fille-en-aiguilles , @toasterking , @too-involved , @onthebroadway , @comebackanothertime , @hfflpffs-shit , @actually-a-tree , @ohhowthetableshaveturnedd , @justducky0423 

"I'm really not in a party mood, Lily."

You slumped against the railing at the top of the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower. For someone who'd been unconscious for the better part of two days, you were exhausted. All you wanted was to crawl into your own bed and stay there. Possibly permanently. Or at least until Sirius and Remus were both graduated and married. Not that they'd ever be able to find girls good enough for them, of course, but-- Merlin's pants, were you actually jealous of fictional girls now?

"Don't frown so, my dear!" the Fat Lady chirped. "You'll develop wrinkles!"

"No offence, but that could not be lower on my list of concerns right now," you grumbled.

"Y/N, I know how you feel, I really do. On all accounts," Lily sighed, leaning over the railing beside you.

"Then please just tell them I'm ill. And cursed. And transferring to Beauxbatons."

"You know better than I do that if I said you were ill, they'd go into nursemaid mode again, and I will not have Sirius Black playing harmonica in my dorm room. Besides, it's not just them. The whole House is waiting."

You groaned. "All right, here's the plan. We go in, you shout that Marlene's about to get her kit off, and I escape while everyone's distracted."

"No. For two reasons. Firstly, because Marlene would actually take that as a cue to get her kit off, and secondly, because you have got to talk to Sirius. The longer you let it go, the worse things are going to get for the two of you and for Remus. And I know you don't want to hurt Remus, Y/N."

"Oh I do adore a triangle amoureux!" the Fat Lady gasped. "But you'll of course choose the Lupin boy... such a fine, polite lad. That Black, on the other hand--"

"Do you mind?" you snapped.

"Well!" the portrait sniffed. "Forgive me for attempting to offer my counsel as someone older, wiser, and--"

"Nosier, yes, we know." You turned back to Lily. "And no, I don't. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt Remus. But what if I'm wrong about all of it, Lily? I'll just end up making an arse of myself, and they'll both never look at me the same way again."

"And what if you're right? All the wondering and worrying will be over, and by tomorrow, you could be looking across the breakfast table at the love of your life."

You desperately did not want to allow yourself to get carried away by daydreams, but you couldn't ignore the slight flutter in your stomach at the thought. Maybe you were just misreading Remus. Maybe his odd behaviour was a side effect of his more difficult transformations. Maybe he was nervous about whether or not the boys' animagus plans would work, or that you'd find out what they'd done and be angry.

Maybe Lily was right, and in a few hours, you could finally look into those maddening grey eyes and not be terrified about what they might see in yours.

You turned to Lily with a shrug and a grudging smile you couldn't quite fight off. "Your eternal optimism is contagious."

"Hooray!" she cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Now we just have to figure out how to get you two alone in a room full of people."

"One of those people being Remus," you said, your brow furrowing again.

"Ignore the remainder of my sage advice if you wish, but you truly must stop scowling, child," the Fat Lady interjected. "One cannot hope to achieve a pleasing visage by constantly giving one's countenance over to gloom. Surely you've noticed my flawless complexion?"

"Which I reckon has nothing at all to do with the fact you're a painting."

"My but aren't you a cheeky sprite. Perhaps you're a bit more suited to the Black boy after all..."

"Oh, Sir Cadogan! The Fat Lady was just telling us how she'd love to hear the tale of your triumph over the Wyvern of Wye again!"

"Why, you little--!"

"KNICKERBOCKER GLORY!!" Lily shouted. The Fat Lady huffily swung aside, and Lily shoved you through the hole in the wall and into the Gryffindor common room.

"Honestly, Y/N, you and Sirius do give that poor woman more grief..."

"She started it!" you began, but you were quickly cut off.

"WELCOME BACK TO CONSCIOUSNESS!!"

The entirety of Gryffindor House bellowed out their greeting in unison, and you couldn't help but smile. All the turmoil within your group of closest friends had cast a shadow over the joy that usually accompanied returning to Hogwarts for a new year. But the warm, familiar faces who came rushing over to pat you on the back or pull you into a hug put you unexpectedly at ease, and you found yourself thinking you might just be in a bit of a party mood after all.

You scanned the room and found three-quarters of the Marauders introducing a large crowd to a table laden with butterbeer and firewhisky. Lily, meanwhile, had made a beeline in that direction, and she and Remus were now engaged in frantically attempting to snatch bottles and cups out of the hands of wide-eyed first and second years.

"Some seeker you are!" Gideon Prewett grinned, ruffling your hair.

"Right!" his twin, Fabian, chimed in. "How are you ever going to spot that wee little Snitch if you can't even see a bloody bludger heading straight for your noggin!"

You wrapped an arm around each of the Gryffindor chasers' necks before giving a sharp tug, knocking their heads together. They joined you in laughter, and you allowed yourself to be led off to the sofa in front of the fire, where you proceeded to drown your anxiety in blissfully uncomplicated chatter with the Prewetts, Marlene, Frank, Alice, and Emmeline. This was the Hogwarts you'd been missing, and you sank back into the soft cushions, determined to enjoy it while it lasted. No decisions, no choices; just the firelight, reflecting off the Prewetts' collar-length ginger hair till it danced like the flames themselves as they took turns doing rather spot-on impressions of Slughorn and Kettleburn. Just Marlene, endearingly loud and brash, vying not-so-subtly for one of the Prewetts' attention... or both, you couldn't rightly tell. Frank and Alice, stealing glances and touching hands when they thought no one was looking. Worst-kept secret at Hogwarts, but it was sweet the way they still assumed nobody knew. Emmeline, shy and quiet, but always beaming, enjoying the company.

