#Wanting to belong with her curse Wanting to belong with her mama and she's denied the only relationship that would matter :)) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spideyspeaches · 3 years

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Can’t escape (the way I love you) ↬a.r

A/N: This is a repost from my old account :) @th0ttie4tommy here you go :)

Warnings: cursing, use of wooden spoon, seX, canon typical voilence-ish)

MINORS DNI

WC: 3.1K

Summary: after running away from knockemstiff, Arvin finds his way to Cincinnati and finds a girl instead.

Pairing: Arvin Russell x Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Sleep didn’t come easy to Arvin now that he was hitchhiking his way to Cincinnati. Flashes of his daddy on the prayer log with his neck cut off, Lenora’s limp body hanging, the preacher bleeding his guts out and even the photograph of the whore- the Sheriff’s little sister- all played in his mind like a broken record.

Sighing, he leaned back on the seat and watched the long haired driver honk on the ongoing vehicles, the noises sending shards of pain up his skull. He really wanted to sleep, and maybe smoke a cigarette, but he didn’t want to think about the possibilities of what would happen if he slept in a random stranger’s truck.

Just the thought of sleep reminded him of the old man and the whore’s faces, making him sit up straight.

“You okay there boy?” The long haired man raised an eyebrow, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

Arvin shook his head, wincing at the movement as his sore body struggled to not give in to the strong pull of sleep.

“I’m good. How far away are we from the city?” He asked, gritting his teeth as he saw the Sheriff’s car go past them.

“We have a long way to go. Why don’t you take a shut eye meanwhile?” The driver said.

“No thank you. I’ll stay awake. Sleep is for the week and all.” He mumbled, fixing his cap.

“Okay, if you say so” The driver responded, shrugging and continued driving.

Arvin looked out of the window, watched as the trees passed by, a lonely dog making a trek as it wiggled it’s tail. His heart gave a thump, chest aching as the dog reminded him of Jack. He really missed the mutt, he didn’t deserve the death it got.

Pulling his cap over his eyes, he squinted at the slight indication of dawn, the pull of sleep too strong to ignore now. His mouth went slack and neck bobbed with the wobbly rout, a huge yawn leaving him, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

***

“Hey kid! Wake up!” The man said, shaking out of his sleep. He woke up in a disoriented haze, head throbbing harshly against his skull, body heavy with exhaustion. Sitting up with a gasp, he saw that the man had stopped the truck, panic seizing his lungs. Was that it? Would the driver pull a gun on him just like those Henderson whores had?

Looking around, he noticed a small diner, stomach growling with hunger, as if in response to seeing the place.

“Whe- Where are we?” He said sharply, noticing the driver’s eyes trailing him. He shuddered at the man’s gaze.

“We’re at a rest stop. Figured you might be hungry.” He replied gruffly, getting off the side door, “You comin’ or not boy?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll be there.” He whispered. Maybe he could run away from here, hitchhike another ride to the city. His eyes landed on the board on the corner of the road. He was relieved to find that he was already in the city.

Before he knew it though, his feet were carrying him towards the diner, a cigarette making its way to his mouth as an invisible string pulled him towards the small place. He complied, too tired to make anything of the situation.

The bell rang as he opened the door, pushing himself inside before he could think. Taking an empty seat, he leaned on his hands as his heart stuttered to a stop.

Literally stopped.

It felt like he was in a parallel universe filled with coincidences, flashbacks of his old house back in Ohio, his daddy sitting on a ratty stool as he talked about his mama . Because in front of him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He remembered his daddy telling him how he met his mother in a diner in a small town, just like the one Arvin was in right now.

Throwing away the butt in an ashtray, he tried to speak, but no words came out. He stuttered a small smile, looking at your bright eyes as you said something.

“What do I get for you honey?” You asked in a soft voice, oh your voice was such a melody.

“A coffee would be good.” He finally said, licking his lips and thumbing his wallet nervously. He hadn’t left with much money.

“You look like you need solid food and aspirin.” You smirked, pouring a hot cup of coffee in front of him. You slid a cheesecake, smiling at his surprised expression. “It’s on me.“

"Oh- I uhm. Thank you.” He nodded. He took a bite of the soft dessert, nearly moaning at its sweet taste. His taste buds were jumping from the onslaught of the sweet flavour, sighing as he sipped at the bitter coffee. It was the best food he’d had in a few days.

Turning around in his seat, he saw that the driver was nowhere in sight. Great. He had ditched him. Thankfully he still had his belongings with him.

Turning around again, he fidgeted with his fingers just as you appeared in the line of his sight.

“You’re not from here are you?” You ask, wiping your hands on your apron.

“No. How’d you know?” He raised an eyebrow, a smile appearing on his face.

“Well you look quite lost. Do you have a place to stay?” You leaned forward, the open collar showing just a little bit of your cleavage. He licked his lips, trying not to stare.

