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folkloreguk · 3 years

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Shower Thoughts

A/N: I like writing about personal emotions a lot…this feels a little like writing a diary but also like self-therapy and it really helps me. I hope anyone who also feels this way knows that they’re not alone with those feelings. Also happy birthday to the sweetest @sunghoonied!! I wrote this thinking of you and I hope you have the best day ♡ PS. I didn't proofread this so if you find errors kindly lmk please! x

genre: optional bias (male), meant to comfort you, angst, fluff, talk of loneliness / anxiety but with a good ending!

words: ~ 2.5 k

taglist: @lovely-ateez, @mochi-ficz, @soundsofminho, @runaway-fics

People said that walking was supposed to clear your mind. But then why was it, that you had gotten so lost in your worst thoughts out there? The time spent in fresh air was meant to let your mind wander to calm places and smiling at strangers should have made you feel less lonely. But with every step you took and with every passing face your body felt heavier. Not only did you carry your figure, but the crushing burden that had been nagging at you for weeks.

Watching others stroll around the streets seemed so easy. And perhaps it should have been easy, after all. It made you wonder, maybe you were the only one whose mind was constantly covered in dark rain clouds. Maybe everyone had their place in the world, and they knew just where and with whom they belonged. Surely, they didn’t overthink every conversation they had with a random stranger. Did their brain also function merely on autopilot in public, while the back of your mind was chaos of doubt and fear? Was there anybody else who spent day to day worrying about never finding someone who could deal with the burden of you and your issues? How was somebody else going to love you if you were this sad?

Those people that care about you are the ones you should be honest with, after all. There was no brushing off the How Are You question with a quick “I’m fine”. How could someone deal with the real answer you would give? You didn’t want to pull anybody down with you when you were hurting. So then again, maybe it was for the better your apartment was always empty when you came home. With no one to ask you about your feelings, you couldn’t cause anyone else agony and worry. Your own pain was enough – one person was enough to deal with it.

You shoved your shoes in the corner next to your door. If it wasn’t for your mental state, you would’ve guessed your jacket was a hundred kilos heavy. But even after you had peeled it off, nothing changed. You dragged your body to the bathroom.

You’d be so proud if only you could go one day without crying. And you had almost made it, had it not been for the godforsaken shower water. There was something about seeing the droplets on your skin and on the tiles that caused your tears to come out freely. The noise of the shower made you feel shut off from the rest of the world. Now it was just you and your salty ocean tears. The tears united with the shower water. It was hard to tell which drops on your cheek had originated in your swollen eyes and which had fallen from the shower head. This way, it seemed almost as if there was an invisible force that was wiping over your face, trying to appease your sobs.

But there was nobody. And that was why you only cried harder. If only you had listened to your own words when you tried to cheer yourself up. Then maybe you would feel better when you wrapped your arms around your own body. You were desperate. The notion that someone could hold you like this, one day, should have gifted you at least some form of hope. But no, you knew it wouldn’t happen any time soon. Not with this mindset and your sadness.

You hiccupped helplessly. This was all so tiring. Before you knew it, you sat down on the shower floor under the hot stream. At least there was no one waiting to get into the shower after you. So you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about blocking the bathroom and wasting all the hot water. For a few minutes you remained on the floor, drowning out your cries under the splashing sound. You felt the impulse to scream. Look, I’m here! I’m a person with interests and passions and emotions! Doesn’t anybody see me? I’m sick of only existing! Won’t somebody teach me how to live?

But at most, that would cause you a noise complaint. If only you weren’t so terrible at talking to people. Maybe you could make a friend someday – when your anxiety got better. Like in a trance, you finally switched off the water and grabbed your towel. You were so utterly lost in your thoughts, that everything went by as if you were only watching from the sidelines. You got out of the shower, dried off, put on some body lotion – an attempt at self-care – and got dressed in the most comfortable, baggy clothes you owned.

What on earth would you do tonight? There really were only so many ways you could have fun (or rather distract yourself from feeling down) when you were all by yourself and everything reminded you of how lonely you were. The option of just going to sleep slipped past you. But you weren’t tired enough. You knew you’d lie awake for hours, left alone with your thoughts. And crying yourself to sleep was the last thing you wanted right now.

So you opted for the most mainstream idea: Netflix. You plopped down on the sofa, a steaming hot cup of tea on the small table in front of you. Now you only had one thing left to do. You needed to choose some stupid show and let the problems of tv characters invade your brain and pray they would shove out your own issues. You weren’t even hungry. Although there was a part of you that wished it could have eaten your weight in chocolate, but you knew that had little to do with hunger.

Just as you reached for the remote control, the sound of your doorbell made you jump. I’ll just let it be. They’ll think I’m not home and leave. Those thoughts came right away. It made you curse yourself. You had just cried over feeling alone, but now you’re shutting out some random neighbor who probably just needs some tiny favor from you. Way to go. So, more to prove a point to yourself than to be friendly, you stepped to your door and opened it.

“Hi.” It was your neighbor. Your handsome, kind neighbor, who you always met at the local grocery store. You were so mentally exhausted you didn’t even feel self-conscious about looking the way you did. Although you hoped your eyes had recovered from the redness, at least a little. “Hi,” you greeted him back.

“Look, I really don’t want to be intrusive. And if you want me to leave, I will,” he said. He fumbled with his hands, as if he was nervous about his words. “But I kind of heard you…cry…in the shower. And I know you live alone, and I figured if you’re crying you probably don’t have any company. I guess I just wanted to check whether you’re okay. Do you have someone to talk to?”

With every word your heart only sped up. You felt like a trapped rabbit in a corner and the meaning of his message only sunk in slowly. Yes, of course. I’ll call my friend and talk to them,you wanted to say. But that would have been a massive lie. And you just couldn’t lie to him. Not when he stood there, in his fuzzy sweater and fresh-out-the-shower damp hair, with eyes so worried and attentive. You weren’t sure if it was from how touched you were by his concern for you, or if it was your sadness catching up to you again. Before you could swallow your tears, your eyes filled to the brim and your vision turned blurry.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, not sure what for. Hurriedly, you used your sweater paw to wipe your leaking eyes. You didn’t want him to feel bad for you, but now you had achieved just that and more. Your embarrassment set in and you finally came out with the truth. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“No need to be sorry. It’s alright. We all have those days, don’t we? I just want you to know that you’re not alone. And I have nothing to do…so if you need someone to talk to, or even just to keep you company…I can stay with you for a bit…or you can come over to mine. I just don’t want you to feel alone. But if you would prefer to be by yourself, that’s okay. People deal with things differently.”

You were so baffled that your ability to speak completely fell through. The idea of someone, an almost-stranger, going so out of their way to make sure you were okay blew you away. He knew nothing about you. But here he was, taking a chance on you, nonetheless. Only then you realized you probably looked like a fool, staring at him but failing to answer. Quickly, you prompted yourself to open your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

“What were you doing just now?” he asked. “Any plans for the evening?”

“I was going to watch a movie, I guess,” you said. “And I think some company would be very nice.”

He smiled at you like was your childhood best friend and you had just reconnected after years of being apart. That’s why it felt the more natural to let him enter your apartment. You got into small talk about what it was like living in the building and how his apartment had a mirrored structure to yours. The simplest conversation took your mind off your sorrow right away. You felt like thanking him would be a little dramatic after he had barely settled on your sofa, so you kept it to yourself. Either way, the small smile on your face felt like warm, soothing sunlight on your skin after eight consecutive days of rain.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asked. You thought for a moment.

“No, I think I’d rather just distract myself,” you said. Even though you were grateful for having him here, you feared if you spilled your guts to him you would only scare him away.

“Alright,” he said without judgement. “What film were you planning on watching?”

And so you started your movie. There was a respectful distance between you on the sofa. But his simple presence next to you was more than you could have asked for tonight. He was like a heater, providing safety and comfort in the coldest winter. Hearing someone else chuckle at the jokes in the movie along with you was magnificent. His laughter sounded like a rainbow. It seeped into your body and your soul straightened up and bloomed like a parched flower being watered after all this loneliness.

But even under all the light, your problems were still here, waiting to nag at you. You knew they would consume you when he returned to his own apartment later. They would laugh at you for trying to socialize but staying closed off as always. Just because someone saw you didn’t mean they understood you and who you are. And how was one supposed to make human connections if they treated their thoughts like strictly confidential information in front of everybody? No, you had to tell him.Impulsively, you pressed the stop-button on the remote. He shot you a questioning gaze.

“I- I think maybe I do want to talk about something,” you confessed.

“You can tell me anything. I promise it’ll be safe with me. Let out whatever bothers you,” he said. His lovely, warm eyes were inviting like a haven for you. So you just started to talk. All your frustrations and reasons for anxiety were exiting your lips, floating all around you in the room. Airing out your weary brain finally, after holding everything in for weeks, was uncaging and nothing had felt this good in so long. Although your sadness wasn’t something that could be fixed by doing a task, the more thoughts and worries you explained to him, the easier it became. It wasn’t long before you felt your tears well up once more.

“It’s okay,” he said with his hand on your shoulder. This time, you didn’t try so hard to blink them away. Where there were emotions, there were tears, and he was right. It was fine to let them out. Through sniffles you finished telling him your issues.

“Is this okay?” he asked, gently putting his arm around your shoulder to hold your shaking figure. You hummed and nodded in agreement. His warmth was like a blanket to shelter you from the anxiety, if even just for a short while.

“I don’t expect you to know a solution,” you said. “I need to wait for it to get better. It’ll get better, eventually.”

“You’re right. It will all resolve,” he said. “I’m sorry things are so difficult. But you’re not alone, okay?”

You nodded again.

“Time will heal, I promise,” he said. “And until then, you have to hold on and keep going. The world’s a little cruel sometimes, when it shuts out the ones who struggle and don’t do as well as others. But you’re as much of a part of it as any other human on the street. And you’re just as important as them. You weren’t born to be successful or to achieve things. You’re here to live and be happy. So promise me to take care of yourself, and be gentle to yourself. Because you’re the only person that will be with yourself every second until the end. Please don’t be hard on yourself and have patience for good things to come around. And if it all feels like it’s too much for you, don’t feel guilty about reaching out for help. You can always ring my doorbell if you need something.”

“Thank you so much,” you cried. Your cheek rested on his shoulder and you sat in silence for a while. It was unbelievable which wonders such a small conversation between two people could do. Your heart felt lighter and the thoughts were no longer racing through your head. Peace was settling in, and you welcomed it more than ever.

“Now that I’ve told you about me, what kind of person are you?” you asked through tears. He chuckled a little. All you knew until now was that he had a heart of gold. Which, to be fair, meant your impression of him was off to a pretty good start already. Your thoughts were cautious as you wondered…Maybe he could be my friend.

You abandoned the movie. Instead, you spent all evening chatting about whatever came to your mind. You discussed childhood dreams, favorite dishes, your best playlists down to the cutes dog breeds you had ever seen. It felt great, getting to know somebody. And your suspicions came true. His big heart wasn’t the only thing admirable about him. He was funny and knew just what to say when you felt awkward or shy. When you slipped into bed that night, you did so with a smile on your face. You had always told yourself that you weren’t alone. But sometimes, the most optimistic person needed a small reminder coming from somebody else. Here was yours.

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ikeromantic · 3 years

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Loyalty

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic. This scene occurs at the start of Ch. 10 it the main route. Alternately titled Taking Out the Trash. Approx. 2300 words.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Right

Evening fell in a grey hush. At least to Mitsuhide’s eyes, though his vision was grainy, blurred at the edges. He couldn’t trust the little spots of color that blossomed in halos around candles and lanterns. There were no such lights in this abandoned warehouse. Only what came from the setting sun, and the rising moon and stars.

“My lord, our forces are in place. Scouts indicate the monks have retreated beyond Honno-ji - should we bring them in?”

“No. They are unimportant. What of the Oda vassals? Nobunaga? Any movement?” Mitsuhide’s voice betrayed nothing of his exhaustion. It sounded cold and distant in his ears.

The warrior nodded. “What is your command?”

“Tell them to hold. I will give the signal to move in after full dark.” He watched the warrior run off to pass the message on to the Imagawa, and the rag-tag militia Yoshiaki had conscripted for this attack.

Mitsuhide stood, stretching. His joints popped and his bones creaked. Every aging bruise felt fresh, sending a pulsing ache through his body. He made no sound as he forced himself to prepare for the coming fight. There were so many variables. So many points where it could all fall apart.

Outside, the grey faded to a dark blue, the depth swimming with tiny white stars. The moon sat above the horizon, fat and round and full. Men in armor whispered in alleyways and shadows, voices lost in the cold night breeze. There were no other sounds. No chirping crickets or hunting owls.

Mitsuhide left his warehouse, signaling to the men that now, now it was time. He drew his sword, stilling the trembling of his hands. Just a little more.

He rushed forward, silent as he covered the ground between himself and Honno-ji. Behind him, his troops also ran, their steps a wild drumbeat. The next few breaths were chaos. The flash of blades in moonlight, violent exhalation as men breathed their last, and the savage of shouts of men in blood-lust.

On the balcony above them, Mitsuhide made out a shape. Someone standing at the railing, looking down. Despite the darkness, he knew it was her. His little one. Watching. He had not wanted her to be here, but now, somehow, it felt right to him that she was. That she witness this moment.

The kitsune warlord avoided the door guards and the smattering of vassals between himself and the large inner chamber where he knew Nobunaga would make his stand. Behind him, Yoshiaki’s vassals crowded into the halls, keeping track of Mitsuhide’s movements to be certain he could not betray their lord. It might have made him laugh, if he had breath for it.

He heard more than saw Hideyoshi charge out to meet Yoshimoto and the Imagawa at the main doors of the temple. It was impossible not to recognize his voice, even in this pandemonium. That should hold most of the conscripts and mercenaries. Mitsuhide chanced a look back to make sure the shogun’s men were still following. They hadn’t lost any ground, and better, it seemed they’d summoned their lord now that victory was imminent.

“My liege! Nobunaga is this way,” Mitsuhide called, motioning Yoshiaki toward him. Then he turned back, leapt up the narrow stairway, and kicked in the door.

His calculated melodramatics had the desired effect on everyone but Nobunaga. Yoshiaki’s vassals filed into the room, cocky and self assured. And the shogun himself followed.

Mitsuhide’s gaze pulled toward the woman at Nobunaga’s side, but he refused to let them rest on her. He could see enough. She was safe. Unhurt. So far. The kitsune warlord forced his eyes to his target. “It’s been a while, Nobunaga.”

There was nothing but confidence in those carnelian eyes as Nobunaga greeted him.

Yoshiaki strode into the room, his soldiers moving aside to make way. “I hope the great fool of Owari is not too foolish to realize when he is bested.”

“Oh? As opposed to you who was too foolish to realize all the times I called you an idiot to your face?” Nobunaga’s left brow rose as his lips turned up in a mocking grin.

“He’s trying to be funny, I see.” Yoshiaki’s mouth twisted with distaste as his vassals all gave a forced laugh.

Mitsuhide kept his expression cold, and added his own polite chuckle to the shogun’s words. He had to hold to his role a while longer yet, no matter how plainly distasteful. He caught sight of his little mouse sticking out her tongue - and for a breath his laughter was genuine. Only she would make such a face at a shogun. Only she would have so little a care for her own safety.

Finished with his failed word games, Ashikaga turned to Mitsuhide. “Go now and finish the job. Just . . . don’t get any blood on my robes.” He swept a hand over the fine embroidered silk, as if suddenly realizing battle was a messy affair.

“As you wish, your excellency.” Mitsuhide gave a slight bow. It gave him a moment to check his composure. It seemed there were no bounds to Yoshiaki’s arrogance nor his ridiculous demands. What a sad creature, he thought. To be such a useless creature and to still be so certain of your own importance.

He held his sword toward Nobunaga, preparing to strike. One of the Oda guards launched himself forward, intent on defending his lord.

And as if Mitsuhide had scripted the moment himself, the other guard lunged, plunging his sword into the defender’s back. Revealing himself as the traitor embedded in the Oda forces, the hidden blade Mitsuhide’s spies had been unable to identify. How fortuitous.

Dying, the guard turned to his friend, stumbling against him. “Why? Why -” did you kill me - the words died in a rattling breath.

The other guard shoved the body to the floor, his expression one of triumph. “I fooled you all! My life and my loyalty have always belonged to the shogun!” He turned to Nobunaga. “This is the end for you.”

The Ashikaga vassals pressed in close, grabbing Nobunaga’s arms and forcing him down in front of Yoshiaki.

Mitsuhide surreptitiously watched his little one, making sure she stayed clear of the violence. She didn’t look afraid, even now. Just shocked and angry. Some of the soldiers grabbed her and held her down. Seeing them handle her like that made his jaw clench. If she had a single bruise, he thought, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his hilt tightly.

“Mitsuhide,” Yoshiaki called. “Remove the Devil King’s head from his neck and offer it to me as a gift of your loyalty.”

And now he had his opening. The moment he’d hoped this farce would provide. Mitsuhide smiled his knife-sharp smile. He advanced, the sharp edge of his sword gleaming in the pale moonlight. Then he struck. His blade bit into the fine, embroidered silk of the shogun’s clothes and parted the flesh of his chest and belly just as easily. But with Mitsuhide’s fading strength, the strike was not a killing blow.

Ashikaga stumbled back, eyes wide with shock. He held a hand to his stomach and then pulled it away, staring at the crimson smear in confusion.

“Dearest me,” Mitsuhide’s grin widened. His golden eyes shone. “How clumsy I am.” He lifted his sword for another attack. “I meant that to be a killing blow. It looks, well, it looks quite painful.”

The shogun’s vassals flung themselves between Mitsuhide and Yoshiaki, ready to spend their lives to keep their lord safe. But they were too slow.

Fighting through his fatigue, Mitsuhide dodged behind the flailing shogun and forced the man to his knees. He brought his sword to Ashikaga’s throat. “I wouldn’t make another move, were I you. It might startle me into cutting right through his throat.”

He could see behind the men, his little mouse standing up. She straightened her clothes and shot him a proud smile. It felt so good to see her look at him like that. As if he were a hero.

Yoshiaki trembled, though Mitsuhide could not be sure if it was fear or anger. “You - you can’t betray me! Not here! You’ve - you’ve gone mad!”

Mitsuhide laughed. “Well, you are right about one thing. I can’t betray you. I was never loyal to you.” He pressed his knee into the shogun’s back, forcing him to lean forward, into the sharp edge. “I am loyal to my ideals alone.”

Nobunaga began to laugh. “And that is why you are my left-hand.” He stood and straightened his clothes, sauntering over to where Mitsuhide held the shogun.

“My liege.” Mitsuhide nodded to him.

“You base, vile, traitorous dog!” Yoshiaki’s voice was shaking. “D-don’t you know the penalty for laying a hand on me is ruin?” He turned his gaze to Nobunaga. “You may think you control things, you foul upstart, but I am still shogun! You will lose everything for this!”

“Oh, I think not. Nobunaga will retain his good standing with the court.” Mitsuhide tugged Ashikaga’s head back so that the shogun was forced to look up at him. “You see, it will be I, Mitsuhide Akechi - traitor - who is guilty of your murder.”

Nobunaga shook his head. “I should have known that was why you arranged this theater. You sly kitsune.”

“That’s why you never told anyone what you were up to. So only you would be found guilty . . .” His little mouse spoke up from where she stood, just out of reach. Her expression was troubled.