After a half-hour or so, however, you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

"Could you give me a hand over here, Y/N?"

Reluctantly, you joined Lily at the base of the staircases and, with effort, fought down the urge to sprint up to your room and away from whatever was about to happen. You'd been contemplating telling her to forget the whole thing, that getting involved with any of your friends was a daft idea and you'd changed your mind. But watching Frank and Alice, you couldn't help but think... was it so bad to want something like that for yourself?

"There he is," Lily whispered, bumping her elbow into your side and nodding towards the far window. Two armchairs sat facing it, and over the back of one, you could see the top of Sirius's head. The other, you noted with a hint of nausea, was empty.

"You're not going to get a better opportunity."

"I know."

"Are you ready?"

"Nope."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've just been hit by the Knight Bus."

"Well... none of that is good, but I don't think it's going to get better until this is over, so... break a leg, love."

"I'd much rather."

With a deep breath, you somehow prompted your cold, numb legs to carry you towards the window. Dropping onto the empty armchair, you sat stiffly on the edge of the cushion, staring into the darkness beyond the window. Your limbs felt like they'd been starched, but you did your best to assume a casual position, realising you probably looked more like someone had tossed aside a marionette instead. Your throat was parched, and you glanced longingly at the drinks table for a moment before biting down on your bottom lip and clutching the arms of the chair in an attempt to focus. You were a right mess, and you couldn't go on like this. It was now or never.

You turned towards Sirius, who was looking at you quizzically, his eyes dark in the dim light. You forced your voice to manifest, and it sounded just as croaky as you'd figured it would. Fuck.

"Hey, you."

"WELCOME BACK TO CONSCIOUSNESS!!"

James turned from the crate of butterbeer he was unloading in time to see you smiling at your assembled classmates. He immediately glanced to his right and left.

Sirius had a bottle of Blishen's in his hand; slowly, he lowered it to the table, his eyes fixed intently on you. Sighing, James turned to Remus, who had dropped the empty cups he'd been trying to fill with punch before Sirius could fill them with firewhisky. Pity he didn't know Sirius had already spiked the punch. Remus looked as if he were about to hyperventilate as he stared at you, and James rubbed his eyes wearily with the heels of his palms. It was going to be a long night.

Remus barely registered the sound of the stack of empty cups he'd been holding hitting the floor. You were smiling, and you were beautiful when you smiled. Not that you weren't beautiful when you didn't smile... you were beautiful all the time and... a bit extra beautiful when you smiled?

Well, that clinched it. He was not cut out for this.

Worse than that, he felt like he'd already ruined things between the two of you without even saying a word. You were his best friend, for Merlin's sake. If this were last year, he'd be bounding over to you right now, scooping you into a bear hug, and the two of you would spend the rest of the night laughing and swapping chocolates and taking wagers on when, where, and after how many firewhiskys James would pass out. Instead, you were chatting with the Prewett twins, and he was standing here like a numpty and sweating.

At least you looked happy to see everyone; Remus had worried you'd just want to go to bed after finally getting out of hospital. Frankly, he'd wanted to do the same after confessing his feelings to the lads. The walk back to the castle had been unusually quiet, but James had seemed adamant that if Remus intended to let you know how he felt, the sooner would be the better.

"Remus!"

Remus jumped, startled out of his thoughts, and inadvertently kicked a few empty cups across the floor. They were immediately snatched up by a delighted-looking pair of fourth years, who dunked them into the punch and began guzzling. A bit of a line had formed at the punch bowl. At least some people appreciated a nice, simple beverage. He glanced up to see Lily rushing towards him.

She pointed angrily to Remus's right, and, as per usual, Remus found James and Sirius at the end of that finger. They were cheerfully waving everyone over to the drinks table like social directors on a holiday cruise.

"The third years can have butterbeer -- to a point -- but they can not have firewhisky, and the first and second years can't have anything other than punch..."

Remus didn't in the slightest feel like spending the evening playing cup-and-bottle cop, but neither did he want to let Lily down. He glanced behind him as he plucked a firewhisky out of the hands of a second year to see you making your way towards the sofa, arms around the Prewetts, whom Remus suddenly and irrationally hated.

On second thought, he could use a distraction.

Sirius halted midway through filling a cup with firewhisky to watch as the irritated look on your face when you first entered the common room slowly melted into a smile.

You had rather a lot of smiles. This one was genuine; you looked a bit relieved and happy to see everyone, and Sirius was glad of that. He hadn't figured you'd be in a party mood, but you were good at adjusting when the situation called for it. Then there was the polite smile you reserved for professors and casual acquaintances. The slightly pained smile when you wished someone would go away but were too nice to put it out there. Two others were high on his list of favourites: the truly delighted one always lit up your eyes and reminded Sirius of the girl he'd met five years ago; the wicked grin that usually preceded a great prank idea excited him for a growing variety of reasons.

But there was one smile in particular Sirius liked to think was his and his alone. At least, he'd never seen it directed at anyone else. It was rather like the childlike one but mixed with a complete sort of ease that seemed to indicate you were precisely where you wanted to be in that moment. He'd almost started to let himself believe that, just maybe, where you wanted to be was with--

"Finished with that, mate?" James asked, studying Sirius's face as he gently took the bottle of Blishen's from his hand. Sirius blinked a few times, then grinned.