“I don’t actually. My ride ditched me.” He shrugged, “thanks for the cheesecake by the way."

"Oh it’s alright. The leftovers go to those bloated buffoons anyway. You looked starved, so I wondered why not?” You collected the cutlery from the other customers, shouting orders at the kitchen for the others. “You say your ride ditched you? My grandma owns a motel not far from here, I could get you a room to stay for s while."

"Oh no no no! That- you’ve already done so much for me and you don’t even know me!” He stumbled. He wasn’t used to this sort of kindness, considering the shit his life took in the past few months.

“It’s no trouble really! I’m just going there after this shift anyway, will probably stay in the penthouse for a while.” You said.

Before he could say anything to confirm or deny your offer, You were removing your apron, handing it to another girl as you hopped over the counter.

Fixing your dress and hair, you go to the back of the kitchen and yell something at the manager, walking out of the house, looking behind and silently asking him to follow.

Arvin tried to follow you, sighing in relief when he found you leaning against the wall in the back. But instead of calling out for you, he scrambled for a cigarette, groaning internally when he found only one left and lit it with a matchstick. Taking a drag, he breathed in the familiar burning in his throat, leaning against a pole.

He felt more than saw you eyeing him from the corner of his eye, heart speeding up like he was in highschool and had a crush on one of the girls or guys. He hadn’t stuck around much to date anyone, but the time he had making out with them was good enough for him.

“My name’s Y/N by the way.” You said, biting your lips as you looked at him.

“Russell Arv- I mean- Arvin Russell.” He stuttered, pulling out the joint from his mouth.

He took a deep breath, letting the silent roads and windy weather calm his racing heart down. He thought about leaving right there, not wanting to get someone who looked as innocent as you did, in a mess like his life was. Before he could walk away though, you were walking towards him, biting your lips.

“Uhh, so my grandma’s place?” You asked nervously.

“You barely know me and you’re letting me stay with you. For all you know, I could be a murderer.” He joked. You chuckled and made a face at him, dragging him to your Cadillac. He followed anyway.

(He almost laughed at how ironic he sounded, shaking his head internally.)

“Thanks for letting me stay Mrs. L/N” He smiled at your grandma as she shook his hands, enthusiastically shoving cookies down his throat and excited that you had brought a boy with you.

“She’s nice."

"She’s the best.”

He intended to stay for a day and hitch a ride, stay far far away from this place. He didn’t want to corrupt these people, he tried to reason. But he couldn’t let go, he just kept interacting.

(A little girl in the neighbourhood liked to play with his hat. He smiled at the small child, surprised to find the unadulterated happiness that radiated off the wee kiddo when he played with her. The people smiled a lot too.)

A day turned to two, two to a week and then nearly a month passed and no one asked him once why he lived with a girl and her grandma.

(Or why he flinched every time he saw a gun or an officer of law walk by).

He also managed to score a job at the diner, for washing the plates. He found that he didn’t mind helping people

You didn’t know how fast time could pass, and as it grew it’s sneaky tendrils, your heart grew a mind of its own as you spent days fantasizing your time with him, of you under him as he fucked you senseless.

Tracing his biceps, you leaned forward, mouth nearly touching his. He cupped your jaw, grabbing your waist and lifted you off the ground, slamming you against the concrete wall and kissed you.

Your mouth tasted like berries, which berries he didn’t know, maybe strawberries, fuck if he cared. Maybe it was your Chapstick.

“Arvin.” You moaned against his mouth, hands reaching for the collar of his shirt as he shoved you against the wall, holding your ass to keep your balance. His tongue swirled around your lips, hands sliding up your legs in a soothing motion.

You could taste the nicotine in his mouth, but you couldn’t be bothered. All you wanted was this beautiful stranger right now. A stranger who you felt like you’ve known your whole life.

“Shh sweetheart, don’t want anyone to hear us would we?” He whispered in your ear, holding his hands over your lips to shush you. You nodded, eyes half closed as you enjoyed the feeling of his rough denim rub against your thighs, the sheer friction of his movements causing heat to pool your gut.

“Arvin,” you moaned softly, running your hands through his hair, “Arvin, wait. I- I know a place."

He stopped for a second, Looking at you with a bewildered expression. "What kind of place?"

You gulped, getting off of him and walking around and outside the master bedroom, making sure no one was in the corridor. Following you, his eyes grew wide as he saw you open a door to a dungeon, switching on the flickering lights to reveal a small square area room.

The room was dimly lit and dusty. It was surrounded by racks but he could not see what was kept in them. In the centre though, was a single obsolete piece of wooden slab surrounded by long rods of metal attached to it. It must have been an old hospital bed- the kind the troops used. It sat flat against the floor. He looked at you again.

"My daddy used to bring things from the war, whips, guns, handcuffs. Everything. Everything.” Your low voice sent chills up his spine. With shaking hands, he scoured the cupboards, wiping off the dust from his fingers as he came across a pair of brass knuckles and handcuffs. Fingering them, he looked at you as you nodded.