Mitsuhide met her gaze, wishing he could tell her how difficult it had been to hold to this path. How he’d wanted to share his burden with her, and yet, never wanted his misdeeds to sully her. How even now he wanted to put this behind him and take her away from here. But even if he could tell her these things, such wishes were meaningless.

“Are you saying you had this all planned? That you expected my messenger?” Yoshiaki swallowed carefully past the sharp edge of Mitsuhide’s sword.

The kitsune warlord smiled down at him menacingly.

“E-even if you kill me, none of you will survive. My army will sweep in here and slaughter all of you.”

Nobunaga glanced down from the balcony as if remembering something. The chatelaine’s gaze followed and even Mitshide found himself looking that direction.

Out from the dark road, armor glinting coldly, there came a sound of a thousand men shouting.

“Wha- what is that,” Yoshiaki tried to turn himself to see.

Above the roar of voices, one stood out. “Is this where the traitor Mitsuhide Akechi has hidden?”

“Masamune?” The chatelaine said softly, her eyes going wide.

Ashikaga sputtered. “You- you brought an army to Kyoto? How do you expect to get away with that? The court-”

“Will know that the Oda forces came here in search of that vile traitor, Akechi,” Nobunaga interrupted. “And if they happen across allies under attack, no one would blame them for offering assistance.” He smiled. “Now do you understand?”

Mitsuhide felt a moment of genuine respect for Nobunaga. He couldn’t have crafted a better response himself. He removed his sword from the shogun’s throat and kicked him forward. He was ready to be finished with this. “Now, your excellency, it is time for you to gracefully die.”

His sword arced through the thin, cold air. And came down hard enough to part bone. But it was Ashikaga’s vassal that took the hit, leaping forward to use his body as a shield. What a bother, Mitsuhide thought. That such an arrogant ass could still hold sway over otherwise good men.

“Quickly, peasants! Guard me!” Yoshiaki crawled toward them, letting his men form a human wall.

Mitsuhide stepped forward, intent on finishing the job. The shogun could not leave here alive tonight. But he stopped, turning back to Nobunaga.

“Go after them,” Nobunaga urged.

“Yes - but first, the chatelaine -” he gestured toward his little mouse. “She should be taken somewhere safe-”

Nobunaga pushed her forward gently. “Go with Mitsuhide. You are ordered to stay by his side at all times.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Maybe I should hide instead of getting in Mitsuhide’s way?”

Mitsuhide nodded, glad she said something sensible when he was slow to respond.

“You will obey.” The command was unmistakable. “Further, when the battle has ended you will bring Mitsuhide back to Azuchi.” He arched one dark eyebrow as if daring her to make him repeat himself.

She turned to Mitsuhide with a wicked smile. “Alright. You can count on me. I promise, I won’t ever leave Mitsuhide’s side again.” She reached out and took his hand, not seeming to mind the sticky, drying blood or the cold sweat on his skin.

Mitsuhide was torn. These were words his heart yearned to hear and yet - this was not the time or the place. This was a battle and she, and she could not be at his side, where all swords would be turned against her. He tried to say so, to speak reason, but his throat would not let a word pass.

“Your response,” Nobunaga pressed.

Her hand was so warm in his. Mitsuhide could not let go. It was too late for that. “If my lord commands it,” he said softly. The words were barely audible. And yet, he found himself smiling.

Next: Not An End

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen mitsuhide #Mitsuhide Akechi #otome boys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

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Not a Piece of Art

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

Part 5 - Revelations in the Moonlight

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Summary: Will Javier reach you in time? That is if he’s coming at all.

Notes: sorry this keeps getting longer and longer! This is the second to last part I hope y’all enjoy it (if not let me know how to improve!) 💕🌻✨

Tw: 18+ (NO MINORS ALLOWED) Violence, blood, language, nudity.

Tagged: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot @trash-dino-5000

Words: 3.7k

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Your eyes flutter open as you feel flecks of cold water bounce off your cheek. Your pupils dilate into the fluorescent lighting bearing down on you, and a dull throb begins at the base of your skull. You go to rub the ache, but your hands are tugged backwards at the movement causing your shoulders to stretch around the pillar you were currently being tied to. Your eyes scan the area landing on the two men from earlier who stand guard at the doors of what you assume must be the mansion's basement.

“Carlos...What the fuck is going on?” you rasp out, miraculously remembering to maintain your accent.

“I could ask you the same question?” he snarls. Feeling his meaning you hold your tongue, waiting to see what he knows. “You know why you’re here?” He asks, taking a sinister step towards you.

“Carlos I can honestly say, I don’t have the foggiest,” you respond, the metallic taste in your mouth worsening the growing nausea caused by the lights.

“The painting, the one you gave me, was stopped at the border yesterday. The first time it’s happened in years. Some of my best men were taken, they're dead now of course. Loose ends have to be tied up. The painting, and its components were taken by the DEA. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” he snarls. You do your best to maintain your facade, though a panic has set in. “Still not getting it?” he queries, taking your face between his hands forcing your eyes up to him. “Maybe you are as dumb as you look. Let's try a different approach, shall we? Why would this painting be stopped? After years without issue, then you show up and in one day, our program has been compromised.” he continues, letting go of your cheeks and swinging your head out to the side as he walks back over to his desk.

“Statistics dictate…. “ you start, not turning back to face.

“Shut up!” he shouts, slamming his hand down onto the desk, causing your body to flinch into the stone pillar.

“Carlos let me go, I do not know what happened or what was with those paintings, I thought they were for your friend. Why were they taken?” You try and reason frantically.

“See I do not know that, my wifes convinced you're too convenient, and after today I’d have to agree. Ohhh…” he tuts in mocking sympathy, noticing the waiver in your voice “Don't worry cariño, all shall be revealed soon, I wouldn’t dare keep you in suspense. I had a man deliver a message to your supposed husband. He has 15 minutes to show up here alone or we kill you.” he states flatly, pulling a small pistol out of his desk, checking the barrel.

You swallow, leaning your head back against the pillar, 15 minutes, that's how long it was from the DEA’s main office to the house. That's how long it would take for a SWAT team to get here and catch Carlos, but not to save you. A cleverly crafted plan, no doubt administered by Helena, heavens knows Carlos wasn't capable. You can’t help but let out a tiny laugh, as you blink back tears, making your peace as you prepared to meet your maker. If there was one thing you knew about Peña it was that he would do anything to catch Escobar.

“Five minutes left darling, any last minute confessions?” He says now inches away, staring down at you.

“Carlos, please, I didn't do this.” you beg, playing your final hand.

“We shall see. A shame to waste such beauty, but ….” He brushes your cheekbone with the gun and you close your eyes. They open as the sound of doors swinging open echoes throughout the basement. Looking towards the sound you see a sweaty and enraged Peña emerging. You’d never more happy to be seeing his stupid face. You exhale shakily cursing yourself for nearly bursting into tears when his eyes meet yours. Immediately he starts towards you, one of the men places a hand on his chest, but a swift uppercut breaks the guys nose and the other two henchmen retract allowing him to make his way behind you.

“Are you hurt, my love?” he asks, frantically untying your wrists that were rubbed raw from where you had worked to free them. You shake your head no. He unties your hands and you feel yourself unravel with the cord, as your entire system begins to shut down. “I’ve got you” he whispers, as you fall into his arms.

“Now, friend, come let us chat for a moment,” Carlos says, almost as surprised as you that Javi had shown up.

“No, I don't talk with people who kidnap the only thing in my life that matters” he spits, hooking his arm under yours and starting slowly towards the door. You're almost out when you hear the unmistakable sound of the safety being turned off. You both turn to see Carlos aiming the gun at you.

“You passed information?” he sneers more of a question than a statement.

“Think Carlos,” he snarls through gritted teeth, “You never gave me any information,you asked for a painting and we provided, you never told me more.” After a few minutes you hear Carlos click the safety back into place as he lowers his weapon.

“You’re right. We thought perhaps we had been infiltrated but it seems like someone else has been leaking information. My wife was wrong for the last time.” he mutters, tossing the gun back into its drawer.

“We’re free to go then?” Javi fumes, the rage he felt towards Carlos seeping out of every pore. With a curt nod, the two men clear the door and Javi scoops you up and carries you out the house and down across the beach where the moon had risen high. You look over his shoulder, and back towards the house. You make out Helena's outline on the balcony watching you as you leave.

“I should have gone with you” he whispers as he places you down onto your feet at the front step so he can open the door. You waiver for a moment, but you're quickly steadied by Peñas hand supporting your waist as you lean into him. He hadn’t had time to assess the damage but the moonlight illuminated the blood coming from your lip and forehead. Wounds caused by his incompetence, by his failure to assess the situation.

“Then we'd both be dead” you respond walking into the kitchen and stupidly lifting yourself up onto the counter, the movement causing every ounce of your body to exude with pain, eyes watering as a result. Despite your attempt to mask your pain, it did not go unnoticed by Javi. Based on everything he knew about you, he figured you’d try and play down your injuries, but based on your expressions he knew the visible blood wasn’t the only damage done.

‘Hey, don't strain yourself,” he says, watching you grimace when you lean over to take off your shoes. You go to shift off the counter. “No, don't move now, you're already up there,” he continues, bending down and taking off the shoes for you, tossing them to the side before rummaging through the cabinet for the first aid kit. He passes you the bottle of tequila that was blocking the kit. You bring it to your lips, hoping it would help mask some of your pain.

“We have to get you to a hospital” he says, as he tilts your head gently from side to side seeing darkening areas around your forehead. Dried blood covered your hairline and your mouth.

“No then the mission will be ruined, beside i'm still breathing and no blood’s been coughed up, so nothing’s punctured” you murmur, your breathing was fine as well, albeit painful, but no wheezing. There was nothing that needed immediate care.

“What?” he says, glancing down to your side, increasingly concerned with each passing comment. Your eyes dart up to the ceiling, not wanting to burden him anymore than you already had “Show me.” he demands softly.

“It's fine Javi,” you try and reason, not wanting to put any additional stress on the man, knowing he’d already be blaming himself for your injuries.

“Show me,” he repeats, firm this time, but his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, “that's an order” he muses, causing you to roll your eyes.

“It hurts to lift my arms” you admit, he nods and slowly removes the straps of the dress pulling it down to your waist immediately identifying a concerning dark patch covering your entire left side. You didn't look down, you knew it was probably internal bleeding but, you didn't want that information to get back to Javi.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he whispers, amazed that you were still conscious let alone rolling your eyes at him. He pulls out a bag of ice from the freezer wrapping it in a tea towel and placing it gently on your side.

“Hold that there for a second,” he says, turning back to the freezer for more ice.

“He's going to kill Helena, we should try and get her out” you reason, shifting the ice around.

“How hard do you hit your head querida?” He laughs “She's the one who ratted us out and you're worried about her?” He continues, bringing the ice up to your forehead. You shrug wincing as your side is inadvertently pulled on by the motion. “For someone with such an ability to hold a grudge you're certainly very forgiving when you want to be”

“C’mon Peña, you know she's doing it to survive, she doesn't deserve to die. Besides she may have information she's willing to trade ” you offer, Helena was no angel, but she was definitely useful.

“After what they did to you? They don’t deserve to live, not in my book,.” he says, placing the ice back down on the counter as he takes a damp cloth and begins to wipe some of the blood off your face. You laugh, presuming he’s kidding, but when you look at him, he's not laughing, there's no trace of humour on his face. His head’s down as he wipes your face. He looks... vulnerable, visibly upset by what's happened to you, almost like he cared about you. Had he this whole time and you were too busy being angry at him to notice? Angry about something so stupid in the grand scheme of things. His eyes meet yours and you find your answer, their softness only confirming your current feeling.

“What wrong querida?” he asks, his free hand caressing your cheek. Your hearts beating out of your chest. How can he not hear it? You're sure everyone within a 50 mile radius could. You bring your hand up to his pressing it against your cheek hoping to convey the sudden onslaught of feelings you were having. He stares back into your eyes, not willing to try anything without your full permission, a hand hold wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the proof he needed to kiss you like he'd been wanting to for the past four weeks, hell, the past year.

You drop your hands and run them along his shoulders encouraging him forward. He doesn't drop the ice he's holding to your side, and using his free hand he pulls you closer to him. Your faces now centimeters apart and each of your breaths shallower than the next.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

“What about the contract?” he says, making sure this was what you wanted.

“Fuck the contract,” you say and with that you press a gentle kiss to his lips, pulling away when you don’t feel him kiss back. You keep your eyes closed wondering if you had misread his meaning? His thumb traces over your split lip gently pulling your chin towards him for a deeper kiss, warm . You smile into it and he goes to close the gap between. Lost in the moment, his grip becomes rougher than intended and he feels you flinch away from him.

“Fuck, i'm sorry,” he says, pulling back and placing a kiss on the area before reapplying the ice

“We should get you to bed, before I do any serious damage” he says, and you nod your head in agreement, allowing him to carry you back to the room bridal style. He places you on the bed, but noticing the blood stuck in your hair he makes you an offer you can't refuse.

“You wanna wash that blood out of your hair? Might make you feel better,” he says. You nod silently, too tired to speak, and Javi leaves to run you a bath. He helps you lower yourself into the tub and begins to rinse the blood out your hair, hands slowly massaging your scalp and running down from roots to end the runoff staining the water a light pink. He glances down and sees your eyes staring up at him, your lips pursed slightly, silently hoping he’d read your mind and kiss you again.

“Gotta stop looking at me like that” he chuckles, and you let out a small grunt.

“You want something darling?” he asks, and you extend your neck out, parting your lips expectedly causing him to smile “you want more kisses cariño? From me? They gonna make you feel better?” He asks.

You nod causing him to grin as he washes the last of the blood out of your hair before leaning down to pepper your lips with light kisses pulling back and chuckling at the small humph you make in his absence.

“What?” you murmur sleepily

“Last thing I thought i'd get to do was kiss you” he admits, turning off the shower head.

“You thought about it a lot, Peña?” you tease, feeling better now you weren't plastered in your own blood.

“Every day,” he confesses “every time I’d walk into your lab and you’d ignore me,” He continues lifting you up out of the tub and toweling you off.

“You want pyjamas?” he asks.

“Just want to sleep” you murmur, shaking off the towel and crawling under the linen sheets.

“Okay i'll get the lights, call me if you need anything, i'll just be next door,” he says, preparing to sleep on the couch.

“Javi…” you whisper, as the lights go out.

“Yes” he responds, turning around, overjoyed at the sound of his first name coming from your lips.

“Stay with me” you plead,

“As long as you want,” he says, crawling in under the sheets with you allowing you to settle around him comfortably, not closing his own eyes until the faint sound of your snoring starts up.

You shoot up in bed as the sound of gunshots ring out through the night. You turn quickly and see the imprint of where Javi had been before you fell asleep. Stumbling out the bed, you grab a nearby lamp, the pain from your side dulled by the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you descend the stairs.

“Javi” you whisper-yell frantically, wielding the lamp as you turn the corner. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see his figure on the balcony, placing the lamp down on the counter. The sound causes Javi to turn around and he rushes towards you grabbing you by the shoulder.

“What was the gunshot? Are you okay?” you ask running your hands over him scanning for an entry wound.

“Im fine dulzura, im fine. Go back to bed,” he whispers, with a tone indicating that everything was not fine.

“Helena?” you ask eyes wide.

“I don’t know” he lies, “We'll figure it out tomorrow.” he continues trying to sooth you, despite knowing exactly who was at the other end of that bullet.

“Tomorrow?” you whisper.

“If we go over there now, he’ll kill us both, if he's not already on his way to do it now. Go back into the bedroom, lock the door, do not open it for anyone. I'll keep watch” he says, more serious than you’d ever heard him.

“Stay with me.” you plead, not willing to lose Javi now that you had him.

“No, they put me with you to keep you safe, that’s what I'm going to do, that's what you're going to let me do.” he says, escorting your back up the stairs to the bedroom, not leaving until he hears the lock click into place.

Your eyes open as the mid morning sun seeps in through the cracks of the curtains reminding you of the events from the night prior. Quietly, but quickly, you get out of bed and unlock the door, holding your breath as you tip-toe down the stairs, turning the corner you exhale upon seeing Peña sitting on a chair gun in hand facing the door. He glances at you once, then again, he was over tired and on edge from being up all night.

“You should get some sleep, I'll keep an eye out,” you offer, going over to him and taking the gun from his hand, placing it down on the coffee table.

“How are the ribs?” he asks, reaching back for the gun.

“Broken, but fine,” you say, grabbing his hand in yours to stop it.

“That’s an oxymoron, you need to see a doctor,” he responds rubbing his thumb over your knuckles

“And you need to sleep, If he hasn’t killed us yet I think we're in the clear,'' you say, beginning to pull him up. He gives in and gets up himself, knowing you're only making your ribs worse. He lifts your chin and sleepily kisses you before heading off into the bedroom, leaving you with a gun that you didn't know how to use. You begin to cook breakfast leaving a plate in the fridge for Javi when he wakes up, you hoped the DEA would be extracting you soon. The situation was already volatile, you didn't want it to become explosive when the second painting was stopped. As you're cleaning up the dishes you hear a faint knock at the door. Your heart drops, and you look over to the door, letting out a shaky breath as you place the pan down in the sink. You open the door to Carlos who's standing before you looking charismatic as ever. You want to call out for Peña but you know it'll only make the situation more suspicious.

“Carlos,” you say taking a step back, crossing your arms over your chest

“You did not go to the hospital?” he asks, eyes scanning over your body as he speaks

“We don’t trust hospitals,” you offer up.

“Or the police? Kidnapping is a very serious crime after all.” he muses, smiling down at you.

“If we don’t trust hospitals, why would we go to the police? They’re a bunch of incompetent fuckers. Besides, they don’t need to know about the counterfeit work I've been doing on the side,” you offer, as you hear the sound of Javi descending the stairs. It had only been a moment but it felt like forever when Javi finally showed up at your side, quickly putting distance between you and Carlos.

“Get out. You may have built this house but we bought it, leave.” he spits

“Listen…” Carlos chides.

“You think you can break my wifes ribs and I will welcome you back with open arms? That I would listen to you, no, no, no….” he laughs.

“Darling... '' you say, trying to get his attention, but he's not done.

“Get out, do not come back, we’ll be moving shortly. As I said before we like to keep decent company and it seems we’ve run out of it here.”

“Darling.. that’s quite enough, Carlos apologies please do go on.” You interject. You can practically see the steam coming off Javi when you say it, his eyes wide as he turns back to face you.

“Thank you querida, I came to offer my sincerest apologies, I was mistaken in my belief that you were federal, misinformation is like a disease. It festers, rots your brain, I let Helena rot mine. As a result we will be moving for a time, we suggest you two do the same, police will be sniffing around here soon enough”

“Wait” you say, exiting into your art room returning shortly after with the portrait “here. The last counterfeit you had asked for, it rough but passable. Think of it as a farewell gift” He takes it and just like that he was gone, out of your lives for good.

*************************************************

The two of you sit in the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs in the ER’s waiting room, you'd been there for a few hours now, mainly sitting in silence, still trying to process what was going on.

“She's dead because of us,” you finally whisper out, Helena hadn’t left your mind since the gunshots had sung out last night, “We could have tried to get her out, she could have had information,”

“Then the whole operation would be gone, and this all would have been for nothing,” Javi responds in an attempt to unburden you of your guilt. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and pull you into him, to kiss your pain away, but you were back to the real world and the rules were different here, less clear to him.