"Yep. All done with it."

He cast a glance your direction and made a quick mental note to put itching powder in the Prewetts' Quidditch gear tomorrow. Then he spread his arms wide.

"Come and get it, lads and lassies! Drinks are on the Marauders tonight!"

James popped open another butterbeer and surveyed the common room.

Remus was sitting on a desk near the portrait hole, pretending to listen to Peter, who was on another rant about his failed attempts to use Engorgio to make himself taller. Remus's heels were battering nervously off the legs of the desk as he stared at you on the couch, and he looked as if he might vomit at any given moment. Fantastic.

Sirius was sitting alone in one of the armchairs by the window. He'd forgone the cups and was drinking directly from the last bottle of firewhisky. He'd kicked off his boots, and his hair was a mess. He looked like a rock star coming off a weekend binge. Marvelous.

Meanwhile, the number of little kids passed out in various spots and positions around the room was increasing. Hilarious.

James flopped onto a nearby chair and downed the rest of his butterbeer.

"I hope you're pleased with yourself."

"I generally am, Evans."

Sadly, he didn't have the energy to tack an additional pithy remark onto that. He barely had the energy to lift his eyelids, but he made the effort just to see her glaring at him, one hand on her hip and the other clutching her wand. She was adorable when she was angry.

"Children, drunk. Rubbish, everywhere. About ten school rules, broken. And as usual, you're all present and accounted for when it's time to make the mess, but you'll be nowhere to be found when it's time to clean it up."

Evans was saying something prefect-y, but James's thoughts were louder. Mess. That's what it all was, and he couldn't deal with it by himself anymore. He hadn't had any bloody time to think between what happened in Honeydukes' cellar and now. There was too much to sort out, and he needed help.

"Potter, are you even listening to me?"

"Not in the slightest. Hey, Evans, I need a favour."

"The nerve of you! You are the most selfish, arrogant git I have ever encountered."

"Absolutely right."

"Never giving a fig for anyone else until you need something, and then we're all supposed to jump to attention because the great James Potter snapped his fingers."

"Completely inexcusable."

"You're drunk, aren't you."

"Tremendously, but look, Evans, I'm serious. Will you please at least hear me out?"

Lily looked torn for a moment, but slowly, the redness began to fade from her cheeks, and she sat down primly with a dramatic sigh.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"I know something about some people, and it's some people you know something about too, but you know your something from someone else, and you only know half of it, but I know the other half, so if we put it all together, we might be able to do something."

Lily stared at him, one eyebrow raised. "I can't even put that sentence together."

James sat up in his chair and slapped himself on the cheeks a few times. Not only was this his chance to get another perspective on his problem, it was the first time he could recall that Evans had spent more than a minute talking to him without hexing him and/or storming off. He couldn't blow this.

"Sorry, let me try again. I know that you know that Y/N fancies Sirius and Remus fancies Y/N."

Lily's eyes widened in shock.

"I... erm... well, she... wait -- how do you know I know that?"

James held up his hands, very conscious of the fact she was still holding her wand.

"Please do not hex me. I was asleep in here when the two of you came in, and when I woke up, you were already in the thick of it. I tried, but I couldn't not hear you."

"So you were spying on us!" Lily's wand hand twitched.

"No!" James said quickly. "I told you, I tried not to hear. Either way, though, she's one of my closest friends, Evans. You know I can't abide her hurting. All I want to do is help."

Lily took a deep breath and nodded. "Go on."

"I decided to see if I could suss out how Pads and Moony felt. If it wasn't like she thought, I would've let her know. But it turns out, it's almost exactly like she thought. Remus is definitely in love with her. But... I think Sirius is too."

Lily rubbed her forehead for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, before looking behind her at Remus and Sirius, then back at James.

"She didn't want to get her hopes up about Sirius. And mind you, I'm not a fan, and I don't at all see the appeal, but if it's what they both want... maybe it'd do them both some good. The problem is, she can't stand the thought of hurting Remus."

"That's not the only problem. Apparently, Pads can't either. Moony told us all how he felt earlier, and Sirius said he should go for it with Y/N."

"Perfect," Lily groaned. "Who knew Black was actually noble. So has Remus told her yet?"

"Have you seen him? It's a wonder he hasn't bloody combusted and taken Pete with him."

"Then we have to let Y/N talk to Sirius, Potter. If he decides after hearing her out that he still wants to step aside for Remus, then at least Y/N knows where she stands. I don't want anyone to get hurt either, but it's up to them now. And if Black and Y/N really are in love, they'll find their way to each other no matter what happens next."

James hated feeling like the whole thing was out of his control, but Evans was right. After a moment, he nodded, and she stood and headed towards the couch before pausing and turning back to him.

"Potter?"

"Evans?"

"It's... very nearly human of you to care so much."

James thought his grin might split his face in two as Evans walked off, calling over her shoulder, "Now clean up some of this mess, you irresponsible oaf!"

Why "Hey, you"? Of all the idiotic things you could have said... should you run? Maybe you should just run. He'd think you'd drunk yourself ill, and you could both forget the whole thing. Then again, judging from the empty cups on the floor around him and the nearly empty bottle in his hand, he had an impressive head start on you.

"Ah, the girl of the hour!" Sirius said, raising the bottle of firewhisky in your direction. You took the opportunity to snatch it from his hand and drain the remainder of its contents. Liquid courage and all that.

"Hey, that was--"

"The last of the firewhisky, yes. Sharing is caring."