“Do you- do you want me to use ‘em? On ya?” He said. He could feel his already hard dick throb painfully almost, the lust in your eyes making him feel things.

“Use them on me Arvin. I wanna feel you use the cold metal against me as you fucked me so hard I couldn’t walk tomorrow.” You suddenly push him against the cupboards, his back hitting with a thud as you traced his chest through his shirt, scrambling to remove off the offending clothing.

You scratched his chest lightly, fingers gliding against his pecs and abs as they clenched, moving in a sensual manner. He was impatient, you could practically smell his excitement in waves. The scent of his cologne was overwhelming in a way that made your insides tingle with your own arousal.

“Fuck- sweetheart.” He whimpered, his legs weak for you, waiting to feel your walls.

Kissing his neck and then chest and nipples, you dig your teeth around the skin, eliciting a moan deep from his throat. You were shaking with anticipation, hastily removing your frock and throwing it to somewhere. He held you for a second, admiring your body and giving you a gratifying look. His hands linger around your chest, unhooking your bra holding them as he kisses your chest while bending down with trails of kisses down all the way to your tummy.

You pant as he reaches your navel, slender fingers sliding your panties off you as you sigh in relief, ecstatic that you were now fully naked in front of the boy of your desires.

He plunged his fingers inside your dripping core, your legs trembling as he licked off dripping cum from your folds.

“Already wet for me huh? Wait till I use these on you, how will you feel then babygirl? Want me to use them don’t you?” He urges, spreading your legs apart and moving you so that your butt hit the wooden plank. You whimper at the force, back arching as he dribbles your clit with his spit, licking it off you and then standing up. You immediately miss the contact, and thankfully it wasn’t for long before he came back.

He unbuttoned his pants so that he was too fully exposed now, his cock springing out made you crave for it even more now, but before you could do anything, he took your hand, cuffing it to the railing of the plank. You cursed at the tightness, adjusting your wrist so that they wouldn’t hurt. You whimpered when you felt a cold wooden spoon run along your chest. He held the dip of the spoon on top of them leaving indents, his other hand’s thumb kneading into your flesh.

“Is this okay princess? Don’t wanna hurt your pretty little hand. Just wanna hear you moan my name.” He whispered, voice cracking due to the octave it took when you gave a shrill cry of surprise, your other hand clutching at his hair, causing you to lose your balance and falling on your ass.

“I need you Arvin! I need you now please help me!” You cry out, your eyes devoid of tears but your voice showing your emotion. You were hungry, starved and his cock looked delicious. You just wanted him inside.

“A little patience would be appreciated.” He growled against your chest, biting at the sensitive skin. You must have said that out loud.

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold it in me.” You whimper, scrunching your eyes as he nipped at your neck, rubbing the tip of his dick on your clit. His tip was bright red, hard and erect. You wrapped your legs around his shoulder, bringing him down at you. His fingers kept playing while his mouth worked.

“I’m so wet Arvin, only for you baby, look at me, so wet.” The wooden spoon made contact with your chest again, sliding down to your ass as he gently nudged your back. He didn’t hit you, no, that son of a bitch teased you with slow motions of its cold surface. You kissed him till your lips were plump and red with blood dripping off the thin skin, his mouth leaving his lingering taste in yours.

Finally, finally, he slid into you. You gave a shrill cry as his member entered you, your walls clenching around it as if you wanted it to stay in you forever. You arched your back, your waist hitting his pelvis, causing it to slap around him. You unconsciously dug your fingers in his back, gritting your teeth at the sudden sensory input.

“So tight baby. Clenching around me like a fucking ant-eater. You like this don’t you darlin’? Like it when I slide in."

"Yes baby.” You whispered. Sweat dripped off of the both of you, your slicked bodies slapping against each other, “Oh I’m about to cum! Arvin!"

"Cum on me baby, cum on my dick so I can shove in harder.” He clenched himself, mouth forming an O as he felt you orgasm around him, his dick sliding out of you. Pumping his balls, he clenched his jaw at the sight of you, panting under him with your legs spread apart. “You’re such a good girl. Always listening to what I say."

"Because you’re the best.” You flopped down on the board, your back hitting it. You jiggled your arm that was held in the handcuff, the movement bringing Arvin toppling down to you. He fell on your breasts, face smushed in as if he was sleeping on a pillow. You erupted in a fit of giggles as he licked you with kitten-like strips.

“Did you like that? Was that- was that okay?” He huffed, probably as tired as you were right now. His muscles relaxed under your touch, unclenching as you ran your hands on his back. You hissed when you saw that your hand had caused bloody indents on his skin.

“That was amazing sweetheart.” You paused, “I’m so glad we met that day."

"Me too. I didn’t believe in love for a very long time after momma died, and then my daddy died, and then Lenora-” he said, choking on his tears, “- my sister, Lenora, that fucking preacher. He killed her."

