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separatist-apologist · 10 months

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Love Is A Lie

Summary: After her mothers death, Arina goes from the well-loved daughter of a nobleman to a servant in his home. She dreams of escaping to the coast and making her own way, and when she learns of a ball the King of Avalon is hosting to pick a wife, Arina sees her chance. With a little help from a fairy godmother, Arina agrees to exchange a favor for one night with the King.

But Eris Vanserra has other plans when they meet, and Arina isn't sure she's ready for the consequences of one night dancing at a ball.

Part Two of OUAT series

Read on AO3

Every morning started with a bell ringing. It was the one modification to Arina’s bedroom she loathed more than any other. Attached to a wire in the wall, her stepmother could ring for her anywhere in the house rather than call for her. Why treat Arina like a person when she could treat her like an animal?

Groaning, Arina pushed herself out of bed. Still exhausted from a night spent up way too late sewing another dress so when she met the King of Avalon a second time, she didn’t look so terrible. His sneering countenance was burned in her mind, his clipped words as he acknowledged her branded like an iron just behind her eyes. He’d been…well…he’d been everything, though she didn’t dare admit that. Even if her father hadn’t given in to her step-mothers ugliest impulses and Arina could have met him on even ground, he wouldn’t have treated her any better.

Why was she thinking about him at all? Maybe because his court was warm and open and the new king was making a name for himself as someone who took in those that had nowhere to go. Arina doubted she’d be welcomed into his home, but perhaps she could beg him for sanctuary so when her father came looking, he couldn’t just drag her right back.

All the girls she’d grown up with were married now, and her family kept her indoors to work off debts Arina had never seen. The dress was necessary to prove she was more than the flea bitten dog her father had paraded her around as. If the king could see her humanity, surely he’d shield her, right?

There was no reprieve for Arina in the mornings. Her step-mother ran her ragged, inventing chores when there was nothing left until night had fallen and Arina ought to sleep. Working by candle light for the last month, she’d begun stitching an intricate pink and gold dress for the upcoming ball. They said the king intended to pick his wife that night, which made it the perfect place for Arina to slip in, convince him or someone close to him to intervene on her behalf before she took off for a coastal city.

She’d take up work—ideally in a library if she could convince someone of her merit. She’d had to give up schooling almost ten years ago when her father remarried, and Arina, who’d once been a promising scholar, was likely lagging so far behind that no one would want her. She could always try sewing, she reminded herself.

In truth, Arina would do anything if it meant she never had to step foot in the musty attic she now lived in. No longer a lady, no longer a person. Arina was given no time to think about herself, braiding her thick, blonde hair quickly as she made her way down the stairs in old slippers so worn there were holes where her toes ought to have been, and a dress that desperately needed to be washed.

It would be another midnight bath in the river just behind the house, quickly washing her skin and hair before carefully soaping her dress so it didn’t unspool into thread. Arina shuddered at the thought of the cold, spring water. It was safer out there than in the house, where someone might report back that she’d been wasting water, which was another mark in her impossible ledger.

Food, too, though that couldn’t be helped. There had been a time where she attempted to forage in the woods for food and all she’d gotten for her trouble was miserably sick—a doctor cost money, too.

Besides, Arina never wanted to hear her step-mother breathlessly praying to the gods that Arina would die. All over Arina’s face—too pretty, too young. As if Arina could help any of those things. She had her fathers blonde hair and his green eyes, but everything else belonged to her mother. Unblemished, golden brown skin, and features arranged so pleasantly that even covered in soot, men still made marriage offers in the street when they saw her.

Arina knew the truth of it all, though.

Love is a lie, her mother had whispered on her deathbed, clutching Arina’s hand as fever ravaged her frail body. Her parents had been a famous love match according to the society papers—but behind closed doors, her father was cold and cruel. Indifferent at the best of times, vicious at the worst.

Marriage had done her mother no favors and Arina didn’t believe it would do her any, either. She could have escaped had she taken any of those men up on what they were offering, only to end up exactly as she was. A maid in someone's household, slaving away until she turned to dust.

No. Her plan was far better. She just needed one dance with the king. Surely she could manage that—it was rumored he would dance with every single lady who attended, and Arina had managed to secure an invitation on her way out of the palace, courtesy of the princess of Ellesmere. That piece of embossed paper was Arina’s most prized possession—if she lost it, her future was ruined.

“Good morning, mother,” Arina said, stepping into her mothers bed chamber with a silver tray filled with breakfast foods. None of which she’d eat, of course—the woman was constantly worrying about her appearance and fitting into her laced up gowns. It was all for show, a massive, monumental waste that made Arina sick to her stomach.

“You’re late. Lazing in bed again?” she demanded, pushing strands of brunette hair off a still pretty, yet aging face. There was no joy in those brown eyes, no light or warmth that could elevate her into the incandescent beauty she hoped for. Arina didn’t react, hoping to keep bruised from her face this week. Eyes down, Arina murmured a soft apology.

“Make sure you scrub the back flagstones well today. The king is sending one of his most trusted advisors to meet with your father and I will not be embarrassed by your incompetence.”

“Of course,” Arina agreed, heart thudding in her chest. The king wanted to work with her father? That didn’t bode well. Arina betrayed none of her fears, bowing out after breakfast was declared pitiful and unfit for consumption. The day was spent much as it always was. Arina did her regular chores before hauling soapy water outside to scrub the back patio. There was no chance the kings diplomat came out here, and yet Arina didn’t finish until the sun began setting.

Only then did she race to the kitchen to scarf down dinner while the rest of the gossiping staff fell silent. She couldn’t be one of them—she’d been born high above their station, even if now she was made to work among them.

And her father punished them if they tried to help her in any way. She was a liability, and she couldn’t even be angry about it. Arina merely ate over the sink before dashing out the door to bathe herself.

Just as she’d predicted, the water was frigidly cold. Her hair was half frozen by the time she trudged back to the house, draped in a thin sheet for a towel, her dress hung over her arm.

She needed a new one and didn’t want to ask. It would be more money she owed for something just as poor. It also meant she’d have to go to the local dressmaker who looked at her with such pity it made Arina’s stomach burn with humiliation. Once, her mother had taken there to be fitted for fine things.

Now Arina merely asked for the cheapest material possible and sewed it herself. She’d have to sleep by the fire, negating the bath and earning her nickname—Cinders. She smelled like ashes and was too often covered in them, too. She didn’t care. Carefully combing the knots from her hair, Arina dried it the best she could by the fire before turning to her dress. It was so nearly finished—Arina was merely sewing beads she’d been given by a rather nice boy hoping to earn her affection onto her bodice. She wanted to seem presentable, and wanted the dress to look expensive.

Nice enough to catch the king's eye and make him think she was a nobleman's daughter. Which she was, technically. She’d have four minutes to convince him of her plight before he moved on, and that was the part that held Arina up. She didn’t know what to say to him because part of her—the part that wasn’t so struck by how young and good looking he was—wanted to hit him across the face and ask him how he could let something like this happen in his own kingdom.

Afterall, Arina had heard the rumors about his own abusive, cruel father. Surely he must know how it felt.

But by the time Arina fell asleep, needle in hand, she wasn’t even sure that was true, either.

And her plan seemed more foolish than ever.

Days passed much in the same vein. Arina kept her head down and worked without complaint right up until the diplomat arrived. She’d been instructed not to be seen, to stay out of the common areas and generally not be a nuisance which suited Arina perfectly fine. She had a few coins, and was hoping to haggle a decent deal on a new pair of slippers for her gown. Her dress was long enough to hide her current pair, and something about it seemed wrong. A bad omen, to come in destroyed shoes and nothing to offer the king when she begged him for his assistance.

“Hello, lady Arina.”

Arina choked down her laugh when the butcher's son stepped onto the cobblestone street. He was filthy, too—bloody, rather than sooty, but the effect was remarkably similar. As far as men went, he wasn’t awful to look at, and he could be terribly kind. He always offered her something to eat when he saw her, and had never made a demand of her.

Though Arina knew what he hoped.

She smiled at him, heart fluttering when he blinked in response. He really was terribly good looking beneath the grime, with eyes so brown they were nearly black, and the curliest flop of chocolate brown hair.

He had a reputation for being kind, too—she’d heard others talk of how he fed the village beggar, and had once helped a widow and her children obtain room and board for a few nights. There weren’t many people in the world so kind. But Cyrus was.

“Hi, Cyrus,” she replied, pleased when he fell into step beside her. His hands were in his leather apron, likely trying to hide how messy they were, but Arina didn’t mind. The square was bustling, filled with people buying and selling or just milling about and enjoying the first cool day of Autumn.

“Are you busy? There’s a new shop just a few blocks up. We could get lunch?”

Arina’s stomach growled before she could say no, and judging from the warm smile on Cyrus’s face, he’d heard it. She ate once a day to minimize what she owed, but Arina was starving—and desperate enough to agree, knowing she was giving him the wrong idea.

He paid, like he always did, offering her a chair just out of the bright sunlight. “I heard the king sent one of his advisors out to meet with your father,” Cyrus began, watching Arina shovel rice in her mouth as quickly as she could. She still needed shoes, and if she was gone too long, someone would tell, and she’d get caught and her shoes taken from her.

Arina nodded. “Good for business, I suppose.”

Cyrus considered that, eating slower. “My own father is getting sick. He means to give me his business.”

Oh, no. Arina looked up at him, heart thudding for an entirely different reason.

“I ah…I know you probably expect better offers, but…but I was thinking that when my father gives it to me, I might like a wife. You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t need to work so hard. And I have money, so you could run the household. It wouldn’t be anything grand, but there would be food. And you would be safe.”

It was such a generous offer. The sort her mother had wanted her to consider when she died. Love is a lie. Cyrus wasn’t offering love, but security and safety, and it was tempting.

“Cyrus—”

“It’s probably a year off, so there’s time for you to think about it,” he added hastily, clearly not wanting to hear her reject him like she’d done so many others. “We could get to know each other? I don’t expect you to agree, but I think you could like me if you got to know me.”

What did it hurt to tell him yes, she rationalized? Of every offer of marriage Arina had ever been offered, this was certainly the best. Cyrus did have money, and he treated people well. There was no reason to think that wouldn’t extend to his wife, and whatever children they might produce. And sure, she’d be in the same town her father lived in, but she wouldn’t be subjected to his cruelty.

“I think I could agree to that,” she murmured, swallowing the rest of her food. After all—if the king told her no, having a backup plan still ensured her survival. Arina was likely to drown herself if she had to face an uncertain future in her fathers household.

Cyrus’s expression lit up, his smile brilliant. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. I…I’m not well versed in courting, but I will do my best by you.”

“I believe that,” she said, offering him her own smile. It was nice, and perhaps that had to be enough. There was no knight in shining armor coming to save her, after all. No prince to sweep her off her feet, no fairy godmother that was going to rescue her. If Arina wanted out, she’d need to do it herself.

Which meant leaving Cyrus to get her shoes—a soft pair of silver slippers with little beaded flowers on the toes—and rushing back home.

Just in time to find the diplomat on a shining, black horse with a glossy mane. He paused when he saw her, swinging his leg over the saddle to hop in front of her.

Auburn hair, russet brown eyes—he was part of the royal family, she realized. His fine clothes cut of white and red fabric, with that distinctive cape hanging casually over one shoulder betrayed him as such, even if he didn’t wear a crown.

“Lady Arina?” he asked, a smile touching his face.

What was a Prince of Avalon doing in her home? And how did he know her name?”

“Just Arina,” she blurted, offering a deep curtsey. There was no way her step-mother wasn’t seeing this. Arina’s stomach dropped. She was going to lose her shoes.

“I’m Connal, Prince of this territory,” he said, offering her his own bow before reaching with a gold ringed finger into his jacket to procure a stunning invitation she’d seen before. “This is for you. The king has instructed all eligible ladies receive an invitation to the ball in two days' time.”

“Oh…I don’t think—”

“That includes you,” Connall said firmly, pushing the invitation into her hands. Arina didn’t dare admit she already had one. “I’ve told your father, but he had no idea where you were.”

“I was…out…” she admitted lamely. Connall smiled, handsome in an elegant kind of way. Almost as good looking as his older brother, even.

“I expect to see you there,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hand like she was some great lady. Arina’s heart banged against her ribs as he straddled his steed. Connall offered her one last look, winking even, before he took off down the road.

Arina watched, dumbstruck for a moment. He’d just…openly defied her father and was going to get away with it because he was a prince. Arina scurried around the house, hiding her shoes in a tree to keep them from being snatched before she made her way up the back lawn and into the home.

And as predicted, she was immediately accosted by her step-mother, who ripped the invitation from her hands. “This is ridiculous,” he breathed, hands all but trembling as she stared at the heavy, embossed paper. “You! At a ball! What will you do, serve the king drinks?”

“The prince said my presence was expected,” Arina replied defensively, fisting her dress in her hands to keep from trying to grab the invitation back.

“And what, pray tell, will you wear? That dress isn’t fit for the kitchens, let alone the great Forest Palace.”

“I could find a dress,” Arina said, jutting her chin in the air. “And if I did, would you let me go?”

“And if you finish all your chores,” her step-mother conceded, thrusting the invitation back into her hands. It was slightly rumpled, but good enough.

“I will,” Arina said, determined she would, all the while knowing her parents were going to try and make it utterly impossible. But she would, and she’d wear her dress and her shoes and march up to King Eris Vanserra and convince him that it made more sense to free her of her parents than it did to work with her father. Surely, their family name was old, but there was little money left to back it up.

All her family really had was tradition.

Arina worked harder those next two days than she’d ever worked in her life. Every waking minute was plagued by that awful bell and the most absurd chores—Arina was made to wash gutters and windows, to get on the roof and into the crawl space. She dusted and mopped and scrubbed until her nails bled.

And at night, she put the finishing touches on her dress, staying awake until she was so exhausted she passed out with a needle in her hand. Arina even risked owing more by bathing in the house so she wouldn’t have to worry about mud beneath her toes or smelling like river water. She was practically vibrating when everything was done and she could dress herself with a mere twenty minutes to spare. She wouldn’t be the most elegant woman, of course, nor the most fashionable but she was passably decent and most importantly, pretty.

Too pretty, she realized when she made her way down the stairs. Her father paused, eyes wide when he took her in. “You look like your mother,” he blurted out.

It was the wrong thing to say. Her step-mother, clad in rather pretty yellow, strode forward and ripped at Arina’s sleeve. “Where did you get these beads? Are these mine?”

“Don’t—no!” Arina cried, but the damage was done. Her sleeve hung pathetically and the shimmering, clay beads clattered to the stone floor loudly, bouncing in every direction. It would take her forever to find them.

“You’re a little thief,” her step mother continued, ripping the fabric of her skirt again. The sound of tearing sliced through the air, filling Arina with dread. She jerked back, but another rip saw the rest of the pretty satin shred to the floor like an awful train. Too late, she realized, that she was never going to be permitted to go.

Her step-mother smiled. “You’re a disgrace. Clean yourself up…and clean up this mess.”

Arina looked at her father foolishly, wishing he’d say something. His expression was hard and unforgiving and when he turned his back to her, boots crunching her beads into the grout, Arina couldn’t take it.

This was misery. A sob escaped her throat as she turned and fled out of the house, ignoring her step-mothers peal of laughter or the looks of pity on their faces. Arina couldn’t stop, racing over the grounds into the cool air, though half the time she stepped on the tatters of her dress which only served to ruin it more.

Months of work, ruined. And for what? Jealousy?

“It’s not fair!” she sobbed into the night, falling to her knees in the little wooded area that separated her home from the river. “I did everything she asked me to…it’s not fair.”

Pulling her knees to her chin, Arina buried her face to sob. She was never going to escape. The king probably would have said no anyway, but maybe something else would have opened up for her. Or maybe he would have said no, but he would have been kind and she would have found strength in that. She could have gone home and waited for Cyrus—another thing her family was sure to ruin.

And she’d die here, because Arina couldn’t take it.

“I’ll do anything–”

“Anything?” A melodic voice murmured. Arina looked up, surprised to see a rather lovely, older woman standing in front of her. Her blue dress skimmed the ground while beetle black eyes watched her gulp down air in a pathetic attempt to catch her breath. She crouched, grazing sharp, blood-red nails over Arina’s cheek. “You’re a beautiful little thing, aren’t you, sweetheart? Why are you crying?”

Sniffling, and feeling quite pathetic, Arina said, “I was supposed to go to a ball.”

“Of course you were,” this stranger replied, picking up one of the pink, tattered pieces of Arina’s dress. “Where else would a girl like you be headed?”

“I can’t anymore,” Arina whispered, swallowing hard. “Not like this.”

“No,” the stranger agreed, dropping her dress distastefully. “How about a deal, sweet girl? In exchange for my assistance…you’d owe me a favor.”

Arina blinked, wiping her eyes on her elbow. “A favor? What kind of favor?”

The woman waved her hand. “Oh, nothing of consequence. Something small and easily accomplished…perhaps I’ll ask you to help me cross the street one day…or maybe I’ll need a bed to sleep in.”

That seemed reasonable enough. Swallowing, her heart racing, Arina asked, “And…and you’d help me get to the palace?”

She smiled. “I would do so much more than that. Stand up, sweetheart. Let me take a look at you.”

Rising to her feet, Arina let this woman circle her. She touched Arina’s shoulder, her hair, and her dress before standing before her again. “Do we have a deal? One night at the palace, where you’ll dance your heart out in exchange for a favor of my choosing in the future?”

What did Arina have to lose? This was her only shot out. Arina accepted the strangers hand, thinking she would feel something binding them together. Some string, some touch of magic. There was nothing but a rather sharp breeze, rustling the treetops over head and cooling her overheated skin.

The woman smiled. “Excellent.”

That was the only warning Arina was given before the woman snapped her fingers. She felt it, though, that time. Something warm touching her skin, drying the mud and salt from her face and transforming her once ruined dress into something beautiful. Arina could see, even in the dark, the gown was a soft, silvery blue color, beaded through the bodice and over the full skirts so it sparkled like stars. Cape sleeves fluttered in the breeze while her hair pulled itself off her face of its own accord. When she went to touch the heavy weight sitting atop her head, she found herself touching a jeweled headband. Her ruined, muddied shoes had been replaced, too, and when Arina lifted her skirts, she found pure, glass slippers conforming against her feet.

Arina looked at the woman, head cocked as she examined her handiwork. Another snap saw a choker at her throat and earring dangling from her lobes.

“Perfect,” she murmured, smiling broadly. “One night—that ends at midnight. That’s all you get.”

“What happens at midnight?” Arina asked, her heart thundering in her chest.

“You go back to the girl you were when I found you. What you do after that is up to you. But magic can’t last forever, beautiful as it looks on you. Be mindful of the time.”

“I will,” Arina promised. She only needed five minutes of the king's time.

Arina intended to be long gone by the time midnight struck.

ERIS:

Drumming his fingers against the table, Eris considered for the millionth time calling the whole absurd ball off. Beside him, Elain Archeron watched with narrowed eyes, waiting to pounce. This whole ball had been borne in her overactive imagination.

I want to see you settled, Eris. Happy.

Power made him happy. His father, six feet in the ground, made him happy. Hell, having her and his brother around made him happy. A wife wasn’t going to give him anything he didn’t have except for an heir. Which, he supposed, would be a useful thing to secure. One son from one of the many society women hardly seemed like a big ask. And it wasn’t as if there wasn’t interest. Every lady Elain had sent invitations to had responded yes.

Well—all but one.

“You’re going,” Elain interrupted, unaware of the slant of his thoughts. “You’re going to dance and you’ll be charming and then at the end of the week you’ll announce your new wife…assuming, of course, you don’t pick one on the spot.”

“Do I look like Lucien?” he snapped. He’d heard the tale of Elain and Lucien—and how his ridiculous, overly romantic brother had fallen in love with Elain on the spot. Rather than carve out her heart, he’d protected her and was rewarded in the end with the only good wife in the world.

“No, you certainly don’t,” Elain replied crisply. She put a hand on her stomach, an obnoxious gesture meant to remind him that she was doing what was expected of a royal woman married to a prince. Even if that bump was so tiny it was easily concealed in her skirts, it was still there. Mocking him for not doing the same. “If you wait too long, perhaps I might begin harassing

Lucien into challenging you for the throne.”

Eris sighed, exasperated. “I’m dressed, aren’t I? Why don’t you select my wife, since you’re so determined to have a friend at court.”

Elain’s eyes gleamed. “Don’t tease me, Eris. You know I would love nothing more.”

A servant slipped into the little alcove Elain and Eris were hiding in to inform him guests had begun to arrive. Eris still had time. He wasn’t expected for another forty five minutes, which meant he could sulk privately in his absurd white get up Elain had foisted upon him, insisting he looked like the prince of every ladies dreams. His red cape hung lazily over one shoulder, threaded by a gold chain across his chest while his medals of valor were pinned so everyone knew he could slay whoever crossed him with ease.

It was all ridiculous. How was he supposed to pick a wife in the five minutes it took to dance? With each passing second, Eris felt his anxiety spike until his temper threatened to spill all over himself and Elain. It was only her, reaching across the table for his hand, that settled Eris.

“If you hate every lady at the ball, you don’t need to force yourself to choose one. We can reach out to other kingdoms, even across the sea. There is someone who will interest you, this I promise.”

“Yes, true love, I have heard this all before,” he grumbled, but still Eris squeezed back. “Let's get this over with, shall we?”

“Let's find you a wife,” Elain agreed.

Only, Elain didn’t stick around to help him. Eris was announced to ridiculous applause in a room filled with women and their mothers and fathers, all hoping to secure a match for their children. Eris couldn’t recall the last time the ballroom had been so filled. A quartet played while hanging chandeliers threw twinkling lights over the white and black checkered floors. Everyone looked more lovely, and somehow exactly the same. Had they all conspired to order the exact same style of dress in varying colors? The same hairstyle piled atop their heads, and lips rouged to death.

The first dance was a misery. “Sire,” the girl breathed, lowering her eyes and thrusting her breasts forward. A passing servant was handing out champagne and Eris was tempted to down a crystal flute before continuing any further.

He took her hand, unable to care about her nice breasts or her mostly pleasing face. In his head, he could hear Elain urging him to at least feign interest. Ask her about her interests.

“Tell me, lady. How do you occupy yourself?” he asked, sweeping into the first steps of the evening. The woman in question, who had probably told her his name though Eris wasn’t listening, immediately began rattling off a list of the most boring hobbies he’d ever heard. Strolling through gardens? Was that an actual hobby?

As it turned out, it was the hobby of every woman he danced with in that first hour. Along with needle point and piano playing, which was also highly popular. Every woman who brought it up offered to play something for him privately. Eris wasn’t tempted, though he knew if he took them up on it, he was likely to at least get his cock wet.

Sullying a lords daughter seemed the surest way to get stuck in a marriage he didn’t want with a lady he didn’t even get to choose.

Elain was polite enough to at least rescue him after his eighth dance. “You look like you’re at a funeral, Eris.”

“Forgive me for being bored. How come you don’t play piano?”

Elain snorted. “Oh, I do, Eris. All well-bred ladies do.”

“And do you play for my brother?” he demanded.

A wicked smile spread over her beautiful face. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to. What if we…”

Eris turned his head to see what had caught Elain’s attention. The room itself was hushing to whispers, all looking toward the steps leading down to the ballroom. A last minute arrival stood at the very top, surveying the room like a queen.

“It’s her,” he murmured, drinking in the pale, blue dress cut against her body and all that thick, blonde hair half pulled off her face while the rest was left to cascade down her shoulders. She didn’t look like the other women, in their comfortable, safe gowns and their matching hairstyles. She looked like an individual person—though, in truth, it wouldn’t have mattered if she had come looking exactly like everyone else.

Connall’s invitation had arrived, then.

Ignoring everyone else, Eris strode across the room to wait for her to make her way down the stairs. Eris extended one gloved hand which she accepted with a blink of hesitation. But she was here—and just as beautiful as he remembered.

It was those green eyes, he decided. Still gazing upon him with familiar derision, as though she found him and everything about his ball, beneath her.

“Lady,” Eris murmured, bowing ever so slightly. “You made it.”

She curtseyed. “I—were you expecting me?”

“Hoping,” he admitted, leading her toward the dance floor. “You never sent word that you would come.”