“She was telling the truth and she still died. Do you realize how fucked up that is,” you state, emotionlessly staring off into space unable to process how you were feeling, or not wanting to, knowing it could result in everything flooding out of you.

“It’s just part of the job, they think the paintings can be linked to Escobar which is the only thing that matters.The only thing good that came out of all this pain is that were one step closer to catching the bastard” he reassures, not realizing the meaning of the words he was speaking.

“The only thing Javi?”, you question, unable to believe that everything between you had meant nothing to him.

“Ya, the only thing, in the end,” he says, turning just in time to catch the look on your face, only then realizing what he was implying. He opens his mouth to explain that what he had just said was not what he meant, but the doctor calls your name and you stand up quickly, walking ahead leaving him in the dust. He looks from the chair then to the exit, weighing his options.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #javi x y/n #agent peña x you #agent peña x reader #narcos fanfic #javi x reader

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

Text

Lockets and Emo’s

Summary: Virgil can guess a lot about their soulmate from the knife locket they were drawn too, and the portrait within, but they’ll wait for them to visit the shop he works in.

/\/\

People always talked about how accurate the portraits in their lockets were, and that they'd never have been able to find their soulmate if not for the picture held inside. Frankly, people talked a lot of nonsense and no matter how accurate a painting was, it was still limited by the paint, the artist and the amount of space available in how detailed it could be. Even photographs suffered that limitation.

When Virgil first got their locket, they had been far more interested in the process of the caravan, being blindfolded in the room with the lockets until one called his hands to them, and afterwards sitting with the soul artist as though for their own portrait but actually so they could get their energy to reveal the image of their soulmate. They'd been lucky enough that the locket in their hands filled them, providing more space for the image to appear in. That gave him more details to look for in the faces of others alongside the reflections of who their soulmate is in the design of the locket.

Remus hadn't cared when he was taken to get his locket. It wasn't that he didn't want to meet them, but that he'd spent the week reading about the soulmates who didn't work out, and just wanted to discuss with all the workers there if there's anyway to know how soulmates will actually react to each other. After all, even in fiction there were soulmates like Heathcliffe and Cathy who were perfect to destroy each other, as well as political ones, where the soulmates might try to be romantic, or friends, but their connection really only grows when they work together as colleagues and nothing more. Surely the different types of soulmates had been studied and the people in the caravan should know if he could tell just what he was heading to having.

He had kept asking those questions while blindfolded and being led from the room with a rather bland looking lockets and even while sitting with the artist as the tiny thing had his soulmate painted inside it. None of the staff replied or even spoke to him beyond gentle words to guide him through the process, no matter how many times Remus insisted they could throw him through the areas if they wanted to.

It wasn't until a week later than Remus looked at his locket and found the spider webs and checked patterns engraved into the locket, only visible in some lights. It at least made him more interested in the soulmate that was supposed to be portrayed within it, with dark eyeshadow showing from beneath a long fringe. At least it wasn't any of the emos he'd been through school with, none of them had worn eyeshadow underneath their eyes and almost all of them hated his rebellious punk style.

Virgil wasn't going to go out socialising to try and find the guy with a wild smile, a fringe bleached white and green-brown eyes, but they could just about cope with a retail job, so long as the shop was small and wouldn't insist he speaks to people as they enter. That would at least give them a change to people watch in case someone similar to their portrait wandered through.

Well, that and they could hopefully watch for anyone causing a scene because whomever the locket represented definitely would grab attention quickly. Virgil wasn't quite sure what they were most amused by when looking at the locket, just how gaudy it was or how intricately made it was. The main body seemed to be made out of a dagger, cut in half width ways and blunted just enough to be safe to wear, although still functional if they wished to stab someone. There was even a hilt instead of a normal ring to attach it to the chain.

Remus had tried visiting all the normal areas he'd heard of emo's hanging out in, making a scene and sometimes getting into fights at all of them. They might agree that the police needed to be shut down and capitalism was a burden but apparently got very protective over the bands they claimed. It wasn't Remus's fault he sometimes was looking for something with a bit more of a dancable beat to it.

He only decided to try to shops in local towns that emos might visit on a whim, or rather after Roman had gone on a long speech about “It's not merely fashion Remus, any fool could follow that, it's about aesthetic and truly reflecting the prince within me.” All he had asked was just why his brother was dragging them around shops that seemed to sell mostly steampunk accessories when his brother usually preferred swords, leather and ruby jewellery.

Seriously, Remus could and would make anything his style within a day of climbing around in it. A few tears, a bit of dirt and perhaps some thorns from the bushed he scrambled through and the jobs done, but it definitely made sense that someone who's locket reflection hid the details probably wouldn't be out around the town regularly.

When he first entered an out of the way shop, Remus had been torn between making a scene and just trying to steal a couple of the spiked piercing they had in a display case. It was always more fun to steal things that were locked to normal shoppers, but he actually knew the words to the song that was playing so obviously had to make a display table his stage and sing along. Checking the staff out for patchwork clothes or under the eye eyeshadow could wait a while.

He made it halfway through the song before someone caught his arm and essentially through him to the floor as they yanked him down. “If you're going to dance on the merchandise you had better get to cleaning it up right the hell now, Maniac!” The store assistant who'd yanked him down demanded, glaring and waving a hand at where he'd been dancing a second before.

Remus would have argued, except he could recognise that long fringe anywhere. They eyeshadow just underneath them only cemented that his was his soulmate, and the shaking in their hands was probably because they were realising the same thing.

“Hi, I'm Remus, he/him, and sure thing. You gonna give me instructions on what to do, Spiderpatch?” He asked instead, bouncing up, as close as he could to the other, pouting a little when he was still looking up at them.

“Virgil, they/them, and if that's what it takes then yes, but I think you're smart enough to figure it out yourself.” They growled out.

Mentally Virgil was still freaking out. Usually when people started making a scene to that degree they would actually wait until they finished and then clean up after them. This was way too close to a confrontation for them to be comfortable with, but the man was more accurate to his mental image of his soulmate than anyone they'd ever seen and it at least gave them something to say without bringing that up.

“Smart enough, sure, willing to do it without my soulmate or some kind of threat to motivate me, yeah, I don't wanna.” Remus teased, not expecting a knife to be pulled from Virgil's hoodie and held up towards him.

Virgil smirked at the blink that flickered between their face and their hands. “Well I've got both thanks to your locket, so how about you get folding?” They asked, gesturing once again to the ruined display, although thankfully there were no footprints on any of the tops. Glancing around they saw why as Remus had apparently thrown his shoes across the room while climbing onto the table.

“It's a knife locket? Oh my god, I have the most awesome reflection in locket form ever! I'm in love with this locket even if you're making me fold shirts to get a date with you.” Remus was bouncing even as he finally turned to start tidying up the display, already rattling of other thoughts and well aware Virgil was stood watching him.

“So what's mine like then, if you're so enamoured with the one for you?” They hadn't decided about going out with Remus yet so decided to ignore the offer when they finally spoke up again.

Remus barely paused, grabbing the locket from his pocket to shove into their hands. “Really interesting. The best light to look at it in is like night club strobe lights. They bring out the designs on it perfectly. I bet in here you can barely make out there's even any pattern on there. Seriously, date? Hang out as friends? Phone number? Can I have something to say I'm seeing you again? Hell if you'd prefer just to make me work here I'm down for it.”

Virgil snickered at the ideas but shook their head playfully horrified when Remus mentioned them working together. “I'm not giving you more chances to damage the merchandise. How about we text for a while, get to know each other and see what we'd like from there?”

“Phone number then.” Remus turned around pulling his phone out only to pout and exaggeratedly deflate when his realised they were no longer holding the knife locket out at all. “Come on, I liked having you ready to cut me. A bit of pain is brilliant.”

“Not what I meant when I said getting to know you, but noted, if we ever get to a sexual relationship, you have a pain kink.” Virgil remarked, quickly typing in their number before waving towards the staff area. “I can't have my phone out on shift since I got too grouchy with my co-workers so text me and I'll reply when I get out of here.”

Remus took his phone back with a grin, “Sure, I'll go and see what mischief I can get into before I come to walk you home.”

“Didn't agree to that.” Virgil tried to call after him, but Remus had already turned to race out of the store.

#dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #soulmate au #lockets #tw knives

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spaced-out-imagines · 4 years

Text

Your Feelings Matter (Shinsou x reader)

Warnings: some depressive themes I guess but it doesn’t get too bad

A/n: not a request but I went through a similar experience a couple of weeks ago and I really wish I had someone to comfort me in that moment and who better to provide comfort than my favourite boy. And so this was born. I hope you enjoy!

You sighed as you looked at your phone. Your heart ached in your chest as you stared at the texts from your friends.

(...)

(Fn/1): yeah we should hang out soon. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out. (Yesterday 10:20 am)

(Fn/3): ohhhhh sounds fun I’m in! (Yesterday 10:21 am)

(y/n): I’m in too (Yesterday 10:30 am)

(Fn/2): me three ( Yesterday 11:00 am)

(y/n): ugh I really feel like shit right now. Is anyone free to talk? (Yesterday 6:01 pm)

(Fn/2): so what are we gonna do for our hang out? Does anyone want to go somewhere specifically? (Today 3:02 pm)

(Fn/3): I don’t really have a preference (Today 3:24 pm)

(Fn/1): I have to buy some new clothes so why don’t we go to the mall? (Today 4:00 pm)

(Fn/2): sounds good! (Today 4:03 pm)

(...)

You turned off your phone and flopped onto your bed in your UA dorm. You lay on your back and placed your arm on top of your eyes. Your chest hurt and you could feel the pain spread throughout your body creating a tingling sensation. You took deep breaths to try and compose yourself but it was hard.

Your friends had ignored your texts again.

You were used to this. Whenever you tried to confide in your friends they brushed you off. As if you never said anything or as if you didn’t even exist in the first place. It made you feel like you couldn’t talk to your friends, as if your feelings weren’t valid or important.

You continued to try and squash your feelings, to control the waves of sadness that seemed to hit you again and again, as well as the bad thoughts that seemed to flow along with the current.

You were blinking away tears when you heard a knock on your door. Confused you weakly called out, “who is it?”

“It’s me kitten.”

Your breaths came a little easier and you felt your heart warm a little. Of course your boyfriend decided to visit you right when you were feeling sad. You appreciated it but at the same time you didn’t want him to see you like this. You quickly sat up and grabbed your phone again, turning it on and scrolling through one of your social medias, to try and appear casual.

“Come in,” you said.

Shinsou walked through the door, closing it behind him. You looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back as he made his way over to you. He stopped in front of you and you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his stomach, his hoodie feeling soft against your face.

“Hey Toshi,” you said quietly.

His fingers found their way to your hair, running through the tresses. He was careful to never pull too hard, as he didn’t want to hurt you. You almost purred at the feeling, your body relaxing even more and you struggled not to turn into a puddle of goo.

“Something wrong kitty?” he asked.

You remained quiet for a few moments, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to bother Shinsou with your problems, didn’t want to burden him with stuff you should be able to deal with on your own. So instead of saying anything, you simply shook your head.

You felt Shinsou’s fingers stop moving and his hands grabbed the side of your face instead. You whined a little as he lifted your face and you saw he was frowning.

“Are you sure kitty? I can tell something is wrong,” he said, his worry being conveyed through his tone.

You looked away, his purple eyes too intense for you to look at. It was like he was stripping away all of your mental defenses, leaving you vulnerable. “It’s... it’s nothing really. It’s dumb,” you muttered, hoping that would be enough for him to drop it.

Unfortunately he didn’t.

His fingers stroked the side of your face softly, prompting you to lean into them. He pressed his forehead to yours, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Y/n. If something bothers you it’s not stupid. I don’t want you to bottle up your emotions. I want you to be able to confide in me. To tell me all your worries and doubts. All your troubles you can tell them to me,” he whispered.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your hands gripped his hoodie even tighter. All of the emotions that you had bottled up, that you had forced down, were starting to bubble at the surface. You felt like you were bursting at the seams, the pool of emotions welling up inside you getting bigger and bigger until it all came out in a flood.

The tears rolled down your face as you finally let your feelings out. Little hiccups and whimpers escaped from your throat as Shinsou cooed at you gently. He began to run one of his hands through your hair once more, patting the top of your head trying to comfort you.

“Let it out kitten. You don’t need to bottle it up anymore, not around me,” he said gently, making you cry even more.

“I-it’s just I was talking to m-my friends and I tried to talk to them about my feelings again but they j-just ignored me,” you wailed, “it makes me feel like my emotions don’t matter Hitoshi! Like I don’t matter!”

Shinsou’s hand stopped moving once more and you almost whined from the loss of the comforting motion, but he quickly sat down on the edge of your bed and grabbed you by your waist. He gently, but swiftly, pulled you onto his lap and hugged you tightly. Shinsou buried his face in the crook of your neck before he spoke.

“Darling no. That’s not true at all. Your feelings matter, they will always matter. It’s not your fault that your friends ignored you, that’s on them for being bad friends,” he told you. As Shinsou said this you felt your neck get wet and it took you a second to realize he was crying.

“If your friends continue to ignore you then maybe you should confront them about it. They might not know they’re hurting you,” he continued, “but even if they keep blocking you out know that your feelings are always important. You should never feel like you don’t matter because to me you are everything.”

At Shinsou’s comforting words you couldn’t help but cry more. You threw your arms around his neck and his hold around your waist tightened. The two of you sat there for a few minutes, just basking in each other’s presence, loving each second of it. It was like you could feel Shinsou’s love coming off of him in waves, filling your entire body with warmth.

“I don’t deserve you,” you said, laughing a little at the end.

At the sound of your laugh Shinsou pulled away from your neck so that his eyes could meet yours. He smiled gently, even though there were still remnants of tears in his eyes. “On the contrary my dear, it is I who doesn’t deserve you,” he said.

You giggled again at his choice of words before leaning in to give him a peck on his nose, causing his face to turn into a rosy pink. “Why don’t we just say we’re both perfect for each other,” you suggested as you smiled back at him.

“Mmmm that works I suppose,” Shinsou replied before kissing you all over your face causing more laughs to escape from your mouth.

“Hitoshi?” you said after he was done attacking your face with kisses.

“Hm?”

“Thank you for being there for me.”

“Anytime kitten.”

Bonus:

“So do you want to cuddle?”

“Do you even have to ask kitty?”

“Hm that’s a fair poin- ah! Toshi get off me you’re heavy!”

“You love being beneath me just admit it.”

“...Shut up you pervert.”

“Hey you’re the one who twisted my words to sound dirty.”

“Just be quiet and cuddle me Hitoshi.”

“Of course my love.”

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #shinsou #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #fanfic

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yellow-faerie · 3 years

Link

This is a fic I did from a prompt from @actuallymiriel. I hope this is something like what you wanted!

“Ho! Traveller!” Finrod spins around, reaching for his sword before remembering that he no longer carries it with him. The unmarred world is safe, after all. He forces himself to relax. “Good day,” He says in return, examining the stranger before him, dressed in fine hunting clothes and holding himself cheerily. He is clearly an elf but there is something…some feeling that makes Finrod wary.

Finrod is grieving the loss of his husband in the new world when he meets a stranger in the woods. They have an enlightening conversation.

——————————————

Finrod has taken to wandering the forest recently.

It is close to his lonely cottage and far preferable to staying within its empty, silent rooms.

Galadriel had asked him, last time she visited, why he insisted on staying out here in the wilderness when there was plenty of city where he would be decidedly less lonesome.

It’s not that he hates the city: quite the contrary, he loves to watch the hustle and bustle of people toing and froing and to hear the unique music of every market place and street.

He does not hate the city but the forest is dearer to his heart and he will sacrifice company to walk beneath its boughs.

The forest is where he met the love of his life and his death. Every step he takes that crunches beneath him, every bird that sings in the canopy above, every gentle swaying branch reminds him of Bëor.

He takes a faded joy from the memory of his love’s unadulterated ecstasy at the world around him.

That is why he took his leave to the middle of nowhere.

“Ho! Traveller!”

Finrod spins around, reaching for his sword before remembering that he no longer carries it with him. The unmarred world is safe, after all.

He forces himself to relax.

“Good day,” He says in return, examining the stranger before him, dressed in fine hunting clothes and holding himself cheerily. He is clearly an elf but there is something…some feeling that makes Finrod wary.

The stranger gives him a hearty smile. “I thought I would be the only one this far from civilisation.”

“Are you lost?” Finrod inquires – it feels impossible as the elf seems so at ease but it was polite to ask.

“Ah, no. But I do not think I shall make it to my destination tonight. Alas, I must sleep in the woods.”

“I live close by. You may stay the night instead of sleeping out here, if that would be to your liking.”

“I most generous offer that I will most certainly be taking you up on.” The stranger smiles. “May I know the name of my host?”

“Nóm.” The name falls from his lips as easily as the offer of a nights rest. His tongue seems to have a life of its own in this elf’s presence. “And your name, stranger?”

“You may call me Únan-Pen.” He gives Finrod another smile and any unease Finrod may have felt at the name melts away.

+++++

“A very nice supper that was indeed.” Finrod’s guest puts his knife and fork together on his plate. “Now, I’m curious – what brought you to live here, so far from your kin?”

Finrod grimaces. “I have rather a lot of kin. It is quite nice to have a place to be away from the chaos.”

“Ah.” The elf buries around in his pocket, revealing a pipe. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

“Of course not, be my guest.”

They sit in silence for a long moment, in which Finrod reminisces of times he had done this with his many mortal friends and of course, his dearest love.

“You seem awfully melancholy,” The other elf comments suddenly, breaking through Finrod’s thoughts. “I thought this new world was a happy place.”

“Happiness is subjective. ”

“Is it now?”

“It is. Happiness can only be gained through your experiences. Thus, your experiences shape the way that you are happy. It’s not something you can just create.” Finrod hates the bitter note that creeps into his voice.

His guest puffs thoughtfully on his pipe. “You appear to have missed something that your peers have not. They do not seem so pained in the new world.”

“They forget the old.”

“Do not think that I forget her! I do not pretend that she never existed. I want to be happy, Finrod!”

Finrod blinks away the sour memory. “Would you like some tea?” He asks his guest, trying for a smile.

“Certainly, if it is being offered.”

Finrod lifts the kettle onto the stove.

“Are you alone here?”

“Yes.” Finrod tugs on one of his braids as he returns to his seat. “I have no-one to share it with.”

“Is that why you are so mournful? You are alone?”

“It is not just because I am alone. It is because I once had someone I thought I would be able to share my life with and now I do not.”

“They were mortal?”

Finrod lets out a short laugh, before agreeing resentfully. “He was mortal. Eru will not let me be joined with him again.”

The kettle whistles, high and piercing, and Finrod stands again to fill the waiting mugs. Bëor never liked the unsweetened taste of this tea, Finrod thinks as he brings the mugs back to the table.

“You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of the One,” Finrod’s guest comments as he accepts the tea.

“Why should I? He has done nothing for me.”

“Nothing?” The elf looks incredulous. “He created you. Surely you cannot find fault with that.”

“It was done with little creation, it appears, or else he is not so omnibenevolent as I am so often told.” Finrod’s knuckles are white where they grip the mug.

“Do you truly believe you can understand His reasoning? His mind is far beyond that of any spirit on this earth, incarnate or not.” Finrod’s hands are beginning to scald, holding his mug so tightly. “He is timeless and transcends all comprehension. Would it not be folly, then, to argue with His actions?”

“If He did not want those He created to argue with His actions, He should not have caused His creation – His children, whom He claims to love – pain from which they cannot recover.”