"Arvin, baby I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I can’t bring them back. But I can hold you. I can hold you forever if you want. I can love you."

You froze for a moment, realising what you had said. You had met only a month ago, and yet here you were, telling him that you loved him. Your heart did gallops when he didn’t answer for a while, and then you heard it. You heard him say those three words, a soft whisper in the night.

"I love you too."

#arvin russell smut #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russell x reader smut #peter parker x reader smut #tom holland smut #spideygirl writes

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

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Deadbeat Pt. 2

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Read Part One

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut, cursing, abandonment, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, this chapter talks about Reverend Teagardin/his actions towards the young girls in the story (nothing is described in detail- just accusations discussing how he gives off bad vibes and is creepy- if you’ve seen the film you already know)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

It was always so hot in that little one room chapel. There was no fan and everyone would be crushed in together like sardines. The air was always sticky and it turned everyone sluggish. Your mama never brought you and Tommy to church, but you saw how that singled you out in this community. The judgmental looks people would give you for not going always made you feel like they viewed your family as trailer trash. So when they left, you started going regular like everyone else. You wanted to make a good impression and give yourself an opportunity to be more involved in the community. You used to attend with Arvin’s family, but now you sit on the opposite side of the aisle.

You and Arvin were still on friendly terms. On your nights off, sometimes you’d be invited to join them for supper. Ever since you and Arvin broke up, you’ve politely denied his grandmother’s thoughtful invitations. Now that you were living alone with the Sheriff, you wouldn’t anticipate any more neighborly invitations but instead prayers to save your soul, like you weren’t already damned for ‘peddling the Devil’s drink’ as you’ve heard alcohol referred to so many times by Ms. Russell.

You didn’t care much for the new reverend, and you found yourself often zoning out during his sermons. You were more preoccupied with the uncomfortableness of the pews and how your thighs felt like you’d be ripping giant band-aids off the back of them when you stand up after the service ended- even if it was a cooler day. Reverend Teagardin made a terrible first impression in your opinion, and he never did nothing to make you think you were misjudging him. You trusted the Sheriff’s advice to steer clear of him. Though based on the liking he’d taken to talking to the high school aged girls after service ended, you were thinking you were too old for him anyways. You shook your head, chastising yourself for joking about something like that even just to yourself. You made sure to tell Lee whenever he did something to tip you off that he might be trouble. You didn’t trust him one bit.

After the service, you were almost ambushed by a couple of women who were notoriously known for being the town’s busy bodies. The shorter of the two was Ethel Perry, who absolutely wreaked of cigarette smoke and always carried a little beaded purse. The other was Ida Sinclair, whose hair was a silver blue, and always wore a turtleneck and a thick sweater overtop even in the middle of hot summer days. They were sweet ladies, and normally you’d love to gab and let them fill you in on all the town gossip. They were great to talk to. But now that you were on the other side of their gossip, their nice demeanor felt much more predatory now that they were seeking you out for information instead of sharing it.

“Sweetheart,” Ida said sweetly, cornering you outside by the steps. “You poor thing how are you holding up?” You were buttoning up your jacket, when the pair snuck up on you, catching you off guard.

“Oh Mrs. Sinclair, I’m doing just fine. No need to worry about me,” you say, giving them a small smile.

“Is it true you’re renting a room to Sheriff Bodecker?” Ms. Perry interjects, not even bothering with the small talk. You almost respected her more direct approach, the small talk Ms. Sinclair was attempting to make made you feel a tinge resentful of their attitude towards you.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, not giving her anymore details. If she wanted the gossip, she’d need to own up to being direct in her behavior.

“We heard Janie kicked him out of the house,” Mrs. Sinclair said, her face plastered with worry like she felt sorry for the man. You smiled through your teeth and nodded.

“Makes sense,” Ms. Perry added, “Him needing a room and with your mama leaving you here alone and all.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say smiling through your teeth, you hadn’t realized you were grinding down on them that hard.

“Ms. Beaumont was going on and on yesterday about how it wasn’t fitting,” Ms. Perry continued. “You being a young single girl- working at that terrible bar, renting out a room to a man. She was insinuating something awful- but don’t worry dear. We know she’s just being meddlesome and trying to stir the pot where she shouldn’t.”

“Thank you, Ms. Perry,” you responded, sarcastically but they didn’t pick up on it. “It was lovely seeing you both,” you say, stepping away, “but I should be heading home now.”

“Too bad the Sheriff doesn’t come to Church,” Mrs. Sinclair, said, “He could be driving you, so you don’t have to be walking.”

The Sheriff worked on Sunday mornings and both of them knew that. You knew it was just an attempt to insinuate something else you didn’t have the patience to try to decode. You just nodded as a goodbye and started walking home. It never took long to walk, and you wouldn’t bother the Sheriff for a ride unless you really needed one- like if it was bad weather or if you were leaving work too late at night. You didn’t mind walking at all- gave you a chance to just clear your head and enjoy the fresh air, especially after getting out of that stuffy chapel.