“I…wasn’t sure I would,” she said, eyes darting around the room. Was she looking for her father? He had been chatting with other lords while his wife flitted about, gossiping over this and that while speculating who the prince might choose. Eris didn’t understand them—their daughter was beautiful and Eris had requested her attendance personally. Any other parents would have leapt at that kind of attention.

But what did he expect from a man who’d made his daughter little more than his personal servant?

“You’re here now…”

“Arina,” she said, finally looking up at him.

Arina. Eris could practically feel Elain’s smug gaze burning the back of his neck and he couldn’t bring himself to care. So what if Elain was right? Stupidly, Eris replied, “I’m Eris.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “I know. Everyone knows that.”

Right. Eris’s feet moved of their own accord, forgetting he had an audience. She swallowed, fingers digging against his shoulder as though she needed strength. “I came to ask you for a favor.”

Eris’s heart leapt into his throat. “A favor?” he asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. Was it wrong he half hoped her favor was marriage? That she’d come to ask for his hand, of which he might very well give her on the spot? That was insane—Elain had said he had a week to decide. He could spend the night dancing with her and perhaps in the morning try and lure her into his bed and see if they were compatible in the way that mattered most to him. Maybe give her a tour of the fucking garden everyone was so desperate to stroll around.

Hell, he’d even listen to her play piano if she offered.

“My father,” she began with a heavy breath, dashing all his hops just as quickly as they’d emerged. “I…I still live with him.”

“Most unmarried ladies do, to my knowledge,” Eris replied. Arina bit her bottom lip while Eris fought the urge to trace it with his tongue. Instead, he pulled her a little closer, the hand on her waist too tight to be considered polite.

“I don’t want to anymore. I’ve come to beg for your permission to leave his household.” Her eyes held such defiance in them, as if to dare him to say no.

“You’d ask me to defy one of the nobles in my court so you can…?” Eris prayed it wasn’t to marry another man. He’d have to kill him, which was unlikely to engender the sort of warm, romantic feelings he was hoping for.

“Live freely,” she all but whispered, eyes glazing over. “On my own terms.”

There was absolutely no way Eris intended to grant her this. At least, not how she imagined. He was decided, in that moment, that he’d make her his wife. Arina could have his whole country to roam as she pleased, his household to boss around, and maybe even expel her father from court, if it pleased her.

“And here I was, thinking you came for a husband.”

Arina’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t—I mean—I don’t presume to think—”

“Why not?” he murmured, lowering his mouth so his lips brushed her ear. “Everyone else does.”

The song was ending, which meant his time with her was, too. Already she was pulling back, eyes pleading for him to make a choice.

“Walk with me,” he said, reluctantly releasing his hold on her body to offer her his arm. “Tell me more about this plan of yours so I can make an informed decision.” It was a flimsy excuse to spend more time with her. Eris ignored the sounds of someone shrieking loudly from somewhere in the room, hushed into silence by another guest he didn’t care about. Arina watched, though, trying to pull away.

“You should—”

“Walk with me,” he said again, this time with more authority. She couldn’t deny him, though her spine straightened ever so slightly.

“Of course, my lord.”

Gods, he wanted her. Eris didn’t bother to hide his smile, leading her back through the crowd toward the open veranda that led into the garden. He’d have privacy here, thanks to Elain and her green thumb and determination to remake the palace in her own image. Paved pathways were illuminated by pretty string lights hung overhead, making it easy to see Arina even in the dark. Eris couldn’t drag his eyes off her—she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Arina's gown sparkled like stars, making it seem as though her warm, golden skin was glowing. Maybe it was. Eris would have believed there was some kind of magic clinging to her, creating some kind of spell between them.

And she was trying to leave him.

“What would it take to convince you?” she asked just as soon as the music from the ballroom faded and only the sound of noisy crickets remained.

“A great deal, I’m afraid,” Eris replied, surprised that she didn’t immediately understand what he was after.

“I’ll do anything,” she said, desperation coating her words.

“A dangerous thing to offer a man you don’t know. We’re alone,” he reminded her. Arina didn’t flinch back, nor did she seem surprised.

“Surely you can have that anytime you like. Snap your fingers and half the ladies in that ballroom would unlace their underthings for you.”

“Would you?”

“If you snapped your fingers? No, I don’t think I would. But I will if that’s what you want in exchange for freedom,” she said, that pretty defiance returning to her features. The sight made Eris feel breathless, made him practically mad with desire. He wanted to kiss her and see what she tasted like.

He wanted to feel her fingers dig against his shoulder as he moved against her, chest to chest, burning with pleasure.

“If you’re going to disrobe for me, I’d prefer you did it of your own accord,” he admitted.

Arina sighed. “Do you mean to tease me, then? Tell me what you want—”

“I want a wife,” he lied. He didn’t, not truly. But he wanted her, and with the clock ticking in his head, he knew he’d either secure her or she’d slip through his fingers and he’d never see her again. “What if I promised you freedom, in exchange—”

“For a crown?” Arina asked, halting just in front of Elain’s swaying sunflowers. They were at least as tall as Arina, though not half as beautiful. It was tempting to push past the pretty rock border and take her in the grass where no one would see them. Eris resisted the urge to adjust his cock, half hard at the mere thought.

“That sounds like a shackle, to me.”

Eris blinked. “It is, sometimes.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Everyone wants it,” he replied, genuinely unsure what else to say.

“Then pick someone else,” she said, stepping toward him. She didn’t hesitate to press her palm against his chest, eyes pleading as she added, “Let me leave. Tonight.”

“Kiss me.” Eris curled his fingers around her wrist, pulling her closer. “Kiss me, first. I just…I need to know.”

“And you’ll let me go?” she asked. Eris shook his head no, even as he began lowering his face toward hers.

“I’m not promising that,” he replied. “I could give you anything you asked for.”

Arina was staring at his mouth. “I don’t want it. Please, your majesty—”

“Eris,” he interrupted, lips ghosting her own. “Call me Eris.”

“Eris,” she whispered. That was enough. He kissed her, one hand on her waist, the other holding her jaw. The soft, sweetness of her skin slammed into him, filling his senses with the scent of vanilla and lime. Her hand on his jacket fisted against her lapel, drawing him closer still so Eris could deepen the kiss.

He was greedy, tongue sliding against the seam of her mouth. Gasping, Arina yielded and Eris swept inside with a groan. He was decided, right then and there. Nothing else mattered, nor did he care about what she’d come for. Eris was going to make her his wife and would prove she could have the freedom she craved while he got the woman he wanted.

“Arina,” he whispered, arm snaking around her body. “Trust me.”

“I—” The chiming of the clock nearby drew a frightened cry from Arina’s lips. Ashen with fear, she slipped from his grasp. “Say you’ll help me,” she demanded, gathering her skirts in her hands. “Say it.” “I’m not letting you go,” he replied, taking a step toward him. Behind them, the bell tolled again.

Arina let out a quiet scream of frustration. “Take what I’m offering.” “I—” A third ring saw her bolt, running from the garden so quickly one of her slippers came off her foot. She didn’t stop, leaving Eris to snatch it from the ground. Still warm, and made of glass.

“Wait!” he yelled, chasing after her. “Stop her!”

His guards were too slow, letting Arina slip back into the ballroom before she could be apprehended. If he lost her here, Eris knew he’d never see her again. She wouldn’t risk going home, and though he could scour his kingdom in search of her, it was vast, and he couldn’t risk his seat by picking through every nook and cranny.

She’d made it up the steps and through the doors by the time Eris caught sight of her again. “Stop that woman!” he yelled a second time, his voice cutting through the chatter and music. Everyone went quiet as Eris added, “That’s my wife.”

He didn’t stop, though some part of him thought he was making a rather big fool of himself. Of course he’d want the only woman in the world who didn’t want him back. Elain was going to have such a laugh when he explained all this later.

Eris caught Arina in the drive, her pretty dress gone—replaced, strangely, with a ripped pink gown that likely had been beautiful once. Tears streamed down that pretty face of hers, her hair tumbling like a halo of gold. He'd worry about the strangeness of her appearance later. All that mattered was she was still here.

“Please,” she whispered, whipping around when his fingers curled around her arm. Eris didn’t respond, bending on one knee not so he could propose, but to put her shoe back on her foot. Arina shuddered when he pushed the hem of her dress up over her ankle, noting she’d cut her sole and was bleeding.

He stood, sweeping her into his arms with ease.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he murmured as she wept miserably against his chest.

But Eris wasn’t sorry at all.

Only relieved he still had her.

#just a little bridge between snow elucien and feypunzel #i think ill try and put vassa between feysand and nessian too #because i dont have enough shit going on #anyway #eris vanserra

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strscrossed · 5 months

Note

post-canon reikasa please if that's okay ❤️

that's a-okay! i'm sorry this is my first time writing reikasa, so it's not the best thing i've ever written. this is more or less where it would begin for the two of them. now I’m intrigued to explore them a little more. hope you enjoy!

The house was nowhere near big enough to bed everyone, but they made it work. Mikasa didn’t mind sleeping on the couch. Most nights, it was easier than sleeping in her bedroom. The bedroom that she used to share with Eren.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Annie asked as she was washing the dishes.

Mikasa shook her head, “No. Go sleep, you must be exhausted.”

Annie didn’t put up much of a fight as she disappeared up the ladder.

She thought it might be easier with everyone here, but it was a little harder. Being with their old friends, sharing the memories, and knowing well what that meant. She was also happy for Armin and Annie but there was that dull pain in her heart. Though, there was a small comfort in knowing that he was okay.

At least one of us got our happily ever after…

She finished the dishes and noticed that the front door was slightly creaked open. She walked over to close it but she noticed a large, hulking figure and she’d know that figure anywhere…

“She stepped into the warm summer air and found Reiner standing there, a cigarette between his fingers.

He turned his head, a little startled but made no effort to conceal what he was doing.

“You haven’t slept yet?” he asked a little sheepishly.

“No. Didn’t know you smoked,” she responded, closing the door behind her.

“Not often, but sometimes…”

It was odd. He’d cleaned up. He looked younger, even. He looked less burdened but there were ghosts in his eyes, as she imagined there were in everyone else’s.

The truth was, they hadn’t really talked much before now. Sure they’d trained together, fought each other, and then fought alongside each other, but they’d never actually talked. He’d mentioned to her that she haunted his nightmares sometimes and she honestly found that kind of funny.

“You look good, though,” he said suddenly and Mikasa looked at him, shocked.

“Oh, um, thanks, so do you?”

It was high summer at this so her cheeks were burning. Damn.

There was a smile on his face, “Heh, thanks. Also your cooking is delicious. Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

There was a pang of longing in her chest. It was a simple question but one that reminded her of just how much she’d lost, “My mom. And…Auntie Carla.”

A shadow passed through his features. He suddenly looked so guilty and Mikasa wasn’t about to continue on that train of thought. Yes, a lot of the misery started that day thirteen years ago, but they all had blood on their hands and things to feel guilty about.

Her heart was still six feet below in a grave on the hill of the man who’d done much worse.

“Well, it was good. Can’t wait for breakfast tomorrow,” he went on with a chuckle. She found herself smiling.

Was he always like that?

She’d never gotten a good look at him before. She just remembered that he looked older than his years and now that the curse wasn’t weighing him down, he looked…good. Good and manly.

Wait…

Oh, suddenly she was feeling quite tired.

“I laid out a bed for you downstairs. Hope you don’t mind sharing the space with Jean and Connie,” she said. He didn’t respond.

Before she disappeared back into the house, Reiner’s voice stopped her.

“I could walk with you to the baker tomorrow. I know you said you needed to go. And then maybe we could walk around the town a little bit.”

“Of course,” she answered a little too quickly.

He turned to give her a smile over his shoulder which she returned.

Weird. She was inside where it was nice and cool but her cheeks were still burning…

#answered #ficlet #fic request #reikasa #rk

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

Berēafian

-x-

Another angst filled, hurt-comfort offering from me that was born out of my insomnia.

-x-

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: none!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It’s silent as they enter their hotel room apart from the click of the lock, followed by the deadbolt as Aaron slides it across.

Emily takes a moment to blow out a steady breath, aware that the walls she’d spent all day carefully reinforcing would begin to crumble now they were alone. She walks over to the bed and sits on the edge of it, her elbows on her knees as she leans forward.

“Sweetheart…” Aaron starts, but he drifts off before he asks her if she’s ok, because he knows she isn’t. He isn’t either, the weight of the day, of what they’d had to do enough to crush his chest.

“I’m ok,” she replies, knowing him well enough to understand what he hadn’t said. She looks up from where her eyes had been fixed on the floor, the strange pattern on the hotel room carpet enough to briefly distract her. She smiles tightly at him, her lips set in a grim line. “Long day.”

“Yeah,” he replies, walking over to join her, “Long day.”

Cases where the victims were children were always hard, creating a desperation in the team that was rarely matched by other cases. They’d been in Idaho for five days trying to find the unsub, and the last two days trying to rescue the latest victim, snatched from outside his home. Emily had been assigned to work with the mother, something she was sure Aaron had done to save her from constantly staring at the photos from the other crime scenes. Usually, she’d call him out on it, insisting that she didn’t need protecting, but this time she was silently grateful.

There was something about this case, about how the unsub had taken the kids he had chosen from plain sight, that had set her on edge. Reminding her that no matter what she did, even with all the knowledge she had, all the things she had seen, she wouldn’t always be able to rescue her children.

Her mind kept drifting back to Jack and Lexie, being cared for by Jessica on the other side of the country. Jack knew all of the different ways to ask for help, and never to walk off with strangers. And Emily rarely took her eyes off of Lexie if they were out and about, the two-year-old’s curiosity enough to make her wonder off at times.

She thought of them as she stood in the latest victim’s mother’s house, Aaron by her side, as she explained that they hadn’t been able to save her son. They’d caught the guy who’d done it, arriving only an hour or so too late, and it was something Emily knew they’d all live with for a long time.

Although, she knew it would be nowhere near as long as the boy’s mother would, her life forever changed.

She’d insisted on going to see him despite Emily’s advice that due to the injuries he’d incurred she didn’t advise it, but the other woman had persevered. Emily and Aaron had gone with her, despite Aaron offering to do it alone, standing in silent company just outside of the room in the mortuary, the sound of the mother’s grief still echoing around their heads.

Emily rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder, wordlessly seeking out his comfort, and he presses a kiss to her temple. She closes her eyes, slowly blowing out a breath as if she was trying to rid her lungs of the grief she had stuffed into them. Full to the brim with everything she couldn’t feel, everything she had taken on as she stood on the opposite side of a thin wall as a woman said goodbye to her son.

She knew that’s the role she’d always have in her story. That she’d always be the person who delivered her the heartbreaking news. The knowledge of it tasted like poison, enough to make her feel nauseous.

“Would you want to do it?” Aaron asks, the question breaking free without him meaning it to.

“Would I want to do what?” She asks, lifting her head to look at him, his words drawing her out of her thoughts.

“If it was one of the kids…would you want to see them?”

He regrets it the moment he asks, the look of hurt, of devastation, that flashes across her face enough to make him wish he could take it back. She recoils from him slightly, putting more room between them, her mouth falling open in something close to horror or shock. It’s as if she’s seeing it. Jack or Lexie in the place of the young boy they’d found that afternoon. Her in the place of the mother they’d tried to save from that image.

He opens his mouth to apologise, but she cuts him off, standing abruptly as she wraps her arms around herself, starting to pace the room.

“God, Aaron. How can you even fucking ask me that?” She snaps, her voice cracking as she does so, her ability to hide how she felt from him a thing of her past. Her desire to hide how she felt from him was long gone too. She sighs, and shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the image that had been in her head anyway, only further solidified by her husband’s question. A grim, blurry film reel brought immediately into brilliant technicolour, something she knew she would see when she closed her eyes. She doesn’t want to be mad at him, but she can feel everything she’d pushed down throughout this awful case reaching boiling point, and she knows she’s close to taking it out on him.

His love for her made him an easy target in moments like this, because she knew she could be unreasonable, that she could yell and curse and he’d know it wasn’t really about him. And he’d still love her afterwards. But she knows he’s suffering too, can see it in the tension of his jaw, the sheen to his eyes, and she doesn’t want to burden him.

She sighs and swallows thickly before she speaks again, her voice less harsh now, more measured. “Can we just…go to bed? Try and forget what happened today?”

He wants to talk about it, wants to say everything he’d been thinking all day, but he can see that she’s hanging on by a thread, fraying in front of him as the nervous energy flows from her like a bitter perfume. He knows the only thing that will make her feel better is to see the kids. To hug Jack, to have Lexie fall asleep on her. And he can’t give her that until they fly home in the morning, so he can give her this, the space she needs.

Aaron nods and she gives him a tight smile before walking to the bathroom, wordlessly grabbing her pyjamas from the bed.

She closes the door and closes her eyes, taking a couple of seconds to ground herself before she moves away from it. Emily grimaces as she looks at herself in the mirror, the bags under her eyes feeling as if they physically deepen as she takes in her appearance.

Their time in Idaho had been long and draining. Very little sleep, too much caffeine and absolutely not enough time to speak to her own children over the phone. To hear Jack’s voice as he spoke quickly and excitedly about his latest project from school or Lexie’s toddler babble that only Emily, Aaron and Jack seemed to fully understand. They’d had fleeting moments to speak to them over the last few days, channelling all of their time into rescuing someone else's child, time that had ended up amounting to nothing except grief for everyone involved.

It was times like this that Emily truly wondered what she did this for, why she worked so hard when there was always another monster to catch, always something else horrific she could add to her list of things she’d seen that most people couldn’t even come up with in their worst nightmares. It made their efforts, everything she’d dedicated her life to, time away from her children to, feel pointless. A flash in the pan.

She shakes her head at herself in the mirror, ��Get it together, Prentiss,” she mutters, before going about her nightly routine. She carefully takes off her make-up and brushes her teeth, hives herself as much alone time as she can so she can give Aaron the same. She changes into her pyjamas, made up of a t-shirt that used to belong to him and a pair of flannel pants, and she walks back out into the bedroom.

She’d expected to find him in his pyjamas, that he’d have stood up as the door opened like he usually did, ready to pass her in the doorway, a quick kiss against her lips or forehead as he told her to get into bed, that he’d join her in a couple of minutes. But he’s exactly where he was when she walked into the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bed hunched over his phone. She doesn’t have to see the screen to know what he’s looking at, the sound of their daughter’s laughter, chased by Jack’s, is loud in the otherwise quiet hotel room.

It was a video from a weekend when they’d taken the kids to the beach over the summer. Emily had recorded the footage herself, watching from a few feet away as Jack and Lexie took turns pouring little pails of water over Aaron as he sat on the shoreline. Lexie had started it, toddling towards him with the implement she’d just been building sandcastles with and finding it hilarious as she poured water over her father. It had soon turned into a game, one Aaron took in his stride, an amused smile on his face as he took in the innocence of his children.

He watched it whenever he needed reminding that happiness like that, one moment out of many they had as a family captured, existed.

Any previous frustration she’d felt at him, or anger for the question he’d asked her, disappears, her shoulders practically sagging as she feels it drain out of her. She walks over to the bed and stands in front of him, but he doesn’t look up, his eyes still fixed on the screen even though the video has ended, a still of Jack and Lexie staring up at him. Emily takes the phone from him and places it on the bed, before she tugs him forward, his forehead pressing into her abdomen as she pulls him into a wordless hug.

Aaron breathes in the scent of her, the scent of home that seemed to follow her everywhere. He wraps his arms tightly around her and brings her closer until she’s standing between his legs. She wraps her arms around his head, her fingers trailing through his hair. Blunt nails against his scalp that never failed to bring him comfort, a sensation he had fallen asleep to many times over the years they’d been together.

She leans down and kisses the top of his head, “Yes,” she says, pulling back to look at him, his face framed in her hands, “If it was…” she drifts off, clearing her throat as she’s unable to say it, not wanting to give her brain the chance to make her inevitable nightmares even more realistic, “I’d go see them.” She smiles sadly at him, a humourless chuckle escaping her before she can stop it, her eyes filling with tears she didn’t want to shed, “Because otherwise, I’d see them in every case we’ve ever worked. Which…I do anyway, but it would be real. So I’d have to know.”

Aaron closes his eyes briefly before he turns his head to kiss one of her palms, muttering an apology against her skin that makes her shake her head, a look in her eyes that lets him know she doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t need to. She understood him in a way very few people had ever bothered to figure out or learn, as if he was her own personal puzzle to solve.

These days he always gave her all the pieces willingly, guiding her to put them into place because no one else could make him feel better like she could.

“I’d have to know too,” he replies, and he stands up, pulling her into a hug he knows she needs, confirmed by the way she melts into him, her weight pressed into his embrace, “I’m sorry,” he says, even though he knows she doesn’t need it, and she shakes her head against him, her lips against his neck.

“Me too,” she replies, sniffing as she pulls back from her, her smile sad and trembling as she feels one of the tears she’d been fighting break free. He doesn’t give it the chance to get very far, removing one of his hands from her back to wipe it away. “It’s been one of those cases.”

Aaron nods and sighs deeply, “Recently it feels like every case has been one of those cases.”

She knew he was thinking about leaving the BAU, potentially the bureau altogether. It was a conversation they’d had more than once over recent months. It hadn’t gone any further than a look in his eyes she caught every time there was a case like this, one they both knew would leave a mark behind. Just as permanent as the ones they both had scattered across their skin, but not visible. She knew right this second, given the chance, he’d quit.

It was something he’d mentioned for the first time when she was pregnant with Lexie, and had brought up occasionally ever since. At first, it was a fantasy, both of them aware that he was far too dedicated to his job to do it, and so was she. But she saw more realism in it as time went on, more acceptance in his eyes as he spoke about it.

It would be a big change for all of them, and she worried what the team would say since change had never been something they’d taken to well, but she knew now wasn’t the time to figure it all out.

“Let’s talk about it when we get home, ok?” She says without having to explain she knew what he was talking about, offering him a comforting smile, “We’ll spend some time with the kids, sleep in our own bed,” she pushes some of his hair off of his forehead and idly thinks she needs to book them all haircuts soon, a flash of a domestic life in amongst the day to day chaos, “You’re always the one to tell me that things always look better after some time.”

Aaron nods and leans forward to kiss her, “Ok. We’ll talk about it.”

She smiles at him, “Good, now go and get ready for bed,” she kisses him once more before stepping back from him, “And when you get back we’ll watch the video of Lex taking her first steps.”

He smiles properly this time, and it makes her chest bloom with warmth, with happiness, for the first time in days.

“Back in a minute, sweetheart,” he says, taking the effort to kiss her forehead before he walks towards the bathroom.

Emily blows out a breath the second she’s alone, and she grabs her phone before getting into bed. She smiles at the wallpaper, a photo of the two of them and the kids, before she goes past it, on the hunt for photos and videos she knows will cheer them both up. Snapshots of the life they had once both thought would be impossible.

-x-

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jomiddlemarch · 11 months

Text

what I like to call making muffins of us

Grace couldn’t say that the man who appeared to be robbing the coffee-shop was easy on the eyes, because everything about him looked hard, his dark eyes, the angle of his jaw, his broad shoulders, and that ass in those worn jeans, but she had to admit he was hot as fuck.

“Hey, what d’you think you’re doing?” she called out from the table in the corner that was her regular spot, for all that a workaholic hospitalist clocking seventy-plus hours a week to pay off her student loan debt and help support her elderly parents could be said to have a regular spot for the purpose of drinking coffee; Grace made sure it was cost-effective by taking advantage of any special that was offered, including the pastries dropping to half-price after 3pm. As attempts to stop thieves went, her intervention wasn’t very impressive. She was, however, only supposed to be meeting Lauren before they went to the yoga class Lauren insisted was a good work-out and not creepily appropriative of Asian culture and yet Lauren appeared to be standing her up and Maria, the barista she knew best, didn’t work on Saturday mornings if she could possibly help it, which evidently she could, because she was nowhere in sight, unlike the undeniably gorgeous man who looked intent on ripping off Tess, the coffee-shop’s owner, who’d let her in and then told her she had to run a quick errand but would be back in twenty. Grace’s sense of ethics was balanced out by her sense of self-preservation. It would have been so much easier to have to perform CPR on the guy, but the universe didn’t seem inclined to help her out.

“S’okay,” the man said. He basically tossed the words over his shoulder, which felt pretty dismissive. That got Grace’s hackles up, as Lauren would say, reminding her of every senior fellow who’d brushed off her concerns about the labs on the old lady (and it was always an old lady) or the department chairs who couldn’t remember either one of her names and called her “you” as if it didn’t matter. Hackles up, Grace was somewhat less judicious about her personal safety.