Sirius gave you a lopsided smile and dropped back into his chair. He was fairly well sloshed, but maybe that was a good thing. You could find out how he felt, and chances were better than average he wouldn't even remember it tomorrow.

"Sirius, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Well, this was off to a rousing start. Before you could think of a new angle, a pair of sixth-year girls sauntered past on their way to the drinks table, eyelashes fluttering and lips pouted in Sirius's direction. You looked over to see him watching them; he nodded, and your heart sank. What were you thinking? Every girl at this school but Lily fancied him. Not for the reasons you did, of course... not because they'd peered into all his dark corners and found his truest self hiding in them. But at the same time, would they not give their right arms to be in your position? After all, you were the one sitting next to him as he paid an unusual amount of attention to a hole in his sock. You were his friend. What would you do if you lost that? What if love in this case meant just knowing when to leave well enough alone?

Lily's voice interrupted as clearly as if she'd been whispering in your ear. 

"Love is worth taking all the risks in the world for."

"I need to ask you something else. Something important."

Sirius just wanted to go to bed.

The fun of watching Polly Prefect Evans handing out glasses of spiked punch to the first and second years had faded quicker than he'd hoped, seeing as it was the only distraction he had. Now, it was just him and firewhisky, and his head already felt like a swarm of Billywigs was infesting it -- had done ever since Remus blurted out those words in the cellar.

In that instant, Sirius had felt nothing but anger and pain. At first, he'd been angry with Moony. Why did he have to fall in love with you? You were already his best friend; the two of you spent loads of time together, reading, re-reading, talking about bloody reading. Why wasn't that enough? But Sirius was angrier with himself, for getting his hopes up. He'd been telling himself for two years now that whatever changes he thought he was sensing in his feelings for you were nothing but a recipe for disaster. A good way to fuck up friendships. But every time he thought he had himself convinced, that other little voice in his head would bleed through: But what if...?

What if you felt the same way? Surely he wasn't imagining the little glimmer of something in your eyes that hadn't been there before whenever you looked at him... though, considering how quickly you usually looked away, it was hard to tell. But he definitely hadn't imagined the flush in your cheeks in the hospital wing... though, you could have just been self-conscious knowing the lads were staring.

Sirius kicked off his boots and ran his hands through his hair in agitation before taking another long pull off the bottle. This "maybe this" and "except for that" bollocks was driving him round the bend, and just when he was finally thinking he'd worked up the courage to take a chance, here came Remus. And it would be Remus, wouldn't it? Probably always had been. He was the best friend. The book reader. And Sirius was just-- no. It wasn't fair to pretend he'd ever felt beneath Remus in your eyes. You'd never been anything but kind to him. You made him feel valued and understood and accepted. The hang-up was his, but it was one he was beginning to think he'd never get around.

Sirius the devoted friend and confidant would love you till the day he died. Sirius the heir to the House of Black would never put you in the path of the insanity that entailed. Especially not if there was an alternative. Someone who'd be better for you.

Sirius's heart shot into his throat as you tumbled stiffly onto the chair beside him. What the fuck? Was he putting out some sort of misery tractor beam? He quickly took a few more swallows of whisky. You were fidgeting awkwardly all over the chair, clearly nervous, and Sirius had to fight with all the sobriety he had left not to reach over and hold you still. And then never let go.

Instead, he stared dumbly at you until, finally, you glanced over.

"Hey, you."

Shit, did you just say something? His ears were ringing so loudly he couldn't tell... quick, say something back, moron!

"Ah, the girl of the hour!"

What the hell was that?! And did he just toast you?! Merlin's saggy--

You plucked the bottle out of his hand, and all Sirius could do was mumble, "Hey, that was--"

"The last of the firewhisky, yes. Sharing is caring."

Banter. Banter was good. Sirius tried to force a convincing smile onto his face and fell backwards against the cushion; it was either that or fall forwards onto his face at this point. He had lost all control of his motor skills.

"Sirius, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

That was not the correct use of banter. Fuck. Just don't say anything else. Nonverbal communication only. Bloody hell, was that a hole in his sock? How was he supposed to take care of anyone else if he couldn't even take care of himself? Sirius's train of thought was derailed by a couple of sixth years prancing by, but he nodded, hoping you'd take the prompt to go ahead and ask your question. He also hoped the older girls' faces would stick in those stupid expressions they were wearing. All this rapid blinking and lip puckering... you never did frivolous nonsense like that.

Sirius looked over at you in time to catch that something different in your eyes again and froze.

"I need to ask you something else. Something important."

Not that. Anything but that, Y/N. He couldn't give you the kind of uncomplicated love you deserved. He couldn't keep you safe. And Moony... he'd always been afraid, consumed by that "someone like me can never have a normal life" bullshit. For him to want to tell a girl he loved her was huge. That was the sort of love that was worthy of yours.

Sirius's heart felt like it was shattering as he looked at you. How much fucking firewhisky did it take to not feel anything at all? Don't let her say it. You can't let her say it.

"Can... can it wait till later?" he stammered, tearing his eyes away from yours. "I, erm... I've got a date."

#sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #young!sirius black x reader #young!remus lupin x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #remus x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #marauders #marauders era #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era imagine #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #marauders imagine #marauders fanfiction

[umccall71]

Chapter: 20

Characters: Prince Liam & (MC) Lady Saige

Rating: Mature

Word count :3423

Disclaimer:All characters are property of Pixelberry except my OC Lady Saige. The use of these characters are for entertainment only and I am only borrowing them.