You knew the Sheriff actually wasn’t working today. He told you this morning he was going to the courthouse to sign his divorce papers and then to pick up his stuff at the house. You’d see him later on that night when he finished that whole mess. It was the quickest divorce you’d ever seen. Neither one of them seemed to care to get lawyers. Based on what Lee told you so far, he really just was fine with her taking anything she asked for- including the house. His indifference to the whole thing really was like no divorce you’d ever heard about. You sympathized, because it was just him not wanting to prolong the painful ordeal of it all. He just wanted to get it all over and done with, and you understood that.

When you got home, you changed out of your Sunday dress and into some work clothes. A pair of overalls, a short sleeved tshirt and a pair of your old saddle shoes. You protected your hair with a bandana and decided to get to work. You got some free cardboard boxes from the grocer yesterday, and you resolved to help Lee out and clear out all of your mom’s old stuff. You told him when he left to leave the door unlocked for you and it would be cleared out as best you could get it so he’d had somewhere to put his stuff when he got back.

You started with the closet and getting rid of all her clothes. You’d call the donation center tomorrow and they’d send someone to come pick it all up. You weren’t sentimental about anything that belonged to her. Much like the Sheriff and his divorce, you just wanted to get this stuff out of the house and get the chore over with. You kept the photographs, and some of the things you knew might be worth something, like any of the jewelry she’d left in her jewelry box. You took anything that was hers and either tossed it or put it in the large donation pile.

You knew the weather tonight would be fine, so you opted to carry all the boxes outside and stack them on the porch. You figured it would be better and easier to deal with if you piled the full boxes outside before they came tomorrow. You didn’t touch Tommy’s room. You figured there was no need, and he was the only one out of the two you had a small amount of hope would someday come back, even if it was just to visit.

You closed the first box, and carried it down the hall and down the stairs slowly because it blocked your vision. At the bottom of the stairs, you propped the box on your hip so you could open the door. You then walked sideways out of the front door to drop it on the porch. As you were walking out you saw the familiar cruiser, driving down the road. You smiled, actually liking the feeling of having someone living with you. It was a little exciting. It was clouded by terrible circumstances on both your parts, but you hadn’t realized how lonely you had been living alone- even if it had only been a couple of days of Lee being here.

When Lee saw you walk out on the porch, he almost hit the garage door. You looked absolutely gorgeous, sweaty from working around the house and moving boxes. His heart felt strained in his chest when you smiled at him. That right there made his whole shitty day worth it. He hated facing Janie, scribbling his signature fast as ever on every document thrown at him. He hated that she was there with Miller, him standing behind her with his hand on her shoulder comforting her, like she wasn’t the adulterer in the room. It was infuriating.

He felt like a stranger in his own goddamn house, rummaging through everything grabbing what was his. Janie watched him like a hawk, following him around and saying nothing, like he wasn’t to be trusted to not take something. What like he’d steal something that was his? He hardly spoke two words to her. Miller sitting in his recliner, watching the news on the television. She made no attempt to even shield him from the look of another man living there. She wasted no time, announcing she’d be marrying the bastard as Lee was leaving. He mumbled a ‘congratulations’ and loaded the few boxes he had into the trunk of the cruiser.

Now seeing you there standing on the porch, all the bullshit he had to put up with today seemed worth it. It was grounding. He sighed, tossing his hat on the seat, and zipping up his leather jacket- ignoring the way it was fitting a little snugger. As he fumbled with the zipper, his mind started to wander- thoughts always clouded with you. He was usually able to keep his feeling pushed away when he was out, but the second he would see you again, all progress was lost. And here you are, like you were waiting for him to come back to you.

“I still have a few more boxes,” you say as he closes the door to the cruiser.

“I can move them,” he tries to protest, but you’ve already disappeared back into the house. He gets his own boxes out of the trunk and brings them into the house, leaving them on the living room floor for now. He hangs up his coat on the coatrack, on the hook next to yours, and then heads up the narrow staircase to see if he can help you. He gets to his room and he stops in the doorway, dead in his tracks. You’re on the floor, on your knees in front of a box, using a roll of packing tape to secure it shut. His heart stops and he’s frozen. He stutters to make himself known, but you don’t seem to notice the way he reacted to you. He’s relieved that you don’t seem to miss a beat, pushing the box in his direction, your way of telling him he can bring it outside. You stretch over and pull another box in front of you and begin placing folded clothes that were on the floor inside just to fill it to the brim completely before closing it.

That silent assembly line of the two of you makes the work go by quick. You have six large boxes ready to get picked up tomorrow sitting on the front porch, and Lee is able to bring his stuff upstairs. You decide to let him have some time to just settle, and you get started on what to do for dinner when you see it getting pretty late in the afternoon.