“Like hell it is,” she said, raising her voice and standing up. She had her hand on her backpack, which wasn’t nearly as helpful as having it on her phone, which she could use to call the police. There was probably some mace in her bag but she’d be more likely to pull out the sunscreen and prevent him from getting basal cell carcinoma. “You’re trying to rip off the coffee-shop, you’re a thief—”

“I’m not a thief,” he said. At least he turned around and stopped moving towards the cash register. “I can’t be a thief—”

“You can tell that to the cops when you explain why you have all the petty cash in your wallet,” Grace said.

“I’m the owner,” he said, offering a smile that was half-smirk. Like he’d gotten one over on her and she’d just agree with him because he was so goddamn attractive and it would be far nicer for this to be an awkward encounter with a frisson (or sonic boom, but whatever) of sexual tension between them, rather than an interrupted robbery.

“You’re not the owner,” Grace said. “I know Tess, I’ve been coming here for over two years. I’ve never seen you before. Or heard of you.”

“Sorry, I’m the co-owner. The silent partner,” he said.

“That’s rich,” Grace scoffed.

“Not really,” he said. “Coffee-shop’s still restaurant industry. Staying in the black is a miracle.”

“I meant that you’re the silent partner owner,” Grace said.

“You planning a citizen’s arrest?” he said.

“What? Am I nine years old? No,” she said. Lauren could show up any time at all. This guy was hot but she wasn’t about to have a whole attracted-to-bad-boys thing happening. It frankly sounded exhausting.

“So, how’s it going to play out? I’m curious,” he said. He was now behind the counter, since her repartee hadn’t been very effective as a crime-deterrent, but he wasn’t ripping open the cash register or similarly rifling through the shelves looking for a cashbox. He looked comfortable there and she couldn’t deny that if he’d slung a dishtowel over his shoulder or wrapped an apron around his narrow hips, she’d have assumed he was subbing for Maria and hoped he could make a decent café au lait with properly scalded milk.

“I’ll see what Tess has to say, I guess,” Grace said. “If you try to flee—”

“If I try to flee?” he repeated and laughed. “C’mon, don’t rat me out to the feds—"

“Asshole,” she muttered. It was possible he wasn’t a thief but jackass was rising to the top of the differential.

“How ‘bout this? I’ll tell you some shit to put your mind at ease, then I can make you something fresh. It won’t be on the house, you won’t have to worry about ripping Tess off,” he said. “I don’t do matcha lattes though.”

“I don’t drink them,” she said.

“Smart,” he said. “So, Tess and me, well, it didn’t work out, but we’d already started planning this place. We kept it going and managed to salvage a friendship, mostly because I do any repairs for free, or get my brother Tommy to help out.”

“Nothing’s free,” Grace said.

“You’re right. I lose money on the labor, but I’m a GC, so I take it out of the people who want a six burner Viking Professional when they can’t fucking fry an egg,” he said.

“So, you’re Robin Hood?” Grace said skeptically.

“My name’s Joel. Joel Miller,” he said.

“You think I’m going to tell you my name now?” Grace said. “I’m not even totally convinced you’re not robbing the place.”

“You could lie, I’d never know the difference,” he replied.

“Grace,” she said. Let him wonder if it was the truth. She wasn’t going to offer up her last name.

“I named the shop,” he offered.

“You named this place Tesseract Coffee?” It was the reason she’d first walked in, the refreshing absence of any pun on beans or grind, the reference to A Wrinkle In Time, then finding out the owner’s name was Tess—the coffee was good and the pastries better than they had a right to be, but she would probably have hung around even if the coffee had been mediocre.

“I read. And I have kids. Two daughters. I read to them. Meg’s a favorite,” he said. “And Mrs. Whatsit.”

“Yeah?” If he was lying, he was running a fucking masterclass in deceit.

“Sarah’s not as into it, she’s been all about princesses since she turned five, and she likes music more these days. But Ellie, she’s read the whole series about six times,” he said and he couldn’t be feigning the fond affection in his voice, the way there was finally a softness about him, in his dark eyes. “She was Aunt Beast for Halloween, that costume was a bitch to make, thank God my neighbor Marlene helped me—”

“Their mom didn’t?” Grace asked. Evidently, she had decided to believe him. Evidently, she was now going to ask some questions that would clarify if he was available, like there was some scenario where this turned out to be their meet-cute in a rom-com. She hoped, more for Tess’s sake than her own, that she’d made the right call. She hadn’t managed to date successfully since she and Kian broke up when he got that fellowship in Chicago, so anything normal materializing out of this was improbable. Honestly, with her track record, they’d be more likely to end up in a zombie apocalypse dystopia, where the memory of freshly ground coffee beans and the busy gurgle of an espresso machine were nearly beyond her recall.

“Sarah’s mom moved to Miami after we split up. She has her for the summers. Ellie’s mom, it’s complicated, she died when Ellie was a baby and I found out after. We’d only dated a little while, I didn’t know she got pregnant,” Joel said.

“That’s a lot,” Grace said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I meant, to tell a stranger,” she said.

“But you’re not a stranger anymore, are you, Miz Grace?” he replied. He didn’t smile at her, but the expression in his eyes had altered, appreciative and teasing.

“Just Grace,” she said. If this went anywhere, if the look he was giving her delivered on even half of what it was promising, there’d be time enough to explain she was Dr. Grace, Dr. Grace Yang, and neither the Dr. nor the Yang was going anywhere.

“You met Joel, I see,” Tess said, walking in from the back, glancing over at him. He nodded. It didn’t seem like they were going to have much more of an exchange.

“She thought I was robbing you,” Joel said.

“Then I’m glad it was Grace and not Bill I let in early,” Tess said.

“Doc here would’ve had her work cut out for her, patching me up,” Joel said.

“I didn’t tell you—” Grace broke off.

“The clogs are a dead giveaway,” he said. “Plus your lanyard’s hanging out of your bag. I pay attention to detail.”

“You do now,” Tess said, just loud enough for them both to hear.

“Yeah, well, I screwed up a lot of stuff before I figured that out,” he said. “And I don’t just mean that kitchen reno on South Cedar. Or Ellie’s bangs.”

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queen-ofsunflowers · 2 years

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Make Every Moment Last - Chapter 56

The Pain That Lingers

“More details on the explosive that was thrown into Tatsumi Memorial Hospital,” said the newscaster on TV when Minato had walked in that evening. “Miraculously, no one was killed or wounded, but one patient is presently unaccounted for…” Minato made a beeline for the TV and promptly turned it off, much to everyone’s relief. They didn’t need to be reminded of this. Especially not Junpei.

...speaking of which...

“Has anyone seen Junpei today?” Ryoji asked. The leftover smell from dinner wafted out from the kitchen, where everything had just been cleaned after the meal had ended. And Junpei had failed to make an appearance.

“No, not really,” said Akihiko with a shake of his head. “...I have a feeling that he’ll be okay, though.”

“Will he?” Minato asked. No one said anything. Kotone frowned. She really wasn’t sure about that herself. Minato sighed. “Whatever he’s doing, he better not be going after Strega by himself.”

“Junpei’s stupid, but he’s not that stupid,” said Yukari. Kotone bit her lip. She guessed, but…

“What even is Strega?” asked Ken, Koromaru curled up in his lap. “They couldn’t have come from nowhere; someone must’ve created them.”

“The only person I can think of who’d know that answer is…” Akihiko heaved a sigh, running his hand over the back of his neck. “He’s still comatose.” Kotone glanced at the floor. Right… Shinjiro…

“Are we sure that Junpei’s not going to go after them?” said Ryoji. Immediately, a shiver ran up Kotone’s spine. “Chidori was the first girl he’d ever been serious about.”

Akihiko could really just shrug. “Even if he did find them, he won’t do anything. He’s not a killer like them.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay…?” asked Yukari. Everyone was quiet. That was because the answer was fairly simple. They didn’t know. They didn’t know if Junpei would be okay after… everything.

Kotone looked down at the floor. “...I hope so,” she said. She really, really hoped that he would be okay.

Yukari huffed. “Don’t say that. You make it sound like he’ll never be okay again.” Kotone sighed. That was the issue. She didn’t know if Junpei would be okay. Not after this.

“The top priority of all living beings is the preservation of their lives,” said Aigis, sounding almost a little bit confused. “But Chidori-san gave hers to Junpei-san.” Yeah… she did, didn’t she?

“She was taking those suppressants,” said Mitsuru, reminding everyone of that little fact from what was only a few months ago. “If she hadn’t died now, they would most likely have killed her soon enough. And I think she knew that.”

“At least Fate gave her a chance to go out in a meaningful way,” said Ryoji. Kotone shrugged. She supposed so… but…

“But Junpei-kun and Chidori-san were close…” brought up Fuuka.

Minato sighed. “I don’t think any one of us could see it turning out like this.”

Kotone looked around, feeling a pit form in her stomach when she realized something. “...hey, where is Junpei anyway? Did he come home?”

Ken nodded. “He’s up in his room. I haven’t seen him come down at all.” Well, that was good… at least he wasn’t wandering around in the dark. Kotone glanced up at the staircase. There was still a plate on the table, having long gone cold by now. Making up her mind, Kotone snatched up the plate and started to head upstairs.

“You know he’s not going to talk back to you, right?” said Minato, his steely eye on her. Kotone sighed.

“I know but… he still needs to eat something,” she told him. With a small fire in her palm, she headed up stairs, reheating the plate in her hand.

The second floor was silent as Kotone made her way to Junpei’s room. She could hear nothing coming from inside. Still, taking her chances, Kotone knocked gently on the door.

“Junpei? It’s me,” she said, extinguishing the flame in her palm before knocking again. “Can I come in?” There was a grunt from the other side. When no other noise followed, Kotone took it as a yes. She slowly opened the door and stepped into the room. Junpei was lying on his bed, a pillow over his face to hide it from view.

“Whaddya want?” he said, voice muffled.

“I brought food,” she said. Junpei made no move to look over at her or say anything else. Carefully, Kotone walked over to his bed, placing the plate on the bedside table. “...you need to eat something. I know you’re upset, but—”

“Upset?” Junpei finally sat up, legs crossed and pillow dropping into his lap. His eyes were narrowed. “What makes you think I’m upset? How could you even know how I feel?”

The full chapter will be up on Ao3 on May 11!

#persona 3 #persona 3 au #monsters and magic au #make every moment last fic #preview #minato arisato #ryoji mochizuki #akihiko sanada #yukari takeba #ken amada #kotone shiomi #junpei iori

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breath-of-eternity · 1 year

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Last: Chapter 10

The boat swayed and bounced as the current sped it along, but when Amaia threw the anchor over, it snagged quickly. She lowered herself into the water and hissed at the liquid cold enveloping her. On tiptoe, she was able to keep her head above water, but her foot stepped onto nothing and she immediately went under. A few more steps and she was above the surface again, dragging the boat towards the shore. Once she was close enough to stand, she grabbed the skins and the bag and left the rest behind.

She should have been more careful with her food, and not reached in whenever her stomach bothered her. This part of the river was unfamiliar to her, and there was no guarantee she’d be able to find something to eat.

There was some light left in the day, and she intended to use it. She draped the skins over her shoulders and climbed over the rocks lining the river. Trying to judge her location was impossible. Halfway to the lake? Completely off course? Somewhere in between?

She and her group were supposed to be gathering nuts and apples and mushrooms while they made their way to the lake. The equinox couldn’t be far off now, and they would want plenty to share with the other groups who’d show up to fish and celebrate the reunion between old friends. The old folks from the other bands had such interesting stories, ones she hadn’t heard once a week every week since she’d been born. As she stripped red berries off a bush and reminded herself to spit out the seeds lest they poison her, she wondered if the others around her age felt the same about all her grandparents’ stories.

Pine cones! Ripe with seeds! Except it would take days and days to dry them out, time she didn’t have. But there was thistle she dug up for the roots, and she tubers in some marshy ground she could stomach without boiling. Then it was getting late, and she got back to the boat. The middle of the river would be safe. When she rowed out, she could hardly see the shore on either side.

Stop lying to yourself, Father said. You can make out the individual sticks of grass over there. Do you want to count the knots on the tree, too?

“Stop it,” she moaned. Her body shook. Maybe it was from the cold, maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was just fear. “I don’t know what else to do. I haven’t come across any caves or animal burrows. At least here I have the water.”

The water won’t protect you.

“Well you’re not here!” she shrieked.

The river roared around her. It was the only answer she would get.

It would be easier when she got to the lake. There would be people there. She wouldn’t have to be alone. When she told the story of her travels, they would admonish her for how reckless she was. The river was no protection. Monsters weren’t afraid to get wet.

They would have stories of their own. Last year, there had only been one small group, a few dozen people, though Amaia’s people had just missed a larger group that crossed heading east. Father suggested their groups stay together, but the others refused. They had their own path to follow.

“It seems like there are fewer of them every year,” Father had said.

“They shouldn’t go east,” a grandmother said. “Nothing but desert out there. Nowhere to hide.”

“That’s not the problem,” grandfather Len said, with the tone of someone talking to a very stupid child. “What they have to worry about is the poison air making everyone sick.”

“I was out that way as a child,” Krist said. “The air is fine.”

“Oh yes, you joined us from another band,” Len said. “What happened to them again?”

Krist said nothing, simply stood and left for another fire. They did not talk about their first family much, but someone—likely Retta, now that Amaia thought about it—had said at the gathering when Krist had joined them, there were only six of their people left.

“Do people really get sick out there?” Amaia asked. The faces around her ranged from uncertainty to discomfort. Except for Len, with his leathered skin and wispy clouds of hair.

“They do, in spite of how much you all call it lies,” he said. “My grandmother’s grandfather passed down stories of similar illnesses destroying any group who spent too much time in the deserts to the east. Most people agree it’s something from the war. The weapons used on both sides were so destructive, that the poison from them lingers in the air and land. It wasn’t just here it happened. The stories we heard about the eastern lands, no one dares ventured north not because of the snows but because of the curse that touches anyone who ventures there.”

“Curse…” Amaia felt the word in her mouth. The stories she heard with that word were always fanciful.

“It’s a good way to put it,” Len said. “Accurate. It’s no magic, just another technology lost to us. People stop being able to hold their food. They grow weak. They might burn with fever that no medicine will touch. It never goes away, and they get worse and worse until they waste away into nothing.”

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Father said, to Amaia’s disappointment.

She jerked awake, a roar echoing through her ears. It was still dark, no stars in the slate gray sky. As slow as she could, she peered over the side of the boat, but the shadows all blended together and none seemed to be moving against the wind. She moved to check the other side, smacking her chin against the edge of the rocking boat. Nothing their either, and the roar did not repeat.

Real? A dream? Nothing emerged from the darkness, so maybe it was only a phantom of an anxious mind, but she couldn’t allow herself the comfort of believing that. Nowhere was safe, not with no one to tend a fire while she slept.

Sobbing softly, she sunk to the bottom of the boat, pulling the skins over her. One of the oars pressed into her side—there were two with the boat, of course, because each was supposed to contain at least two people.

There weren’t that many boats there, she thought. A dozen, maybe less. Then the boaters must have gotten there already, with fewer people than usual. Summer was hard, so many grandparents got sick. I’m sure it was the same for them. They left behind the boats they didn’t need.

Amaia frowned. She rubbed her hand over her face, trying to smooth out the lines, but they seemed etched in there.

They would have left carvings to let us know they’d been there.

“Maybe not,” she muttered. “Maybe there was no time. Monsters were after them.”

The explanation rang hollow to her. Even when you had to flee before the daylight vanished, you marked a tree to let others know you were alive, that someone was alive.

She poked her head up over the edge of the boat again. The shadows were not as thick as they had been. The wind picked up, making the trees and grass dance, but no skull-white faces appeared. Amaia crawled back under the skins.

There hadn’t been a lot of the boaters the last time their groups met, at least not compared to previous years when the number of ocean-dwellers dwarfed their walking counterparts. There had been around fifty of them, celebrating the end of winter and their return to the sea.

“You’re the biggest group we’ve seen,” one boater said, tall with dark brown skin. “You combine with other groups?”

“Often,” Father said. “Things have been tough these last few years. Stragglers join up at every gathering.”

“With us, too. They aren’t much on the water, but we can’t leave anyone behind.”

I got left behind…

The boat lurched and banged into a rock, and Amaia thought she knew what the noise that woke her had been. The anchor was not enough to hold the boat in place, but it still wasn’t light enough for her to continue her journey. The monsters would be returning to their lairs now, but the younger hunters, reckless and eager, might still be lurking about.

The color of the sky remained gray even as the shadows vanished. Amaia pulled up the anchor and the boat immediately caught the current. Water spilled into the boat, soaking her feet and the skins. By midmorning, river calmed, but now the boat scraped against the rocky bottom was shallow. She climbed out to push it forward, sinking in the mud up to her ankles.

The fronds hanging overhead almost seemed familiar, a place her group liked to clean up and pull plant roots to eat. Dark shapes squirmed around her legs. Fish were plentiful, but there were more at the lake, and then they’d be eating their catches for weeks. Not that Amaia had anything to catch them with.

Water slapped the top of her head and she looked up. Another drop splattered across her forehead, and as if she wasn’t wet enough, now it was raining. The river was back up to her waist. She climbed back into the boat and oared herself along, the rain now fast enough she was sure it was filling the bottom of the boat and not water coming in over the sides. She had to stop rowing scoop out what she could, and a gust of wind blew it right back in.

This wasn’t working. The sun was hidden behind a layer of stony gray clouds, and the monsters would be out early. She got out to drag the boat to the shore, shoving it over rocks and burying the anchor under a heavier stone. That should keep it from floating away, right?

Her head throbbed. The rest of her body… well, the aches were nothing new.

The trees thinned, and the farther she got from the river, the patchier the grass was. The fires hadn’t spread this far south, at least not this year, but there wasn’t much around for her to eat. If she was with the rest of her group, they’d be relying on snares to catch their meals.

When she inhaled, she caught the scent of water and plants dried from summer, but no hint of smoke, even a controlled blaze from people keeping the monsters at bay. She could have wept when she came across an apple tree, even if they were tart and wormy. She ate until she was full and then stuffed her bag. Even the rain didn’t bother her anymore.

The downpour shook apples out of the tree, and the sky was as dark as the river had been. The land was flat, the burrows sized for small animals. She made her way back to the boat just as the waves took hold of it. Amaia jumped in and felt for the anchor. She pulled it up and the boat began to drift.

Not a very good solution, but she lay back and pulled the skins around her. It wasn’t a restful night, as she had to periodically rise and paddle the boat to the middle of water. Forever later, or just a few seconds, it lightened enough for her to properly see. She’d reach the lake today. She had to.

What if you don’t? Father asked. You need to find some place safe to hide, not cover yourself with skins in the boat and hope for the best.

“How?” she demanded.

I’ve taught you better than that. You cover your scent. You mask yourself. You’ve done it before. What you need is to start doing it consistently. Scoop up the mud, spread it over your body. When you go foraging, bring the knife and cut down some fragrant branches. Hope is not enough. You have to actually work to survive.

“All that work, only for survival?” she asked.

No answer to that, huh?

She must have slept, though she couldn’t remember it. She was just suddenly aware she was upright, ferociously paddling on one side before switching to the other for a course correction. The sky was a faded gray, the river a shade darker, ripples radiating out from the boat across a shining surface. A glance would make you think it was calm, but the way the boat whipped along indicated the water was far more turbulent than you might believe. If for whatever reason she decided to dive in, the current would pull her underneath and she would never break free.

The image of herself in the water, struggling to the surface, took hold of Amaia’s mind and played out over and over and over until the boat dropped and she could no longer feel the flat wood underneath her. Then she slammed into the bottom hard enough to make her teeth clatter and she realized the boat was plowing towards a rock twice as big as it.

A husky scream escaped her and she attacked the water with the oar. The front of the boat seemed to kiss the stone as she went by, and she reached out and brushed her hand across the wet rock. Wood and stone grinded together, and then the boat was past the obstacle.

The river began to spread out, and her speed lowered. The trees on one side pulled back, and on the other, the cliffs dropped off under the water.

She reached the lake. Calm, serene… and not a soul in sight.

#post apocalyptic fiction #post apocalyptic #LAST novel #original fiction #fiction

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lowkis · 2 years

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you put your hand in mine - chapter 38

summary: when loki falls from the bifrost he lands on earth. isla finds him while out walking her dog one night and takes him under her wing, nursing him back to health as best she can. it’s hard, trying to juggle work, life, and looking after a fallen asgardian prince. with nowhere else to go and limited access to his magic, loki must heal, wait patiently, and adapt while trying to wrap his head around life on earth after everything that happened on the bifrost

LINK TO READ ON AO3

rated: t

words: 4344

tags: post-thor (2011), eventual romance, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, drama, romance, angst, comfort/angst, canon divergence, protective loki, good loki, confused loki, loki needs a hug, he’s trying his best to understand earth, he’s trying his best full stop

read from the beginning: tumblr | ao3 | fic tag

The Allfather granted Isla’s request for her parents to come to Asgard.

Isla wasn’t sure what Thor had said to the King, or what he’d done to make it possible, but she didn’t care. She simply threw her arms around Thor’s neck tightly in her gratitude – much to Thor’s surprise – and hugged him tight when he shared the news. If she shed a tear or two in relief, neither mentioned it.

As Thor expected, travel by the Bifrost had been put on lockdown by the Odin for the foreseeable future. Only those with the Allfather’s approval were allowed to travel into and out of the realm, and Isla could hardly believe her parents were granted that honour. Still, she didn’t question it, simply prepared to bring them here by speaking with the Queen to organise their arrival.

Frigga had been a never-ending pillar of support for Isla in the days she’d spent on Asgard since Loki’s capture. As Thor had promised, she was never alone. The Queen had readily made herself available and assured Isla her doors were always open should she require company or wish to visit and talk. With permission granted for Isla’s parents to arrive and visit the realm, Frigga was the one who’d ensured rooms were prepared for them.

Whether Isla would move to live beside them for the time being, she hadn’t decided yet. She knew Loki had his own rooms within the palace walls from his childhood, but they were unfamiliar to Isla still. The realisation hurt her heart, to know she’d never made the effort to get to know him more and the place he’d grown up.

She vowed she’d do better when he returned.

Isla had been staying in their hidden cabin overnight, alone. The sense of familiarity which existed there was a comfort to her, as well as how Loki’s presence seemed to wrap around Isla within these walls, despite his absence. She’d curled up in the bed they’d shared and made their own each night. Isla had lain awake for hours each time before finally giving into exhaustion and falling into a dreamless sleep. The connection to Loki in his private space, his place of respite, was strong and one she could not bring herself to part with. Not yet.

The portal to and from the hidden cabin was granted by Frigga, so that should Isla ever wish to travel there, she wouldn’t have to wait and seek out the Queen to open a portal for her.

Portal was the preferable form of travel, because the horse they’d travelled on the first time to his grove, although he knew the way, was far too large for Isla to even consider riding. Plus, she had no experience with horses, so wouldn’t even know where to begin. But she had visited the stables once in a sudden bout of loneliness, a moment where Isla had desired to be as close to Loki as possible. She’d found the palace walls too oppressive after visiting Frigga. The vastness of it reminded Isla of just how small she was and how unfamiliar she was with this place. Without her space prince guide by her side she’d suddenly felt very small and lonely.

Isla had wished she’d returned with Maya. With her parents being granted access while the Bifrost was on lockdown Isla did not want to push her luck and ask Odin if she could return to earth to pick up her canine companion while she waited. So, Isla had suffered through it on her own and had sought out the other animal she knew liked Loki as much as she and Maya did. And one who missed him just as much as Isla did as well.

As soon as she measured up his size – even despite her lack of experience – Isla knew right away she’d have no chance of riding Midnight to Loki’s grove. The horse had eyed her quietly and tossed his head after his assessment. Isla had cringed and taken a step backwards as the massive beast stepped towards her, but he pressed his head against her chest and kept it there in what she guessed was an affectionate gesture.

He expelled air through his nostrils when Isla patted his forehead and nudged her again with his nose. Slowly Isla grew more comfortable around the horse as she’d continued to stroke his forehead lightly. Midnight birred happily and kept his head in place to accept more pets from Isla. Of course, she indulged him.

It was there, Frigga had found her.