“You believe he has inflicted something upon you that has caused a wound that will not heal?”

“Yes.” Finrod squares his jaw as he takes his hand from the mug. “He gave His children separate fates and put them in a place where they would form bonds of brotherhood and love but then he tore them apart through death, never to be joined again. And now I must watch my family be happy and content in this new life, free from burdens and with those they love and know I will never quite manage to achieve that same peace separated from him.”

“Fifi, for the sake of all that is good, why must you continue to wallow in your pain?”

His guest takes his pipe from his mouth, setting it on the table with a firm tap.

“I am interested,” He starts slowly. “In a point from earlier. Happiness, you said, was subjective. Thus to achieve happiness, would you not need pain to compare to your joyous moments too?”

“Yes. But if you cannot recover from your injuries, does that not taint those moments.”

“Only, I believe, if you let it. If you do not, if you accept the change and let it become a part of you – not to forget but to accept – you may very well find those moments of joy are happier. The greater the pain of an experience, surely, would provide a greater love for those things around you.”

“It is not a matter of letting. You cannot…you cannot just take that weight from your soul.”

“No. But you can get stronger so that the weight does not feel so heavy.” The elf picks up his pipe again, tipping it into the flickering fireplace. “Surely you are not the only one who suffers so? Not the only one who must deal with the grief of a lost lover.”

“Fine! If you must be like that, leave! See if I care!”

Finrod doesn’t answer, his brother’s biting words echoing in his head. Their parting conversation – well, argument seems a more fitting term – was not a sweet one.

“Well, it’s getting late.” Finrod looks up from his hands at his guest who gives him a smile that seems to hold all the peace in the world. “I should be off to bed.”

Finrod gives his guest a weak smile and directs him through a door to their left with a quiet goodnight.

His brother’s harsh words whisper into his ears, sweet memories of his lover flit across his eyes as he sits at his kitchen table, the hearth dying down to embers and the sun rising in the west.

++++

Finrod is woken slowly from his thoughts by the sun falling on his face and his open eyes.

He yawns, exhausted from his long night. He supposed that he should make breakfast. He stumbles to his feet and over to the guest bedroom.

He knocks gently. “Hey…” He trails off as he realises, with some embarrassment, that he can’t remember his guest’s name. “…sir. Would you like some breakfast?”

There is no answer but for the whistling of wind through an open window. Finrod pushes the door open.

There is no-one occupying the bed or any part of the room: indeed, everything looks untouched, as if no-one slept there at all last night.

Finrod stands in the doorway, the gentle morning breeze blowing the curtains and into his hair.

There is a sharp knock on the front door.

He blinks, surprised. “I’m coming!” He yells, pausing for a moment, wondering at his mysterious guest.

The knock comes again.

“impatient,” He mutters, fumbling with the bolt and key.

There’s a third knock. “I’m opening it! Calm down.”

“Good it’s bloody freezing out here.”

It’s good thing that Finrod has already unlocked the door because he can feel his hand begin to shake.

“Aiko?” He asks, pulling the door open.

Sure enough, there is Angrod: spiky hair, lopsided grin and all.

“Hey Fifi. I think we need to talk.”

“Talk?” Finrod asks.

“Yes. But properly this time. With no arguing.”

That doesn’t sound too bad.

#Finrod #Finrod/Beor #Tolkien #Silmarillion #Fanfiction #writing prompt

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captainscanadian · 4 years

Text

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 7)

My Masterlist

Summary: You finally decide to open up to your friends, realizing that opening up your heart would definitely make everything better. You knew exactly what you needed to be better.

Word Count: 7170

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Natasha x Platonic!Reader, Lawyer!Peggy x Platonic!Reader, Doctor!Tony

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse & Alcoholism, Surgery, Organ Donation, IV & Needles, Emotional Distress, Physical Pain, Drugs, Hospital Stay, Homelessness, Anxiety, Betrayal

A/N: After the last few updates, some of you have been very upset with me and I know that. I hope this make all of you happy. <3 Gif is not mine, credits to the respective owner!

Primum non nocere // “First, do no harm”

Though some may say that Latin was a dead language, it was that single Latin phrase which you had always lived by. No one really knew the origins of that phrase. Whether this exact phrase was even mentioned in the original Hippocratic Oath was debatable, but it is commonly believed that the promise “to abstain from doing harm” in the modern version oath itself came from this particular Latin phrase.

As a doctor, you had sworn to uphold the Hippocratic Oath in order to be able to practice medicine. But upholding the oath did not just apply to you practicing medicine alone. It was certainly binding; it was a sacred piece of text to all doctors, nurses and other medical professionals in the world for generations. It applied to the way you lived your life, just as much as it applied to the way you practiced medicine. Perhaps the Hippocratic Oath had been the reason why you were currently in this situation. After all, being a better person had been just as important to you as being a better doctor.

“I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.”

You had firmly believed that it was your duty to apply all measures that are required for the benefit of the sick. That was why you had even volunteered to donate your liver in the first place. Even if he was your abusive father, he was still a patient. This was a measure that only you could have taken, for you were your father’s only offspring. Anyone else may have had a choice in whether they must come forward to donate a piece of their liver to save another life, but as a doctor who had sworn to the Hippocratic Oath, you had been left with no choice. You had to do what you had to do. There was no other option for you than cutting out a piece of your own flesh.

“If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.”

It was true. You as a doctor, with your knowledge and the skills that you had acquired from the professors and surgeons before you, did have the power to take a life as much as you had the power to save a life. All it took was one wrong cut, one wrong dosage and one wrong judgement to take a life on your table. But as a physician, you could certainly not do that. You had to uphold the Hippocratic Oath. Did this certain promise to not use your power to take a life or play at God not apply to every other decision you made in your life? You did have the power to take your father’s life had you chosen not to move forward with the transplant. With his position on the list and the wait time for a liver transplant, he certainly would not have made it. But you knew that it was not the right thing to do. You could not violate your oath nor play at God like that. You had to do what was within your power to save his life, not take it.

“I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.”

This was your obligation as member of society to your fellow human beings. Your father, regardless of who he was and whatever the issues you had with him, was a fellow human being who deserved to be treated as such.

You had thought that you did the right thing by donating your liver. You had saved his life and it had brought you a sense of relief. You had not brought him harm. You had often wondered if you leaving behind your parents had brought them more harm than good. Had you intentionally did them harm? While you wished that the answer was no, you knew that was certainly not the truth. After all, you had done them harm... though not physically, you had put them in harm’s way by worsening their financial situation. It was only a matter of time before they end up on the streets of Buck’s County, and as someone who’s had to live through that, even if it was for one night, you would not even wish that upon your worst enemy let alone your own parents.

You could not deny that a part of you wanted to fix this for them. You wanted nothing more than to make their lives easy. After all, you had made their lives harder as they had made your life harder as well. Sure, they had abused you. But you could not blame them for their behavior. Losing their business had put a strain on their whole being. While being a child who needed to be provided with food, clothing and shelter was certainly not your fault, you blamed the added stress of providing for a child along with the emotional distress that came with being bankrupt for being their reasons to take it all out on you. Had they been right about doing what they did? No, certainly not. But should you wish that they must continue to be punished for their wrong-doings? Had they not had enough, being hated by an entire town while their own child had fled them? Had they not had enough, with your father drinking away his health and your mother being burdened to be the sole breadwinner of the family? They had had enough. You could not let things get worse for them.

You certainly did have the money. But you also knew that paying off their medical bills would mean that you could no longer afford to keep your make shift clinic running at the local homeless shelter. You had been put in a position where you had to choose between the countless of homeless people who depended on that shelter and your clinic and your own biological family. And what kind of a daughter, let alone human being could you be, if you chose to help those unknown people while your own family might even end up in the streets at this point. This choice was certainly not as easy as the first one.

It had taken a few days for the hospital’s in-house attorney to draft a proper contract upon the request of Dr. James Barnes. But she had done it to the best of her ability, ensuring that by accepting his payment, your parents did agree to never contact you ever again. She had triple-checked that this contract had no loopholes and that you were protected from them, as you should have always been.

She had even informed Dr. Romanoff, Dr. Wilson and Dr. Parker of the situation, for they had been the doctors on your case and needed to know of the current circumstances between you and the recipient of your liver. However, she had only shared the financial aspects and not the emotional ones. After all, she still respected your privacy and decision not to over-share the issues your personal life with anyone else, even if they were your friends.

For the sake of protecting you and this hospital, though she knew that your parents were certainly not smart enough to come after the hospital anyways, she had also informed Dr. Stark of what Dr. Barnes was about to do. There was no reason for the hospital to be involved in this transaction, unless there was an eventual lawsuit, which there would not be. As long as the hospitals bills were paid off, Tony did not object to it. In a way, even he had cared about ensuring that your abusive parents were out of your life. He had even mentioned to Peggy about him paying off the bills out of his own pocket; all it took was a little nudge from the attorney for the Chief of Surgery to understand that this was Bucky’s burden to bear.

“No, he pays them off. She finds out, even though he doesn’t want her to. Then she’ll finally realize that he’s been in love with her all along. She’ll ask him about it. He’ll have no choice but to fess up and they’ll both live happily ever after. Is that not what you want, Tony?” Peggy Carter had asked him, a hint of frustration evident in her voice. As a mother herself, she was disappointed extremely disappointed at what your own parents had done. If she could have done more than just draft a contract in this situation, she would have done it all. Hell, she would have taken their asses to court and ripped them to shreds if you did have a strong case. But you did not and this was the next best thing she could do for you. “Because that’s literally what every single person in this entire fucking hospital wants at this point.”

“Do you really think he’ll fess up though? I made a bet with Pep. She says he will but... I wouldn’t put all of my faith in him.” Tony had remarked with a chuckle.

“This thing’s been going on and on forever. It’s about time it all came to an end.”

“But he doesn’t even want her to know that he’s paying them off. How is she going to find out about it?” He had asked the lawyer, his eyebrow raised at her.

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Tony?” She asked the man as she crossed her arms against her chest. “He can be this selfless, righteous... ‘I just want to protect her even though she doesn’t love me back and I don’t want to put my money down because of my own personal gains’ ... all he wants, but I’m not going to let him do whatever he pleases by now. The bloke’s the godfather of my child and she’s the closest thing Steve’s had to a sister. Those two are going to get together by the end of this thing and I’ll make sure of it.”

“Sounds like you’re meddling, Peggy. Are you a meddler though?” He asked as he feigned a dramatic gasp. “Is this what my father taught you? Meddling? Really? Is that what Howard taught you to do in court? How often do you do this in court anyways? How much have you meddled in the past?”

“Oh get over yourself...” She rolled her eyes at him. “As a matter of fact, your father did... teach me what it means to meddle in certain cases, not that I agreed with him or anything like that. There is a reason why I left his firm all those years ago but that’s not the point. This isn’t a court case, its Bucky and Y/N’s life and I’m going to meddle... the living shit out of it if it means that we’ll get a happy ending. Steve agrees that someone’s got to do something and he knows he’s not the right one to do it either. So, I’m going to meddle and get those two together, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I guess I better get ready to lose my bet with Pepper then.”

While Peggy did not completely agree with Bucky’s decision to pay off your parents himself, she knew that this was the only plausible solution to your dilemma. Though there were certain legal actions that could have been taken against your parents, she knew that you would not want to go forward with that. And even if you did make that call and had approached her for legal advice yourself, she would have told you not to do it. After all, the court would have suggested settlement anyways. A case of emotional extortion would not stand in court and knowing of your past, the last thing Peggy would have wanted was for you to relive that trauma in a court room. The court room was a brutal place just as it was and you had suffered enough.

“Are you alright, love?” She asked you as she sat down at the edge of your bed, her hand reaching over to grab yours. “I know you’ve had a rough couple of days but is there anything... anything we could do for you?”

Your eyes glazed over as you shook your head. “No... no, I... I’ll be fine, Peg.” You croaked out. You were still in and out of consciousness, thanks to the pain medications that continued to be pumped into your system. The dosage was controlled, but it made no difference. Even when you were completely knocked out, a part of you still felt the pain. But you could not tell for sure if the pain you had been feeling was physical or emotional. It was blurry...

“Sweetheart, you know you can talk to us about anything... right?” Natasha asked you as she stood by your bedside. To say that a part of her felt slightly frustrated that you had not opened up to her over the years would be an understatement. But she understood that you must have had a valid reason for trusting only a few people. Though she could not deny that she had grown to despise your parents a lot more now that she had found out about their attempt at extorting money from you, she had tried her hardest not to show it when she had to face them. After all, she was still in a conflicted position being your father’s doctor and your friend. She wanted nothing more than for all of this to be done for good. After hearing from Peggy about Bucky’s decision, all she could do was hope that the man would finally come forward and confess his feelings to you. She knew that he did not want to do that but she also knew him. She had known him for years, ever since they were residents. If anything, Dr. James Barnes was good and fixing broken hearts and your broken heart was indeed his to fix. “We’re your friends, Y/N. We’re here for you because we care about you. You know that, right?”

You sniffled as you turned over to look at your general surgeon, though you tried to ignore her words. A part of you wondered if your request might offend her, but it was for the best. You did not want to hurt her as much as you did not want to get yourself hurt again as well. You had a reason to want what you had wanted, so you might as well just ask her already. “Actually... Nat, there is something you could do for me.” You told her with a nervous smile, a sigh escaping your chapped lips as you looked over at her..

The red-headed surgeon perked up at your response. “Sure, what is it? What can I do for you?” Ever since you had first started working it this hospital, Natasha Romanoff had been the one who had constantly approached you in hopes of befriending you. Though her attempts had often failed, she took no offense to that. She had heard from Steve that you were not the kind of person who liked to hang out in a large group of people so she had let it slide until you were ready to accept her friendship.

You could not deny that this woman was extremely forward and perky, much to your dismay at first. It may have taken you a few weeks to warm up to her, thanks to a heart-liver transplant that the two of you had first worked together on. But eventually, you had managed to hang out with her outside of work. You were not one to go out a lot, but when you did, it had always been because you had accepted Natasha’s invite.

Even when it came to her being your father’s doctor, you had requested for her to be yours too. In most transplant cases, the donor and the recipient had different doctors and a whole separate team dedicated to them, working on them separately. But Natasha had been the one you had trusted with your own life. You had asked her to be the one to cut you open and remove your liver and she had made the arrangements to do so. You had trusted her to be your doctor and she was your doctor, a good one at that.

“Can you... can you refer me to... psych?” You asked her as you looked down at your lap. “Preferably with Dr. Rhodes, he already has a file on me and he’s familiar with me... I think I have a lot to talk to him about.”

Dr. Romanoff frowned at your request as she walked up to you, sitting down across from Peggy and taking your other hand in hers. “Y/N, honey...” She let out a sigh and you could have sworn that you saw her eyes glaze over with tears. “I’m not going to pressure you to open up to us. None of what’s been happening to you lately is any of our business. But it breaks my heart that you... that you’d rather share what’s going on with you to a psychiatrist than your own friends. I don’t know what it would take for you to trust us... but we’re all here for you and we’re all worried about you. I just want you to know that we’re not going to leave you hanging. And as your doctor, I’m telling you... you don’t need a psychiatrist. You need a friend. You need a family and you have a god damn family. You have all of us.”

You wanted to believe it. You really did. But you did not know if you should. Someone else had said these exact words to you all those years ago and you had believed her, only to realize how wrong you had been about putting all of your trust in her. She had also said the opposite of these exact words to you to and you had still believed her. For all these years, you had held back from making close friends because you had been terrified to get hurt again, the same way she had hurt you.

Peggy reached over to place her free hand on Nat’s shoulder and turned over to look at you with a frown that matched hers. “Sweetheart, come on... we’re not going to let you go through this alone. Steve’s not going to let you go through this alone. Tony’s not going to let you go through this alone. Barnes... is not going to let you go through this alone.”

You could not deny that your heart skipped a beat when the woman had mentioned his name. Dr. James Barnes had always had a special place in your heart. You knew that you shared a very special bond with him, a bond that was just not the same as what you had or did not have with anyone else at this Brooklyn Hospital. You had met him that night when you had been at one of your lowest points in life; you had been ready to give up on your entire career that night, which had been the one thing that had kept you going up until that point. You would have given up on your whole life had you not met him, for he had told you to aim to be a better surgeon and you had strived to be just that over the years. In a way, he was the reason why you were still alive today.

You remembered the first time you had become acquainted with his name though. It was not when you had first arrived at Brooklyn Hospital. No, it was years before that. You had been a fourth year medical student at NYU Med at that time, meeting with one of your former undergraduate professors for coffee. Though the woman had only taught you in your freshman year, you had kept in touch with her throughout the years of your undergrad and medical school. She had always appreciated having her former students come back to visit her, though you knew that you weren’t the only one who had kept in touch with her over the years.

When you had mentioned that you were planning on becoming a cardiothoracic surgeon following your graduation from NYU Med, she had recalled to you that two of her former students had went on to become successful cardiothoracic surgeons in Brooklyn. All it took was a Google search for you to find out who they were, Dr. Steven Rogers and Dr James Barnes. In a matter of hours, you knew exactly why the two of them were the best heart surgeons in all of New York. You had read every article they had published on the medical journal and watched every video of their surgeries that had been recorded and published for teaching purposes. They really were the best at what they did and you knew that training under one of them was the only way to succeed in your own career.

You had become determined to land a fellowship at Brooklyn Hospital and had worked your butt off during residency to get there. You had made it where you wanted to be. But even then, things did not seem like they were going to get better for you, at least not until you had met Dr. Barnes. He made you want to be better. He made you better.

Over the years, you had gotten to know Bucky as much as you had gotten to know Steve. Aside from having to work closely together, he had been one of the few people whom you had gotten to know outside of work as well. Although that had not been your intention, you could not deny that he had gotten to know you a little more than you would have allowed him to.

Perhaps the turn of recent events had been you realize just how oblivious you had been to your own emotions. But you felt something for that man. You knew you did, even though a part of you knew that he may just be way out of your league and he may not feel the same way about you. You did not have the courage to act on these feelings but you knew that you felt something for him, you had been feeling something for him the moment he had walked into your make shift clinic at the homeless shelter that night.

It may have been his dark jeans and leather jacket that he had been wearing that night. They did make him look extremely attractive. It may have been the way he had come all the way to the shelter after not finding you at home and apologized for the way he had treated you in the OR. He sure had been persistent that night. He had respected you enough to give you a personal apology and no one had ever treated you with such courtesy. It may have been the way he had walked you back home or told you that you were capable of doing better than what life had to offer you. He was a true gentleman though. There was no denying that. But that snowy night in New York, when you had ditched the formalities and gathered the courage to address him by his first name, you had fallen for him. And unbeknownst to you, that same night when you had called him by his first name, your James had fallen for you too.

“Peggy, where’s Barnes?” You asked her as you turned over to look at her, biting down on your chapped bottom lip as you let the tears stream down your face. “He hasn’t come by to see me in the last couple of days. I haven’t seen him since... before my mother... came to see me.” The James Barnes you knew had not dared to leave your bedside since the moment you had first woken up from your surgery. But when you needed him the most, he was nowhere to be found. “I know he was mad at me for... not listening to him and going forward with this transplant. But is... is he...” You could not find the words to say that all you wanted at that moment was his presence, the glint of his bright blue eyes and his genuine smile that always calmed you down. You wanted his hands on top of yours or your head to rest on his shoulders like that day in the supply room almost two weeks ago. All you wanted was James, even if he did not want you. You wanted that clarity that he always brought to you.