Summary:After a summer of a lifetime,Prince Liam thought he could have it all.He was carefree, free, and sharing time with the woman of his dreams.When life was easy, a balancing act between love and duty, he realizes his truths are lies, wrong is right, and decisions do have consequences. Lady Saige never imagined she would be one of his consequences.When an utter act horror throws her world into a tailspin.

Warning: This series contains subject matter of depression,pregnancy, violence, and sensitive sexual content.The story may trigger certain individuals. Please be advised. If you are reading this series you are acknowledging you are 18+.

@ao719 @eadanga @silviasutton1989 @rainbowsinthestorm @the-soot-sprite @jared2612 @sashatrr @jovialyouthmusic @smalltalk88 @custaroonie @kuladekiwi @whenyourheartskipsabeat @marietrinmimi @furiousherringoperatortoad @gibbles82 @choices97 @fantasy-of-fiction @romanticatheart-posts @drakesensworld @simsvetements @blackcoffee85 @3pawandme @indiacater @hopefulmoonobject @elles-choices @carabeth @carabethpow @janezillow @kingliam2019 @lodberg @ownworldresident

**********

The following morning, Olivia had arrived in the early sunrise at the urgent request of her king. Liam had sent a message that he needed to take care of some things but did not want to leave Saige alone. Olivia came baring decadent pastries and coffee,tea, and juices.

“Good morning your majesties...I come bearing gifts of sustenance,'' she smiled to break the tension.

Liam had been awake for hours simply coordinating the events that would transpire at warped speed if he has his way.He had arranged for Bastien to pick him up early to escort him to meet face to face that evil that had lurked and entered his home. His heart was pounding out of his chest as he contemplated confronting Constantine. “Thank you for coming Olivia, I shan't be long.”

Liam turned and cupped Saige’s face placing a tender kiss upon her lips careful not to linger too long . “Love, I don't want to leave but there is an urgent matter I need to handle. I won't be long...I can't wait to take you home to care for you in the comfort of our bedroom.”

Saige flinched at the mention of the word home.As much happiness as she shared with Liam, she no longer felt the palace was her home. What Liam missed was the reluctance in his wife to proclaim that going home was at the forefront of her mind. Their home served as an internal prison for the dreams that she sought with her husband. The dream that was stolen that night in the dark...stolen from her heart. The palace would serve as an existential graveyard to the baby that they lost. All she could do in that moment was to nod and try to force a false smile as he left her with her closest friend.

Olivia slid beside Saige on the bed and handed her a chocolate croissant and a bottle of juice, “eat...you need to regain your strength to make those sons of bitches pay.” Olivia’s emerald green orbs met the lackluster crystal blue eyes.

Saige stared at the window as if she were seeking answers from the inky hues creeping between the curtain. She softly whispered , “ I wish he could see that he would be better off without me.”

Olivia reached out to grasp hold of Saige’s hand trying to project the comfort and understanding in this devastatingly critical hours following the void that was left in the pit of her friend. “Saige...you have to understand that living without you is not in the cards for Liam ...right? That man loves you and he will love you until the day he dies. I couldn't imagine the weight of sorrow you are drowning from inside. Please understand that what you feel...he feels it too.”

Saige blocked the words that were being shared...she reached over and pushed the call button to alert the nurse.She pushed the pastry away and ignored Liv’s words. Moments later the mature woman entered the room and smiled at the queen.

“Ma’am, is there anything I can do for you?”,she inquired.

Saige spoke looking out of the window, “ How long before I can leave here ?”

The nurse looked bewildered and taken aback momentarily, “ well it should be any day now. THe doctor wanted to make sure you have crossed the threshold with your pregnancy and risk no setbacks or infections as a result. I'm sure it won't be too much longer.” The nurse bowed and exited the room.

Olivia’s gaze followed the nurse out of the room and turned to her friend. “What are you thinking Saige? I know you well enough to know that there is nothing random about your questioning.”

Saige simply slid down in the bed and turned her back to Olivia, silent tears escaping her eyes. She couldn't find the words to explain the magnitude of her pain and confusion. She felt the ache in her heart at the baby she would never rocked to sleep, never see the mirrored smile of the baby’s father, never witness Liam dote over…so many first stolen from them.

***

Liam marched down the hall following Bastien mind locked on the man that tore a hole in his life without a blink of an eye. He was laser focused on looking him in the eyes and studying his reaction to his learning that his son was now in possession of the truth. Liam always felt that a man armed with the truth was armed with a powerful tool. He took long strides down the palace halls draped in gold ornate molding, Italian marble floors, and images of ancestors of Cordonia. He wondered what his ancestors would think of Constantine raping the now queen. He cracked his neck as Bastien stopped in front of a set of locked double doors that locked away his father.He knew this because the two guards would not be afforded to be housed in such luxury.He glanced to Bastien as he let out a deep breath...squared his shoulders and nodded for Bastien to open the door.

“Whatever you do ...don't open this room once im inside until I give you the signal.This is a conversation that needs to be had. I trust you have the paperwork to present to the council with formal charges?”, he watched as his heard guard nodded in acknowledgement.

“Yes sir… everything is in order awaiting word from you to proceed.”, Bastien opened the door and then back out abruptly closing and locking the door behind his king. He stretched his arms over his head before adjusting his steele gray suit and tie.