“He was always a stubborn, ornery beast in his younger years, if I remember correctly,” she told Isla with a wry smile as she watched on. The Queen stopped at the edge of Midnight’s stall and rested her hands, clasped together, against her stomach as she observed them both.

“He’s not so bad,” Isla murmured as she rubbed at his chin.

Midnight seemed to agree with Isla’s assessment. He bobbed his head gently – mindful of hitting Isla’s chin – then nudged her again to try and receive more attention from her.

“I see that,” the Queen grinned. Amusement twinkled within her eyes. “He is quite taken with you.”

Isla blushed. “I don’t know about that.”

“Lady Isla, I have never seen him so calm around someone before. Loki’s stallion adores you.”

She fell quiet for a moment as she rubbed her hand up and down the horse’s neck. “Do you, now,” Isla asked Midnight quietly.

The horse peeled his head back and it was as if he was staring straight into Isla’s soul with his large, dark eyes.

Frigga chuckled. “Take that as a yes, my child. He definitely does.”

“You seem very certain.”

“A mother knows these things,” she replied in a conspirative tone. “I must admit, I did not expect to find you here.”

“I…” Isla trailed off, unsure how to respond. Finally, she sighed and settled with the truth. “I just wanted a connection to him.”

Her sad announcement caused Midnight to let out a quiet, distressed sound so Isla returned to petting his forehead. She hushed him softly.

“I understand,” Frigga replied quietly. She pushed off the stall with her shoulder and magicked a carrot into her hands. Almost instantly Midnight abandoned Isla and moved his head over to greet the Queen.

“I’ll have to remember that trick,” Isla smiled as Frigga chuckled.

“It is merely a distraction so I can talk to you in peace,” she announced with extra emphasis, focussing her stern, but playful, gaze on the horse. The Queen turned her attention to Isla’s neck, where Loki’s necklace still hung. “If I may?” Frigga asked, gesturing towards it.

Isla tugged at the chain around her neck and gripped onto the pendant.

The same necklace Loki had gifted her and placed measures upon to ensure her safety. Isla thought of him, in that moment, wishing she had something similar to shorten the distance between them and return him to them.

“This?”

The Queen nodded. “It has strong ties to Loki. I can feel his magic strong within it. He’s right here with you.”

The thought made Isla smile for what felt like the first time in a while.

She gripped the pendant tighter in her palm.

“I can enchant it to allow you to conjure a portal to yours and Loki’s cabin. Returning there will be more preferable than the palace walls for you, I bet.”

Isla nearly gaped at her but still handed the necklace over. “Me? Conjure a portal?”

Frigga’s knowing smile sparked mischief within her eyes. “With the correct enchantment, placed by a skilled sorcerer, and with the truest of intentions from the caster – you,” she nodded at Isla and handed the necklace back to her, “you will be able to do such a thing, my child.”

Isla had hardly dared to believe it.

“Grip your necklace tightly,” Frigga instructed, “and think of the small home you have both created. Request to be taken there and the portal will open.”

“That easily,” Isla questioned doubtfully.

“Give it a try.” Frigga didn’t give anything away. She simply waited patiently and expectantly.

Sure enough, a portal opened at Isla’s request.

Despite the deep well of worry, fear, and sadness which appeared to follow her like a storm cloud all day, wonder now coloured Isla’s features and joy managed to filter through and warm her heart. Before her was a square of golden light – a doorway – and through it awaited the warmth of Loki’s magic and his small home.

Isla could see it, clear as day.

She’d done that.

Forlornly, she wished she could share the experience with Loki. She wished she could tell him about it and could share her wonder and excitement at her ability to do such a thing. Isla could picture how he’d grin down at her, eyes so full of love and joy, all directed at her. The rest of the world would fall away, she was sure, and all that would exist would be him. And Isla would find herself so happy.

“You look as though you have stars in your eyes, Lady Isla,” Frigga smiled warmly. She spoke gently, though, as she interrupted Isla’s thoughts, and it looked as though it she was pleased at Isla’s response to magic. Her eyes crinkled at the edges with her joy.

A deep blush coloured Isla’s cheeks, but her chest warmed with unexpected delight. “I never expected I’d be able to do something so… magical before.”

“Ah, see, you already do.”

“Excuse me?” Isla was completely baffled by her reply.

Frigga paused, then sighed. “You do something magical every day, my dearest Lady Isla. You make my son happy. You stand by him as an equal, one he has never been fortunate enough to find in his life before you, and also one he deserves wholeheartedly.”

Isla’s eyes filled with tears at her declaration.

Frigga smiled at Isla and cupped her cheek. “I have never seen him so full of joy before, and it is because of you, Isla.”

When the first tear fell Frigga drew Isla into an embrace.

“I’m sorry for crying,” Isla managed to force out, fearing the wet stain she may leave on the Queen’s clothing due to her tears.

Frigga hushed her as her mother would. “Do not apologise. You have made him, and in turn, me, very happy. I am so glad you both found each other.” Frigga gave her a quick squeeze after announcing that.

“I miss him,” Isla sniffled. “I miss him so much. I'm so worried all the time and I feel so… restless. I don't know what to do.”

The Queen held Isla at arm’s length to examine her face. “I know. But you are not alone. And your parents will be here with us shortly. While we do everything in our power to find him and ensure his safety, you are also safe here with us, Lady Isla, and won’t be left without support and comfort.”

“Thank you.” Isla offered the Queen a watery smile of gratitude. As she was pulled back into another embrace a jolt ran up her arm. It was like an electric shock which struck her in the chest.

“Ah!” she exclaimed in surprise, though the sensation didn’t hurt. It just startled her.

Frigga had looked at her with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Isla dismissed. She glanced down at her hand, then her arm, seeing nothing amiss. “Just an electric shock.” That’s all it must have been, and Isla didn’t think much more about it.

As the Queen comforted her with a hug, Isla missed how the necklace Loki had gifted her with now suddenly hummed once more with warmth and magic.

* * *

Reality came back to Loki in flashes.

Control of his own limbs and mind was granted when he was commanded to don his armour. His mind was too exhausted to do much else than obey. He’d do anything to keep his captors happy so long as they did not set the flaming blade they’d used previously upon his skin.

Self-preservation.

That was what someone had called his actions once before. When Loki tried to cast his mind back to remember who or remember what the context of such a conversation had been, he was unable to. A blue fog was swirling around the channels of his brain, obscuring facts, hiding answers.

He couldn't explain why, but it bothered him.

There was something important he was required – no, was desperate – to remember. He felt the truth of the matter so deeply and honestly it managed to penetrate the hold the blue, taunting light had on him.

Isla...

Loki jolted at the memory of the name but wasn’t given any time to recover or think upon it further. Someone was attacking him, and he’d been ordered to stop them. In an action which was not his own, Loki rolled his shoulders and drew himself up tall. A blade was conjured into his hand, and he started to walk forward through the complex of bland tunnels to the threat.

His consciousness, however, was beginning to stir and the desperation from earlier only started to grow now he had a name to hold onto.

Isla.

It gripped his mind tightly and tried to force its way to the forefront of it, despite the blue light’s attempt to push it back. But such a desire to remember who this was would not be supressed so easily.

“You are my everything.”

“Come back to me.”

Loki’s body jolted and his own mind suddenly returned to his body. It was like he’d slammed back into control of his own brain. The world around him looked much clearer and appeared to be at a much closer distance. Everything was brought back into focus and he could feel the lingering feeling of pain within his limbs. His back was pained, as if it had been scratched by something sharp, but it did not feel as though the skin had been pierced. His arms and legs felt heavy with fatigue and strain. There was the memory of a burning feeling in the left side of his torso and in the centre of his chest, near his heart.

But all that was forgotten in his moment of clarity.

Isla.

Emotion surged to the surface and fought off the blue invader of his mind so strongly even it appeared surprised by his sudden strength.

He had to return to her. Loki had promised he would, and he would not let his love down.

In a show of force the blue light within his mind reacted violently to the return of his consciousness. It shoved and pounded at his brain, fighting to take back control. His skull throbbed with pain and Loki’s steps faltered as he and whatever was invading his brain both wrestled for control.

One of the Chitauri soldiers from the escort surrounding him grabbed Loki’s arm and jerked him back upright with a screech of indignation, which pierced his eardrums painfully. The surprise, the momentary distraction, was enough to allow himself to slip, and the blue light took over. Once more the world appeared to be viewed from a great distance. As if Loki were seeing it through a fisheye lens.

Loki’s body was forced to walk forward as he recovered from the assault on his being.

He had to get back in control.

He had to return to himself. To rid himself of whatever Thanos had forced upon his brain to attack it.

He had to return to Isla. He’d promised.

“If you do then we can talk about… us. About what your brother is rather insistent upon with his endearments towards me.”

Loki had to break free of this. His future wife was waiting on him.

* * *

“It’s… not the most pleasant experience,” Isla warned her parents as they nervously stepped up to the Bifrost site.

Maya looked in her element as she strode forward, like she already knew the way. Her tongue lolled from her mouth as she walked, panting happily up to the rune mark burned onto the grass.

“It might make you feel sick,” Isla added.

“But it’s safe?”

Isla nodded at her mother’s question. “Perfectly safe. Just… intense. Keep a hold of my hand as we travel.”

Her mother nodded and gripped onto her father’s arm tighter as she walked.

It had been four days since Loki went missing.

The pit in Isla’s stomach had become a constant feeling which never really shifted or left her. Her sleep was not filled with nightmares, but sweet moments between her and Loki, surprisingly. While grateful, it still made her cry when she awoke. Not in fear, but in longing.

She wanted him back so badly. She missed him so much it felt as though she may split into two.

Thor had made plans the Odin and his council. Apparently they had every person, ever ally, in their arsenal looking for the lost prince of Asgard. Those who hadn’t particularly been very vocal about Loki’s return joined the search without question or complaint, but Isla had made a point to examine their faces closely to remember their faces. They did not rub her the right way at all, but they were offering resources and methods to search for him so for the moment, she let it go.

The Bifrost site was familiar. It was the same one they’d used before near her parent’s house.

“Um, Heimdall?” Isla called uncertainly out to him. She still wasn’t entirely sure how it all worked.

The Guardian had assured Isla before she’d left that apparently he’d be able to hear her whenever she called from now on, but Isla still held her doubts about it –

The Guardians voice echoed around the trio, making them all jump.

Isla hadn’t known what to expect when he’d assured her they’d be able to communicate. His voice filling the air around them was not it.

“Lady Isla,” he greeted. “Is your company ready to travel?”

Isla’s doubts were now banished. In all seriousness, after all she’d witnessed about Asgard’s technology and abilities, Isla didn’t know why she even bothered to doubt him.

She glanced at her mother, father, and Maya in response to Heimdall’s question. Both her parents put their trust in her and nodded after a brief pause of uncertainty, which most likely stemmed in disbelief at their current situation, more than anything else. Maya continued to pant happily while sitting patiently by her father’s side.

“We are ready.”

“Keep a tight hold of honoured Lady Isla,” Heimdall announced. “She will guide you on your journey. You may experience a bout of nausea but once you arrive I will see to your comfort and ensure you are well.”

Both her parents shared another glance.

Before Isla could open her mouth to reassure them the rainbow light filled her vision.

Once they landed in the observatory of the Bifrost her parents swayed once, twice, but remained upright. Her father’s complexion looked startlingly white while her mother looked thrilled. Both were windswept but appeared to be experiencing feelings at complete opposite ends of the spectrum regarding travel by the Bifrost.

Isla felt the familiar feeling of nausea, but it was not as potent as it had been previously. She was pleased about that, at least.

Maya staggered and took one step to the side. She sneezed and tossed her head, but she quickly recovered. She barked once and bounded up to the Guardian to greet him.

Heimdall chuckled and placed a large hand upon Maya’s head after he closed the bridge and retrieving his sword. He strode towards the three of them. First, he checked Isla was all right, which she confirmed with a nod. She was certainly better than the last time and didn’t feel the urge to empty the contents of her stomach onto the floor. But perhaps she was too concerned by her parent’s wellbeing to be focussed on her own.

Her poor father looked like he was ready to pass out.

“Breathe,” Heimdall instructed. He placed a hand on her father’s shoulder and guided him through the disorientating feeling while her mother detached herself from her husband’s arm to stare slack jawed at the world beyond the entrance to the observatory.

“That’s…” Margaret trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

“It’s amazing, huh?”

She nodded in response, too overcome to formulate a response to Isla’s question.

“Dad, are you okay?” Isla hurried to his side when she saw him bent at the waist with his hands on his knees and his head lowered towards the floor.

“He will be all right,” Heimdall replied. “I would suggest taking him to the Healers to ease his discomfort.”

“Please,” her father pleaded desperately.

Her mother, on the other hand, was still staring in awe at the golden palace in the distance. She appeared completely unaffected by their travel.

“I’ve got you Dad, don’t worry,” Isla soothed as she linked her arm through his. “We’ll get you to the Healers and they’ll be able to make you feel better.”

“I have sent word to the Queen.” Heimdall’s golden, all seeing and ancient eyes focussed on Isla’s. “She will be arriving shortly with an escort and will greet them upon their arrival.”

“Queen,” her mother asked, voice faint, as the gravity of her situation finally settled upon her.

“Yeah,” Isla replied softly. “Loki is a prince, remember?”

“I remember –”

She never got to finish her sentence because, as if the Guardian had summoned her with his speech alone, a golden portal opened and Queen Frigga stepped through it.

“Welcome, parents of Isla,” Frigga greeted warmly. “My name is Frigga.” She even bowed her head to them both. “Welcome to Asgard. May your visit be a pleasant one.”

Her parents appeared dumbstruck, and Frigga smiled warmly at them both after shooting Isla a quick glance to check she was all right.

“You daughter has been a blessing to have here with us on Asgard. May the Norns bless you both, and I feel I must thank you for raising such a fine woman, who has made myself and my son incredibly happy.”

Isla’s face flushed pink.

“Come, I shall show you the way to the Healing Rooms to right your equilibrium and see you fit and well once more –”

A crack of thunder – which made Isla jump about a foot in the air – interrupted Frigga. Her head turned to look through the observatory door to see Thor flying in and landing on the rainbow bridge.

“Thor?”

“It’s Loki,” he murmured quietly to his mother. He cast a glance over her shoulder to see Isla pale at the sight of the strained look on his face. “I believe we have located him.”

Isla sucked in a breath and all her emotions from the first day of his disappearance came flooding back to her.

In that exact moment, she felt terrible. She’d been moping and playing house in Asgard while Loki had been out there, captured and taken against his will. He’d been left to the mercy of Thanos. Isla knew there was not much she could have physically done to ascertain his location. She had no magic or ability to locate him. All she could have done was wait, but her mind was cruel. It reminded her of the fact she’d been stagnant and hadn’t done anything to assist while he was out there, most likely suffering at the hands of the Titan.

She hadn’t done a damn thing to help him.

In this time of fear, her mind was especially cruel.

“What?” Isla’s voice sounded strange to her own ears as she blurted out her question.

Her mother appeared to have missed what had happened, as had her father. They’d both been rendered stunned by the Queen before them, but at the sound of her barked question they looked immediately towards her.

“Isla?”

“Sweetheart?”

“Truly,” Frigga questioned. A hand tightened into a fist by her side.

Thor nodded. “I believe so. Father has instructed me to leave now.”

Frigga stepped aside and nodded to Heimdall. He straightened and returned to his post immediately. He readied his great sword to open the Bifrost.

“Please,” Frigga had ushered Isla’s parents with an urgency in her voice. “Come this way. I will see you both settled and shown to your rooms.”

They both made their way across the room, still slightly stunned by all they’d witnessed since their arrival. Isla didn’t doubt they were probably overwhelmed. It was certainly a lot to take in, meeting a Queen, travelling through space, and seeing a completely new world laid out before their eyes.

“Lady Isla?”

She hadn’t moved from her spot, nor had she approached the Queen to assist her parents.

In truth, Isla was torn.

But, in a single, silent moment, her eyes met her father’s. He still looked green around his gills, but he nodded to her once in acceptance.

“Lady Isla –”

Thor appeared to have some inkling of what she was considering doing, but whatever he was about to say was overtaken by the whooshing sound of the Bifrost activating and the gateway opening.

Thor stepped into it, and Isla bolted after him. Frigga and her mother shouted and called out to her to stop as Isla desperately ran after Thor.

She couldn’t not go with him.

She had to do this.

Isla followed after Thor and leapt into the open gateway of the Bifrost.

Thor hadn’t told her where they were going. In a brief flash of common-sense Isla had no idea if wherever they were landing would even be hospitable for her, but it was too late now. The rainbow of colours was flashing before her eyes, and she could see Thor sailing through the passageway a few metres in front of her.

Despite the pain it caused her to think such a thing, Isla only hoped they weren’t too late now that the moment had finally arrived.

#loki fic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x original female character #likes and reblogs are much appreciated :)#you put your hand in mine #my fic

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leviathanspain · 2 years

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below the singing moon

marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader

synopsis: you and marc had a rocky marriage from the start. marc can destroy you emotionally, but steven always puts you back together. what happens when he can’t?

pt. 2

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“fuck you, marc!” you threw a vase at him and he ducked, the vase shattering behind him as he stalked towards you. the voices in marc’s head told him not to try anything he’s regret. suddenly marc found his feet glued to the floor as you cowered in the corner, scared of what marc would do.

“im so tired of you, this and that,” marc spat, “always asking for something better. why cant you be happy with what i can give you? you knew what you got yourself into when you said ‘i do.’” marc sneered at you and you shook your head, tears falling as you whimpered.

“i love you, marc! that’s why i said ‘i do!’ i was stupid and i still am because i’m still here!” you cried and marc shook his head, “you’re such a dumb bitch!” he yelled.

you stood up and stormed out. you literally had nowhere else to go but you knew you couldn’t stay here, not with marc acting like a caged animal.

the cold bit at your cheeks as you walked out into the cold london air. marc had moved to london because he thought it the best option considering he was a fugitive. you didn’t like the city at first but steven had made you love it, his factual conversations led you to expanding your knowledge and you loved it.

marc pondered on what had just happened. he walked into the bathroom, standing in front of the sink and put his head in his hands and he contemplated going after you or not.

he looked up at saw steven standing politely in the mirror reflection. he sighed and steven shrugged, “let me have control. i can fix it, make her feel better.” he spoke and marc, for the first time, didn’t protest. he needed a break, from whatever was causing you two to fight.

steven looked at marc in the mirror now and nodded, giving a thumbs up to his own little side quest. steven grabbed a broom and began to sweep up the broken vase shards.

“remind me to buy a new vase..” he muttered to himself, partially to marc as well.

you came back to the apartment unsure of who’d be home to greet you. you opened the door and found your mess cleaned.

steven.

marc would never clean your messes, he’d always leave you to clean them and deal with the broken shards, even if you cut yourself. steven would always be there to patch you up when you did.

“stevie?” you called out and a figure moved from the bathroom and into the main room.

“y/n.” he murmured your name and ran to embrace you. he could feel the shivers falling off your body as he moved you to the bed, wrapping you up in blankets.

you cried, tears falling as you found comfort in steven’s body. you hadn’t held marc the way you were holding steven in weeks, marc hadn’t gone any further than angrily fucking you for any sort of release.

“he’s such an asshole.” you muttered and steven brushed your hair with a hand.

“yeah.” steven agreed, looking up to the ceiling and thought of what to say.

“im sorry for what he said. he didn’t mean it, he was just upset.” steven excused and you shook your head, snuggling deeper into his side, “he could say whatever he wants but he knows exactly what to say to hurt me. he meant it, he did.”

marc’s voice echoed in steven’s head.

she’s right. but i still love her. i always will.

steven didn’t say anything else as he just held you, slowly you lulled to sleep as your breathing evened out.

#moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #avengers one shot #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fluff #marc spector angst #steven grant fluff #moon knight imagine #moon knight oneshot

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cherienymphe · 3 years

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Cruel Intentions (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, manipulation, mentions of abuse, therapist!Steve, silverfox!Steve, drugging

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ Image by @angrybirdcr

➥ dividers by @firefly-graphics

This is for the “For the Fic” challenge whose winner for my fic was @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

The entire plot was her request and I hope that you like it!

summary: after escaping an abusive ex, you find solace in a therapist recommended to you by a friend.

“...I know I shouldn’t...but sometimes I blame myself. In Harry, I know that I was looking for what I never had in my family. I think it made me quick to rush into things...to ignore what I should have seen.”

Your eyes remained on the dark carpet, the man before you humming as the scribbling sound of his pen reached your ears. You fought hard not to fidget, a horrible habit you’d picked up in the last 3 years. You finally lifted your head again when the room was bathed in silence, eyes meeting familiar blue ones as he studied you.

You were used to these short moments of silence by now.

You’d been recommended to Dr. Steve Rogers by a friend, a friend who’d helped you escape your violent ex in the dead of night while he’d been away on business. She had grown worried when it became obvious that the effects of your tumultuous relationship would be lasting if you didn’t do something about it. Oddly enough, you’d been receptive. For 2 whole years, you’d wanted to tell someone, have anyone to turn to and talk to, but fear, a very valid fear, had stopped you.

Not only had you been worried for your life, something that was threatened on a constant basis, but you’d also been afraid of judgement. You worried what your friends would say, if they’d blame you for finding yourself in such a predicament, if they’d look down on you for no longer fighting back. It was only by a stroke of luck that Nakia had seen Harry slap you right across the face when he thought she’d left. You were grateful that she’d waited for him to leave before rushing towards your trembling frame, pulling you into her arms as she shushed you.

She had demanded to know how long this had been going on. She had been horrified and confused and angry. It didn’t take her long to come up with a plan, and within 2 weeks, after waiting for Harry to leave the city for 2 days, she’d gotten you out and into her place across town. You didn’t stay for long, maybe a few weeks, wanting nothing but to put it all behind you, and although she was sad to see you go, she understood.

It was how you found yourself in upstate New York, in a secluded tiny thing of a house. You hadn’t even realized that you’d become something of a recluse until Nakia had pointed it out during one of your weekly calls. It had never hit you that you went to work and to home and that was it. You barely ate anymore, so grocery shopping was never a frequent affair. That was when she’d told you about a well known therapist in the area, Steven G. Rogers. You had been shocked by how much you weren’t opposed to the idea as she went on listing all of his credentials.

It was only moments after she hung up that you found yourself researching him yourself. You remembered noting how handsome the man was, even more so in person. His bright blue eyes and silver tresses complimented his strong features nicely, pink lips pulled up into a polite smile. You didn’t find yourself put off by the stranger, thinking to yourself that talking to someone you didn’t know, an objective listener who was paid not to judge you, might be for the best.

You soon found out that was easier said than done.

The first visit had been rocky, barely mumbling a thing and constantly fidgeting. You had hardly been able to meet his eye, and the session had abruptly ended when you’d left early, stumbling over your words as you gave some half assed excuse for your sudden departure. He was far more understanding than you deserved during your second visit. Wracked with guilt and anxiety, you’d written some things down that you wanted to talk about, and thankfully, the man hadn’t laughed at you. In fact, you remembered how fondly he looked at you as you unfolded it.

As it turned out, you didn’t need the slip of paper at all. Notes forgotten, you had rambled on for an hour. It was like once you started, you just couldn’t stop, and Steve simply listened the entire time. The next time he spoke to you was only to tell you that your time was up, and both embarrassment and disappointment had flooded through you. It must have been obvious, plain as day on your features, because Steve reassured you that it was normal to ramble.

You had been reluctant to leave. After years of biting your tongue and living in fear of even making the wrong sound, you finally found someone to listen. Even if it was only a stranger getting paid for it, it was still something. There was someone to express your fears to, and although it had taken some time, terrified that you’d say the wrong thing and upset him, eventually, you started to express your anger too.

“...and then I get angry all over again,” you continued when he said nothing. “...because I’m smart, because red flags in others’ relationships have always been so obvious to me. I’ve always been the mom friend, the one who can spot trouble before it even starts. I’ve helped friends get out of situations before they even had the chance to turn sour…”

You shook your head.

“...and yet...it took a slap to the face to realize just how deep I was in? Not the jealousy, not the anger issues nor the way he’d isolated me from just about everyone in my life...but a slap? It should’ve never gotten to that.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of others.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d told you that, and yet here you were again.

“We can go in circles analyzing your own behavior and the things you did and the things you said, but the truth is that you could play it out in your head a million times. You could do every single thing differently, and it still wouldn’t change a thing.”