“Well... I’m glad you asked about him because I didn’t know how to start that conversation.” The British woman let out a sigh of relief as she gave your hand a squeeze. “He’s... not mad at you, darling. I can tell you that for sure. He’ll never be mad at you. He respects you and your bodily autonomy above anything else. He’s... just been a bit busy with patients, you know... you know how it is. He’s also been... um...” If the woman could just spit out Bucky’s plan and did her meddling as she should, she knew that all would be well. But she was hesitant about sharing this with you, for a part of her was worried about your reaction while another part of her was not willing to break Bucky’s trust. She felt conflicted, even though she knew exactly what she had to do.

“I miss him...” You admitted, a small smile creeping upon your lips. “I miss... him sitting on that chair with a book in his hand and pretending to read it even though he knows I’m awake and watching him. He’ll keep reading until he gets to the end of the page before he turns over to look at me... I miss his smile, the way he always calls me ‘doll’ and... I miss him... scolding me for not wanting anymore pain meds... and grabbing my PCA remote and pushing the button himself because he can’t stand to see me in pain. I miss him watching me doze off. I miss him... placing a kiss on my forehead... when I fall asleep. I was pretty sure I was hallucinating when I first felt him do that but... he did it more that once so I know that actually happened... more than once. I miss... waking up to him... and... he was always there and I felt safe, like I could get through this with him at my bedside. But ever since he left me... things haven’t been getting better and... I don’t know. I miss him.”

Natasha and Peggy looked at each other with wide eyes before quickly looking back to you. “What?” They both said, in unison. They both knew what this meant. You must not have been as oblivious to Bucky’s feelings as they had thought you were. Not to mention that it seemed as though you had felt the same way about them. If they only knew for sure, they would know just how to meddle with things.

You leaned back your head against your pillow as you close your eyes, thinking about everything that had happened to you that had led up to this moment. “Margaret...” You whispered, as though her name had imprinted itself as a curse word in your mind. Saying the name of the woman who had somehow instilled some sort of fear in your heart had been terrifying itself to say the least. But you knew that you had to let her go. It was the only way you could finally allow yourself to open up to anyone. To Natasha and to James.

“What?” Peggy perked up at the sound of her name. You did know that it was her name. Perhaps, she may have been the reason why you believed that not all Margaret’s could be so cruel.

You opened your eyes to look at the woman and shook your head, letting out a sigh. “Margaret. She was my... roommate... at NYU. The first real friend I had... or so I thought. It was strange to me, you know... to find a friend in someone that the housing department had assigned to live with me. But I... I was young, just turned eighteen, finally out of the system, on my own and starting college... I was so excited to have a friend after being alone for... my whole life. I had a whole life ahead of me and... Here was... someone who... who actually gave a shit about me and I was grateful that... I had someone to call my friend, maybe even my found-family.” You could not help the tears that continued to stream down your face, the ping at your heart as you had just opened up the baggage you had been unnecessarily holding onto for years. “You know that feeling that you get when you... think that this person would be there for you throughout your whole life when no one else would? That was her. I thought she would be my best friend for life but... I was wrong about that.”

Natasha was still holding onto your hand as you continued to speak. The thought of you having had a best friend in the past did not surprise her to the slightest. After all, she firmly believed that anyone who met you would genuinely want to be your friend, as she had done so when she had first met you. But she could not help but wonder how this friendship had ended for you, since it had certainly left such a lasting impact on your social life, even after all of these years. Whatever happened between you and this Margaret, it must have caused you a lot of pain. Because if there was one thing that she had just realized, it was that this person was the reason why you had been so closed off; the reason why you had been hesitant to accept her friendship at first. There was one thing that she knew for sure though. Whatever may have happened with you and your former friend, it must not have been your fault. She knew you well enough to know that you would never intentionally even hurt a fly, let alone another human being.

“I mean, we were best friends. We... spent a lot of time together, did things that friends in college... did. She was the one who took me to my first college party, bought me my first drink when I turned twenty-one... she really got me to come out of my shell. And I was willing to do that for her. I was willing to put myself out there for her; I never did that for anyone. I went above and beyond for her... you know... I valued her friendship so much that I was willing to sacrifice... anything for her. No one wanted to be my friend through high school because everyone hated my parents. No one knew my parents in New York, no one cared who they were or what they did... or who I was, really. So, her wanting to be a close friend of mine... I was grateful. I gave up a campus job once in first year because she needed a job; I had two other jobs already so it was fine. I... uh... always did things when she asked me to... like... things that she did around campus. She... had joined a sorority and when she... did these events for them, I would buy myself a ticket and show up because I wanted to support her. Charity fundraisers... I was the first one to donate. I... couldn’t afford it but... being a good friend was more important to me and I would have expected her to do the same for me. I guess... we were close friends, but maybe it was just... me... maybe I was the only one who thought that when she didn’t...? I don’t know how things... even happened. I mean, after a while... she started hanging out with all of her sorority sisters a lot more... ditched me but... I didn’t think much of it at first. You know, I... I’m not an idiot. I did notice that she was spending a lot less time at home, but I really didn’t think much of it. I thought I was overreacting... and I let it slide.” You paused to take a breath. “I didn’t think she was... deliberately trying to distance herself from me. I mean... it was my fault.”

Peggy was listening intently as you spoke, for you had not even told her or Steve about this certain Margaret. But there must have been a reason why you had kept this from them. If you had kept it from them for as long as you had done, it made her wonder why you had chosen to share this with her and Natasha rather than her and Steve. Why now? The problem was your parents, right? So, why were you bringing up your former friend? She wanted to put the puzzle pieces together but she was unable to figure it out on her own.

“I... I always told her everything... everything about me and... What I’d been through, what was going on with me. I mean, she had to live with me... right, so... I know I had a lot of emotional baggage then, still do now but... back then, I was younger and a lot more... vulnerable. The wounds were still fresh. I just needed someone to lean on and she was always there... she didn’t mind it. She always told me that she didn’t... until one night. I remember being in my room, studying for a Biology exam. It was... December... and it was snowing really badly. I could see the snow falling from my bedroom window and... The next thing I knew, I felt like... I don’t know, I had an anxiety attack. I felt like the room was closing in on me and it just... I couldn’t breathe. I was shaking, I was cold... I remember putting a sweater on and just... hiding under my blanket. The heater was on. I tried to warm myself up but... I felt cold, my feet were numb. I panicked and I didn’t know what to do. My first instinct was to grab my phone and call her. She didn’t pick up and... I was... my hands were shaking so much when I texted her. I asked her where she was, she said that she was just leaving class and that she wasn’t coming home that night. I told her that I was... having a panic attack and that I needed help... that it felt like the night... that night in the snow storm... she knew what it meant. I had told her about what happened that night with my mother... so she knew why I was feeling... the way I did. But... just when I needed her the most... just when I thought that... she would... at least try to get me some help...” You felt a sob before wincing in pain and you could have sworn that you had felt a tug at your heartstrings. Margaret was not an easy subject to talk about but she was necessarily. She was the reason why you had given up on finding any sort of companionship in anyone, whether it was a genuine friendship or a romantic relationship.

Dr. Romanoff immediately sprung to her feet, moving over to gently pull you into a side-hug, careful not to mess with the wires and tubes that were still attached to you. Honestly, at this point she could care less about them though. If she did mess them up, she could just put them back in you herself. She knew that you needed a hug and she was going to give you a damn hug.

“The next thing she said to me... the last thing she ever said to me before she moved into her sorority house... she said and I quote, ‘Fuck off, I’m not a qualified therapist,’ and... I kid you not... it hurt like a bitch when she said that. I was shocked... I was... I didn’t know what to do, I... I knew that I’d just lost the one friend I had, I wasn’t sure if... she was the one real friend anymore but... I thought it was my fault. I blamed myself. I had ruined something for myself, I felt like I could never do anything right. Things were finally starting to get better and I had... just fucked it up with her. I just cried myself to sleep that night.” You admitted as you let out another sob, leaning your head gently against the red-headed surgeon’s shoulder as you sobbed.

“Holy shit, what a bitch!” Peggy exclaimed as she stood up to hug you from the other sweetheart. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry... you had to deal with her. You know, none of that is true. You’re...” Even she was at a loss for words as she turned over to look at Natasha and gave her a nod. If was not the right time for you to know just how unconditionally loved really were, she did not know when it would be. You needed to know what Bucky was about to do and she was going to tell you either way.

“I thought she was my friend but... she had hurt me. I never saw her again but... after what happened with her, I just... couldn’t get myself to become friends with anyone. I couldn’t let myself trust someone and... Give my all in a friendship and get nothing in return. To have my feelings be hurt like that... Nat, I didn’t mean to push you away for all these years. I was just terrified... terrified to get close to anyone because... you become close to someone, you tell them everything, do everything for them... one day, they’ll be your best friend and the next day, they’ll tell you to get a therapist.”

“Oh Y/N...” Natasha Romanoff did not utter a she word as she held onto you, her arms wrapped tightly over your shoulder as she gently held you against her body. Her hand stroked through your hair as you continued to sob, and you had felt the weight that you had been holding onto for years start to fade away. “I’m so sorry you had such a terrible friend. I can understand why you would have had such a hard time trusting anyone after what she did, after what your own mother did. People suck, Y/N... I know that for sure. But not all of us can be so terrible. We’re not like that; we won’t ever... judge you or throw you away like that. We are actually in it for life.”

“I’ve been... I’ve been holding myself back from trusting people, from having relationships. I kept believing that I wasn’t worthy of being loved because... I thought no one could love me.”

“Oh honey, you know that’s not true...”

Peggy looked over at Natasha and bit her lip. “No, it’s not... Y/N, I can’t speak for all Margaret’s but I’m sure that not all of us are such devils. I mean, at least I’m not like that and you know that. I would be honored to be your replacement Margaret if you would let me. I... I hope you would let me.”

You gave her a weak smile through the tears. “Yeah, well... you’re a much better Margaret than her, Peggy. But... um... I’m still scared... I.. I want to tell him everything, everything since the very beginning... the night I left Buck’s County, the day I got to New York, Margaret... my parents... the loss of a sense of belonging... a sense of being loved... that I lost years ago... the sense of belonging that I lost when I left home... that I didn’t get back until that night... when I was crying in an on call room and he made me realize... that I did belong in this hospital. He made me better... he makes me better, and I need him right now. I want to be better. I want him. Buck’s County is not my home... it never was, that’s where I left. But Bucky Barnes... James... he wouldn’t tell me to fuck off and get a therapist if I opened up to him and... told him how I really feel about... everything, would he?”

Natasha was in tears when she realized what all of this meant. Things were finally starting to be better for both of her friends and all she could do was hope that they ended well. She pulled back from the hug before wiping away her tears, her hands on his hips as she looked down at you and shook her head. “Fuck, no... of course, not!” She told you as she let out a chuckled. “If he dares to do such a thing, I’ll pull him by his hair and drag his ass through hell myself.”

Peggy Carter let out a sigh of relief as she wiped away her tears, hugging you for a moment longer before she pulled back. “As a matter of fact, he... he’s been thinking about making things better for you long before any one of us did. He... uh... he’s decided to take care of your dad’s medical bills himself. Of course, he didn’t want you to find out what he was going to do because you would have said no. But um... he said he’ll take care of it. He’ll make sure that your parents are well taken care of... financially speaking.”

You reached your hand up to wipe away your tears, a small chuckle escaping your lips. “James was always quite philanthropic. But it makes sense because... he... my clinic received a cheque from an anonymous donor a few years ago. I knew it was him because he... he has a big heart, even though he says he doesn’t. He’s always had a big heart.”

“You knew...? You knew it was him?”

You nodded. “I’ve known all along, Nat. I’ve known everything. I was just dumb enough to believe that I didn’t deserve any of it. But I’ll be doing much better once I see him. I need to see him.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #doctor!bucky #marvel x reader #marvel au #tw abuse #tw alchoholism #tw surgery #tw needles #tw pain #tw anxiety #aj writes #better

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msjr0119 · 4 years

Text

We Belong

Part 5

We Belong part 5

Evangeline Bruley returns to Cordonia to take over her families Duchy. She was betrothed to the now King, however he is engaged to Duchess Riley but still has lingering feelings towards his first love. What will happen during her time back in Cordonia?

Warnings: Swearing, abuse, murder, smut.

Just using combined tag list if you want to be removed let me know 😊:

@pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @dcbbw @qammh-blog @nz1091 @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @princess-geek @jared2612 @desiree-0816 @gardeningourmet @twinkle-320 @queenjilian @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog @princessleac1 @scarletreesex

*****

“Sir? Are you okay? I can discuss this with you in the morning if the timing is better then.” Liam could swear that his heart was about to leap out of his chest- his mind knowing he needed to remain stoic, but his body wouldn’t agree. Unable to control the shaking, he reached out for another scotch.

“Liam. Breathe.” Bastien had never seen the king like this, to say everything Liam had been through during his social season he always remained calm providing fake smiles even though he was hurting deep down. Placing a comforting hand on his monarchs shoulder, Bastien began wondering what was going on in Liam’s mind.

“Sorry Bast. Erm. Yes can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Olivia is going to stab me if I’m not back soon, I’m in the doghouse. “One quick question before I leave, do you think Evangeline could used a weapon for self defence?”

“No.” Liam responded confidently. “She would have used her self defence techniques that Olivia’s parents taught her, taught the majority of us actually. Her fighting back didn’t kill Tariq and Neville.”

“Sir, how do you know that those are the deceased? I never mentioned the names...” Bastiens eyes immediately focused towards the king’s hands. “Who’s blood is that?”

“Obviously Evie’s... I helped her up to her room.”

“We have arrested two men, the other men that were present at the time. Liam, I need you to tell me the truth. Or I can’t help you.” Liam rubbed his hand over his mouth, now knowing that he had major thinking to do.

*****

Evie was awoken the next morning by an excruciating sudden pain, as well as the bright sun sneaking through the gaps of the blinds. Feeling stiff due to being in an upright position, every slight movement was jerky- feeling her cheek and now cracked yet still swollen lip- she had hoped that the previous nights events were just a nightmare, but they weren’t- this was real. Moving her hand down towards her ribs- she felt his hand holding them lovingly, now realising why there was a slight weight on her chest. Slowly turning her head towards him- he was catching flies, he looked exhausted.

“Drake?” She whispered, with no response- she elbowed him, again there was no signs of him awakening from his slumber.

“DRAKE! SOMEONE’S STOLEN YOUR WHISKEY.”

“What?” Laughing at his confusion and shocked face, she grimaced as sharp pain shot through her body.

“You’re lying Evie, besides there’s plenty of whiskey around if someone has stolen my stash.” He said quietly, trying to force his eyes to remain shut- trying to prove that whiskey wasn’t all that mattered in his life.

“Hmm, maybe....” Slowly sitting up, he rubbed his eyes. Gaining some energy he stood up to put his trousers on, hoping that she wouldn’t see his morning glory- Evie’s eyes widened.

“Two things I need to ask you Drake... one how are your clothes here? You arrived just wearing your underwear. Two, why is your hand covered in dried blood?” Fuck.

“One, you fell asleep and I went back to my room- but I couldn’t sleep, so I came back to make sure that you was okay. Which you wasn’t. Two, the blood is my blood. I... when I came back, you was in pain- crying in your sleep. I held you and comforted you. But I still couldn’t sleep, I just kept thinking about what they’ve done you. I’m so angry at you, but so proud that you protected someone else. I punched the wall to calm down... it was a stupid thing to do, I know.”

“I’m sorry for being a burden.” Not quite believing his story, she didn’t have the energy to argue.

“I never said that, but I do agree with Maxwell you should get it checked out sooner rather than later.”

“I’m not going to hospital Drake, I’m not poorly- people get beaten up all the time. Somebody else could need a bed more than me, I promise if the pain gets any worse- both you and Maxwell can escort me there, even if you both have to drag me okay?”

“Say it again so I can record it for evidence...” Winking at her, she shook her head.

“You have my word Drake. I promise.”

“Good. Do you want anything? Painkillers? A drink? Some breakfast?”

“Could you get me some ice? And a tea towel?” Nodding, he knew exactly what it was for. Returning shortly later, he dabbed it on her lip and cheek gently. Placing her hand over his- he paused seeing to her injuries. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve got nothing better to do, so let me look after you.”

“Do you know what you could do to look after me?”

“What?”

“Put the ice down, and kiss me.” Without questioning it, he gently placed his lips on to hers- as much as he would love to passionately kiss her- he didn’t want to hurt her. Evie felt mischievous, deciding to remove the ice from the towel- and place it somewhere sensitive, and down below.

“That was uncalled for! Shit that’s cold.”

“Just like the pancake batter was. Aw what’s up Drake? Is little Walker all shrivelled up?”

“Little?”

“Am I bruising your ego a bit?”

“You know if it was little, it wouldn’t make you moan the way you did....”

“It’s not the size that matters, it’s how you use it... and you Drake Walker know how to use it well.”

“Thank you, I’ll have to show you again how well I can use it. So you need to get better soon Duchess Evie.”

“I intend to. Could you escort me home soon? I could do with some company...”

“Of course your grace. I’ll explain to Liam that I’m dropping you off home before returning to the palace.”

“Drake, I didn’t mean for you to just drop me off. I’m going to get lonely living in that big Duchy on my own...”

****

A week after the festival at Valtoria, Liam was completing his paperwork. Hearing a knock at the door, he was hoping it was Drake- the only person who he could confide in.

“Li? What’s up?”

“How’s Evie?”

“Erm, she’s fine as she keeps insisting... she’s refusing any help. But I’m just ignoring her.”

“How are her injuries?”

“She’s a fighter, she’s covering her cheek up with make up every day, her lips still slightly swollen but it’s gradually going down. The doctor said her ribs will be healed in a few weeks. I could have killed her yesterday- she was riding.” Liam shook his head whilst laughing, he knew that Evie enjoyed riding - they all did it as children, so to hear her want to continue with this hobby didn’t surprise him at all.

“She is a fighter for sure. I’m glad she’s got you.”

“She’s taking full advantage of having me there.” Drake sat down on the chair, assuming Liam would change the subject to the upcoming wedding. Instead his gaze was focused on the tv, unmuting it the two men listening to the new broadcast.

The two bodies found at Valtoria the night of the Lantern festival have been identified as Lord Tariq and Lord Neville Vancouver - close friends of his Majesty King Liam. More news to follow...

Fuck, Liam shouted as he threw the scotch bottle at the wall- the brown liquid now graffitied the wall like some art work.

“Liam, calm down. We did what we had to do. To defend Evie and Riley.”

Not wanting to leave Evie alone, Drake was debating on what to do- she had asked him to stay with her until she was asleep, which she now was. Placing a longing kiss on her forehead, he snuck out of her room. Unable to sleep, he decided to go for a walk in the grounds- sparking up a cigarette, he hoped that no one would see him. He was a social smoker- smoking when the occasion called for it. Hearing shouting in the distant, he followed the familiar voices.

“I warned you that you wasn’t invited to any more noble events. Do you not understand what that means? Now Evie is hurt, my Queen your future Queen could have been hurt too.”

“Have you not seen the injuries that we also have due to Evangeline?”

“You are lucky that’s all she did to you....” Liam snapped viewing the tiniest scratch on Tariqs skin- he was beyond angry, surrounded by four men- he knew if anything was to happen that they would immediately be punished. Bending down, he picked a rock up- just for extra self defence discreetly- pretending to tie his laces.