There was never any spoken agreement that you’d both eat together. It just kind of happens on its on the past two nights he’s been here. You’d be making dinner for yourself anyways, and making something for two isn’t that much more work. You know he doesn’t expect you to cook for him at all, but since you were taking up the kitchen anyways you don’t mind. You weren’t the best cook, but you’re pretty sure your cooking beats a cold sandwich from the diner.

Upstairs, Lee was letting his emotions get the best of him. His ever-present feelings for you- he actually wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was just an attraction, or maybe he was so used to coldness from Janie that he’s falling apart at a woman being nice to him and treating like a person. He needed to pull himself together. He closed his eyes for a second, picturing how you looked packing the boxes up. On your knees, the overalls hugging your figure, the little bit of sweat on your brow- it was the best sight he ever got the pleasure of seeing. He looks at the mirror that sat in the corner of the room. He sighs looking over his appearance.

There’s no way a beautiful, young girl like you would look at him the same way, as much as he wished it. His slightly protruding stomach, a sign of all the drinking and his bad diet. He had a little bit of a double chin from angles as well. He sticks is neck out to try to remember what his face looked like when his jaw was more defined. He realizes how ridiculous he was being. He didn’t think you were the kind of person to care that much about the things that very much bothered him. He runs a hand through his hair, and continues to hang up his shirts in the closet. You were turning him soft, and you had no idea.

He hears you coming up the stairs, and he feels his heartbeat quicken like you were going to catch him thinking about you. He was being so stupid, he chastises himself. He couldn’t have you affecting him like this. He turned his head and catches your eye as you are heading into the bathroom in the hallway.

“Just washing up before supper,” you say casually, and heading into the bathroom. He had to pull himself together. He sighed, thinking about your sweetness and hospitality ever since he showed up at your door two nights ago. You welcomed him into your home without a second thought. You trusted him, and that made him feel even more guilty. He couldn’t be thinking that anything between the two of you could happen. He needed to be a good man. But Christ, how even could a good man keep himself in check when he’s in such close quarters with you?

“Made mac and cheese with some grilled chicken if you’re hungry,” you say, not looking back at him but just immediately heading back down the hallway and down the stairs. He watched you walk away, biting his lip at how your ass looked in that denim. He gently hits his head against the mirror, like that’s somehow going to snap him out of it. He makes a fist and then stretches out his hands like that will do anything.

“Ms. Perry and Mrs. Sinclair cornered me outside Church today,” you said with a chuckle, as he came into the kitchen.

“Yeah?” he asks, taking the plate you hand to him. He opens up the drawer and grabs silverware for him and yourself while you put your plate together.

“Yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “I’m the talk of the town apparently.”

“I’m sorry about that, hun,” he says sympathetically, “That’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you say, walking over to your kitchen table and taking a seat. “I find them kind of funny,” you shrug, “They were talking about me long before this and this is just the newest thing.”

“What did they say?” he asks, as he takes his seat across from you. It was a small table, only was able to seat two comfortably, anymore would be too crowded.

“They think I should be using you as a ride to Church,” you reply, “Also that our situation ain’t fitting according to Ms. Beaumont. But they insisted they don’t think that at all.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he grins.

“I thought she was gonna ask me how much I’m charging you for rent next,” you scoff before taking a bit of food.

“Do they bother you?” he asks. He felt bad at how this living situation would affect you. He understood how much keeping up appearances mattered in this town. If someone were to start a nasty rumor, your name would be tarnish all over town. You might as well start wearing a big red A on your jacket.

“Not really,” you shrug. “It bothered me in the moment, cause they cornered me, but I have no reason to be worried. It’s not like anything they say is gonna amount to anything without evidence. They can insinuate all they want.”

The word evidence hung heavy on his mind. His brain running through scenarios if you both actually had something worth hiding. Kissing you in the backseat of the cruiser pulled into some back road by the water somewhere or sneaking touches under the table at the diner. It wouldn’t be wrong, not really, he thought to himself. You’re an adult and if you felt the same way fuck what the town would think.

You actually thought the Sheriff was quite handsome. You hadn’t really been able to look past how intimidating he looked sometimes or his gruff exterior. The man sitting across from you was not like the guy that makes the town cower away from him at times. He was relaxed, his face especially. It was a rare form for him. The man seemed to constantly be stressed, full of pent-up tension, no doubt due to the stress of his job. You noticed that his eyes looked softer, and how blue they were. Suddenly, you realized it was just you and him- alone. Living in your house. You felt your face heat up, and he picked up on your change in demeanor.

“You alright?” he asks, looking over at you.

“Yeah,” you say, a little nervously. “Just need some water.”