The corner of his lips lifted into a crooked smile, a familiar sight.

“Some people are simply cruel, and it has nothing at all to do with you.”

You sharply inhaled, unsure of why such a simple statement resonated with you so deeply. You stared at Steve, blinking a few times, opening your mouth to respond when he glanced at the clock. It was a tell tale sign, and your shoulders sagged. You would think that after seeing him for 7 months now, you’d be used to leaving after only an hour, but it never got easier.

“That’s all the time we have for today,” he said, standing. “You’re progressing nicely, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled, eyes crinkling.

“You are. Progress and healing isn’t linear. Sometimes you’re going to take 2 steps back before you can take 10 more forward. It’s all part of the process,” he assured you.

You sighed.

“Well… I guess that does make me feel a bit better,” you replied.

He sent you a small smile as he guided you towards the door.

“I’ll see you next week?”

You returned his smile with a nod and didn’t let your face fall until the door was shut behind you. The good thing about therapy was that you could recognize your own toxic behaviors now, and it was clear that you were becoming reliant on your sessions with Steve. You had never liked being alone, but you had come all the way out here to learn to do just that. For your sake, you needed to learn to love being alone. It was how you had gotten into this mess to begin with.

Your phone vibrated with a call from an unknown number, and figuring it was a scam call, you silenced it.

Your house was practically in the middle of nowhere, so when the tv wasn’t blasting or you didn’t have Spotify playing some light tune, the house could get scarily quiet. But that was what you wanted...right? Harry had always been so explosive. The smallest of things could set him off and then the sound of yelling and shattering glass would rain down on you. Silence and solitude was what you wanted, needed.

Your phone buzzed again as you settled into your car, and you huffed when you noticed it was the same number. Again, you weren’t unfamiliar with scam callers so you ignored it. You noted that you needed to go grocery shopping, but you weren’t on the precipice of starvation just yet, so it could hold off for another day. By the time you got inside, your phone had started to buzz again, and with a frown, you decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

You were met with silence as you unlocked your door, and you repeated yourself, but there was no response. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You both loved and hated coming home. It was quiet and safe and everything you had craved for years now, but the unfamiliarity of it all unnerved you. Sometimes you were just waiting for Harry to come flying through the door, screaming and breaking things. You had to remind yourself that this silence, this security, is how it’s supposed to be.

You went about making a quick meal, hopping into the shower while leaving the stove on low. When you got out, in the process of moisturizing your arms, you noticed your phone buzzing with another call. From that same number. Unease filled you as you neared it, and you hesitantly reached for it before answering.

Again, you were met with silence, and frustrated and annoyed, you simply blocked the number. A quick look through your phone revealed that you’d missed several calls from the same number while in the bathroom. Blinking with a deepening frown, you set your phone down and made your way to your kitchen. Dinner, like always these days, was quiet. You curled up on the couch with your plate while you watched some old sitcom.

The rest of the night passed as blandly as it always did. Sleep was much easier to find these days, so you had no trouble as soon as your head hit the pillow. However, just as you were on the verge, your phone buzzed with another call. This number didn’t match the previous one, but it was unknown nonetheless. With a groan, you put your phone on silent and rolled over, sleep claiming you.

“I know it’s you,” you sneered into the phone.

Unsurprisingly, you were met with the faint sound of breathing, and you clenched your jaw. You slammed the car door behind you before stomping across the parking lot.

“I know it’s you,” you quietly repeated. “Stay away from me.”

You hung up before blocking the number, the 10th number you had blocked in the past week. Every few hours or so a day, like clockwork, you got calls from an unknown number. You’d always end up blocking the number after the first few calls, but they always called again from a different one. At first, they’d say nothing, and you’d listen to silence for a few seconds before hanging up. Now, they’d taken to breathing in your ear like a creep. It wasn’t even until you blocked the 3rd number did it finally hit you.

Harry.

Harry freaking Osborn.

You felt like such an idiot for not putting it together sooner. Of course, it was Harry. Was this not the same man who threatened to hunt you down and drag you back like some animal if you ever left him? You had always equated woman beaters to cowards so you never thought he’d have the nerve to actually do it. Putting the pieces together didn’t bring you any comfort. Your filthy rich abusive ex had managed to track you down. What comfort was there to find in that?

Since that day, you hadn’t had a proper night of sleep. Your mind was constantly at war with itself on what to do. Having been down this road before, you knew the police would be no help. You’d gone to them once before, at the very beginning after the first time he’d hit you. It was your first harsh lesson that money ruled over everything. If you thought hard enough, you could still recall his hands around your throat, eyes alight with anger at what you’d tried to pull.

Still, you considered at least trying to get a restraining order but at the end of the day, that was a mere piece of paper. If Harry came to your door, it wasn’t going to stop him from hurting you, and that’s even if the whole process went through. They don’t just give restraining orders out willy nilly. You tried not to dwell on that hypothetical situation, but if he’d found your number, it would only be a matter of time before he found your address.

“Oh!”

You’d only just entered the grocery store, barely stepping into an aisle when you bumped into someone. The chips and bread in his hands went flying to the floor, and apologies tumbled from your lips. It was only after you helped him pick up what you made him drop did you realize who you’d run into.

“Dr. Rogers...hi,” you breathed.

The corner of his lips pulled into a crooked smile, head tilting to the side as his gaze fell onto you.

“We’ve discussed this before, Y/N. You’re more than welcome to call me Steve,” he told you.

You gave a nervous chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah...uh… I normally do, it just...it just slipped my mind,” you replied.

He blinked at you, eyes narrowing just a bit as he studied you. His brows furrowed in that concerned way you were used to, a silver strand of hair kissing his forehead.

“Everything okay…?”

You folded your arms over your chest, nodding with a strained smile.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. “It’s just… It’s been a weird week. Our next session cannot come fast enough.”

You forced a light laugh, and he joined you. He placed a hand on his hip, eyes boring into your own.

“There’s a coffee shop just over there,” he gestured. “Did you want to sit and have a chat?”

You frantically shook your head.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you told him. “I-.”

“I know I’m your therapist, but I want you to think of me as a confidant outside of the office too. You’re more than welcome to talk to me anytime. In fact, I encourage it,” he interrupted.

You nervously eyed him with a frown.

“Are...are you sure?”

His smile was comforting.

“This may be my job, but it’s one I chose because it’s one I enjoy. I don’t want you to feel like you’re only allowed to talk to me during our sessions,” he quietly said.

You bit your lip, and Steve continued.

“I’d hate to think that you’re bottling things up for days on end, suffering in silence because you’re just waiting to talk to me,” he confessed.

Your shoulders sagged, and you hesitantly nodded.

“...okay. I just need to get a few things for the house.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “You know where to find me.”

You parted ways, and a sigh escaped you. You really didn’t want to become reliant on Steve. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to learn how to process your feelings and cope with them better? Running to your therapist every time you have a problem just seemed counterproductive. And yet, once your car was loaded up with the few items you bought, you found yourself making your way to the coffee shop.

After ordering a small drink, you easily spotted Steve at a table in the back. You noted that even outside of your sessions, he still dressed nicely. The dark button down he wore contrasted with his light hair, dark slacks making him appear taller. You felt simultaneously nervous and comforted as you settled across from him. There was a brief silence, one in which you sipped on your drink while he eyed you before finally speaking.

“So what’s on your mind?”

What a loaded question. You struggled over whether or not to tell him the truth. Your abusive ex had found you somehow and was currently harassing you. That’s not something you could just casually drop into the conversation. Besides, Steve was your therapist, not your friend. You didn’t think it fair to rope him into the drama with your ex. That wasn’t part of his job description. Right?

“Just sleepless nights,” you said.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Steve eyed you like he was waiting for you to continue, blue eyes soft.

“I’m also worried that...my past might not remain in the past.”

Once again, this wasn’t a complete lie.

“How so?” Steve hummed.

“I can’t help but wonder about what will happen if Harry finds me. He always threatened that he would if I ever left, and while I never believed him before, I just keep wondering… What if he does?”

Steve tilted his head at you, and you leaned back in your seat with a sigh.

“I’ve moved all the way out here to get away from him. I’ve isolated myself because I thought it was for the best, but it would have the opposite effect if he ever found me. I’ve never been particularly close with my family as you well know, and I’ve left all of my friends. I’m all alone here, and it’s the worst thing to be if he ever did track me down.”

Like always, you had started to ramble, and you snapped your mouth closed, embarrassment flooding through you.

“What brought all of this on?”

Steve’s eyes were sincere as he ran them over you, handsome face twisted in concern, and you glanced away.

“Just thinking,” you lamely replied, eyes on your drink now. “It’s something I’ve always thought about, sure, but it’s been more pressing as of late.”

“Well...that’s what I’m here for. You shouldn’t have to deal with these thoughts alone,” he eventually said.

“I know,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “...but I shouldn’t become so reliant on you. The whole point of therapy is to learn to deal with these things on my own, is it not?”

Steve exhaled, leaning back in his seat as he gazed at you.

“Not necessarily. Not always,” he answered. “...but even then, until you can get to that point, it’s best to lean into your support. After all, you’ve gotta crawl before you can walk, right?”

You nodded, taking in his words.

“...and even when you’re walking, you usually need someone there in the beginning to hold your hand in case you fall. I encourage you to talk to your friends more, maybe even branch out and find some friends here, but I’m here as well. Don’t halt any of your progress because you feel like you need to be dealing with this alone. Outside help does more for your progress than you’d think.”

“I guess that does make sense. I don’t know… I just- I’d feel so bad about showing up at your office throughout all hours of the day or calling your receptionist-.”

You cut yourself off when he took out a pen and a slip of paper.

“Here,” he said, scribbling a number on it before handing it to you. “This is my personal number.”

Your eyes widened.

“Oh, I can’t-.”

“It’s fine, trust me.”

You hesitantly returned his smile, taking the piece of paper.

“Don’t hesitate to call me anytime you want to,” he told you, standing.

You joined him, fingering the note before sliding it into your pocket.

“Thank you…Steve. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually call you, but just knowing that I have the option makes me feel so much better,” you whispered.

You heard his pager go off, and you watched as he glanced at it. He let out a sigh, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded disappointed.

“I’ve got to go, but I hope you’ll use that number if you need to.”

Thanking him again, you said your goodbyes, and you watched as he exited the shop. The slip of paper felt heavy in your pocket, so you solved that by putting his number into your phone. Just as you were about to put it back into your purse, it buzzed with a call from an unknown number. Fear settled into your gut, and with a grimace, you silenced the call and blocked the number.

You were late. You were so late it was laughable to even show up at this point. Your shoes tapped against the tile as the numbers on the elevator lit up as it passed each floor. You slipped through the doors as soon as they parted, and with no mind to check in, the receptionist calling your name, you raced towards Steve’s office. You reached his door just as he opened it to step out, and the papers that he was holding scattered to the floor as you collided with him. You hadn’t even realized how fast you’d been running until you were knocked on your ass.

You could hear the heels of the receptionist as she ran over, apologizing to Steve for letting you slip past her, but he waved her off. She reluctantly returned to her desk, and you scrambled to sit up, reaching for everything that had fallen.

“I was beginning to think you’d never show,” Steve joked.

You gave a shaky laugh.

“I uh...I got caught up,” you replied through trembling lips, fingers shaking as you struggled to stack all of his paperwork.

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you avoided his gaze.

“I know I’m late. Our hour is practically over, but I- I just… Um, crap.”

You had dropped the papers all over again, and you both reached for them at the same time. At least, that was what you thought. Steve’s hands covered yours, and you only just realized how badly they were shaking.

“Y/N.”

His voice was soft, exactly what you needed right now, but you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

Your chest was tight, and you wanted to will your lips to form a yes. You wanted to tell him that everything was fine, but you couldn’t even get the words out. He called your name again, and you suddenly stood, taking the papers with you. You handed them to him as he followed your lead, still avoiding his eye.

“I’m sorry for being late, and I know that you probably have another session-.”

“I don’t,” he interrupted. “Come in.”

You glanced up from beneath your lashes as he opened the door, ushering you inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he shut the door behind you.

“Is everything okay?”

You turned your face away from him, unable to keep it from crumbling as you held in a sob.

“Y/N.”

The way he called your name had you freezing in place, a shiver running through you at his firm tone, authority in the one simple word. In a way, it reminded you of Harry, and you looked to him with wide eyes. Seeming to understand what he’d done, Steve sighed before sitting down, making himself appear smaller to show that he wasn’t a threat to you.

“I’m sorry,” he genuinely apologized. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please...sit.”

You hesitantly did so and reached out to take the tissue he offered you. You hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying.

“Now… I’m going to ask you again, and I’m begging you to please be honest with me. I’m here to help you in any way I can,” he whispered.

You wiped your face, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“It’s...Harry.”

Steve’s face was pinched with concern.

“What is it? Are you having nightmares again-?”

“No, you don’t understand. He’s calling me,” you confessed.

Steve froze, blinking a few times before his eyes widened, your words finally registering. You sniffed, fighting to hold in a sob.

“It started weeks ago, before we ran into each other that night…”

You didn’t miss the disappointment that flitted over his features, lips pressed together.

“...and I know I should’ve said something then-.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“I know! I know, but… I don’t know. I just wanted to handle this on my own,” you quietly said.

He didn’t respond, and you turned your eyes towards the window.

“Last time...I wasn’t able to get away on my own. I wanted it to be different this time. At first, I simply blocked him but he kept calling and calling from different numbers. Then I got a new phone...and eventually another, but it’s still the same. He keeps finding me,” you tearfully told him. “...and today…”

Your eyes met his, and you were comforted by the concern you saw there.

“Today I was at the police station. That’s why I was late.”

Steve straightened up at this.

“I thought that maybe I could get a restraining order or maybe they could trace the calls to show that it’s him, but the whole visit was useless. They boiled it down to petty relationship drama, and since there’s no record of his violent behavior because I never reported anything…”

You shrugged, scoffing.

“There’s basically nothing they can do. The whole visit was a waste,” you spat.

Steve heaved a sigh, and he slowly reached out towards you, leaning forward.

“I didn’t ask before, but… Is it alright if I hold your hand?”

You nodded. That was what you liked about Steve. He was always asking for your consent with just about everything, even the simplest of things, and it was such a nice contrast to Harry who used to feel like he was entitled to your body. Steve took your hand, throwing you a comforting smile as he eyed you, worried.

“I wish that you had called me,” he said.

You looked down, guilt filling you.

“I could have helped you before it ever got to this point. I have friends on the force, friends in high places who could lock this creep up if you wanted.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Of course Steve, Dr. Steven Rogers, knew people who could help you. Of course he did! Your stubbornness had gotten you far deeper into this than necessary.

“What have I said about self deprecating language?”

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“You’re not an idiot. Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re just a woman trying to find her strength again.”

You hesitantly nodded, and he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want you to get rid of your phone,” he suggested.

You frowned, and he continued before you could question him.

“I’ll work on getting a new one for you. A secure one under my name.”

You frowned, not liking the idea of being so indebted to him.

“Steve, I don’t know-.”

“It’ll only be temporary. You can use it until I talk to some people and have him properly dealt with.”

Even though you weren’t keen on the idea, you reluctantly agreed.

“...and you have to promise me one thing…”

You eyed him, holding his gaze as you waited for him to continue.

“Promise me that you’ll call me the second he bothers you again,” he proposed.

Accepting the fact that your stubbornness was doing you more harm than good, you nodded. Steve seemed pleased with that, and with one last pat on your hand, he let you go. As he guided you out of your office, your phone in his hand, you felt more hopeful than you had in over a month. You felt so silly for not seeking out his help sooner, and you couldn’t deny the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders as you settled into your car.

True to his word, at your next session, Steve presented you with a new phone. It had all of your important contacts with Steve being at the top of the list. Embarrassment had flooded you as you thanked him with tears in your eyes. The week without your phone had been the most peace you’d had in a while, and you finally got some much needed rest.

“You haven’t heard anything from him, have you?” he’d asked you.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “Not a peep.”

He threw you that same smile that always brought you comfort.

“Good. Even if you never do, you’re always free to call me,” he’d reminded you.

Finally deciding to let your stubbornness go, you did. Talking to Steve outside of your sessions was easier than you thought it’d be. It was like talking to a friend. Sometimes you’d meet up at that same coffee shop not too far from his office, and other times you’d be putting a quick meal together while he was on the other line, listening to you ramble. You soon realized that it wasn’t just his profession that made him that way, but Steve truly was an unbiased listener. He never judged you for any steps back in your progress nor for any of your more self deprecating thoughts.

Best of all, you hadn’t heard anything more from Harry.

Not until he knocked on your door one night.

It was late when you’d heard the pounding on the wood, and having been watching tv in your room, you wondered if you imagined it. It was only moments later that you’d heard it again. Your eyes had widened, sitting up in alarm. No one knew you lived here. Not even your mailman. All of your mail collected at a Post Office box before you eventually went to pick it up. You stood, standing in your room, trembling in fear before a knock on your bedroom window had you screaming.

You didn’t hesitate to call the police, and it took longer than you liked for them to arrive. All the while, you dealt with knocking and pounding on your window and door. Back and forth, it alternated with minutes in between before stopping altogether when the sound of sirens could be heard. Unsurprisingly, and frustratingly, the police didn’t find anyone.

“Look, we’ll get this report down to the station,” the brunette had told you, not looking concerned in the least.

Frustration filled you, and you shuffled on your feet.

“Can’t you...idk, have someone stay here? Not even the whole night but just a few hours in case they come back?”

The tall man sighed, and you glanced at his badge. Officer Barnes, you noted.

“With all due respect mam, we can’t just have one of our officers sitting in your yard because someone knocked on your door-.”

“I told you-!”

“I know, I know. The windows too,” he said, sounding exasperated, and your frown deepened. “The best we can do is get this down to the station. You’re more than welcome to call us again should anyone come back.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as they left, finding no relief. You swallowed as you thought about Steve. You didn’t want to, but Harry had found you, tormenting you by knocking on your house in the dead of night. This was exactly the reason Steve had given you his number. Swallowing down your stubbornness, and with a deep breath, you called him.

He didn’t sound like he was asleep, and for that you were grateful. You would’ve kicked yourself if you had woken him up. Finally getting out why you’d called him was an awkward affair, stumbling over your words, and you felt even worse as he agreed to come over. There was no hesitation, and you couldn’t help but feel as if you were taking advantage of Steve’s generosity.

You mumbled out your address, surprised to realize how relieved you were. You couldn’t remember the last time you had trusted a man this much. Harry had made you so paranoid, but you supposed that was what therapy was for. This was why you had all those sessions with Steve. To learn to heal and to trust again.

You opened the door with a small smile when he finally pulled into your yard. He was dressed comfortably, and you felt much better about your own ratty t-shirt and leggings, but his casual attire made him no less striking.

“Thank you,” you breathed as he stepped inside.

“I was up going over paperwork when you called. I’m glad you did,” he told you.

You leaned against the door as you closed it, rubbing your arms.

“I didn’t know if I should. It’s just… He was here, Steve. Knocking on my door and window like something out of a horror movie, and the police treated it like it was nothing,” you complained.

Steve tilted his head at you with a sad smile.

“First thing in the morning, I’m going to make some more calls. Since he’s in town, it should be easy to have him put away. At the very least, a restraining order.”

Relief and hope filled you as you brushed past him.

“I really can’t thank you enough for coming over. I promise I won’t keep you long, just until I feel I can be ok being alone,” you said over your shoulder.

He followed you into the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Eat? It’s the least I can do.”

“Some wine might be nice. You might want to pour yourself a glass too,” he suggested.

You chuckled, and he joined you, but you agreed with him nonetheless. You poured a glass for both of you, and you leaned against the counter with a sigh.

“I just don’t understand why he can’t leave me alone. Hasn’t he put me through enough?”

Steve hummed.

“From what you’ve told me, he strikes me as a narcissist. I’d bet that he doesn’t want you to move on,” he mused.

“Maybe,” you distractedly replied as you heard your phone ring. “I’ll be right back. Let me grab that super quick, it might be Nakia.”

Your phone was in your room, but by the time you reached it, it had stopped ringing. Sure enough, it was a missed call from your best friend, and you brought your phone with you to the kitchen, determined to call her back. Steve’s eyes were fond when you returned, and you shrugged.

“I need to call her back. I’ll only be a moment,” you said, swiping your glass.

“Take all the time you need.”

You made your way to the living room, taking your place on the couch as you called her back. She answered almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She greeted you with a soft exhale.

“Uh… Harry’s...dead.”

You froze at her words, pulling the glass away from your lips. You blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with what she’d said.

“...what?”

“I just found out. I honestly didn’t know how you’d take the news, but I thought you should know.”

She was right. You yourself didn’t even know how you felt about this news. You had loved this man at one point...but he was also your abuser. This was good news...right?

“How?” you finally asked her.

She sighed.

“Apparently, he’d been missing for months-.”

“Months?”

“Yeah,” she quietly replied. “They found and identified his body today. I just saw it on the news.”

Your stomach twisted as the truth, and the meaning behind it, sank in. Just because Harry had been missing for months, it didn’t mean that he’d been dead for months. It very well could have been him harassing you like you believed. But...if they’d found and identified his body today, then there was no way it was him at your house tonight.

“Thank you,” you eventually said. “Um… I’m glad you told me.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you honestly replied. “I’m just a little unsure of how I feel about all of this, but I’ll call you tomorrow when I’ve slept on it.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

You said your goodbyes and returned to the kitchen with an empty glass.

“Everything okay?” Steve questioned.

Your face must have been an open book.

“Harry’s dead,” you scoffed, blinking as you still fought to process this.

Steve didn’t respond, and just like one of your sessions, he seemed to be waiting for you to continue.

“Apparently he’d been missing for months and they just identified his body today. There’s no way it could have been him knocking on my door tonight, and now...now I’m even more scared than I was before,” you confessed. “God, I can’t even fully come to terms with my feelings on this because I’m realizing that Harry might not have been the only thing I should’ve been afraid of.”

“Hey,” Steve soothingly said, nearing you. “Are you sure it wasn’t someone who got lost? Maybe they had the wrong house?”

You thought about it before shaking your head.

“No, it definitely didn’t seem like that. Oh my God,” you cried, letting your head fall into your hands.

Steve pulled you into his arms, startling you, but you eventually relaxed, the wine settling into your system nicely.

“It’s going to be alright-.”

“What if it isn’t? Because I’m the idiot who thought that Harry was the only possible danger out there, I’ve attracted another without even realizing it.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “Maybe it was nothing, and maybe it was more. Either way, I’m only a phone call away. Say the word, and I’ll have an officer living in your yard if need be.”

You chuckled at that, and nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at him. “I-.”

You swallowed your words when his lips met yours, soft and demanding as they moved against your own. You were stunned, and it took you a moment to realize just what was happening before you pulled away. You stared at Steve with wide eyes, hesitantly reaching up to touch your lips as you took a step back.

“Steve…”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed.

Your lips parted, a soft gasp escaping you at both his words and the fire in his gaze. It was so sudden and great that it froze you.

“Steve, I think… I think you should go,” you whispered, almost in disbelief.

He frowned at you, tilting his head just a tad as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Go? Why would I do that when you’re not feeling well?”

You opened your mouth to repeat yourself, even demand to know what he meant, but a sudden wave of nausea hit you, head feeling fuzzy. Steve caught you just as you stumbled, and you frowned, fighting to get out of his arms.

“What…?”

“You seemed really tense. I thought you could use something to take the edge off…”

You stared at him in disbelief, attempting to blink away the stars in your vision. Your legs felt like they were made of Jell-O as Steve guided you towards the living room. He deposited you on the couch, and you could hardly do anything as he laid you down, sitting beside you. His blue eyes, normally so soft and comforting, were dark with a longing you had never seen before.

“You were like a wounded little lamb when you first came to me,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your lip. “So lost...broken… It’s because of me that you’re even halfway back together again.”

His hands moved to slowly undress you, taking his time, and your hands might as well had been air as you tried to stop him. You shuddered as the cool air in the house hit you, nipples pebbling, even more so when Steve brushed his fingers over them.

“I wanted to wrap you in my arms during that first session. Drag you back as you tried to leave, show you how a woman should be touched by a man.”

You were in a state of shock, disbelief coursing through you as you watched Steve undress. Even at his age, the man was a wall of muscle, thick bands making you swallow in fear as you hopelessly tried to tell yourself that this was a dream.