“Do you know how close I was to sleeping with both your girls? They were both timid, probably scared that you’d berate them for choosing a real man. Someone who wouldn’t force them into this awful lifestyle... Evie damn I was so close, if Olivia didn’t walk in..... Riley, if Drake her hero didn’t walk in...”

“They need real men, not a prince who follows his heart for some American whore and future Duchess who couldn’t care less about her title... you are the downfall of Cordonia Liam with your selfish choices.” Neville interrupted agreeing with his fellow lord. “Gentlemen, I think you can leave now, myself and lord Neville will deal with king Liam.” Watching the two men walk away, Liam eyed the two men now in front of him who were obviously plotting against him.

“Evie has the nice tits, where as Riley has the nicer arse. Imagine having the two of them....” Neville stepped back as he saw Liam lunge towards Tariq, hitting him over the head with the rock- unable to stop punching his old friend- Neville pulled Liam off of Tariq as he saw Tariq pass out and pinned the king to the ground.

“I don’t care about treason, it’s your word against two.”

“LIAM!” Drake attempted to pull Neville off his best friend- but failed, looking at Neville he looked weak and like a toad- but was in fact too strong.

“Oh the mucky commoner has come to your rescue. Do you remember how your father died Drake? He believed he was a hero, protecting the royal family- shame.”

“Don’t talk about my dad like that!” A sudden adrenaline rush hit Drake, forcing the Lord off of Liam. “Have respect for people Neville! Bring my family back into it and I’ll kill you. Between you both you’ve hurt Evie!”

“Aw does Drake have feelings for Evangeline? Do you love her?”

“Yes I fucking do love her, and you’ve hurt her!”

“So?”

“Say that again...” Drakes hand was now on Neville’s neck, the grip tightening at every smirk he provided towards Drake- not caring one bit.

“So? Get your sponger hands off me now. You could have taken this opportunity to fuck the court whore. If we kill Liam you’ve won Drake... you’ve got an option to make, the American whore or the girl who you grew up with that couldn’t give two shits about any of you... you don’t belong here Mr Walker, you should have runaway like mommy and dearest Savannah....” Standing up straighter, and letting go of Neville, Drake knew his words shouldn’t get to him- but it did- before Drake could respond, Neville fell into him with full force knocking the two of them to the ground.

“Shut the fuck up!” Liam shouted before checking the two men’s pulses, knowing they were still alive he needed to leave it before he totally lost his mind. “Pass me a cigarette Drake. And the whiskey that you are hiding.” Helping his best friend to stand, the two of them sat down on the grass together- not knowing how long had passed, they remained in silence drinking from Drakes hip flask and saving each other ‘twos’.

“So it seems that we have always had the same taste in women...” Liam broke the silence. “I’m sorry Liam, like Neville said I don’t belong here. So why would I believe that either of them would return the feelings. I told Evie that I loved her, I didn’t expect it back but I needed to tell her. I didn’t tell Riley straight away, and look how that ended. She made the right choice in the end though. Since Evie returned, I just think that my feelings towards Riley wasn’t as strong as they are towards her.”

“They both are beautiful. If Evie returns your feelings,don’t let her go. Did you tell her you loved her because of our words before?”

“What because you said neither of us would admit it? Possibly. But it was mainly because we could have lost her.”

“Like I said before, if you can make her happy I’m thrilled.... I ....” Before he could continue, both Tariq and Neville began to stir. “Come On Liam, I’m not getting blamed for you catching pneumonia. You need to be with your Queen. These morons are fine. Talk to Bastien tomorrow about putting an injunction on them for future events- especially you’re wedding in a few weeks.”

“Drake! I didn’t think that I’d killed them both. They were both moving when we left them.”

“Whats Bastien said?”

“Bastien, I didn’t think I’d killed them. I knocked Tariq over the head with a rock, and then Neville came at me. Drake eventually pulled him away and I did the same to him after he criticised my best friend, my wife to be and my... my other best friend.”

“Okay, so the men who were with them- they are innocent. Liam, we have to tread carefully- people will be asking questions if you were both seen. I know you were only defending the women you both love, but Evangeline did enough damage just to defend herself. I don’t know what you are going to do Liam.”

“Liam, don’t worry. We have each other for alibis as well as the guards on your side. No one will ever find out. I hate lying to Evie, and I assume you hate lying to Riley.”

*****

Drake arrived back at Evie’s duchy- smelling the aroma surrounding the kitchen he was shocked that it didn’t smell of burnt food or that the fire alarm wasn’t ringing. Pausing in the doorway, he saw her in a crop top and skimpy shorts placing the food on the table- admiring the view in front of him, he didn’t want to make his presence known straight away.

“What’s all this?”

“Well, you’ve looked after me the last week- I thought I’d do something for you. American food for my favourite American.”

“Half American.”

“Shut up and sit down Walker, I’ll be back in a minute- help yourself.” Drake decided hesitantly to eat the food that she had prepared, much to his surprise it was better than he expected.

“What do you think Mr Walker?”

“Evie, this is amazing. Have you ordered it from a restaurant though and are trying to pass it off as your own? I’m joking... it’s great.”

“I didn’t mean the food...” Placing the fork and knife down, he turned around to see her stood in only a matching pair of lacy underwear. Gulping hard, he wondered why she was teasing him in such a way.

“You look... Wow. You look sexy as fuck..”

“Drake, I want you. I know my own body, and if it hurts i promise to stop. You’ve been so good to me, I can’t resist you anymore.”

“Evie, as much as I’d love to- I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you.” Feeling rejected, she felt like a fool. Seeing her face turn into disappointment, he was undecided about what to do. “Where do you want me your grace?”

“I want you inside me, I want you to make love to me...” Drake lifted her up onto the table, removing her pants -his fingers brushed against her already wet folds. Carrying her over to the sofa, he lay her down gently before hovering over- knowing how impatient she could get, he needed to figure out how to do this without injuring her more.

“Drake just fuck me, please.” Standing up he immediately unbuttoned his jeans, she watched him like a hawk, watching his every movement. Discarding his jeans and boxers on the floor, he thrust against her in a teasing manner as he joined her on the sofa.

“I thought you asked to make love to you, not fuck you?” Quirking an eyebrow up at her, he noticed her eyes roll back. “Drake, just do something please. You’ve been teasing me for a week. Waking up with your cock pressed against me. I can’t take it any...” Forcing his cock inside her, he hoped that he didn’t hurt her. “Holy shit... why wouldn’t you warn me?”

“Because you wouldn’t shut up. This way it shut you up for all of two seconds. Now let little Walker work his magic.” Evie smirked, before pulling him closer towards her as she wrapped her arms around his neck- Drake making sure that there was a small distance between the two of them and that he wasn’t pressing on to her chest. Thrusting in and out of her slowly yet deep- she closed her eyes, moans escaping from her lips. Slowly yet gradually he picked up his pace, hearing her moan his name on repeat he couldn’t help himself but pound her harder. “I love you.” Fluttering her eyes open as she said those three words, he passionately kissed her- their tongues battling against each other. Breaking the kiss, he paused his movements- focusing his gaze onto her. “I love you too.” Resuming his movements, he eventually spilled his seed inside her- removing himself, he helped her sit up slowly. After catching their breath, he stood up- holding his hand out to her. Cradling her in his embrace, they remained there for a few moments- both content in each other’s company. Guiding her back into the kitchen, he could see that she was in pain. “I’ll get you some ice, I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“Don’t be, it was worth it. Thank you.” Checking her phone she noticed a text from an unknown number. Intrigued as to what it was, she just assumed it was a spam text.

Do you know what your lover and the king did the night of the Valtoria lantern festival? They are both lying to you and Riley. Let’s hope you don’t become pregnant, like poor Riley- you can still escape. From an old friend x

#trr #trr choices #trr fanfic #trr we belong #drake x mc #drake x evie #drake walker #trr evie bruley #liam rhys #trr bastien #riley brooks

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totaldramafan-lauri · 3 years

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So.....I wasn’t originally gonna share this, but eh.......

On top of Eurovision, I’ve also been really into Friday Night Funkin’ recently thanks to a friend of mine introducing me to it.....and its plethora of popular mods. In particular, there was one mod that caught my attention....a-and....well.....h-hasn’t let it go yet......Mainly there’s this one really cool character that’s been on my mind a lot, so.....

S-so, I uh.....made an OC. A-and....I wrote a profile for her yesterday....

I-I guess I’ll share this, cuz I feel like there.....might be a possibility that I’ll do something with her in the future? Cuz I do have some story ideas.....I-it’s just a matter of finding the confidence to get back into writing.....I-I dunno if it’ll happen, but it might.

I-it’s kinda....embarrassing, tho....I-it’s been a while since I’ve made an OC purely to be a....well, simp, but here we are.....>//////>

(Also, the picture below is NOT drawn by me. I’m not an artist. It was drawn by the same friend.)

Name: Lina (she doesn't remember her last name...or her original first name for that matter) Height: 5'2" Quotes: "I-I'm sorry!" "Ms. Sarvente would know what to do...." "I hope I don't forget what happened today..." "D-don't look, please..." "W-were you listening? O-oh gosh- uh-" Age: In the 20s range Eye Color: White (in another art style, her eyes would be purple) Hair: Black, waist-length, pretty thick, and usually pretty messy due to her not having the energy to brush it all (she usually makes some kind of effort before going to the church, but it's not a lot) Build(Body Type/Shape/Any Scars Or Markings): Pretty thin. Not stick thin, though, as she does have curves and a pretty decent chest size (that she hides under her sweatshirt most of the time), but she's still pretty thin. She doesn't eat as much as she should. Normal Outfit(The clothes they most commonly wear): A baggy baby blue sweatshirt with a simple sleeveless pink dress underneath, and a matching pink scarf. Knee-high white socks and baby blue slip-on shoes. When it's really warm out, or when she's lounging at home, she'll take off the sweatshirt and scarf and just wear her dress, but most of the time she likes being covered. It makes her feel safe. General Personality: Lina is a very timid, shy woman who is scared of opening up and spilling her feelings out to people, not wanting to be a burden. She has really bad social anxiety, but attempts to be kind and polite to people, even with her lack of experience in social situations. She's always carrying a notebook with her, writing in it frequently. Most of the time, she's very quiet, but when she gets riled up or excited about something, she can talk more than you think. However, she has a tendency to stutter and stumble over her words a lot, especially when anxious or flustered. Her anxiety is bad enough that she hates asking people for things and is scared to draw too much attention to herself (due to awkward experiences with her roommate). She looks up to Sarvente and wishes she could be like her, and loves helping her whenever she can, liking the feeling of being useful (and, although she'll never admit it, to catch glimpses of Ruv). In her writing, she shows a more poetic, hopeless romantic side to her that she's too embarrassed to share, spilling it out into the lyrics she writes. She also uses her writing to vent the feelings she's too terrified to share with the world - her infatuation with Ruv, her feelings of jealousy towards Sarvente, her want and desire to become someone she can never be. She hates her feelings, and she's scared of her feelings.... Other random facts: -Lina is so bothered by her unknown past that she's absolutely terrified of forgetting things. This is the reason why she kept carrying around notebooks. She's been doing this for so long that if she's ever separated from her current notebook, she'll have an anxiety attack. -She's currently unemployed, but is able to continue living with her roommate as long as she takes care of the house. She's flat broke most of the time, only being leant money for her writing, so she doesn't have a phone. She only eats when her roommate does, but on the rare occasion she has extra money, she'll treat herself. -Like all FNF characters, Lina is musically talented - she writes songs (although she hasn't shared them), and she can sing decently well. She's scared of singing in front of others, but does it to herself all the time. However, she has very little experience with RAPPING specifically, making her a pretty easy opponent. -Her favorite colors are pastels, especially blues and pinks. -Besides going to the church on Sunday, she doesn't have much of a schedule, mainly just being alone in the house on most days. -She has a MAJOR weakness for cats. If she sees a cat, she'll immediately go to watch or pet it. Cats are the easiest way to make her smile. -She's normally pretty clumsy, and not physically strong at ALL. She can handle housework just fine, but not heavy lifting. She also can't cook at ALL. Please help her, the woman's a mess -Despite attending church, she's mostly agnostic. She mainly goes just to hang in the back of a side isle and watch Sarvente and Ruv. -Lina doesn't know that Sarvente is a demon, seeing her as a normal nun like the rest of the public. She's also unaware that Ruv is a criminal. -While she's talked with Sarv, she's never spoken directly to Ruv, being too nervous to. He's looked at her a few times, and that's been enough to send her into a frenzy. Likes: Music, writing, feeling useful, inspiration, being at the church, seeing Ruv, when people are nice to her, cats, pastel colors, sunny days, the rare times she's proud of something she wrote, pizza (she associates it with her roommate being nice to her, so it's her favorite food) Dislikes: Forgetting things, being put on the spot, loud noises (like thunder), large crowds, asking for things, being seen crying, when people ask to see her writing, whenever she feels jealous of Sarvente, embarrassing herself in front of Ruv, her body Powers/Skills: No powers. She's a normal human. Skills, however....she can write poetry and music, she can sing, and she's a pretty smart thinker when she's not stressed. Weapons: None Backstory: Lina was found at the site of a horrible accident by the person who would become her roommate, who felt sorry for her and took her in. She had no memory of her life before the accident, being left a scared woman with no past...a blank slate.

At first, she was a wreck, understandably. She tried desperately to remember her past, but nothing worked. Even as she settled into her new life, the fact that she couldn't remember who she was ate away at her day in and day out. Feeling sorry for her, her roommate gave her a notebook to make notes in. Lina found that that helped a lot, and discovered how much she loved writing.

Over time, her roommate started becoming apathetic toward the little "freeloader", and a deal was made so that she could continue living with them until she could somehow get a job: she was to clean and watch the tiny house while they were away at work. She didn't mind this deal since it made her feel less guilty. During her free time, Lina also discovered her love of music, and began singing to herself while alone.

She eventually accepted the fact that she may never remember her past, but at least she can try her hardest to make sure she never forgets again. She began carrying a notebook with her wherever she went, and continues to store all her old notebooks in her room. She never throws any page away.

She records everything: her thoughts, her plans, everything noteworthy that happens to her, and every lyric she thinks of. She finds it relaxing to spill her heart onto the pages, so no one will ever hear her say them....this is especially true after she meets THEM. After meeting Sarvente one day, Lina is invited to join a church. She's unsure at first, but decides to go. And that's where it all began....she met Ruv (well...more like she saw him talking to Sarv), and immediately took to him. Tall, stoic, intimidating...and yet, Lina could see a softness in him whenever he was with Sarvente. She wished she could meet someone like that....someone strong, who could protect her and keep her safe...

And over time, she realized that she couldn't get him off her mind. As if...she was fixated on him. She found herself writing about him a lot. And then she realized that she was very rapidly developing a crush on the man. Being unable to remember what a crush feels like, it was a lot to adjust to at once, but she found herself really liking the feeling....that is, until she realized that she could never hope to achieve the same closeness to him that Sarvente has. She wished she was like Sarvente....

...She realized that she had become jealous of someone who had only ever been kind to her. And she hated it. So, Lina hid her feelings away once again.

Currently, Lina visits the church every week. She's always the first to arrive, and the last to leave. Even when people come and go, she always sits in the back of one of the side isles, writing away in her notebook. She simply likes the feeling of being in the church. The safe atmosphere, Sarvente's kindness, and the possibility of seeing HIM. Sarvente has noticed how long Lina stays for, and sometimes asks her for volunteer work, which she's happy to provide. However, although Sarvente is happy to have a regular visitor, she also doesn't take Lina very seriously, talking to her as if she was a child due to her appearance (if she HAS caught on to Lina's crush on Ruv, she hasn't said anything because of this). "Oh, little Lina, you're so cute!" Lina doesn't mind the headpats and squeals, but has a hard time believing that she's "cute" in any way. Lina looks up to Sarvente, treating her with a lot of respect, calling her "Ms. Sarvente". Sarvente calls Lina "little Lina". Lina likes helping out, but...she also often feels insecure and inadequate due to constantly comparing herself to Sarvente.

One day, after the church closes and Lina is on her way out the door, she runs into someone who Sarvente had a recent tussle with...a guy with blue hair.

(There she is, the tiny pastel nerd.....seriouslyIlovethispiceeeeeeeeebigthankstomyfriendfordesigningheroutfit)

#friday night funkin #friday night funkin oc #mid fight masses oc #she scribble #she a mess #wow what a simp #cringe culture is dead #and zavodila killed it #(seriously im sorry if you read this fcgbfchncfghxgch)

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leuiesroom · 4 years

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The most important part of leaving the cooler was the ride home. It was about 4 hours from the Oklahoma State Reformatory out in Granite back to Tulsa, Curly didn’t know why they didn’t send him somewhere closer to home, but he didn’t complain. The rides home after Tim picked him up were always the best. See, Tim wouldn’t say he missed Curly, that ain’t tough speakin like that, but he does miss his kid brother when he ain’t around, so the 8 hour drive is worth it to him, sure gas costs a shit ton, but he always takes Curly out to lunch after picking him up, get some real food in that boys system, not that cooler crap they served in slop dishes. And he gets to talk to him- that’s Curly’s favorite part, gettin caught up on all’t happened without him. (Gossip might be a chick thing, but it’s important to know who whipped who and who’s going with who and who got arrested for what in his absence.)

It was real crushing being told he wouldn’t be picked up right away, “gotta wait another day kid”, the guard had said. A whole nother day...Tim was never late, not for him, or Angela neither, that isn’t how it is, you don’t just leave your guys in jail any longer than you gotta. It straight ain’t fair to ‘em.

Curly was waiting in the lobby, bag packed with his personal clothes on waiting for Tim when he arrived to sign him out. He was broody, walking Curly out to the car, didn’t say hello or nothing when he arrived. Tipping Curly off something was wrong. “You didn’t come.” It was point blank, accusatory, he’d better have had a real good reason for abandoning curly like that. Tim’s knuckled were white on the steering wheel, he hadn’t even turned the key yet, they just sat in the parking lot. He wouldn’t look at Curly, he just stared straight ahead, like he was driving or somethin, only he wasn’t. “You hungry?” Tims voice was summat quieter than Curly could remember, not soft exactly, but it was almost gentle. Tim Shepard was never gentle, and his voice wasn’t gentle unless something was really wrong. None of the Shepard’s voices were- you could hear them a mile away with their nasally yells and high, barking laughter, like a hyena. “Why didn’t you come?” Curly was scared. Last time he’d heard Tim like this was after the fight with the Tiber Street Tigers. It should have been just chains, nothing rough, but someone cracked a bottle over one of Tim’s guys head and he dropped. It was real sudden and bloody. This was the voice Tim used to comfort his guys when something went wrong, when they were dying. “Tim, why weren’t you here yesterday?” “There was a funeral.” A funeral. “Who’s?” Curly’s voice cracked, if Tim missed his release it had to be someone important, “..-Angel-” “No!” Tim barked, “Don’t even talk like that Curly.” He was serious too.