Liam slowly paced the room making eye contact with Constantine.He looked upon his father as a science experiment he was seeking a worthy hypothesis for in the end. He slowly removed his navy blue blazer and laid it across the boudoir chair. He undid his cufflinks depositing them in his trousers pocket. He rolled up his sleeves still refraining from uttering a word as he watched.Costantine went to inquire appallingly to Liam why he was being held in that room is not allowed to go to his wife in their home.

Liam scoffed at the hypocrisy of him wanting to be there with his wife when he robbed his own wife of peace, happiness, and sense of security. “Which one did you use?he asked as he started moving closer toward his father.Constantine looked at him puzzled. “What?...what are you talking about Liam?” Still no clue where his son’s thoughts were .

“Did you use the left or right hand to choke my wife in the middle of the night? Which one started your path of madness? Don't bother denying that you were there...because I have proof that you were indeed there in my home… Constantine.” Liam exuded a calm, but determined look as he stalked over to the fireplace removing the gold poker.

“Which hand did you use to strike my wife you asshole?!”, his voice deepened as he became irritated being in the room with her assailant.

“Liam… I don't know what that little bitch told you but she's lying. I gave her only what she wanted.”, he smirked as his eyes shifted back and forth watching Liam’s reaction to his lie. “Liam she has wanted to come between us since she first set foot in this palace. You cannot let her damage our relationship anymore than it has been.”

Liam's voice came out in a roar, “ENOUGH!... you will tell me which hand you used to grip the throat of my pregnant wife!”

Constantine slowly lowered his gaze to look to his right..that was all the confirmation Liam needed. He snatched his father from across the room and snapped his right arm.. Lowering a devastating blow to his right hand that landed on the desk. “Fuck Liam … what the hell is wrong with you?!, he bellowed in agony.

“Was that the same hand you used to strike her across her beautiful face you bastard?!”,his breathing became labored as he fought the urge to end him where he stood. “ Liam delivered a crushing blow with his fist across Constantine’s mouth where deep red blood flowed from his lips.

“You beat her .. you tore off her clothes on the floor of our home … you raped you animal...and your act of violence cost us our baby.It wasn't enough that you tried to have your way with her months ago… you had to finish the job!”Liam seethed as he slammed his father's body to the floor and pressed his knees on both sides of his body pounding his fist into his face repeatedly.

The door flew open as Bastien came in to aide his king that was losing control over the tragedy that had taken hold of his family. “Your majesty… please let me take over sir. I serve at the bequest of the crown.” Bastien tried to break through the rage of his beloved king. Liam gripped Constantine's head and slammed it into the floor several times.Bastien dropped to his knees and pleaded with his king to let him take over to subdue the former king.

LIam rose to his feet as Bastien held a firm grip on the former king not that he was able to put up much of a fight. Constantine sat up with Bastien close by as he leaned forward processing everything his son had told him . What he found disheartening was hearing about the loss of a grandchild. “Liam… you say she lost the baby?” Silence in the room as Liam tried to calm his pulse and slow his heartbeat.

“In light of your actions and the two co- conspirators you will all be tried for treason. Crimes against the crown. This country will learn what a vile human being you are...a stain on the monarchy. I will not cover for your crimes. My priority is to my wife and my unborn child.”, he paused as the realization dawned on his father that Saige was still pregnant.

“Wait...what do you mean unborn child?”, he was flustered and confused.

“We learned after your violent actions against my wife that Saige was carrying twins. One baby did not survive as a result of you horrific,unscrupulous behaviour. I had to watch my wife be delivered another devestating blow after her rape when the doctor told her that she lossed a child that we never had a chance to meet. This… this death is blood on your hands. Everyone will learn what a monster you are and that you killed your own flesh and blood grandchild.You will stand trial before the council...and then to meet your maker. I hope you rot in hell for what you've done Constantine. Your legacy … will be that of a murderer and rapist to your own family.”

Liam picked up his blazer and slowly moved toward the door. He wouldn’t look back as he went to exit. As he was leaving her heard Bastien yell out , “unhand my service revolver!” Moments later a loud single pop escaped the room followed by a thud on the floor. Liam turned back and witnessed Bastien trying to revive Constantine to no avail. King father perished as a single gunshot to his head as he took his own life in that room. Bastien radioed to his staff to secure the scene and lock down any press to the palace until Queen mother is notified of his death.Liam walked down the hall blocking out the chaos taking place around him as he went back to his private quarters. He had not set foot in the royal apartments since leaving the morning of his trip to Italy. Upon walking into the living area his senses were awakened by the smell of cleaning solutions. His breath hitched as he came to the spot that he believed to be where his wife was taken from him that night. He moved to the bedroom with a suffocating feeling as he glanced to the bed that was still unmade. He eyed the IPad that was still beside her space in their bed where she laid down chatting with him on FaceTime. The spot that held a special place in his heart remembering how they laughed and planned to speak after her doctors appointment. He thought of her words where she mentioned feeling a craving for a snack...to feed their baby...babies before going to sleep.Liam peeled off his clothes, except his underwear and took in the scent of her sweet perfume intoxicated with jasmine and vanilla.He felt a burning sting in his eyes as he became overwhelmed with the thought of them making love in the rain the night before he left. Had he known that the following night would change their lives...had he insisted she travel with him to Italy. He gripped her pillow imagining her shampoo smelling of Gardenias. He put it to his nostrils and inhaled deeply as grief overtook his body. Liam’s body shook uncontrollably as he let out a scream as he sobbed.