“Steve,” you whispered.

“I had to be patient. I didn’t want to scare you off, push you into the arms of another dangerous man. I had to help you heal before showing the kind of man I can be for you,” he told you, fingers on your face as he neared you again.

Your whole body felt weighed down, and you couldn’t stop your tears even if you wanted to. Your touch was light as you pressed your hands to his chest, feeling like you were going to be sick as he settled over you.

“Harry is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore, and I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

The irony was not lost on you, but the way he said that struck something in you, and your mind traveled to the unthinkable. You didn’t get the chance to think about it some more before Steve was forcing himself inside of you. A choking noise escaped you as he filled you to the hilt, your legs spread wide to accommodate his frame. Steve released a shuddering breath, breathing through his nose, body trembling as he delighted in the feel of you wrapped around him.

It was amazing that while all of your senses felt dulled, you could feel his pulsing member inside of you so well. He surrounded you, bulky frame caging you in, and you felt like you would pass out from suffocation. Steve sighed just before his lips met yours, and your stomach clenched as he moved within you. A broken moan slipped out against your will, and Steve groaned at the sound.

“I’ll show you pleasure that you’ve never known, touch you in ways you never felt. I know how to make you happy,” he purred, his pace languid as he thrust in and out of you.

You turned your head away, the furniture of your living room blurring together from whatever he’d slipped into your drink.

“I know your deepest desires and your deepest fears. I know you better than anyone else out there…”

You hated that in a way, Steve was right. You’d bared yourself to him under the guise of trust and healing. He really did know all there was to know about you, and you hated yourself for it. You hated him for hiding his intentions so well, for taking advantage of your vulnerability and trauma. He tutted as you started to squirm beneath him.

“After all I’ve done for you...in all the ways I’ve helped you, the least you could do is give yourself to me. I deserve to reap the benefits of my efforts-.”

You gasped beneath him, legs kicking around him, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“...I’ve gone out of my way to make sure you were safe, to protect you so that no more threats remained to you nor our relationship.”

“You’re crazy-.”

You cut yourself off with a yelp as he nipped at your neck, jerking in his hold as he continued to snap his hips into yours. His hands were gentle on you, a contrast to how he fucked you, his pace increasing with every passing minute. Despite the fact that you could hardly move, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you in place as the sound of your coupling filled the room, your core now wet and slick from his ministrations.

Steve seemed intoxicated, blissfully immersed in the feel of you and how you clung to him. His low groans and moans filled your ear, and you could do nothing as he covered your lips again, tongue tasting you, moaning at the taste of wine that still remained.

“My touch will never cause you harm, bringing you nothing but pleasure for the rest of our lives.”

tags: @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @hyoyeoniie @sherrybaby14 @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @sapphirescrolls @threeminutesoflife @searchforanotherway @mcudarklibrary @buckybarnesplumwhore @widowsmaximoff @nerdygirl8203 @supernaturalwintersoldier @charmed-asylum @harrysthiccthighss @patzammit

#dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader

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mimi-cee-hq · 3 years

Text

Laundry Days - Aran x f!reader

Summary: Three times you picked up his underwear and one time you missed doing it.

Genres, other tags: fluff, slice of life, humour, meet cute, domestic fluff, not suggestive lol, married under 25, neighbours to married lovers ;)

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: manga spoiler

This is for @neoheros & @coophi's 2021 Summer Haikyuu!! Writing contest. (Okay I'm pretty shy at first so it feels a little scary to tag you two but here's my piece.) I was going for the married under 25 prompt but ended up doing neighbours to lovers too. :D

Don't mind me spreading the underrated characters agenda as well. lol.

*****

A few articles of clothing spilled out of the dryer and onto your feet. Oops. Your neighbour must have forgotten them. You should've checked first.

Your own damp clothes sat inside the washing machine next to it, waiting for their turn to enter the dryer. It wasn't possible now.

You sighed, retrieving the phone from your pocket and scrolling until you saw the name of the neighbour who lived a floor below you.

Ojiro Aran.

You were sure this was the right person after a second look at your texting history. Who'd bring the garbage to the curb, where the lawnmower was kept, and keeping the duplex's stairway clear were some of the conversations you had with him.

You had yet to meet the guy, but he seemed amicable enough.

After shooting him a text, you thought to give him a call instead. Perhaps he'd think a phone call was strange. However, your clothes were damp and you shouldn't leave them for long. Was he even home?

You sighed. Crouched down, you returned the clothes on the floor back into the machine. A scarf, several socks, and a knit hat made their way back inside. But what was this?

Underwear. Men's underwear.

You scrunched your nose as you lifted it from the cold, tile floor. Was that a hole in it?

Click.

"Sorry I just saw your text!" a tall, dark-skinned man blurted out as soon as the door was unlocked.

"Oh! It's alright! I only texted you a few minutes ago!" you quickly explained, waving your hands in front of you.

You shouldn't have done that. The underwear was hanging from your hand.

"Ummm…" Aran scratched his cheek, eyes retreating from you.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!" you spat out, tossing the incriminating object to him. "It just fell out of the dryer when I opened it so I went to pick it up!"

Once in his hands, he recognized it as the one with the seam coming undone. "I… umm… should probably have thrown this one out."

"Umm… yeah… you probably should." Those words slipped off your tongue before you could catch them.

"I- I guess I'll go now," Aran said hastily.

He shut the door.

You let out a breath. That was awkward. Heat continued to linger in your body and you weren't sure who was more embarrassed by the encounter.

Wait. His clothes were still in the dryer. Did you dare ask him back?

The door slowly creaked open and Aran peeked his head into the room.

"I forgot something, didn't I?" Aran sheepishly asked.

"Yeah." The corners of your mouth lifted into a smile. "Yeah, you did."

"I'm Aran by the way."

"Y/n."

You never thought this would be how you'd meet your future husband.

*****

The office chair in your apartment was a comfortable spot for folding clothes. The webcam caught your face as you chatted with Aran whose image filled the monitor.

You smiled. Your husband was winding down after a long day with the team and decided to check up on you.

"I'm alright," you told Aran. "I miss you though."

"I literally just saw you yesterday!" he said. "I miss you too."

After that fateful yet awkward encounter with him in that laundry room two years ago, you had run into each other more frequently at the front doors of your duplex. Your classes ended at similar times four out of your five school days. You were surprised he even started a conversation with you. You wouldn't have been able to bear the embarrassment. Fast forward to a confession, a kiss and a rock-embedded ring, and you got a small, snowy wedding during winter break.

It was back to the books for you now, and you dreaded it. Chores seemed much better, easier. Plus doing them for your newly-wedded husband? You got giddy about that.

You quirked your brow, lifting a familiar piece of clothing from the basket.

"Hey, I thought you threw this one out," you mentioned to Aran, dangling his underwear in front of the camera.

"I did! That's, uh, probably a different one."

"Just how old are these?"

"Hey! Wait a moment! Are you folding clothes?"

You avoided the eyes on the screen. "Maybe."

"You have your paper due in a few days! I told you I was going to do it after flying back home."

"I know…"

Aran's eyes narrowed at you, a trademark expression of his. "You're procrastinating again, aren't you?" His tone implied disapproval.

"But I'm still being productive!"

"Y/n…"

"Okay, okay. I'll stop." Your foot pushed the basket away, sliding it across the floor. Maybe you could fold them after you hung up.

Aran must have read your mind. "Show me what the laundry bin looks like."

You groaned. He saw right through you. Complying, you removed the clipped webcam off the monitor and directed it at the pile of unfolded clothes.

"It better be like that when I get home."

"Alright," you said with a pout.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

Must he stop you from doing chores? They were a simple reminder you were married to him, as if the gold on your finger wasn't enough to show you.

You were his wife.

A smile snuck into your lips whenever that thought crossed your mind. The honeymoon phase was a peculiar, strange, lovely stage.

Yet it was fleeting.

*****

You groaned as you stood in the middle of the bathroom. Aran's white track pants hung off the counter, the red t-shirt he got for free from first year college laid on top, and of course his underwear, which likely went through hundreds of washes, remained on the floor.

Great.

You rubbed your temples, your headache getting worse by the minute. It was Saturday morning, and Aran, who was nowhere to be seen, had left his mess behind.

I'll clean it up later, he would tell you. You knew his mother had spoiled him, always picking up after him. You understood why he was like this, but why couldn't he just start doing it now?

"Do you have this problem?" you asked your friend through your wireless headset.

"What problem?" she asked.

"Does your husband always leave laundry around on the floor?" You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Aran never picks up after himself."

She laughed. You weren't sure if it was because you were a young, amateur wife or if she understood all too well.

Knowing her, probably a bit of both.

"Okay two things."

You listened.

"One, don't say always or never. That's lying."

"I'm not lying," you snapped back at her. You began to regret asking her.

"Are you sure he never picks it up and always leaves it on the floor?"

You left no comment.

"Exactly."

"Okay fine, but that still doesn't solve the problem. If only he just did it, it would solve everything–"

"Number two," she interrupted.

You groaned at her and she gave an amused snort in return.

"If you weren't picking up his underwear, it means he's dead."

You were aghast.

"You know I'm right."

Still aghast.

"What? No husband, no mess."

"I can't believe I asked you for advice."

"But it's true."

"Ugh," was all you could utter. She had several years more of marriage experience than you, yet you didn't want to acknowledge it.

You hung up the phone after you finished deciding today's outing with her, but you hadn't addressed the issue in front of you. Your head throbbed again.

Sighing, you picked up the underwear.

A few minutes later, the front door opened and you dipped your head into the hallway. Aran shuffled grocery bags through the door and into the kitchen. He yawned, placing the milk, eggs, and other items into the fridge.

A familiar coffee brand peeked out of a bag on the floor. Right. You didn't have your coffee yet because there wasn't any left.

You wrapped your arms around Aran and relaxed against his broad back.

"I can't put the food away like this," he said with a chuckle.

"You left your clothes in the bathroom again."

"Oh shoot!" He dropped a bag and started towards the bathroom but you tightened your grip on him.

"I put them away already," you told him. His body relaxed and he caressed your arm around his waist.

The honeymoon phase was a fleeting phase, novel tasks turned mundane, but your love for him grew deeper still.

*****

Aran was away again, this time at Tokyo in preparation for the Olympics. He eagerly called you during breaks, wishing to see his favourite person – although your hands were full as well.

"I miss you," he told you, his smile displayed on the screen.

"And I miss picking up your underwear," you told him with a smirk.

Like clockwork, he narrowed his eyes at you with a comeback. "Why don't you say you miss me like a normal person?"

"Because I'm your wife. I'm special," you told him as he rolled his eyes. "I wish I could be there though."

"You wouldn't be able to spend that much time with me anyway," he said. "Besides, one of us needs to stay home."

"I know." You smiled.

"I gotta go," he said as Atsumu yelled in the background. Aran blew a kiss at you.

You snorted. How cheesy. You returned the kiss anyway.

Hearing a mischievous squeal behind you, you told him, "I gotta go too."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

After you hung up, you turned around and sighed. A soggy wet diaper sagged on the floor and the little guy jumping in the crib giggled at you as if he did the funniest thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes and smiled before picking up the diaper.

"Alright kid. Let's put a diaper back on you and wash your sheets."

*****

I hope you liked it. This is a little different from what I usually write but I hope you still enjoyed it!

I blame Aran's current concern for giving me this idea along with the person who suggested I write Aran fluff. (As well as the seasoned wife I know who told her husband, "If I wasn't picking up your underwear, it means you're dead." lolll.)

I hope you stick around my blog to check out my other works! My current work in progress is a fake dating Suna series. I can't believe we're on chapter 10!

If anyone is interested, I have a Google form for my taglist.

#aran x reader #aran fluff #aran fanfic #ojiro aran x reader #ojiro aran #aran ojiro #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu fluff #C/R_HQ!CONTEST #hihqnetwork #animehorizons #angelwalker’s virtues #inarizaki #inarizaki x reader

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person.

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve.

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun.

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings.

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll.

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections.

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to.

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail.

but you weren’t as lucky today.

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin.

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you.

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing.

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too.

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale.

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you.

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn.

she reminds you of yourself.

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck.

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job.

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again.

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you.

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine.

you look over your shoulder.

no one’s there.

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way.

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding.

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night.

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea.

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government.

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted.

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes.

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin.

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight.

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force.

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud.

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green.

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak.

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer.

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them.

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?”

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape.

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent.

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries?

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life.

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake.

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls.

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault.

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house.

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day.

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless.

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate.

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can.

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside.

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again.

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice.

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there.

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with.

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan.

you almost collapse against the brick wall.

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose.

until you saw who it was.

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday.

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try.

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma.

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down.

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times.

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left.

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes.

three times you’ve cheated death.

but time is up and your luck has run out.

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch.

naeun is nowhere to be seen.

good.

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare.

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience.

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it.

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket.

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances.

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper.

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you.

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder.

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you.

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings.

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you.

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke.

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone.

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath.

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase.

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium).

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin.

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them.

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory.

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball.

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

taglist !!

@hoeartchoke @donghyukcore @stopknot @greenish-taro @zhongriot @lmaoskz @zephyr-abyss @anonymous-stuff @josuke8 @jaemotel @winwiniee @dundun-baby @nakamotocore @hcwurld @alaeddis @recs-for-later @jaehyunssslut

wanna be added to my taglist? click here!

‎

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #renhyuck scenarios #renhyuck imagines #haechan imagines #renjun imagines #yandere haechan #yandere renjun #purge au #purge au nct dream #tw bullying #tw violence #tw purge au

446 notes · View notes

naalbinder · 3 years

Text

phoebe bridgers // elliott smith parallels

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BEfu6YZ7XbdHFZBXthIpN?si=6bf8fc460eba4d33

E - Riot Coming - “Sat down in jail with this friend of mine/Who'd never close both his eyes/But one was shut all the time/To cover the thing he was scared of”

E - Stupidity Tries “To sail across the sea of trash”

E - Going nowhere - “The old records are sitting on the floor/The ones I can’t put on anymore”

E - Clementine - “Anything to pass the time/And keep that song out of your mind”

P - Smoke Signals - “One of your eyes is always half-shut/Something happened when you were a kid” - “burning trash out on the beach” - “You said that song'll creep you out until you're dead”

E - Miss Misery - (music videos on the same street)

E - Easy way out - “While I watch you making mistakes/I wish you luck I really do” “I heard you found another audience to bore”

E - Looking Over My Shoulder - “Another sick rock ‘n’ roller acting like a dick”

E - Placeholder - “I'm the person you'll never need/The biggest loser on sixteenth street” - “Just like my favourite song/Some pretty words that didn't last that long”

P - Motion Sickness - “I'll be glad that I made it out/And sorry that it all went down like it did” “You said when you met me, you were bored” - “Hey, why do you sing with an English accent?/I guess it's too late to change it now”

E - Some Song - “Help me kill my time cause I'll never be fine”

P - Funeral - “Jesus Christ i'm so blue all the time/And that's just how i feel/Always have and i always will ”

E - Bled White - “Happy and sad come in quick succession/I’m never going to become what you became”

P - Demi Moore - “I got a good feeling/It doesn't happen very often”

E - St Ides Heaven - “With an open container from 7/11”

E - A Fond Farewell - “A fond farewell to a friend”

P - Scott Street - “With an open heart, open container” - “Anyway, don’t be a stranger / don’t be a stranger”

E - Last Call - “And I think I’m all done, you can switch me off safely/While i’m lying here for sleep to overtake me”

E - Roman Candle - “I’m a roman candle/My head is full of flames ”

P - Killer - “But when I’m sick and tired/And when my mind is barely there/When a machine keeps me alive/And I’m losing all my hair/I hope you kiss my rotten head/And pull the plug” - “Tame the fire in you”

E - Georgia Georgia

P - Georgia - “Georgia, Georgia, I love your son”

E - Twilight - “That you are already somebody’s baby”

E - See you later - “Made out of a night train”

E - King’s Crossing - “Instruments shine on a silver tray”

P - Chelsea - “You are somebody’s baby” - “For a chemical imbalance/You sure know how to ride a train” - “With a needle on a tray”

E - Christian Brothers - “No bad dream fucker's gonna boss me around/Christian brothers gonna take him down”

P - Would you rather - “Quarantined in a bad dream/He's half the man and you're twice as tall”

E - Son of Sam - “Son of Sam, son of a doctors love a nurses touch/Acting under orders from above”

P - You Missed My Heart - “A feeling of relief came over my soul/I couldn't take it any longer, and I lost control”

E - Bye - (instrumental)

E - New Monkey (Instrumental)

P - DVD Menu - (instrumental)

E - Coming up roses - “And you're coming up roses everywhere you go/Red roses follow”

E - Rose Parade - “Said, Won't you follow me down to the Rose Parade?”

P - Garden Song “They're gluing roses on a flatbed/You should see it, I mean thousands”

E - Condor Ave - “I don’t know what to do with your clothes or your letters”

E - Baby Britain - “Fights problems with bigger problems/Sees the ocean fall and rise/Counts the waves that somehow didn’t hit her/Water pouring from her eyes/Alcoholic and very bitter”

E - Say Yes - “I'm in love with the world/Through the eyes of a girl/Who's still around the morning after”

E - Seen How Things Are Hard - “You just didn't care/You were off getting drunk instead”

E - The Biggest Lie - "Oh, I just told the biggest lie/ I just told the biggest lie/The biggest lie"

P - Kyoto - “And you wrote me a letter/But I don't have to read it” - “I wanted to see the world/Then I flew over the ocean/And I changed my mind” - “I wanted to see the world/Through your eyes until it happened/Then I changed my mind” - “I'm gonna kill you/If you don't beat me to it” - "Guess I lied/I'm a liar/Who lies/'Cause I'm a liar"

E - Memory Lane - “Your little house on memory lane ”

E - Angel in the Snow - “Angel in the snow/all crushed out on the way you are”

E - Last Call - “And I wanted her to tell me that she would never wake me”

E - New Monkey - “For the millions of fans ignoring the bands”

E - Waltz #2 - “I'm never gonna know you now/But I'm gonna love you anyhow”

E - Amity - “I'm a neon sign and I stay open all the time”

P - Punisher - “The house where you lived with Snow White” - “But never not sweet to the trust funds and punishers” - “What if I told you/I feel like I know you?/But we never met” - “The drugstores are open all night/The only real reason I moved to the east side”

E - Some Song - “Yeah it's halloween tonight and every night”

E - Pitseleh - “I got a joke I've been dying to tell you/A silent kid is looking down the barrel/To make the noise that I kept so quiet”

P - Halloween - “Baby, it's Halloween” - “I hate living by the hospital/The sirens go all night/I used to joke that if they woke you up/Somebody better be dying”

E - Shooting Star - “So bad, so far/You made me sad/Shooting star/You're distant and cold/And a sight to behold/Everybody just sighs”

E - Satellite - “When they call it a lover's moon, the satellite/'Cause it acts just like lovers do, the satellite/A burned-out world you know/Staying up all night/The satellite”

E - Everything Reminds Me of Her - “Why are you staring into outer space, crying?/Just because you came across it and lost it”

P - Chinese Satellite - “Took a tour to see the stars/But they weren't out tonight/So I wished hard on a Chinese satellite” - “Sometimes, when I can't sleep/It's just a matter of time before I'm hearing things” b- “Instead, I look at the sky and I feel nothing/You know I hate to be alone/I want to be wrong”

E - Coast to Coast - “Still you're keeping me around/'Til I finally drag us both down (Gonna drag us both down)”

E - Little one - “The moonlight tonight/Seems to belong to me” - “One more/Little one, I love you”

E - Coming up Roses - “The moon is a sickle cell/It'll kill you in time” “While the moon does its division/You're buried below”

E - Everything Means Nothing to Me - “At attention, looking backward in a pool of water/Wishes with a blue songbird on his shoulder/Who keeps singing over everything”

E - Pretty Mary K (Other Version) - “oh Mary K, I can see your face/down there in the waves, painted and erased/but I know it's just a reflection of the moon”

P - Moon song - (52) “You asked to walk me home/But I had to carry you” - (53) “And if I could give you the moon/I would give you the moon” - (54) “You are sick and you're married/And you might be dying” - (55/56) “And you pushed me in/And now my feet can't touch the bottom of you” “But you're holding me like water in your hands/When you saw the dead little bird”

E - New Disaster - “Everybody is the same in this long no-win game/Where every new blood/Gets time to become resigned” - “Until everyone knows that your smile is just a ghost/The ghost of your smile was seen on a body in the park”

P - Savior Complex - “Baby, you're a vampire/You want blood and I promised” - “All the bad dreams that you hide/Show me yours, I'll show you mine”

E - Oh well, Ok - “If you get a feeling next time you see me/Do me a favor and let me know/Cause it's hard to tell, it's hard to say 'oh well, Ok'”

E - Last Call - “You're a tongueless talker/You don't care what you say”

E - Angel in the Snow - “Only a cold still life/ that fell down here to lay beside you”

P - ICU - (58) “But I feel something when I see you now/I feel something when I see you” - (59) “I hate your mom/I hate it when she opens her mouth/It's amazing to me/How much you can say/When you don't know what you're talking about” - “laying down on the lawn” “if you’re a work of art/I’m standing too close/I can see the brush strokes”

E - Happiness / The Gondola Man - “What I used to be/Will pass away and then you'll see/That all I want now/Is happiness for you and me”

E - Whatever (Folk Song in C) - “Whatever you're doing now would probably suit me fine/If you're all done, like you said you'd be/What are you doing hanging out with me?”

E - Big Ballad of Nothing - “You can do what you want to whenever you want to/You can do what you want to there's no one to stop you”

P - Graceland too - “Said she knows she lived through it to get to this moment” - “Whatever she wants (Whatever you want)”

E - Bottle up and Explode “Bottle up and go/I can make it outside”

E - A Distorted Reality is Now a Necessity to be Free - “God knows why my country don't give a fuck” - “Shine on me baby, because it's raining in my heart”

E - Alphabet Town - “Alphabet City is haunted”

P - I Know The End - “There's no place like my room” - “To some America First rap country song” “Driving out into the sun/Let the ultraviolet cover me up”- “I'll find a new place to be from/A haunted house with a picket fence”

#phoebe bridgers #elliott smith #playlist

64 notes · View notes

swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Civil War (Chapter Six)

Summary: Bucky’s suspicious escape from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre and the fallout surrounding it makes (Y/N) reevaluate her opinion of the Accords.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Last week’s chapter was really angsty and it kinda took a toll on me so here’s a sort of short filler chapter with slightly less angst! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Six (Previous Chapter)

While she couldn’t claim to be a spy or secret agent, (Y/N) had picked up a thing or two from hanging around so many of them over the past couple of years; she knew that Bucky would eventually need an exit once he was finished tearing through everyone in the building, and it was a safe bet to assume that the skilled assassin would choose to fly himself out of there instead of travel on foot at the risk of being apprehended. She was quick to locate the building’s stairwell, hurrying up the steps as the emergency lights and alarms continued to blare; when she reached the top floor, she flung open the door and stepped out into the dark and deserted hallway.

“God, I hope this thing works…” Mumbling under her breath, (Y/N) fiddled with the dials of the walkie talkie until she could hear the indistinct chatter of voices, only letting out a sigh of relief when she finally heard the one she needed to speak to. “Agent Ross, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I need backup on the-”

“(Y/L/N), what the hell are you doing?!”

“Your job, it would seem! I’m on the top floor and have reason to believe that-!”

Just then, a metallic hand came out of nowhere and ripped the walkie talkie from her hands, crushing it to pieces before tossing it aside. (Y/N) acted on instinct, rolling underneath Bucky’s outstretched arm and pulling a stun disc out of her pocket; landing upright, she chucked the stun disc at his metallic arm and took advantage of the assassin’s distraction to sweep his legs out from underneath him with one of her own.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and you were a Sergeant in the U.S. Army during World War II!” She shouted, keenly aware that the distraction would only last a few more seconds. “You were Steve Rogers’ best friend and a Howling Commando!” Hastily backing out of the way, she watched with widened eyes as he ripped the electrified stun disc off his arm and leapt to his feet. “Bucky, I don’t believe that you bombed the U.N. but you need to stop and remember who you are!”