“It’s a long story.” Tim said as he started the engine and pulled out onto the street, Curly was quiet. “You know that Curtis kid you hang out with?” Curly nodded “Ponyboy, yeah?” Was it him? Fuck he was young... Tim blew through a red light, pulling onto I-40 E. (Curly knew the roads home by heart now. He knew the interstate system real well too, only thing he was good at in school was geography. He could tell you the capital of every state real well- but that was besides the point right then.) Tim’s silence was scary, and looking at him Curly noticed what he hadn’t before: He looked like hell. bags under his eyes, he looked older too, with greasy hair, and not the tuff slicked back kind neither, real greasy- like he hadn’t showered. “Tim what happened?” “He and his friend killed a soc.” Curly paused, confused. Why was Tim making such a big deal about some bourgeoisie asshole in training from the other side of town? “That’s it?” He was incredulous, “No...” Tim swallowed, his eyes looked glassy. Tough as nails Tim was on the verge of tears. “It ain’t really my story to tell, but after he and Cade killed him they ran away. They hid out in one of Dallas’s old spots.” Tim and Curly were the only people who got to call him Dallas, it was somethin’ special. Dal and Tim had been friends longer’n anyone. Even the Curtis’s. “I guess the hole they had burned down, something about little kids, I don’t fucking know.” He took a deep breath, “Those dumbasses ran right in y’know. I don’t know what it is with those boys and always having to be a hero. You know if you’re ever in a situation you don’t go in- you let someone else do it, or let those kids burn. They got themselves into it anyway, it ain’t your problem. What is your problem is keeping your fool self alive,” The for me was unspoken. Tim had been through more than he should have been, tough streets aren’t any place for a child, it was an unspoken fact in the Shepard household that Curly and Angela were his lifeline. He provided them a place to live, and food, and they provided him a purpose. “They died? That’s what your torn up about?” “No, well. yes. Its more complicated than that. The Cade kid died,” Tim didn’t need to say why he upset for that. Everyone knew Johnny, it’s an unspoken rule in a lot of greaser gangs, but you just don’t hurt a kid like that. He gone through to much, much to young, he was burdened with pain when he should be having fun. “What about Pony?” Curly was surprised how scared he was for the youngest Curtis, sure’d been friends, but he felt his heart pounding with panic, “What about Ponyboy?!” He yelled after Tim didn’t answer. “What about him-” Tim spat, bitterness lacing his voice, “It’s his fucking fault. Too damn immature to take a hit when he deserves it- gotta run away and get Johnny and Dally into this mess.” Tim was shouting, he was speeding too- a danger of being passionate while you drive, but neither of the boys noticed. (Nor would they have cared.) “Dallas...?” Tim swerved onto the side of the road, stopping and just slammed on the horn and yelled a little bit. “Tim stop it!” Curly had never seen him so broken up about anything before, “Tim!” He calmed down as quickly as he’d sparked up, and when he wasn’t angry he just looked dead...and sad. He had tear tracks on his face. “Dallas is dead, Curly.” Three words, four if you count his name, and the world just stopped. Tim pounded his palms against the steering window for a moment, agony obvious, “He-” His voice broke and he just stopped, quiet and scary as he ever was. Cool as day, if it weren’t for the redness of his eyes, and wetness of his cheeks. But Curly didn’t hear him, his blood was pounding in his ears, so loud he could feel it, and his ribs were breaking.

‘Oh god,’ He though, ‘I can’t breathe.’ He pushed the car door open and slid out onto the side of the road, on his hands and knees. (He was almost glad, after, that the reformatory was so far from home, so no one saw him break down.) Bile rose, hot, in his throat, and he just threw up. Right there, underneath some fucking billboard advertisement, good old Dallas was gone. Tim waited silently in the car, letting Curly sit there until he could breathe again, or think, or move, or whatever it was he wasn’t doing. When Curly stood up finally Tim gave him a hand, pulling him into his seat. It was a little slimy, a combo of the shoulders dirt, and Curly’s upchuck. He just wiped it on his jeans, he’d almost thrown up when he heard too. It wasn’t like this wasn’t expected, everyone knew Dallas would die young, but Tim guessed they’d all assumed he’d make it out of his teens. At the very least. That boy had been like a brother to him. He appreciated Dal more than he ever let on, he knew when he went out on benders it was Dallas who dropped food off on the porch to keep Curly and Angela fed. Not that they couldn’t fend for themselves, but the two of them, tough as they were, didn’t think kids should have too. Or at least Tim didn’t, and Dal didn’t argue with Tim.

“How’d it happen?” He was broken out of his reminicence by Curly, his voice sounded so childish in that moment, broken and young. “How do you figure it happened kid? Same way we all knew it would.” It was so violent...Tim didn’t want to even say it, but he had to tell Curly summat and better he hear from him than someone else. “Shot.” He said, “Cops,” He could barely manage full sentences, “suicide.” Curly nodded, he got the picture, he still looked sick, “If you’re gonna puke again roll down the window,” Tim said. Curly rolled down the window, but he didn’t puke or anything, he just stared.

“How many times?” Tim had asked that too, “14.” “Holy shit....” Curly rubbed the side of his neck, just under his jaw. He had a hand drawn tattoo there, from Dally actually. 1312, in his handwriting. How fitting, “Bastards.” He murmured and Tim agreed. “All of ‘em. Bloody fucking bastards.”

#the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders #dally winston #darry curtis #two bit #two bit mathews #johnny cade #steve randle #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #curly shepard #tim shepard #sad #sad fic #TW #tw police brutality #tw bodily fluid #tw throw up #the outsiders fic

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lia-jones · 4 years

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Growing Stronger - Chapter Sixteen - Making Amends

Victor splashed cold water on his face, washing the remaining shaving foam off his face. Shaving with an injured arm had proven to be quite difficult, but with patience and precision, he finally came through. He would never get caught outside with an unshaved face, no matter what it took.

Despite everyone’s protests, it was his last day at the hospital. He was sick and tired of always having to deal with people, never having a chance to be alone with his own thoughts. He also had to get back to work fast. Not that he didn’t trust Goldman, but when it comes to investment, one needs to move fast and although Goldman was good at keeping his company running, he didn’t have the knowledge to stay on top of the market. Andrea would be a better candidate for that, cunning as she was, but she was already too busy. Changing how the world views Economics was her destiny, and that was an insurmountable task as it was. She didn’t need anyone to add to it.

This was one of the reasons why he had denied her help. She had more pressing matters to attend to than being his nurse. It would be a waste for her to spend her time worrying about his bathroom trips, or if he was well enough to take a shower on his own. She had minds to shape and paradigms to change. He was sure that, as determined and as sharp as she was, it wouldn’t take long for her to get that Nobel prize. Nobel laureates don’t waste their time spoon-feeding chicken soup to the ill. People like Andrea should be nurtured and provided the ideal setup to achieve their destined success, not given additional burdens or setbacks.

Victor applied the lotion on his face, wincing in pain as he inadvertently raised his left elbow too high. He knew he wasn’t completely healthy yet, he could feel an intense pain assaulting his bruised body every now and then, although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself. He couldn’t bear to expose his vulnerability to other people, especially Andrea. She would always worry and forget about her own needs to tend to his, and that was simply unacceptable. It didn’t matter if they were in a relationship or not, his job was to take care of her, not the other way around. He was capable enough to support both of them. He didn’t want her to worry about him.

That night, Victor had debated his reasons for hours, and always reached the same conclusion: refusing Andrea’s help was the right thing to do. Aunt Terry had been reckless and disrespectful to just throw that kind of responsibility in Andrea’s hands, which were already so full. Maybe he had been too quick to refuse her well-intentioned help, maybe his reaction grazed the crass, but he had done it to protect her. As painful as it was, Andrea was no longer his, and there wasn’t much he could do for her. But he could protect her. And he would, no matter the cost.

All of this was true. It was logical, evident, empirical. But his heart still panged. He remembered the hurt look in her eyes as she gathered her things and left. He wasn’t refusing her, he was protecting her. But for some reason, it was like he had taken all that Andrea had given only to throw it away like it was nothing. That was not his intention. Still, his heart felt… small. It’s not like Victor didn’t want to be with her, in close proximity, basking in the light she always provided him. But that would be selfish of him. That wasn’t the right thing to do.

The sound of the door opening brought him back to the real world.

“Your aunt tells me you’re being stubborn again.” Victor heard the familiar voice.

“My aunt should stop discussing my private matters with just anyone.” Victor felt tense all of a sudden. What was he doing there?

“I am not just anyone. I am your father.” Greg spoke with a superior tone. “Even though I get the same treatment from you a stranger would. Knowing about your accident through the newspapers. While that girl-”

“Andrea was with me since day one. Where were you?” Victor couldn’t hold back the question. He didn’t want to care, he told himself a long time ago he didn’t care what his father thought of him or felt about him. But he did.

“I was here. I came to see you.” Victor’s father countered.

“You came to see if I was alive? Or if I had brought shame to you in any way? Tell me, father, are you here because, yet again, you disapprove of my life choices?”

Victor saw his father do something he had never seen him do before. Gregory paused, and took a deep breath, abandoning his fighting stance. He lowered his head, seemingly showing he had come in peace.

“I know I can be strict, but I gave you everything you ever needed. I did the absolute best I could.” Greg asserted.

“Save it, I know the speech. I have failed you as a son. Just tell me in what way Mother would be ashamed of me and we can call it a day. I need to get ready.” Victor felt like he had no fight left in him. Whatever strength he had, his father always drained it very quickly.

Victor remembered the day the police brought him home after his captivity. He was scared, shaking, his hands still feeling the warmth of that little girl’s blood.

During those years, he had seen things no child should see, endured torture no child would have to endure. He was injected with all sorts of drugs, made sick and nursed back to health, saw many other children die, being disposed of like garbage. He wasn’t the same anymore. He didn’t know who he was or where he fitted. He felt nothing more than a lab rat, a number, a no one.

His mother had thrown her arms around him, crying, calling his name. At that moment, Victor realized two fundamental truths. The first was that he didn’t know how to return his mother’s love. He felt tainted, dirty, holding inside him a kind of sorrow that destroys everything in its path, leaving nothing but burning ashes. He felt numb and empty, pain being the only thing he could really identify in himself. Unfit to be in his mother’s arms. Destroyed.

The second was that his mother didn’t look like his mother anymore. Years of anguish had turned her into this sunken-eyed woman, the light in her fading fast, hidden from the world and most likely from herself. She mirrored the pain he felt. He had accomplished what he most feared: he had broken her heart. Unwillingly, not by his choice, but he had. He was destroyed, but so was what he loved the most. This realization was the one that broke him for good.

Victor shook in his mother’s arms but didn’t cry. His mother screamed his name, yet he didn’t make a sound. He just stood there, listening to her wailing, frozen in fear he would make it worse. His father’s hand took him aside.

“Go to your room. Try not to upset your mother.”

His father’s words were branded inside him, and he heard them like he was thirteen again, like it had just happened. Victor looked at his adult hands, big and strong. They were shaking. Like twenty years ago. He clenched them, taking a deep breath. His father spoke again, bringing him back to the present moment.

“My best wasn’t enough. I was hurting. I didn’t see it.” Gregory’s voice was soft now.

“What do you want?” Victor spat. Whatever his father was selling, he wasn’t going to buy it.

“I lost my wife, but you lost your mother.”

Gregory might as well have plunged a dagger through his son’s chest, it would have hurt less. The memory of his mother’s death shook him violently to the core, making him lose his balance, making it hard for him to breathe. He felt the prickling of tears in his eyes and immediately turned away. He would love to believe that his father was changing, but it still wouldn’t change years of arguments and half sentences, always leading him to believe one thing: his father blamed him for his mother’s death. The reasons for this blame were scattered, but present. If Victor didn’t leave the school that afternoon to be with his friends, he wouldn’t have been caught. He had been reckless. He wouldn’t have been in captivity, breaking his mother’s heart, and she wouldn’t get sick. Cancer was just a fancy name given to years of suffering poisoning her body, leading to her end.

For a long time, Victor couldn’t help but blame himself too. He kept dwelling in that dark place, revisiting the pain like it was an old friend, wishing there was something he could’ve done differently. Suddenly, someone came and saw things in him even he wasn’t aware existed. She believed in the good in him, she sought his light. Unexpectedly, his dark place wasn’t as dark anymore, and he could breathe more easily. But now, without her light around, he felt himself slipping back to that dark corner of his mind. He couldn’t afford it. It was ugly in there.

“I should have been there for you.” His father continued. Victor couldn’t stand it anymore.

“There? You should’ve been there?” He turned to speak, feeling his voice raise in anger. “What about here and now? What about two months ago, when you barged into my office? What about the last few days, when your sister and that ‘filthy immigrant’, like you like to call her, took turns to be with me? Where were you then?”

“I was… ashamed.” His father confessed.

“You were ashamed of me? That never stopped you before.” Victor spoke through gritted teeth, trying hard to contain his anger.

“I was ashamed of myself.” Gregory’s voice was barely a whisper. Victor took a deep breath, keeping the venom inside. A fight with his father would mean he would stay longer. Victor couldn’t stand his presence.

“You should be.” Victor declared, not feeling the faintest sympathy for his father. “But that’s none of my concern. Now leave.”

Gregory Lee gave a defeated sigh and turned to the door. Victor turned to his bag, taking some clothes, desperate to busy himself and forget his father was there.

“Andrea… She’s loyal. And bold.” He heard his father offer.

Victor froze in place, unsure what to make of his father’s statement. He turned to him in anger.

“I don’t know what you talked about, but I will warn you that if you try to hurt her in any way, I’ll-”

“Enough!” His father called, interrupting his threat. “Well, there is no need to continue this conversation. I can see you are uncomfortable. I just want you to know, should you choose her to be the one you spend your life with, I will not oppose it. She seems to really care about you.”

Victor felt the urge to ask what his father meant by that. He wondered what exactly was said between Andrea and Gregory, to make him change his mind so drastically. Instead, he remained silent, waiting for the sound of the door being closed, so he could finally relax.

In his mind, things were lurking from the dark corner of his soul. Memories of his dying mother, guilt for being the catalyst of her demise. Concrete floors, and syringes, and sick children. The absolute feeling of despair, of helplessness, loneliness. He wished Andrea was there. She would show him the light again.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingstronger #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #love and producer #victor x oc

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years

Text

Little Estoma idea

Some angst, some fluff, lots of gifs! This is where I imagine for when they were dating during Shuriki era and Esteban has his betrayal a secret and Doña has a secret of her past. So Esteban is attempting to explain his scar and how Shuriki did it because she thought he was capable of overthrowing the ruler.

But he’s struggling to speak especially as he internally pictures the death of his aunt and uncle Doña: “Hey, hey it’s okay. You don’t have to talk now but when you are ready, I will be here for you and I will hold you and I will listen and love you all the same.

Esteban: “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve..”

Doña: “Don’t say that. I mean.. let me put it this way. I, the greedy, selfish, vain, stupid, judgmental, shallow, prideful, stubborn bitch deserve someone better than you? Esteban, remember when you admitted that you used to be jealous of King Juan because he was like the perfect Prince Charming.”

Esteban: “It’s unbelievable! He’s so perfect and good and happy and doesn’t make mistakes... he never. he never hurts the people he loves. He’s a true fairy tail prince.” Doña: “I don’t care much for fairytales much less Prince Charming.”

E: Really? D: Yes! Even when I was younger I preferred the sulky beast who only wanted to be loved but was cursed. He was real, he knows about suffering and he had able to grow and learn lessons and mature. Fairytale princes don’t do that. They’re too perfect. They don’t know about hard work or the weight of responsibility or the consequences of making mistakes. Like you. You work harder now, you try to be a better, more reliable, honorable person because you know your mistakes from when you weren’t.”

“You’re not a prince but I am so so happy that you love me, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt you and if I do something I want that.... I mean I hope at least you will do the same. You would love me the same maybe...”

Esteban: “Of course I will.”

Angst under the cut

Esteban: I will love no matter where or how. Doña: Ha, so even if you were hypothetical a chancellor still and I’m just some poor village girl Esteban: I would still find you..... Ha! I wouldn’t.

Esteban (still talking) I mean why would ever be in a village, unless it’s for important diplomatic reasons if course. But I highly doubt I would have anything in common with you if you were from some village. Don’t those girls drop out of school? I would have nothing to talk about with them. Hehee imagine the struggle it would be to talk to them. I would have to dumb down the words.. Doña:

Doña: Yeah heh, of course. Village girls are such idiots. We’ll be rich together. 😕

And so they continue their secrets. Eventually breaking up because secret relationships are hard and they both secretly think they’re not enough for the other. But also because

Esteban: Tensia, can we talk about yesterday? When we were joking about staying here in Cordóba with new names. Doña: Heh yes, we run away and live happily ever after. It could work. I mean we open a shop to sell your moisturizer. Only 4 days a week during the morning so people will know it’s very exclusive. Then we can charge nobles exorbitant prices, and the rest of time we just enjoy ourselves. You can do guitar playing and tally olaball games, and I can shop. It’d be a nice life. Esteban: Yes, it would. I want it. (sighs) I really want to. It would be so easy to do, and that’s why we have to break up. Doña: What? Esteban: (choking up) We said we wouldn’t let our love interfere but I’m beginning to.. I fear that.. I no longer want to continue my burden. I want to stay in Cordóba and sell moisturizers. Hortensia, I want to marry you. Doña: Oh Esteban. I would say yes. I’d be willing Esteban: (crying) I’m glad, but it... I can’t do that to Avalor. I owe it to my family to stay. Kingdom before thy self.

Doña: (tearing up too) I know. I understand. We’ll discuss (gulps) that tomorrow. For now, let’s just...

(They cuddle up close together and share a kiss)

They manage a civil break up. Albeit with lots of bittersweet looks so Esteban goes to Satu to help with the distance. As years go their rivalry becomes more tense as they change. Both have pretty much given up on making new laws, seeing as they’ve done everything legally possible. Esteban still cares but that caring just makes him feel more guilty and hopeless and depressed; all he can do is keep Shuriki from enacting harsher laws and maintains peaceful ties with his allies. Doña, on the other hand, chose to stop caring and focus on herself and her money. Sort of like this,

Esteban: Okay, what the hell is going on? Is this some sort midlife crisis? Are you mourning someone? Extravagant spending, galas with nobles that you said were “shallow and never worked a day in their lives.”

Doña: Nothing is happening. I just came to the conclusion that I should enjoy myself. Oh, Esteban, I’ve realized I’ve been stuck in the past, chasing stupid childhood dreams like having a family. That hasn’t worked at so well. But know what has? This store. This emporium has been the only thing succeeding and I decided that I’m going to put my energy and focus into it and make it even better! Esteban: You call spending money on yourself true happiness? Doña: Yes, I can’t get happiness the other way so might as well embrace what I have. And I have a lot of money. Esteban: No it’s- What about caring for oth-”

Doña: I did care, and I’m done. I’m tired of caring for all these people that don’t even know how hard I work. There’s always something else, making sure they’re happy, making sure the economy’s stable, and I don’t get anything from it but stress and no time. I’m done being a failure as a provider. I’m done with “Kingdom before thy self.” If I don’t care, I don’t have to make everything absolutely perfect and now I have time to enjoy myself and my new friends. I mean we’ve done everything we legally can without Shuriki’s notice. So I’m going to relax. No more pressure. Don’t I deserve that after all I’ve done for them for the last 7 years? With money at least I can buy things. Money’s great, money keeps growing in the bank, it can’t leave you the way people do. Esteban: No! I mean- eh it’s not right. You’re forgetting who you are. Denying that you feel guilty or sad doesn’t mean it disappears.

Doña: Oh, I’ve had lots of practice with denial, it works. Besides this is who I am, I love money and jewels and new clothes and gossiping about other people and petty society intrigues. It’s kind of fun to manipulate the fighting. I was just too busy before to indulge in them. I didn’t get what Lady Yolanda meant that buying a new dress can cure depression? But now I stopped caring about the past and what my family would be disappointed. It actually works.