“Why would he do this to her.. To us? She didn't deserve this.. Our baby didn't deserve this… all she wanted, we wanted was to plan for our family. How can i promised her to keep her safe when I couldn't even shield her in our home.” Liam lade his way to the bathroom and turned on the showed letting the steam filled the room. He stared at his broken blue eyes , red rimmed as he looked at a man he was used to seeing...defeated… afraid...heartbroken...betrayed. He knew he had to fight for her even if she couldn't fight for herself.

He slid out of his underwear and stood beneath the running water allowing the heat to pulsate his tensed muscles in his back and shoulders. Liam slumped down in the shower internalizing his pain and muffling his tears that were trapped in his throat. He cried for Saige, for their baby… but he felt nothing for the father that had deprived them of a family that is whole. After twenty minutes in the water he left the shower and dressed in jeans, a button down shirt and pull over sweater. He grabbed his keys and phone and headed back to the hospital ...alone.

****

Saige laid in bed staring at the ceiling trying to avoid the bereaved looks of sympathy from Olivia.Liam had sent off a text to Liv that he was on the way. Olivia had turned on the television trying to find a light hearted comedy to lighten the mood. “This movie looks good… I can't wait until we share a stiff drink after you have the baby, she smiled trying to lessen the all consuming thoughts in Saige’s mind. “Saige… what do you have a taste for? We can get anything your heart desires, ``she laughed.

Saige grew quiet, “ you can’t get me the baby I lost,''she whispered. Olivia could not help but feel a heavy heart for her friend. The thing that would help her heal was outside of her grasp. All she wanted was to plan for the day she and Liam would bring their little angels home. A moment later Liam entered the hospital room followed by Saige’s physician. Before he could say anything the doctor smiled and shared that she could head home.

“Your majesties...there has been a great improvement to your injuries and the baby is doing well.” Liam smiled reluctantly. He trained his blue eyes on Saige traveling down to her belly wanting to just touch her baby bump. He knew that would make her uncomfortable in this moment. Olivia could help but take notice of her king.

Ma’am...sir.. We recommend taking it easy for the next week or two. Free of stress .. focusing on your recovery and your pregnancy. Be mindful of any pains and cramping should it arise. You will need to eat a healthy diet and drink plenty of fluids. Listen to your body … rest frequently. Your majesty... I look forward to the official introduction of the royal heir.”,he smiled. “ I will go prepare your paperwork for your release,''the doctor exited the room.

“Baby… that's great news that you can go home … we can go home.”he reached for her hand when she began shaking her head violently, “I ..I can't go there Liam”, she panicked.

“No love… we are going to spend some time in /valtoria at your Duchy. I never had a chance to take you on a grand tour to take in the beauty. We should go there for awhile. I will work from there and .. and I can postpone any trips abroad for a bit.”, he looked on with a look of uncertainty. “Let's take time to deal with everything including the loss of our baby without prying eyes.”

“Liam… I know that you want to help, but I can't give you what you want. You deserve a woman that is of your social class and ilk. I cannot even protect your baby...what about the baby. Liam i am afraid to grow attached to this one because don't know if …”she trailed off with a few stray tears running down her face.

“Saige...we cant think that way. Am I sad that we lost a child...yes. We also owe to that baby to love the twin that shared your womb. We will stop thinking about the loss, but we also have to embrace the gift that is still with us. Let me take care of you and our baby that remains with us. I'm sure our other baby would want that”,he wrapped his arms around her trying to exude the love and support.

Olivia became moved by the tenderness between the two, “I'll go pack a bag for you to change Saige once your released. I'll be back soon, `` she quietly left the room and the couple to their thoughts.

“Valtoria will be good for us love… some time away from the palace. There is a lot that needs to be settled there . I only want you to focus on getting better and stronger. You are fierce and determined Saige. You are a force to be reckoned with in this country. I am so proud to have you in my life … as my wife...as the mother of my children… as my queen.” He kneeled before his queen kissing her hand, “I love you today just as much as the day we got married for the first time.” Liam flashed back to the afternoon in the judge;s chambers they traded vows of love and devotion,

“...I only live to serve you. I want my duty to be putting a larger smile on your face than the day before...You have shown me your my lighthouse in the storm guiding me safely to harbor. I vow to trust you and I to seek the right path… not always the easy one…”

Liam kissed the top of her head, “ I intend to live up to my vows love. I truly believe that Valtoria will become a respite during this challenging time. Today we face this hospital room mourning a great loss and crime...tomorrow you and I will wake up in paradise amongst the fields, wild flowers, mountains, streams,and waterfalls. Valtoria will be an oasis.. Our home away from home until you are ready to face the palace again.

#king liam #choices trr #trr mc #king liam x mc #liam x mc #pixelberry #the royal romance

[athletiger]

we can take it slow and I can show you how to slow dance

My fix-it fic! Kinda. Anyway, just watched A4 and I had to write something about it. Don’t read if you haven’t watched it!

Crossposted on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18608569

At one time, now oh so many years ago, Thor promised them Valhalla.

Steve put down his shield for the last time, sitting there on the bench by the lake on the same day that changed the fate of their lives.

“Live life a little,” Tony had said to him. He did, slinging one hand around Pepper’s shoulder and carrying small Morgan in his arms.

And so he did. Went back in time, found Peggy, stuck out a hand while he stood in the middle of SHIELD headquarters, and requested, “May I take you out for a dance? I’m a little less flat-footed after all these years.”

And he loved her. Still loves her, will always love her in his heart.