You get up and head over to the cabinet next to the sink, and you reach up to get yourself a glass. Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, making you jump. He’s just reaching to get himself a glass too, his body pressing very lightly against you. He gives you a concerned look as you look flustered and you let out a small gasp.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he says, and you could almost swear you saw him smirking. He takes his glass over to the fridge and pours himself some of the iced-tea from the pitcher you keep inside the fridge.

“I think you’re right about Reverend Teagardin,” you say, trying desperately to reorient yourself.

“He’s no good,” Lee agreed. “He’s crooked. Just be careful around him, sweetheart.” Those damn pet names were making your stomach churn with butterflies.

“I think I’m too old to be on his radar,” you admit quietly, in a rushed tone. Your accusation hushed, even if it was just you and Lee.

“You see him do anything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not really,” you say, “but he talks for an awful long time to the high school aged girls after services. I don’t know it just gives me a gut feeling about him. Those poor girls, like Lenora- they don’t know when their being sweet talked and manipulated. Just makes me nervous. Married man talking to those girls so shamelessly- charming them.”

“I’ll try to swing by and check the place out,” he nods, looking a little lost in thought.

“That’ll make me feel so much better,” you smile. He grins and licks his lips, before taking a swig of his drink.

You both take a seat at the table again, finishing up dinner fairly quickly. You asked him about his day and he told you all about Miller and the papers, and you listened intently. You felt bad he had to go through that. Yeah, Lee was not a picture-perfect husband by any means, you were sure. But the actions he faced today still sounded harsh. Somewhere in your mind, you thought he deserved better. Maybe he didn’t, but the man was clearly in pain and it tugs at your heartstrings.

“Since you made dinner, I can clean up,” he offered.

“That’s really sweet. Thanks, Lee,” you smile shyly. This all felt so… domestic. You were acting like a married couple. It’s not like the two of you could help it. You were living under the same roof and existing in the same space. This is how people who live together interact. That’s it. Right?

“I think I’ll call and leave a message at the donation center so they send someone to get those boxes tomorrow,” you decide. You head over to the living room where you kept your phone, pulling out your address book out of a drawer in the table the phone rested on. Lee nodded, taking your dishes and his own over to the sink.

You sit on the couch, criss cross and hold the base of the phone on one knee, resting the receiver up to your ear with your elbow. You dial the number, the phone clicking every time the dial falls back into place.

Lee can’t make out what you are saying, but he chuckles recognizing the tone of voice you use- like a customer service voice he’ll hear you pull out at the bar often. He does the dishes, and just lets himself escape into his fantasies again. His mind was racing about what those women at Church thought was happening between the two of you. He knows its wrong, but god he wishes it was real.

He imagines that after you both have gone to bed you show up at his door in the middle of the night- looking like how you did the night you agreed to let him stay. You confess how much you want him and he just pulls you into a rushed kiss- you just overtaken by the sudden relief of all the pent-up tension. He imagines how it would feel to hear little moans against his lips coming from you when he slips his tongue into your mouth. He can almost feel what it would be like to have you tightly against his body. His hands being allowed to just freely explore you and how you must look under him, begging and needy-

“Okay, that’s all set,” you announce walking back into the kitchen. “Hopefully they’ll send someone over first thing.”

“G-good, yeah,” he stutters out, pulling himself out of his daydream. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I go in at 4,” you reply, not noticing how flustered he is. He’s relieved to see you looking in the fridge and it gives him a chance to adjust before you saw how hard he was.

“Need a ride?” He asks. “I can pick you up on my way home.”

“Perfect,” you smile when you turn to face him. “Thank you. I’m gonna see if there is anything good on the television we can watch.”

“Sounds good, doll,” he says, relieved when she finally heads back into the other room, taking her seat on the couch again, clicking through the channels.

He needed a minute before heading in there. Every time you were in the room he felt like his skin was on fire. He knew if he wanted to stay, he needed to get a grip. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He joined you in the living room and sat on the other end of the couch. There was an old picture playing on the black and white set.

Neither of you could pay attention to the damn screen no matter how hard you tried. The tension in the room- between the both of you was borderline unbearable. Both of you were stealing glances at the other, not realizing the other person was doing the same. When you would look over to him, his eyes would be toward the tv set, seeming to be watching the picture- but he also looked incredibly tense. You wondered if he was hanging out with you because he felt like he needed to. You feel awkward now thinking he’s just sitting though this to not be rude.

Lee was on the whole other side of the world in comparison to what you thought he was thinking about. He was trying desperately to gain some level of composure. He felt like he was acting like a teenager again, fucking jumping out of his skin sitting next to a pretty girl. He hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. An hour went by, neither of you saying anything- him just lost in his own thoughts. But then he felt your head hit his shoulder ever so lightly.

You had fallen asleep. He wondered how long you had been sleeping before he even realized. Here he was stressed out as ever and you are relaxed enough to fall asleep. He doesn’t even dare move. His whole body goes stiff, not wanting anything to wake you up. He wouldn’t move from this spot for all the money in the world. You were blissfully unaware at how you cuddled up next to him, your face resting in the crook of his neck. You were going to be the death of him.