Bucky’s face was blank and devoid of any emotion, a far cry from the frightened man in the containment cell. He stalked towards her and while she had just enough time to duck the first punch he threw her way, she couldn’t dodge the second; the force of his fist’s impact on her jaw sent her flying back and crashing to the ground, her wrist screaming in protest as she tried and failed to break her fall. While he strode down the hallway to where she was sprawled on the floor, she hurriedly ripped all the stun discs out of her pocket and began throwing them as she crawled backwards. He avoided each and every stun disc she threw, but it bought her enough time to pick herself up off the ground and side-step his next attack; before she could land a kick or punch, though, his metal hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her easily into the air and slamming her hard against the wall.

(Y/N)’s hands came up to uselessly clutch at the metal fingers that were digging into her skin and her legs kicked out in desperation as she struggled for air; just as her vision was beginning to darken her eyes focused on the small tear in the sleeve of his shirt and the corner of a red star it barely revealed, and in desperation she cried out, “Sol…Soldat!”

The assassin froze, and (Y/N) watched as his hardened expression shifted into confusion. His metallic hand quickly loosened and she instantly crumpled to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, unable to move or even defend herself. Bucky’s heavy footsteps faded away and with a wheezing breath, she lifted her head in time to see Steve burst through the same stairwell door she’d come through moments before.

“(Y/N)!?” He hurried to her side and dropped down, his grease-smudged face filled with pure panic as he tugged her into his arms. “Oh God, you’re bleeding…!”

Steve’s free hand came up to touch her scratched jaw but she grabbed his wrist to halt his movement, ignoring how his brow furrowed in confusion as she whispered, “G-go, Steve…Bucky’s heading for…for the helipad…”

He firmly shook his head, blue eyes already set in determination. “No, baby, I’m not leaving you.”

“Bucky needs you!” (Y/N) insisted, suppressing her wince of pain as she stared up at him with a fiery resolve; sensing the conflict within the super-soldier, she released his wrist and gently rested her hand against his cheek with a sad smile. “Go.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Steve nodded and carefully eased her back onto the ground, giving her one final look before running down the hallway after the assassin; right before he turned the corner, she closed her eyes, unwilling to watch as the love of her life chased after the deadly assassin by himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second time in two days, (Y/N) quietly sat and allowed herself to be patched up by a kindly paramedic. Not only did she still have a ruptured eardrum, she also had a large laceration along her jaw that required five stitches, a sprained wrist that was secured in a sturdy brace and a smattering of darkening finger-shaped bruises around her neck. Others weren’t as lucky as you were, she reminded herself, sadness washing over her as she thought of all the critically injured and dead CIA agents who’d also encountered the dangerous Winter Soldier during his rampage.

Once the paramedics finished treating her wounds, she made her way back to the control room and was immediately met by a sympathetic Natasha. “Here, I got you some tea with honey; it’ll help your throat feel better.” The spy handed her a warm to-go cup before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her into the glass-walled conference room, where Tony was already seated and resting his bruised head in his hand. “Secretary Ross’s gonna be here in a few minutes, hot-shot, so please try to be on your best behavior no matter what he says to rile you up.”

(Y/N) merely nodded and took a sip of her tea, wincing in pain as she swallowed. The injuries to her throat didn’t stop her from speaking but her own conscious did; she was beginning to realize that no matter what she could say or do to convince them that Bucky was innocent, they’d never listen and even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it under the Sokovia Accords. So, she made the decision to bide her time and wait until the right moment to bring up her theory.

The three of them sat together in weary silence, the turmoil of the past two days seeming to catch up to them, until Secretary Ross barged into the conference room with his trademark sneer on his face. “You two wanna fill me in on what happened and why a civilian’s still sitting in the middle of a covert CIA control room?”

As if sensing (Y/N)’s simmering irritation, Natasha stood and moved to lean against the back of her chair, placing a calming hand on her shoulder as she replied, “Barnes escaped custody with the aid of the U.N. psychiatrist sent to evaluate him; they knocked out the power grid to the city and used it as a distraction, and (Y/N) here was already in the building for questioning. She’s one of the many who tried and failed to stop Barnes from leaving the building.”

“After taking (Y/L/N) out of commission, Barnes tried leaving in a chopper but ended up crashing it on the helipad; he, Rogers and Wilson are all missing in action.” Tony glanced over at (Y/N) before returning his gaze to the Secretary of State. “That’s all we’ve got.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea where they are?”

“We will, GSG-9’s got the borders covered, and Recon’s flying 24/7. They’ll get a hit; we’ll handle it.”

Secretary Ross scoffed at the billionaire. “You don’t get it, Stark, it’s not yours to handle. It’s clear you can’t be objective, so I’m putting Special Ops on this.”

The spy’s hand on her shoulder flexed. “What happens when the shooting starts? What, do you kill Steve Rogers?”

“If we’re provoked,” (Y/N)’s eyes widened in horror and in her shock, she almost missed what Ross said next. “Barnes would’ve been eliminated in Romania if it wasn’t for Rogers; there are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my math.”

Tony’s eyes flicked over to meet theirs, an uncomfortable look filling his gaze as he turned back to Ross. “All due respect, you’re not going to solve this with boys and bullets, Ross. You gotta let us bring them in.”

“How would that end any differently from the last time?” The Secretary of State demanded.

The billionaire’s expression hardened at Ross’ silent implications. “Because this time, I won’t be wearing loafers and a silk shirt. Seventy-two hours, guaranteed.”

“Thirty-six hours,” Ross corrected, giving them all a pointed look before turning and walking out of the conference room, calling out over his shoulder, “Barnes…Rogers…Wilson…”

“Thank you, sir!” The glass door closed and Tony slumped in his seat with an exhausted sigh as he clutched his left arm. “My left arm is numb, is that normal?”

Moving around the table, Natasha patted the billionaire on his shoulder. “You all right?”

The two Avengers continued to talk in low tones but (Y/N) couldn’t focus on what they were saying; all she could think of were Secretary Ross’ cold-blooded words and the way he’d said them without so much as a hint of remorse. What horrified her more, though, was the fact that Tony and Natasha didn’t appear to be bothered by the threat against the lives of their former teammates. This is all wrong, she thought as her vision began to blur with unshed tears, her heart sinking into her stomach while she realized that Steve’s worst fears about the Accords were materializing right before her very eyes; blinking away her tears, she looked down at her now-bare ring finger and the longer she stared, the more her anger with the two Avengers grew.

“…head downstairs to talk to T’Challa. I’ll bring (Y/N) with me, since he seems to tolerate her more than the rest of us.”

“Before you do, though, she’s gonna need to sign the Accords; I don’t want Ross looking for any excuses to arrest her so we need to do this by the books.” She looked back up as Tony and Natasha turned to her, the billionaire’s brow raised in expectation while he continued. “That okay with you, Austen?”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment and when she finally spoke, it was with a forced calmness and a clenched jaw. “Did I ever tell you two what my new novel Bring A Folding Chair is about? It chronicles the rise and fall of second-wave feminism in America as told through the eyes of a young investigative journalist.” Getting up from her seat, she crossed her arms over her chest and began pacing. “I focus on the successes of the movement while also highlighting its failures and shortcomings, because even the most well-intended things can inadvertently end up hurting others.” (Y/N) shook her head in agitation and glanced over at the two confused Avengers. “When it came to the Accords, I knew from the moment Secretary Ross told us about them that they were wrong, but I turned a willful blind eye to the truth because I was selfish and only cared about saving my relationship with Steve. But now…now my eyes are wide open.”

“(Y/N), take it easy-”

“Do not tell me to take it easy when you just sat there and listened to Ross practically order a hit on three people – two of which are your friends – who haven’t been legally convicted of any wrongdoing!” She yelled as her sore throat ached in protest but she ignored it, all the frustration and pain that had been building up inside of her finally boiling over. “Steve was right when he said I was too idealistic; I thought the world was made up of enough good people who would keep the Accords from becoming too authoritative but unfortunately, it’s made up of cowards like us who are only looking out for our own self-interests.” Her gaze shifted from Tony’s stunned expression to Natasha, whose face remained neutral but whose eyes conveyed the pain her words had caused; she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded before continuing. “Well, I don’t know about you two but I can’t do it anymore.”

Without another word, (Y/N) stormed out into the control room and down one of the hallways to Agent Ross’ office, her uninjured hand curled into a fist at her side as she walked; the door of the agent’s office was open and he was in deep conversation with Sharon Carter, who was tapping away on a tablet while they talked. They both looked over at her as she entered the office, and Agent Ross’ brow furrowed in concern while he took in her injuries and stony expression. “Miss (Y/L/N). Agent 13 told me that you got roughed up pretty badly earlier; are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Agent Ross. Am I free to go?” The agent raised his brow, looking more amused that surprised by her demanding question, and she gritted her teeth before continuing. “In the past forty-eight hours I’ve attended a friend’s funeral, was nearly blown up in a suspected terrorist attack, was unjustly interrogated for several continuous hours, broke off my engagement to the love of my life and was nearly killed again by a brainwashed assassin. I’m filthy, I’m injured, I’m exhausted, and I’m just one more incident away from completely losing my shit so can I please leave now?”

Sharon cast her a fleeting glance and took a step forward. “Sir, she’s already given multiple statements to our agents and…well, to be frank, the Joint Terrorism Task Force is already facing scrutiny for not stopping Barnes’ escape. The criticism will only intensify when the news outlets catch wind that we’re holding an injured, world-famous author without probable cause.” Agent Ross considered her words, and Sharon shot her a warning glance before continuing. “I’ll drive her to a nearby hotel and keep an eye on her in case Rogers tries getting into contact; based on the events of the last few hours, though, I’m not so sure that he will.”

“All right,” He finally answered, his expression softening a little as he looked back at her. “But for the time being, Miss (Y/L/N), consider yourself on the no-fly list.”

Nodding in thanks, (Y/N) glanced back at Sharon and the agent gave her a brief smile. “I’ve got a few things to wrap up here so I’ll meet you down in the parking garage in ten.” She reached into her pockets and withdrew her car keys, pressing them into her open palm with another fleeting smile. “My car’s the grey Audi parked by the stairwell.”

(Y/N) walked out of the office and down the hallway but since the mechanics were still working on fixing the elevators after the power-outage, she was forced to take the stairs all the way down to the underground parking garage. She quickly located the agent’s car and unlocked it, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling her seat-belt; now that she was finally alone, she couldn’t stop herself as she lowered her head into her hands and cried, allowing all the pent-up emotions inside of her to finally be set free. In that moment, all she wanted to do was go back to when everything was normal, back before Lagos and her constant fighting with Steve and the goddamn Accords; it wasn’t perfect, of course, but it was a hundred times better than what they were all currently going through. “I’m so sorry, Steve…”

As her sobs finally began to subside, the stairwell door opened and Sharon walked through the doorway; she took a steadying breath and wiped the last of her tears away just as the agent opened the driver-side door and got it. Sharon reached over and opened the glove-box to reveal a package of tissues, flashing her a brief and sympathetic smile as she pulled one out and blew her nose. “I tend to start feeling better after I’ve had a good cry. How ‘bout you?”

“Not really, I still feel like shit except now my eyes itch and my nose is running,” (Y/N) half-heartedly quipped, dabbing at the corners of her eyes and sighing. “So, you know any good hotels around here?”

“The Kurhotel Strӧszek’s nice and it’s not too far from here, so that’ll make Agent Ross happy. On our way, we’ll stop at a pharmacy and pick you up some first aid sup-” The ringing of Sharon’s cell phone interrupted her words and she was quick to answer it. “Agent 13 here…Steve?” (Y/N) instantly perked up and with a brief gesture for her to stay quiet, the agent switched to speakerphone. “Okay, I’m alone. What’s up?”

“We’ve figured out what’s going on,” Steve’s voice answered through the phone’s speaker and (Y/N) bit her lip to keep from making a sound at the comforting timbre. “The doctor framed Bucky for the U.N. bombing in order to find out where Hydra kept him. They created five other Winter Soldiers back in the 90’s and had them cryogenically frozen; he’s planning on waking them, says he’s doing it to see an empire fall.”

“So, you three need your gear before you can go after him.”

The super-soldier sighed. “I know that it’s a lot to ask, Sharon-”

“You’re trying to stop a squad of murderous super-soldiers from taking over the world, Rogers; if this is how I can help stop that from happening, then I’m in. I’ll send you a message when I’ve got the gear and we’ll arrange a meeting.”

“Thank you, Sharon, I owe you one. How…how’s (Y/N) doing?”

“She’s okay; lacerated jaw, sprained wrist and a whole lot of bruising, but she’s fine.” Steve breathed a deep sigh of relief that made (Y/N)’s heart warm and the agent gave her a sideways glance before continuing. “You should know that she’s refused to sign the Accords. I’ve been assigned to escort her to a hotel, where she’ll stay until she’s taken off the CIA’s no-fly list and can go back home…”

There was silence over the line and just as she began wondering if they’d somehow been disconnected, Steve quietly spoke, “I’ve already asked you for one favor but can I bother you for another?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“If I write a letter, can you make sure that it gets to (Y/N)? There’s a lot that I need to tell her and since I don’t know what’ll happen where we’re going…well, she deserves answers one way or another.”

Sharon’s eyes flicked between (Y/N)’s saddened expression and the cell phone in her hand as she nodded. “Of course, I’ll pick it up when I hand over your gear. Talk to you later, Rogers.”

Hanging up, the agent tucked the phone into her pocket and quickly started the engine, buckling up and driving at a steady speed through the parking garage and out onto the street; (Y/N) fiddled with the hem of her wrinkled shirt for a thought-filled moment before stating, “You’ve already got a plan.”

“Let’s just say that I’ve been prepared to follow through on a favor like this one for a while now,” Sharon spared her a sideways glance and focused back on the road. “But I won’t say anything else about it on the off-chance the CIA decides to question you somewhere down the line; the last thing I want is for you to be charged with aiding and abetting in the theft of government property.”

(Y/N) glanced down at her bare ring finger and thought back on Steve’s words during his phone call; she was desperate to find out what was in the letter but at the same time, she knew in her heart that she needed to hear whatever it was directly from him. The thought reminded her of their conversation about the problems within their relationship in the London hotel’s bar, the last truly calm moment they’d shared before everything went sideways…

“Whatever it is, we can work through it together. We make a damn good team, after all.”

“Of course we do, sunshine.”

There’s something I have to do before Steve and the others go after those super-soldiers, (Y/N) thought to herself, her shoulders squared in determination as she turned to glance at Sharon beside her and pondered the best way to ask the spy for a third and final favor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Russian Translation: Soldat-Soldier

A/N: Next chapter will have even less angst so yay! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4TsJ2TY1F2HDXhEYOfzCjY?si=b1abdaeccc4c4d21

Chapter Seven

Civil War Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk @momc95 @savedbystyle @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @khuang3 @supersouthy @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @becausewelie @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley @username23345 @crist1216 @aesthethickks

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Field Medicine - on ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Jiang Cheng didn’t really like change.

He thought it was a rather justified opinion, as things went – he’d gone through far too much change in his life, staring from the moment Wei Wuxian appeared in his life through to studying at the Cloud Recesses, the indoctrination camp, the loss of his parents and sect, the Sunshot Campaign, and now, even after it was all supposed to be over, Wei Wuxian’s recent change in behavior and personality…

Subconsciously, Jiang Cheng clung to the few things that seemed to remain the same.

Jiang Yanli, for one. No matter what she’d been through, what they’d all been through, she was still his jiejie, warm and wonderful and caring, a refuge from all troubles, and it was so easy to forget how much had changed for her, too. Her engagement to Jin Zixuan had been broken years ago, ages ago, before everything happened and the world irrevocably changed, and yet somehow whenever he had imagined her married, imagined her wedding day, he had always seen her surrounded by the gold of Lanling Jin.

Maybe that was why he was quite so shocked when it was Lan Xichen – First Jade of Lan, Sect Leader Lan, Zewu-jun, the second of the Venerated Triad – who came to him with Jiang Yanli’s arm tucked in his and asked if it would be possible to arrange a date for their marriage.

“To…each other?” he asked, a little stupidly, and then realized how much of an ass he was making of himself. “Uh, of course! I – uh – that is – when did you even meet?”

Jiang Yanli hid a laugh in her sleeve. Lan Xichen was more polite, but there was amusement in his eyes as he recounted the story of how Jiang Yanli had been assisting with medical care during the Sunshot Campaign, how he had been injured on one of his missions, how she had helped him, how they had taken to each other, how he had asked and she had agreed –

When he finished explaining, he lifted up her hand and pressed his lips to it, and for the first time in Jiang Cheng’s life he saw his sister blush and stutter like a girl in love, delight written in every line of her.

His heart gave a pang, and then melted.

She deserved it. She deserved it more than anyone.

“We decided to wait until after the war had ended to tell you,” Jiang Yanli told him, and Jiang Cheng understood. “But it has, now, and so…”

“It’s what you want?” he asked her, just to be sure. “I’d always thought, you know…but this, this makes you happy?”

“It does,” his sister said, and there was no doubt in her tone.

“In that case, of course we’ll set the date,” Jiang Cheng said, and reached out to grasp Lan Xichen’s hands – his new brother-in-law’s hands. “You’d better take good care of her, you hear me? Or else we’ll skin you.”

Wei Wuxian would have thought of a better threat, he thought. Wei Wuxian ought to be here for this, for something of this magnitude, but he hadn’t shown his face here today, even though he’d promised he’d be there, just as he promised, just as he’d failed to appear for days –

He was probably still healing from the final battle, Jiang Cheng forcefully reminded himself, even though actually Wei Wuxian had been fairly obviously up and about for a while. He certainly seemed to find enough energy to go to the wine shops to guzzle down liquor even if he didn’t find time to help out with anything else.

Still. Jiang Cheng wasn’t the one who’d used demonic cultivation to save the day; he shouldn’t judge.

“When would you like to announce the engagement?” he asked, and then frowned, abruptly remembering some gossip that had drifted past his ears. “There’s a celebration in the Nightless City tonight, but I heard…”

He hesitated.

“What?” Jiang Yanli asked, her brow furrowing. “What’s wrong, A-Cheng?”

“I’ve probably heard wrong,” he said, even though he didn’t think he had. “And anyway it’s just rumors, rumors I discounted at once, because I don’t think Sect Leader Jin would – I mean, certainly not without telling us in advance – well -”

“What did you hear?” Lan Xichen asked. There was no judgement in his voice at Jiang Cheng’s stuttering, merely quiet, steady concern.

He’d be a good brother-in-law.

“I heard,” Jiang Cheng said reluctantly, “that he…that he was thinking of proposing that we reestablish the old engagement. Jiejie and Jin Zixuan.”

He’d heard that Sect Leader Jin planned to surprise them with the proposal in the middle of dinner. Anyone else and he would have dismissed the entire thing out of hand for sheer shamelessness, but with Sect Leader Jin he really couldn’t say for sure.

“I would say no, of course,” JIang Yanli said, and the quickness and surety of her answer relieved him.

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, flashing a brief smile at them both. “But I don’t know if we have time to announce it to everyone before the celebration, and if we let the Jin sect ask and then reject them, they might…”

“It would not be outside the realm of possibility for Sect Leader Jin to take offense for a perceived slight, such as the notion, however mistaken, that we have played him for a fool,” Lan Xichen said, frowning thoughtfully. “And being as his sect is helping to fund both of our sect’s reconstructions, that could be troublesome…I have an idea, actually, if you don’t mind being the subject of a little gossip.”

“Gossip? For a good purpose?” Jiang Cheng said, his voice dry without even meaning to be. “That’d be a nice change.”

“In that case, I’ll leave the two of you now to go set it up. Leave it in my hands,” Lan Xichen said with a smile, releasing Jiang Yanli’s hand and bowing far deeper than he had to – Jiang Cheng made an immediate sound of protest and tried to catch him, but he carried on – and then he left, striding away purposefully.

“You’re going to get married,” Jiang Cheng said to his older sister, abruptly excited, and pulled her close. “Oh, jiejie…!”

“I’m happy,” she said, and she looked it – she looked radiant. “I’m so happy, A-Cheng!”

“You deserve every happiness in the world,” Jiang Cheng said. “Wei Wuxian and I will plan you the best wedding, jiejie, you’ll see – oh, where is he? He should be here by now! He’ll miss the celebration tonight!”

As always, he wanted to say. Just like he’s missed everything else to do with the reconstruction, with training the new disciples, with – wasn’t he supposed to help me? Didn’t he promise me to be by my side? Was all of it a lie, did he actually want my position the way mother always thought, or did he just at some point stop caring –

“He knows it’s happening,” she assured him. There was no doubt in her voice. “He’ll be there.”

“But then we won’t be able to tell him in advance…!”

“I’ll tell him it’s my fault for waiting so late to tell you, and of course it’s all Sect Leader Jin’s fault for not telling any of us what he was planning,” Jiang Yanli said. “Don’t worry, A-Cheng.”

Wei Wuxian showed up right before the banquet – without his sword, again – and Jiang Cheng wanted to tell him, but couldn’t. They were surrounded by so many people, and if people found out that Wei Wuxian hadn’t known in advance, it might suggest to them that he was distancing himself from the Jiang sect…

Which wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

“Don’t act surprised,” Jiang Cheng murmured to Wei Wuxian as they walked in to be greeted by Jin Guangyao. “I’ll explain later.”

Wei Wuxian shot him a curious expression, but then they were talking with Jin Guangyao and all the sects were starting to congregate. Jin Guangshan was walking up to the main seat with an avid expression; he was likely going to start the celebration with a speech soon. There wasn’t time to say more.

What was Lan Xichen planning?

Just as Jiang Cheng thought that, Nie Mingjue, looking through the crowd from his excessive height, caught sight of Lan Xichen and strode over to his sworn brother – the entire room parted to let him pass, as usual, he was a hard man to miss – and then he said, in a voice that appeared almost unintentionally loud, “Xichen! What’s this I hear about you finally proposing? I insist you let me help plan the wedding!”

The entire room stopped paying the slightest bit of attention to anything else.

“Da-ge, please,” Lan Xichen said, although he was clearly smiling. Jiang Cheng couldn’t tell at this distance, but he would bet money that his eyes were curved up in suppressed laughter.

Nor could he blame him. Using Nie Mingjue’s horn-blast of a voice to “unintentionally” spread the information was a brilliant move – everyone knew Nie Mingjue was often over-loud, especially when he was being enthusiastic, and what was more natural than a pair of sworn brothers discussing the subject of an upcoming marriage? This way, there would not need to be any public announcement until the formal one, and Jin Guangshan could change his plans without losing face.

“It’s really not necessary,” Lan Xichen continued, pretending to be oblivious to the crowd of onlookers. If Jiang Cheng hadn’t known that he knew, he would have thought he actually was. “We’re only in the most preliminary discussions – we haven’t even set the date. We’re not even ready to announce it!”

Which is why they were going through all of this.

“Nonsense,” Nie Mingjue said. “Spare me your superstitions, Xichen. Not only would no woman in their right mind reject you, there can be no doubt that you and Mistress Jiang will be a wonderful pair, and I have every intention of drinking to your health this very night. Surely you can find someone who can calculate an auspicious date among all the sects gathered here?”

The rest of the room broke out in whispers the second Jiang Yanli was referenced, people starting to turn to stare at Jiang Cheng – Jiang Yanli, out on the balcony with the majority of the female cultivators, was temporarily spared – and at that point, Jin Guangyao materialized by his two sworn brothers’ sides, his smile a little strained (although nowhere near the abrupt scowl appearing on Jin Guangshan’s face), and their conversation dropped down to a more reasonable volume.

Jin Zixuan had something of a constipated expression on his face, too, but Jiang Cheng didn’t give one tiny bit of a damn about that – he’d had his chance. If he learned now, too late, to regret what he had lost, then that was on him. Let him go mourn in private, and leave the rest of them alone.

Jiang Cheng gave the room a mysterious smile, more a smirk really, and stepped on Wei Wuxian’s foot when his shixiong looked like he was going to say something. “You really need to start showing up on time,” he murmured, his voice low. “They agreed on it ages ago, apparently, but only told me today.”

Wei Wuxian nodded dumbly.

They might have managed to actually shock him silent, Jiang Cheng reflected, amused despite himself, and he glanced over at the Venerated Triad again – smiles on all faces, even if he did think Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue looked a bit more natural with it than poor Jin Guangyao – with the thought that they ought to be venerated for this little stunt as well as all their other strengths, and that’s when he suddenly had a moment of absolute brilliance.