Still, throughout all these years, it felt like something was missing, like there was a missing puzzle piece that prevented him from being whole. It took several months to figure out that he was missing something, an abnormally long time when he thought about it, but Peggy had always sensed that he wasn’t always there with her.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, brushing a gentle hand down his arm. She was not angry that he wasn’t all there with her, just curious, and he pressed a gentle against her temple.

“Nothing,” Steve said, rocking their bodies together as the music continued playing. “Just thinking about the past. Well, my alternate future...all this time travel is confusing.”

“Want to tell me about it?” Peggy tilted her head up and leaned in for a kiss. Steve happily pressed his lips against hers, but at that moment, he realized: he wanted to capture someone else’s lips too. “You went on a long journey to finally get here.”

“I’m not sure your clearance is high enough to listen to my story,” Steve joked, and Peggy swatted his arm in retaliation.

“I’ll have you know that I have higher clearance than you. Besides, I don’t think you want to go to a therapist.”

“You think correctly.”

“But I can sense that you want to tell someone about it.” Peggy kisses the underside of his jaw, circling her hands around Steve’s waist and interlacing her fingers against the small of his back. “It’s a story that you can’t hold inside, and sometimes it’s just like that. You don’t have to tell me right now, but I’m always willing to lend an ear when you need it.”

For so many years, he kept so many secrets bottled up inside, not knowing who to trust, not knowing if speaking aloud what he had learned and experienced would come back to bite him in the ass. He trusted Peggy; maybe it was now time to let go some of those secrets. “ You’re right,” he said, clinging to her tighter.

And he told her his story, starting from the beginning when he woke up in the SHIELD facility, freshly pulled out from the ice, fighting constantly battle after battle for the good of America and Earth. He talked about him finding Bucky, mind wiped from HYDRA’s experiments, saving him and giving him a new life and new future. He told her about the way his last mission was to space, losing to a madman who wiped out half of all living creatures, and the way they redeemed the universe five years later.

“You know, this Tony Stark,” Peggy began when Steve finally finished his story. The turntable was still turning, but it was no longer playing music, and they had moved to sit down on the couch as the sun went down and the moon rose. “He was the center of your life. You both gone to hell and back for each other.”

“But Bucky...” Steve initially protested. Steve promised him “till the end of the line,” and Peggy nodded.

“You’ve done so much for him, but he wasn’t your…” Peggy paused here, biting her lip and looking off to the side. “Tony knew who you are, where your values stood, fought for you, saved you. And you did the same. He may have had Pepper and his kid, and you now have me, but you both came together when the world needed you most, and you had the camaraderie binding you both together in a bond that was even stronger than your bond with Bucky. He wanted you to have a happy life.”

She placed a hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him forward so that their foreheads touched. “I love you, and I know you love me, but deep down inside, you love him too because the sacrifice he gave to the whole universe ultimately was for you.”

“I...love him.” The words sounded strange on his tongue when he thought about Tony, but the images entered his mind, unbidden. They fought together against the Chitauri, him kneeling over Tony’s prone body when he fell from the wormhole; Tony’s need of peace with Ultron so they didn’t have to fight anymore; Tony looking at him when he stumbled out of the Benetar with relief in his eyes.

And his ultimate sacrifice, right arm and half of his face blackened and burnt from the power of the Stones, destroying his body, but still he looked past Pepper for a moment to look at Steve; his last image was of Steve before he died. “I love him.”

His voice was stronger now, with conviction. Indeed, he did, and Peggy nodded. “There’s always going to be a portion of you that is always going to love him.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Peggy’s waist. She felt fragile in his arms, but her mind and spirit was strong, much stronger than his, and he breathes in her scent. “But I’m here now.”

Peggy kisses him, loving and happy. “I know.”

Peggy’s gone now, the same day she left him in the original timeline, and Steve had grown old. He was satisfied with his life, having experienced what Tony have had during his time, but now he was ready to move on.

Vibranium shield passed on, he looked out into the water and saw the casket of Tony Stark floating down the river. He’s ready.

Bucky sat next to him, all young and sprite. He had a twinkle in his eyes, one that Steve hadn’t seen for a very long time.

“Satisfied?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded. “Very.”

“I’m glad. You deserved it, kid.”

Steve laughed. “I’m less of a kid than you are, kid.” Bucky snorted in affront.

“You’ll pay for that, punk. I’ll make sure of it.” The threat was less than threatening with the way Bucky’s face broke out into a bright grin by the end of it. Steve laughed, and after a moment, Bucky broke down and chuckled with him.

When the laughter died down, Steve said, “I’m going to miss you. I wish we had longer.”

“I know Steve, but what we had, that was good too.”

He reached out to Bucky, and Bucky scooted in closer, clinging to his best friend. They sat there, watching the casket sail away until it was out of sight.

This was a familiar place that he hadn’t seen in years, but he remembered it like yesterday. He sold their house and moved back into an apartment.

His apartment, the one he had that was next to Sharon’s so very long ago. He was surprised it wasn’t demolished during the Snap, but he was glad it wasn’t. The wave of nostalgia swept over him, and he looked on with bittersweet memories, thinking about the happy times and the sad ones too.

He crawled into bed, inhaling, exhaling.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale…

“Hey Cap, blueberry?”

Steve turned around, and Tony was there, holding out a packet of dried blueberries in his hand. He wore his tattered jeans and his grey ACDC shirt, and he looked young, happy.

Natasha appeared beside him. “Hey Steve,” she said. Her hair was red, and she had a soft smile on her face.

He’s home again, and he stepped forward into the light, taking Tony’s proffered hand.

#stony #endgame #endgame spoilers #a4 spoilers #a4