Esteban: It’s wrong! You shouldn’t just forget about your failures or the people you loved.

Doña: Why are you pushing this? I’m moving on with my life. What do you want me to do? Be like you? Moping around, depressed and miserable all the time. I wouldn’t stop you if you tried to push past your sadness to be happy for once. Esteban: I’d rather do that than dishonor my family by acting so self absorbed and selfish. You’ve changed so much and-

Doña: That’s your problem! I’ve changed too much, you’re stuck in the past! I know you’re life is hard, and there’s very little joy but but... Sometimes I want you to have a happy life not just because you deserve it, but because I don’t want to hear more complaining. You can fix things, you know that right?

But you don’t. You keep holding yourself back when you to start enjoying yourself. You push yourself and never try to move on. I mean, you never attend functions unless it’s a royal obligation, you have never gone to the opera just for fun or do anything in your free time that might guarantee a little respite from work. You prefer to be miserable and stew in your guilt. You hold yourself back when you to start enjoying yourself. You won’t allow yourself to find happiness with yourself. Or with someone else or anything! Be miserable fine, but I can’t act like that. My guilt is over with. (a little more gently) It’s been 37 years. You’ve been guilty enough. Try pretending it doesn’t exist, it really helps.

Esteban: I can’t..

Doña: Of course you can. Esteban: You don’t understand. It’s none of your...it’s a royal matter. Doña: Here we go again! It’s a royal matter. I’m too low and stupid too understand your struggles with doing whatever you want and your royal burden. Give up that argument, Esteban. It means nothing. Besides I’m not acting selfish! I’m basically doing the same things you royals do. Going shopping, siestas.

Esteban: That’s part of my reputation. I have to look my best. I thought you were more noble than the rest of the nobility that you rose from. I may have privileges, but I still better the peoples’ lives. You’re just acting self righteous. Doña: You can force yourself not to enjoy these things, but you still have them. You’re pretty well off as Shuriki’s lapdog compared to the commoners. Face it, you have the power like her, you have the titles like her, you’re ambitious like her, you’re-

Esteban: I am nothing like Shuriki! Doña: You’re close enough. You’re almost ruthless by association. Esteban: If you’d like to talk about titles, doña, may I remind you that you’re only so special because you’re magister. Without it, you may be intelligent and pretty, but just as common and worthless as the rest of the masses. As for your formal request to aid the upcoming trade deals with the northern part of the Everrealm, I’ll have to decline. Doña: Why? You said- we always do these things together. Esteban: Yes, but that was before. I didn’t really need you since you don’t have the proper expertise to handle diplomatic matters. Doña: What? No expertise?! Af-after 7 years. You-I..

Esteban: I didn’t need you. I never needed you. I only allowed you to come because I wanted a friend by my side. But now....

Doña: But I’m still on.you..

Esteban: No. no. You mean nothing to me.

Doña: Hmmph. You think your friendship is some big loss for me? Get over yourself chancellor I-I hope you drown in your guilt.

Esteban: “I hope you drown in your selfishness.” (Slams door)

So done. Friendship over. Rivalry begins! And also though it wasn’t the major source of their friction, Esteban’s disgust for her avarice and Doña thinking it was hypocritical for him to criticize her clothes shopping and gossip when it was what he usually did. He said it was a matter of being royal and that he had an image to maintain jumps off their royal vs working class rivalry which was easier to argue you about than all the personal subtext underneath. They’re just very passive aggressive with each other now.

Until after Masks of Magic when Elena tells pretty much her whole family all about what went down at the Feast of Friendship. So a few days later, Esteban stops by Doña’s apartment. Esteban: I want to talk about what happened at the Feast of Friendship. Doña: Yes, yes, things were a little wild and your cousin did her own thing as you said she is wont to do but everything worked out. I can’t wait to do it again next next year. Ugh too bad Paraíso is hosting next year’s. 🙄 Can we discuss the particulars tomorrow before our meeting, I have a date tonight and I need at least two hours to do my hair, and then there’s my makeu- Esteban: She told me that you grew up in a small ranch. Doña: 🤭 Um heh Elena said you were sick, I think you need to rest some more. We’ll talk when you feel better. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Esteban: Hortensia, don’t start denying i.. Doña: I’m not in denial. I’m doing my makeup (closes the door to her bathroom) Esteban: (continues talking through the door) It makes sense. You’re not from a rich merchant family. Your family didn’t send you in to the city alone so you can learn the value of money. You did it because you had no choice, didn’t you? Doña: If you want to start your “the lady is a tramp” jokes, do it now. You have an hour before I kick you out. Esteban: Why didn’t you tell me? Doña: ....... Because Elena isn’t judgmental like you. She doesn’t have your high standards.

Esteban: You really think my opinion of you would lower because of your background? You’re an exception. You’re educated and talented and... Doña: No I’m not. How could I.. I mean... Remember, my ex Ferdinand? How you said he was wrong about how worthless I am. It was just lies and emotional abuse. All what he calls me, is true. I mean even you said it yourself. Remember? Esteban: I.. I didn’t really mean it.... that way. Doña: Yeah right. (Comes out of the bathroom) I am stupid, and greedy and a selfish hypocrite. No let me finish. He’s right. I dropped out of school after my quinceñera, Esteban. I didn’t even finish 9th grade, I didn’t go to college. I don’t know how to photosynthesis or speak a different language. When I first met you, I would spend the night before our meetings, studying the dictionary so I would understand some of your lectures on foreign relations. I’m no where near your level of education as I’ve been pretending to be. And Ferdinand is right that I’m a hypocrite, I don’t associate with other poor people and I don’t. I don’t.

How could other people respect me if they figured that I didn’t grow up knowing the difference between pink and fuchsia. That I didn’t have a private tutor like you. Do you know how many times I have been told that I would end up a whore because of my station in life. I couldn’t pay my dowry. And we tried, we tried so hard but they asked too much! And its not like I have any other choices. I’m not smart nor do I have a special talent. Basically, if I must quote *him*, “If I don’t pay my dowry and be supported, I’ll just be another whore with a body. Not good enough to be married, not worth enough to be even paid for a bed like a prostitute. “

As for my family? No, they were not merchants from Nueva Vista. I did not grow up rich. So rich I was sent to Avalor City to learn the value of money. I worked to provide for them and I failed. I didn’t work hard enough. I was too slow and selfish. I was so sad being alone, and homesick that I wasted time.

I was working to become the Magister, I was in all the right circles. I didn’t do enough. They died one by one from disease and starvation and exhaustion.

I was wanting to feel loved as they were sick and starving. I wanted them to tell me to stop working and come back because they missed me so much. Me, me, me! All I thought about me. It is my fault. Esteban: No.

Doña: Yes, I accept that. I just didn’t think it would matter to anyone. At least they hardly mattered enough for people to help. As you can imagine, they were born for a reason. They didn’t work enough. They deserve it.

Esteban: I wish you’d told me before.

Doña: Yeah, well... you wouldn’t have...I mean. Esteban when we broke up for the sake our duties I... it’s so stupid but I-I got unrealistic and stupid and I thought maybe you’d change your mind, and stand by me through it all. More than your fear of Shuriki, more than your guilt to your family. But love doesn’t conquer all. And if you didn’t stay when I was perfect than why would you stay if you knew how I really was?

Esteban: Do you think I’m that shallow? I wasn’t that bad. I wouldn’t have said it was all your fault that you were poor. Doña: Yes, you would have. You thought most poor people deserve what they got for not working hard enough like how Shuriki always raged on you. Esteban: I’m not like Shuriki.

Doña: I’m not saying you were like her, it’s just-

Esteban: But I wasn’t. I’m tired of you seeing me as the villain because you think all royals are snobs. I’m not like that. I didn’t do anything wrong.

Doña: Yes you were! You still are. Esteban: I-I respect Miss Turner despite her low rank. I’d listen to her opinions.

Doña: Sorry I haven’t been up to date on your change in mindset.

Esteban: I’m just saying, I’m not the villein you paint me to be. Doña: I’m not saying you are a villain but you are not the most tolerant. And I don’t hold that against you, you’re “better” now. But don’t pretend you weren’t like that.

Esteban: I didn’t do..

Doña: Don’t feel bad, everyone is like that. After all it’s not their problem. It’s mine. My feelings don’t matter in the long run. They’ll listen and leave. They don’t care. It would be like I hadn’t told anyone at all.

Esteban: I wasn't-I’m not like those people.

Doña: That’s not my point. Get out! Esteban: But- Fine!

Post All Kingdoms Fair

Esteban (covered in mud after trying to ride bareback on a horse) Maybe racing you after you lost Magister of Trade wasn't the best idea. Doña: Hmmm maybe you should have thought of that before helping Julio win, Chancellor.

Esteban: You must know it's not personal. Kingdom before thy self.

Doña: And the betterment of the kingdom lies in someone full of idealism and no experience! No. No way. You are far too smug about this for it not to be personal.

Esteban: With Elena's return, I've come to realize that though we have done a good job in making Avalor stable and prosperous..there needs to be changes to make the city more vibrant. More happy than it was under Shuriki. You're too stuck in your ways, it’s more about you than the kingdom, and think you know best and... Dona: I do know best. Esteban: You're going to eventually burn out. You must admit you've been getting more stressed.

Doña: How do you know I- You get stressed and cry about your job. You don't see me trying to give your chancellorship to Naomi! Esteban: I'm just saying.. you'll have more time with your emporium and to do other things. Doña: Oh then thank you, Esteban for giving me so much extra time for me to think and be alone with my thoughts. Just what I always wanted. Esteban: Complain now, in the future---I told you so.

Doña: Hmph. Not before I say I told you so when Julio fails miserably. And he will. He's so happy and wants to help everybody, it's like putting Armando in charge. He's going to give everything away. No more advantageous trade deals..ugh it's going to be horrible. Esteban: Have I mentioned that I'm going to miss that crazed look in your eye when you negotiate to get more goods for Avalor than whatever other kingdom? Doña: Why should I care more about other people than myself! I mean, I'm sorry are you serving the people of Avalor or the people of our allies? Avalorans come first, why should we serve their interests when we have to put our peoples needs before anything else? Like money for streets, and food transportation and-

Esteban: Yes, I am going to miss that. Doña: Insufferable Esteban: Ruthless. Want to eat? Doña: Know it al— huh what? Esteban: Would you like to eat?

Post Incredible Shrinking Royals

(After the dressing down by Elena and the Grand Council)

Doña: Well that went well. Esteban: Speak for yourself. You don’t live with her. Doña: I don’t see what they’re so upset about. Even if we hadn’t invited King Hector, I’m sure something would have gone wrong. Things always end up crazy ever since you’re cousin became queen. Sure, Julio somewhat saved the day but that was just dumb luck. Next time I’ll get to say I told you so. Next time he won’t be..

Esteban gives her the look. Doña: Okay maybe not..

Esteban: It doesn’t matter. There won’t be a next time for us. I’m on probation and Julio rightly fired you. They lapse into silence

Esteban: (smirks) But since we’re on the subject. I told you so. Doña: What! What are you talking about? Esteban: Remember? At our picnic after All Kingdoms Fair. I reserved the right to say “I told you so” when Julio succeeded. And I would say continued trade deals between Satu, Paraíso, Norburg and Avalor to be a success. I was right, you’re wrong. (Doña sputters and Esteban continues his little victory dance and they reach the castle door. Oddly, Doña doesn’t leave immediately but pauses as Esteban starts to walk away.)

Esteban: Hmm you missed just our schemes. It sounds more like someone misses talking to me. Doña: I no I mean..You were the one who initiated those private chats after the Feast of Friendship and All Kingdoms Fair. It seems you’re the one who misses talking to me.

Esteban: And and? You miss someone else? Doña: Ugh Esteban, you know you’re insufferable. Esteban: “I miss y-” Doña: Ay dios mio. Esteban: Say it.

Doña: You’re not going to stop, Are you? Esteban: Here I’ll help you start. You missed....

Doña: You. Yes. I missed you. Working together- okay scheming together was- I don’t know. It felt like old times. Esteban: That wasn’t so hard, was it? (Doña rolls her eyes) And just to clear the air...if we meet at the bar will I get to hear your real voice after you drink too much wine?

Doña: (pauses and tries to regain herself) Whata what are you-”

Esteban: No, no no. Don’t try to deny it! I was right! I thought I was imagining things because I drank too much wine!

Doña: Ugh Esteban!

Esteban: So will you? Doña: No, no no no no. That was a little mistake. This is my normal voice now. I’ve used it much longer. Esteban: But...but come on. It’s your voice. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s not bad to be poor. Doña: Ashamed and bad are two different things. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But it is very bad to be poor. It’s matters. Esteban: It shouldn’t be that important. What matters is if you’re qualified for the job, not how you sound or where you came from. Doña: They wanted to hire someone who was rich and educated from the city. I sound like that. I worked too hard to let something stupid than what I sound like to keep me from getting the job I needed, the jobs I wanted. Besides, you’re right that I am qualified in where it matters most, experience. Esteban: But it couldn’t be that... it doesn’t matter.

Doña: Yes it does matter, Esteban. Life’s not fair. Money, who has it and who doesn’t. It’s caused so much pain. You don’t know how people have treated me because they knew I was from a village. It only mattered to me that I was raped. Only I cared about my miscarriage. But the doctors didn’t care all because I couldn’t pay. It only mattered to me that I was starving or cold but the grocers wouldn't give me for free. And when I tried to explain, I was trying to provide for others, it was always the same thing. I had no right to ask for exceptions, I’m not special. It happens to other people. I should get over it. I should. It happened in the past. I should stop thinking about it. It’s in the past. It doesn’t affect me. I don’t deserve anything. I should be working harder for my fill. I shouldn’t have pride or act smart because I’m poor, I’m obviously none of those things.

Money matters. It gives you value. Now I’m rich, I have too much prestige for them to deny me. They’d never think that I’m stupid or talentless.

Esteban: But you act like... You can at least have some more empathy for others. You don’t have to tell them your backstory but at least..

Doña: But it wouldn’t have been as believable. Esteban: But Julio and other merchants..

Doña: It’s not the same. Sure, their lives are tough blah blah, they still inherited their businesses... still I suppose I could have... but..but I get so scared that people will figure it out and then they’ll think I’m just as vulgar and lazy as before. Because that is what poor people are meant to be. Menial labor. Ignored and derided and why would I ever risk going back to that position in life? It may be hypocritical but it is worth it if it lets me keep what I have.

Because that’s what I am. Without money, I’m so worthless- I-I don’t matter. I’m a worthless. So so worthless. Esteban: No, you’re not. I’ll admit I am surprised that you are not educated as I was but that just speaks to how intelligent you are anyway. You’ve learned on the job and you’ve been tremendously successful. As for your family, I am sorry. I don’t know what to say but.. but I think.. Doña: Don’t try with some Día de Los Muertos talk of honoring them. You have not starved before, you do not know that kind of pain and the kind of hatred you’d feel for suffering from it. I was selfish. I was so selfish. My family put their faith in me. I’m the capable one. I’m the provider. And I failed. They’re dead because of me.

Esteban: Okay. But I didn’t... you never act like you feel..

Doña: We’ve argued about this, remember? I want to remember them, but I- I’m not like you. I don’t want to be consumed with grief and worthlessness, to push others away because of my guilt. Twenty three years was enough. If I have to force myself to forget in order to feel less guilty, so be it.

Esteban: I still think no, never mind. Fine.... But you must know how I feel about you, and I would never think you’re worthless. Poor village girl or not. It doesn’t matter.

Esteban: You don’t have to talk now but when you are ready. I will be here for you and.. Doña: No, don’t. You don’t mean it. Don’t tell me a lie to me. You’ve said it before. I’ve changed too much. You hate me. You think I’m a selfish, gre- no no. I’d rather not be comforted than comforted this one time and not again. Don’t comfort me once and leave. It hurts too much. It hurts. I’m used to no comfort, I’m used to it. I’m fine please don’t.” Esteban: (shakes his head) “....And I will hold you and I will listen. And I will still love you all the same.”

Esteban: I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wouldn’t have accepted you if I knew the truth. I’m sorry. Sorry mi llorena. Doña: Shut up. Esteban: Sorry it just really fits. And you know, I don’t hate you. You’re still sort of how you were. Doña: And maybe you’ve grown away from the past a bit. (So they hug for a little bit and Esteban decides to break the ice.) Esteban: Look how nice we’re being to each other. Do you think we could act like this all the time?

Doña: What? No! We’d have to fight less and be nice to each other and freaks people out for some reason. They are going to think I’m blackmailing you. Heh, like near the end of Naomi’s quinceñera I was going to congratulate you. But Lady Yolanda took me away because she thought I was drunk. Esteban: Really? It’s that unbelievable?

Doña: It’s fine. I didn’t want to congratulate you anyway. Esteban: (shakes head) Of course not. You’re right. The more we get along the more people will be disturbed. It would never work. But.. if you ever want to talk about your family, you can. It’s only fair since I’ve told you so much about my parents. Doña: (nods) Yeah, it’d be nice to talk to someone. I tried that..that psychiatrist idea you said I should. You know, for three minutes. Esteban: Three minutes? You know you have to talk to him for longer than that right? Doña: Yes but he was stupid. He wanted to know if I had a bad childhood or abandonment issues. I had a very happy childhood and I have no abandonment issues whatsoever. He didn’t give me a refund either. Esteban: Well you do have a point, he must have not been a very good psychiatrist if he was trying to get into your clear emotional abandonment and repression issues without first addressing your borderline amnesiac denial. Doña: I don’t (Esteban gives her a look) Denial is nice. It keeps me from reflecting on feelings and other things. Once I think of one thing, it leads to another and then all the grief and guilt come in to consume you, you know. (Slight silence)

Esteban: I know..... (shakes himself out of his thoughts) As I was saying, denial as a coping mechanism and how you focus on your ego and your money in order to avoid emotional attachment. Doña: I-I don’t! You found those fancy terms when you went to a psychiatrist for your superiority inferiority complex and survivors guilt with emotional repression. Oh right you don’t “need” a therapist. Hmmm...

Esteban: Okay, I just don’t have time for it. At least I know I have problems. I don’t deny it. Doña: Which is more of a reason that you need the psychiatrist more than I do. You know you should but you don’t go. Esteban: You still need to go more than I. Doña: No you do. Esteban: You do.

(Both try to one-up each other with “You do”s) Esteban: You do! But if it makes you feel better, I missed talking to you. A little. And maybe since....with Elena around, and Julio as Magister we have time. The economy doesn’t depend on us. We don’t have to be so professional anymore and put together. We can have our talks on Sundays, like we used to. Doña: Yeah but...l you have your family for that. You don’t need to. Esteban: Yes, I do. It’s... You know the dark times. You know things that I haven’t told them. You’d get it.

Doña: You know, I hate to say you’re right but you’re the only person I consider a friend. And Esteban? I’m sor..argh I’m not used to apologizing. One second, okay, I’m truly sorry that I said you were similar to Shuriki. I didn’t mean it. I was angr-...I was angry but that doesn’t justify it. It was uncalled for and untrue. I never believed that. You have done so much and you’re nothing like her. I have always believed you were a better person and that Avalor is lucky to have you fixing her reign of terror. You’re a hero.

Esteban: (wavery smile) Please. Don’t mention it.

#esteban flores #doña paloma #estoma #elena of avalor #drabble

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