“Wei Wuxian, you’re not doing anything right now, right? How about you go to Gusu as jiejie’s representative to negotiate some of the details that need to be covered with the Lan sect?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Dowries and such, that sort of thing. They’ll send someone to us, but under the circumstances we don’t want to put them to too much trouble in terms of travel right now. As sect leader, I really shouldn’t be leaving the Lotus Pier right now, but it’s not the same for you.”

Wei Wuxian was clearly unhappy with the Jiang sect recently, though Jiang Cheng did not know why; the only reasonable assumption was that the problem was with him, maybe, or may be with Wei Wuxian himself. Moreover, he knew Lan Wangji had been on Wei Wuxian’s case about the demonic cultivation, asking him time and time again to go with him to the Cloud Recesses, as if he thought there was something there that could help him…

If setting up this marriage could help convince Wei Wuxian to stop everything he was doing and take up regular cultivation once more, walk him back from the strange road he’d chosen and back to Jiang Cheng’s side, that would be – fantastic.

That was the only thing left. It would make it all perfect.

Before Wei Wuxian could demur, Jiang Cheng added, “Jiejie deserves only the best.”

Wei Wuxian folded at once, as he’d hoped.

Perfect, he thought, pleased with everything. Finally, everything, from now on, can be perfect.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan xichen #jiang yanli #wei wuxian #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #field medicine

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bruhlsbees · 3 years

Text

jackpot || dark!daniel x fem!reader

summary: after saving your life from a client, daniel takes you back to his trailer to treat your wounds

pairing: dark!daniel x fem!reader

word count: 5,417

warnings: violence (reader gets beat up and daniel beats up someone), gang violence (daniel sells guns and shit), s*x work (reader is a s*x worker), fluff smut (reader and daniel), 18+, minors dni, nsfw

a/n: hey everyone!! here's a short little thing i wrote up! as i said before, i'll be moving into my first apartment on may 20 so writings will be a bit scarce! if you're looking for chapter two of garden of eden, i'm hoping to have that up before i leave tomorrow morning!! :)

It was ironic for many who lived under The Highway - stuck in the same place while those above came and went so freely...that was the thing though, those above were free. Nobody came to The Highway willingly - and if they did, they were fucking morons. You either were born into the business or you somehow lost a bet and were working your losses back to be able to leave.

Even though it sounded bad, it wasn’t entirely bad. For many, The Highway became their home and those who worked there became family. Business could be bad at times - angry customers coming back heated and threatening to put workers in the ground, the occasional sweep from the cops, the winters when the wind iced your skin away - but you couldn’t expect perfection.

The Highway was the best some could get. The younger teenagers and kids painted murals on the walls and pillars to brighten the place up, those who sold the cars often times would save some speakers for there to be music played during the day and evening, and the older ladies who cooked would always make sure everyone went to bed with a full belly of food.

So, in a way, The Highway wasn’t any different from life above.

Security for The Highway sometimes fell through. There was no ‘leader’ of The Highway, but for Daniel, the people seemed to agree that he was fit for the role. So Daniel made sure that everything ran smoothly down under The Highway. He had men stationed on either side and some on top near the hills that would lead down to where they camped. It had been a bitch and a half to put together, but after three years, things finally were looking up.

He had just finished dealing with a client who failed to make payments. Daniel never liked dealing with people who couldn’t make payments on time, because it often meant ‘teaching them a lesson’ or ‘giving them a friendly reminder’...that lesson or reminder often meant Daniel returning to The Highway with bloody knuckles and a cut lip - because someone always tried to fight back.

This time was no different. He was pissed beyond pissed to be out almost two grand and the guy who owed money’s wife came out of nowhere with a knife and sliced him good across the cheek.

As he walked up to the washbasin that was at the end of the row of tents that belonged to some of the girls who worked at night, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he grabbed a rag that was hanging up on the clothesline, dipping it in the water before pressing the cool rag to his cheek, hissing in pain.

Daniel must have been muttering something under his breath because the girls that were around the fire out in front of their tents turned and smirked, whistling at him while he cleaned himself up.

“Ooh, someone got it good today.” One of the girls teased, giggling with the others. Shaking his head, Daniel smiled and walked around the basin, over to the girls before hovering over them.

“Dumb bitch got me good...came out of nowhere. I’m lucky I didn’t lose a fucking eye.” The girls were good at making men feel good, that’s what their job was after all, but he knew that the teasing and praises that were directed towards him weren’t fake, perhaps the most sincere the girls would ever act towards anyone.

“I would have been sad to see your pretty eye not there when you came back, Danny.” Another girl confessed, pouting as she looked up at him. He smiled and reached down, pinching her cheek before standing back up.

“Don’t worry about me doll, ain’t nobody taking my eyes.”

As he looked around the fire at the usual crowd, he noticed that you weren’t there in your usual spot. Frowning, he glanced around the camp to see if maybe you were somewhere else, his own thoughts drowning out the sound of the girls continuing to tease him.

“She’s off with a client. Been gone for a bit now. Looks like she had a bag, not sure what that all means, but I don’t think she will be coming back tonight.”

Turning around, Daniel looked at one of the older ladies who was seated in an old rocking chair near the washbasin, filling out a half-used crossword puzzle book, her glasses slipped down to the tip of her nose. Looking up, she took off her glasses and held them in her lap, continuing to rock slow in the chair while Daniel approached her.

“You said she had a bag? Who’d she go with? Is he a regular?” Daniel tried his best to not sound too worried, but it was you. He knew it was stupid to fall in love with one of the girls at camp, given how he had his own role in camp and you had your’s - but out of everyone in the camp, as cliche as it was, you were different. There was a twinkle about you that just brought life wherever you went. He’d be lying to himself if he said that you weren’t the reason he still stayed under The Highway.

So when the old lady shook her head, shrugging her shoulders, Daniel could only feel his worst fears coming true. “Like I said, hun, she had a bag and she’s been gone for a while now. I didn’t recognize him, but he was driving a green mustang. Ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. That much I could tell you.”

And that would be enough. Leaning down, Daniel kissed her cheek and smiled, “Thank you.” He turned around to head to his trailer to get some things before being stopped by the sound of the old lady.

“You’re probably the only one who can get through to her...you kids got a lot more to your lives that rottin’ away down here. You find her and you two run...run away from all this and don’t look back,” Her words were always honest and always made you think hard on your own choices. She was like the eyes of The Highway, always knowing what was going on and when it happened and with who. If she told you to do something out of the better interest for you, you’d best believe that it was the choice you needed to make.

“And for God’s sake, son, just tell her how you feel. Quit moping around like a beaten puppy everytime she goes off with someone.”

All Daniel could do was smile, even with his cheeks pink from being called out about his own feelings for you, he couldn’t be mad. Turning back towards his path, he quickly made strides to his trailer that was down the trail a ways near the creek.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You knew something was off the moment you got in his car. It was like a switch - the charming and sweet man who approached you at the camp suddenly was gone, in his place was something darker, more sinister. He had sped so quickly out of camp that you swore your stomach went to your throat. You clutched the strap of your duffle bag tightly, looking out the window with tears in your eyes as the creek’s current headed in the opposite way. The opposite way from where he was taking you - away from The Highway, away from your home, away from Daniel.

You closed your eyes tightly, letting the tears drip down your cheeks, your teeth clamped on your tongue to stifle your cries. You knew they didn’t like it when you cried, it only made you less pretty...made them feel uncomfortable because now they saw that you had more feelings than just flirty.

He must have heard you sniffle, or realized by your body language that something was off with you. He didn’t care though, he just rolled his eyes and scoffed, “You gonna make me pay you more to deal with your whiny ass? Come on, why don’t you give me a pretty smile, yeah? Like the one you gave me earlier? God, you girls are so pathetic aren’t you? Not a single thought runs through that head, does it?”

He hit the breaks suddenly, sending you forward until you stopped yourself with your hand pressed against the dashboard. Your chest heaved, panic settling in as he turned, wrapping one arm around you with his other hand still clenched around the wheel. “You ain’t gonna make this no fun for me tonight are ya? You’ve seen the way your friends come back if they don’t do what we pay you to do. Do you want that to happen to you?”

Shaking your head, you mumbled out a ‘no’, watching as his hand went from the steering wheel and to your face, carefully wiping away your tears. “No, you’re right. You don’t. So come on, put on a little smile and let’s have some fun, yeah?”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

They never went far with clients. That was always the rule. They could go as far as when the creek splits, but nothing past that. Too many have they lost from guys taking advantage of them and driving off with them, only to find them days - sometimes weeks - later face down off in the woods. It was a sight that would never leave Daniel, and now it seemed the only face he saw on those bodies were of you.

With his gun in his left hand and a flashlight in the other, Daniel stormed throughout the woods, marching through the thicket to find the stupid green mustang that you’d be in. He already went down the trail and didn’t find the car near the creek, so if he couldn’t find it in the woods, well...he could only hope he did.

It was pitch black out by now, the moon was high up in the sky that gave enough light when not covered by the trees. Daniel had dealt with these types of guys plenty of times - the assholes who think that just because he paid for a service, meant he could do whatever he wanted. No, no that’s not how it worked.

By the time he reached the edge of the treeline, spotting the twinkling waves from the water, he felt his heart sink. This was it. He had searched the bare trail and in the woods and still you weren’t anywhere to be found. He’d lost you, he had let you down. Feeling the tears prick at his eyes, Daniel blinked them away, nostrils flared as he became angry now, pacing in his spot, gun clenched tight in his hand as his heart began to race.

“Fuck!”

He knew that he wasn’t thinking at this point, his boot stomping into the ground until he grew tired, the rage consuming him. Daniel didn’t want to give up, he couldn’t, but where else would he have gone? He didn’t have a damn clue. But then, by some stroke of God, he saw it - the fucking car.

Across the creek hidden in the bushes was the green mustang. From his spot on the other side he couldn’t see you in the car, but he knew you couldn’t have been far. Without giving it another thought, he took off down the path, cutting across the slanted hill that split the creek in two and crept towards the other side of the creek, landing in the tall grass before making his way closer to the car.

When he reached the edge of the tall grass, he knelt and looked into the car, eyes squinting to try and get a better look, but still, he couldn’t see you in there. Standing up, Daniel carefully made his way to the car, popping his head up to look through the window in the backseat. While he didn’t want to see someone balls deep inside of you, right now he almost wishes he did - at least then he’d know you were okay.

Rounding the back of the car, looking around to see if maybe you were outside, his steps came to a stop when he finally saw you, in a small clearing in the thick of the bushes, on your back with your hands above your face. Your shirt looked as though it had been torn off, in two pieces surrounding you.

“Please! Please, don’t! Stop! Stop, I promise I’ll-”

Daniel couldn’t watch when you got a kick to the side, flinching away at the sound of your cries as the client above you, shirt off, continued to humiliate you. “Shut up! You hear me! Shut up! God, I can’t stand it when you cry!”

Your hands dropped to your side, curling up in a ball to conceal yourself from him, a whimper escaping your throat as you closed your eyes tightly, not wanting to watch if he decided that you hadn’t had enough.

But Daniel did. And it would end there.

Not bothering to stay quiet, Daniel stood up from his spot in the bushes, the leaves rustling as he stormed out and towards the two of you - not giving the man a second to speak before Daniel connected the flashlight to his head, sending him down onto ass before climbing on top of him, grabbing him by his throat and squeezing his hand around him.

Daniel didn’t have to say anything - the look in his eyes saying enough. His eyes, even darker than normal, stared wide at the man, whose face was turning a plum color from how quickly he was losing oxygen. He was struggling to get out of Daniel’s grasp, and feeling him struggle only made Daniel tighten his grip.

You were trying not to watch, too in shock at how violent the scene unfolded in front of you. Your hands were now covering your face, although you were still peeking between your fingers. The only time you closed your eyes was when Daniel finally raised his gun, your body flinching at the sound of it going off and the ‘thud’ of the body hitting the dirt.

Even though you knew he was dead, you still couldn’t bear to look at what was in front of you, too scared to see if maybe you were wrong and it wasn’t the client who was dead, but by some twisted joke, Daniel. You were shaking in your spot in the dirt, hands squished over your face tightly, a yelp escaping you when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Shh, shh, it’s just me. It’s Daniel, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Pulling your hands away slowly, you opened your eyes and looked up to see Daniel, crouched in front of you with a hand on your shoulder, a weak smile on his face. Your face contorted and a sob escaped you, your body falling into his as you hugged him tightly, face buried into his chest. Taken back by how scared you were, Daniel carefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you close until your sobs died down to a dull whimpering.

“Come on, let’s get you back home, okay?”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

He carried you back to camp, his own jacket wrapped around you to conceal you with the lack of a shirt. When the two of you made it back, Daniel stopped at some of the men that were on patrol that night, explaining the situation down on the other side of the creek and for them to ‘take care of it’. You knew what it meant - dispose of the vehicle and any evidence that would point the blame back towards you all. You never liked to think about what they did, but this time, this time you did want to know.

Daniel carried you all the way to his trailer, inside until you reached his bathroom. He set you down and helped you walk in, letting you sit on the toilet while he sat across from you on the edge of the bathtub.

“Fuck, what were you even doin out there?”

You felt so naked in front of him - having him see you in such a broken state. You don’t know why, but you wanted to cry. No, you did know why, you were so pathetically humiliated and the wash of guilt was flooding over you.

“I- this hasn’t happened before,” You quipped back, a whimper escaping your throat, “He promised to take me away from it all, I thought I could trust hi-“

“Gimme a break, you ain’t no amateur. You’ve been out there longer than me and even I know not to trust anyone who makes promises,” He sat back on the edge of the tub, looking at you from your spot on the toilet, “You gotta be more careful. You hear me? I don’t need to be going out there and finding you face down on the side of the road.”

You dropped your head down, looking at your bloody knuckles. You could hear it in his voice how disappointed he was, how worried he was. yet you still went back, still went out on the street to meet with strangers at night.

But little did you know that he still looked at you in a way that beamed you as an angel. To him you were perfect - despite your job, your upbringing into The Highway, your own personal demons - he still saw you as something so pure and delicate it made his heart hurt every fucking time he saw you out there under The Highway…smoking a cigarette waiting for another customer.

“You can say it. I’m a fucking idiot.” You suddenly said, breaking the silence. Looking up and at Daniel, you frowned, cracked lips twitching as the heat from your black eye began to radiate. You knew it would be a long time before that healed.

You should’ve been dead with this last one. God did he get you good. You were lucky that Daniel found you when he did and pulled the guy off of you, otherwise, well - you wouldn’t be sitting here if he hadn’t.

Daniel smiled sadly your way and you didn’t notice it, but his own eyes began to glisten with tears. Shaking your head, you turned and looked away from him. “I’m sorry…” you choked out, your body soon breaking down as your hand came up to your face, shielding your tears from him, your other hand still on your knee.

You jumped slightly when you felt his warm hand on you, holding your hand that was on your knee. Hesitantly, you peeked through your fingers towards him, seeing him gently stroking your delicate hand with his fingers.

“The thought of losing you…it fucking kills me. You know that? I don’t…I don’t judge you for what you do, okay? Never, never. But you’re too nice, too naive. If I hadn’t got there when I did you would be-“

He was cut off by his own sobs, and you were surprised to say the least when you saw him break down, his gruff demeanor shattering. Your mouth fell open, unsure as to what to say. What could you say?

Moving carefully, you stood up and shakily took a step towards him, sitting on his leg while you took his face in your hands, tilting it up to look at you.

You didn’t have to say anything, your eyes saying enough. You smiled weakly at him and gently ran your fingers down his face, wiping away his tears. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, soon lulling his head forward to rest on your chest.

Your fingers moved from his face and to his hair, running through his long locks, your face nestled at the crown of his head, taking in his scent. You felt him wrap his arms around you, holding you close to him, tracing patterns in your back.

The two of you sat like that for several moments, neither of you rushing the moment. Eventually, though, you felt him pull back, his head moving up to look into your eyes. While his right hand still kept holding onto your waist, his left made its way up the side of your face, cupping your cheek and letting your head fall into his palm. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

When you opened your eyes, staring back at him, you couldn’t help but blush when he smiled back, feeling his right hand squeeze your waist - almost in a teasing manner. He only wanted to see you smile, cheer you up in any way that he could.

“Why do you stay around?” He asked suddenly, his voice quiet as he continued to hold you to him, stroking the side of your face and the side of your waist. Daniel noticed your smile fall as if you were preparing to admit something not good. His heart sank, worry washing over him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling your thumbs caress his face, looking at him endearing, “Why do you stay around?” You pressed, wondering if maybe - just maybe - he thought the same as you. But you beat him to it, leaning forward slightly before your head jerked back slightly, catching yourself from getting too close. “Why would I leave you?”

And there it was - the confession that he had been praying for. Hearing you confirm that you felt the same way made the weight on his shoulders slip away. The laugh that escaped his mouth was more in shock than humorous. When you tilted your head, eyebrows furrowed, you suddenly became embarrassed - did he not think the same?

But then he kissed you, so deeply and sweet, a kiss you had never experienced before. You moaned from the suddenness of the kiss, melting into him as your hands slipped behind his head and around his neck, pulling yourself even closer onto his lap as the two of you continued to kiss.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, Daniel held you to him as he stood up, making his way out of the bathroom and down the hall into his bedroom, laying you carefully on the bed before pulling away. You couldn’t help but blush as he took you in, his eyes wandering over you.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He whispered, his eyes finding yours again. He leaned forward to kiss you but felt your fingers on his lips, stopping him suddenly. Daniel felt his heart sink, was he being too pushy?

“Are you- are you sure you want to do this with me? I mean...since I, well…”

He knew where you were going with your comment and he could only frown, laying next to you on his side, propping himself up with his left elbow that sat next to your head, his right hand holding your face.

“Oh...no, no, why would you think that? Of course I want to do this with you,” He noticed you beginning to tear up and his expression fell, “Hey, hey...don’t cry, you’re okay.”

Pulling you close, he cradled your head under his chin, kissing your head as he let you cry it out. Stroking your temple with his thumb, he felt your body shake in his hold, your cries muffled by his shirt. He didn’t know what he could say to make you feel better, it was so fuckin heartbreaking to hear you talk the way you did about yourself.

“I can’t think of anyone else I would want to lay in bed with. I said I don’t judge you for what you do, and I meant that.”

Pushing away from him gently, you looked up at him, closing your eyes for a moment when he wiped away your tears. Unlike your client from earlier, Daniel was gentle, comforting you unlike the client who was torturing you. Perhaps you were scared to admit that you wanted to be intimate with Daniel, because deep down you only knew how sex worked when it came to your job - never for pure love.

“Do you want this? With me? You can tell me no and I won’t be mad, I promise you that. If you just want to lay here even, I’m okay with that. I just don’t ever want you out of my arms ever again. I want to know that you’re safe in my arms every night from this day on.”

At his confession, you could only smile, not sure what to say. Your brain was spinning so violently you were surprised that you were even able to stay focused on what he was saying. You went to scoot up but he stopped you, rolling over so you were slightly under him.

“Let me take care of you tonight for once, if you’d let me.” You smiled and finally nodded, a smile spreading across both of your faces before carefully the two of you leaned forward, lips meeting once again.

Slowly his fingers ran up and down the side of your body, moving closer to your breasts that were covered by your bra. Giving them a gentle squeeze, you moaned in his mouth and arched your back, pressing them into his hands more. Daniel smiled against your lips and reached around, unhooking your bra before pulling it off.

You watched as he slowly peppered kisses across your face, moving down your face and to your jawline, down your neck, across your chest, before finally reaching your breasts. He took one in his mouth, suckling until he heard you moaning before pulling away, moving to the other while his hands hooked onto the waistband of your skirt, pulling it down along with your panties.

Daniel pulled away from your breast and sat up, drinking in your naked form before taking your hands into his, squeezing them as he brought them to his lips, kissing over your bruised knuckles and teasingly nibbled on your fingers until he heard you laugh.

“So beautiful…” He murmured against your fingers, letting your hands drop down his chest before you hooked onto his shirt, pushing it up and with his help, pulling it off and onto the floor to join your clothes. With him still sitting up, your hands reached for his belt and swiftly pulled it off, undoing the button of his jeans before pushing them down with his jeans.

Before you could do anything else, Daniel coaxed you back into the bed, hovering over you with your legs spread apart, his hands rubbing up your inner thighs and squeezing them, his dick - now hard - rubbing against your entrance earning a sweet whine from you.

“You gonna take my whole cock baby? Do I finally get to make you mine after all these years?” He whispered, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to your own. Feeling you nod your head, you moaned and let your eyes roll back at the feeling of him teasingly pushing in you slowly before pulling out. “Yes...please, Daniel, please.”

He knew any other time he would press on with what you wanted, letting you beg longer before he finally gave you what you wanted and fucked you good. But this time, this night, he was going to make sure you were treated right.

“I got you, baby, just look at me, okay? I wanna see your pretty face when I fuck you.”

You nodded and looked into his eyes, smiling weakly when his mouth fell open, a faint ‘ahh’ escaping his lips, “There she is, my pretty girl.”

His endearing words sent you over the edge that night. Even with a black eye, cracked lips, and overall just a complete mess than what you normally looked like, he still made you feel like the prettiest girl in the room.

When he finally pushed into you, slowly bottoming out inside of you, the two of you moaned against one another’s lips, the vibration buzzing off each other. Daniel didn’t want this to be too much of a quickie - he would be honest and say he wouldn’t last as long as he would have liked - but he still wanted to take his time.

And that he did.

The pace he went was good for you, intoxicating even. With your legs and arms wrapped around him, you shifted up and down in the bed as he slowly fucked you, typically going in and out of you soft, but occasionally surprising you with a harder thrust. He enjoyed hearing your moans, especially the louder ones of surprise when he suddenly slapped his hips against yours.

His lips felt lonely and he leaned forward, capturing your lips into his with a deep kiss, his own teeth pulling at your lips gently before running his tongue along the bottom of your lip, pushing it in your mouth to mesh with your own.

You moaned against his mouth, your hands holding his face and you kissed him back, the scene almost sickening at how passionate the two of you were. It didn’t take long for you to pull away, your own climax beginning to rise. Letting out a whine, you pressed your forehead against the side of his face.

“Daniel, I- I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

The burning sensation that began to heat up in your core made your legs begin to shake. Gripping onto your thighs, Daniel picked up his pace a bit, his own climax rising too. “It’s okay, I got you. You’re doing so good.”

Daniel’s praises towards you did not help the sensation slow down, but you weren’t upset. Getting off to him- with him, made up for the entire evening. The sex wasn’t even bad, but given the circumstances of the night and how quick it went, you only could wish it lasted longer.

When the fireworks in your head finally went off, your body going slack, you tried to catch your breath as Daniel still continued to rut inside of you, grunting at the feeling of you tightening around him. His pace became even quicker, almost animalistic before he finally snapped his hips in you one more time, cumming deep inside of you.

Collapsing down on top of you, Daniel desperately tried to catch his breath, his head rested against your breasts, legs tangled in with yours. You both had your eyes closed, mouths open as you panted. You felt the softness of his beard against your chest and you smiled, the safe feeling coming back. Your fingers gently ran through his hair, pushing it back as you grew tired.

Before you could fall asleep, Daniel had gotten up and left for the bathroom, coming back with a rag to clean the two of you off before he tossed the rag with his dirty clothes, crawling into bed beside you and pulling you close, kissing the top of your head. It didn’t take long before the two of you finally fell asleep.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The warmth of the sun cast down on your face as you leaned your head out the window, resting against your arms as you smiled. The sky was still pink from the sunrise and the world around you was quiet - peaceful. The soft music that played from Daniel’s radio was the only voice you heard.

Glancing over to his right, Daniel smiled at the sight of how calm you were, enjoying the moment while he drove the two of you down the highway in his truck. With his left hand on the steering wheel, his right hand found your hand, bringing your hand up for a kiss before resting it back down beside you. He shifted to get comfortable and make you comfortable when he felt you shift and curl up into him, your head resting against his chest.

After you had fallen asleep, that same night Daniel decided that it was finally time for you two to get away - to start the life the two of you deserved. He packed up his trailer and shoved both of your belongings into the back of his truck, the trailer hitched to the back of his truck. It wasn’t a perfect home by any means, but it was your home and that’s what mattered most.

It didn’t matter where you went, so long as you had each other. And the first time in a long time, the two of you were finally free.

#daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #dark!daniel #daniel bruhl imagine #daniel bruhl smut #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl x you #18+#minors dni #blurbs

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