He very carefully wanted to just make himself a little more comfortable. He slowly moved the arm you had pinned and adjusted so it was wrapped around your shoulder. His fingertips just grazing your skin where the sleeve of your t-shirt ended lightly. Your skin was so soft, and he bites his lip, thinking about how soft you must feel everywhere. The man was so goddamn touched starved. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was this close with Janie. It had to have been years since he experienced something this intimate. After a very long internal battle, he allowed himself to rest his head on top of yours and close his eyes for a few. He didn’t intend on falling asleep, just bask selfishly in the moment for a few minutes.

You opened your eyes and yawned softly. You looked at the clock and saw that it was well past midnight. You closed your eyes again, too tired to realize the position you were in at first. Then, a minute later you realized, and your eyes shot open again. Cuddled up to Lee’s side, his arm loosely around you. His head rested on the back of the couch, looking so peaceful.

Fuck. You were so embarrassed. You hoped he had fallen asleep first and would have no knowledge of this interaction in the morning. You carefully untangled yourself from him, moving as slow as possible to not wake him up.

You clicked off the TV and then turned off the lights, getting ready to retire up to your room for the night. You felt so hot, flushed with pure embarrassment. Your mouth was dry and the only thing you think about was cold water. You tip-toe into the kitchen and fill yourself a glass, drinking the whole thing at once. You turn off the kitchen light and leave your glass in the sick before heading upstairs.

You change out of your overalls and shirt and put on your blue nightgown. You head across the hall to the bathroom, navigating in the dark. You brush your hair, wash your face and brush your teeth before climbing into your bed and swaddling yourself with your many blankets. Your eyes are heavy, and the feeling of being in Lee’s arms is still present on your skin.

His large hands sliding up your thighs is what jolts you awake. His calloused hands moving their way up your body, pushing up your dress as they went. He dips down and presses a tantalizing kiss to your lips, one hand cupping your cheek softly and the other rubbing over your wet panties. You kiss him back, opening your mouth and letting his tongue in. You can feel his hand slip under the waistband of your panties and his thumb gently rubs your clit. Without even questioning anything, you moan and he trails his lips down to your neck, and you shiver at the feeling of his stubble. You arms wrap loosely around his neck, and your fingers play with the ends of his short hair. He groans against your skin and the sound just sends a shiver throughout your whole body. You can feel him smile, and he pushes two fingers inside. You gasp and he muffles your sounds with another deep kiss. You feel overwhelmed by how good it feels combined with the terms of endearment that fall from his lips as he praises you.

The ringing of your alarm clock scares the shit out of you, and your eyes fly open at the sound. You’re breathing heavily, and you feel your hair sticking to your forehead. You let out a heavy sigh, and click off the alarm, and then cover your face with your pillow. You felt how wet you were without having to check. You had a sex dream about Lee. A fucking wet dream about Lee Bodecker.

Part Three

Taglist:

@asylumaniac

@rosalynshields

@jiminlife2k18

@scar-is-bi

#lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker #the devil all the time #lee bodecker smut #smut #angst #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan one shot #lee bodecker x y/n #sebastian stan smut #fanfic

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eleanorbloom · 3 years

Text

Moonlight: Part Two

Disclaimer: Open Heart and most of the characters are owned by Pixelberry. Matilde is a creation of mine.

Book/Pairing: Open Heart / Bryce Lahela x F! MC (Matilde Luna)

Word Count: 2.5k Warnings/Rating: Angst, curse words/Teen.

Author’s Note: I'm so sorry for disappearing, adult life has been harder than expectected and only this week I had some spare time to edit this :(

Thank you so much to all the people that read the first part, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hope you like this as well 😊

A bug hug to you, beauties! ❤

Moonlight taglist: @dalishessence @curiousconch @chocopeppermintcake @utterlyinevitable @secretaryunpaid @kachrisberry @romereadingshop @thegreentwin @blackcatkita @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Let me know if you wanna me added to the taglist!

----

Part Two. Orbiting the Moon.

First days are always challenging.

They demand a lot of things. Bravery to explore the unknown (whether it be a place, a person, a job, even food); strength to meet new people when you weren’t blessed in the people skills department; patience to stand the new people who turn out to be shitty people; adaptability to adjust your ways of life to other people’s, etcetera.

It’s a lot.

So, it wouldn’t be a lie if I say that Bryce Lahela didn’t cross my mind after we parted ways at the Atrium that morning, even if his appearance can be categorized as ‘unforgettable’.

Between dealing with Aurora Damn Emery and her insufferable attitude and the fact that I almost killed my first patient on my very first day, I had no space for more.

All I could do was cursing internally (at Aurora and also me) and rethink every fucking decision I made that day. Wondering what would've happened if I hadn't been there the moment Annie had the anaphylactic shock, if Varma hadn't shown up to snap out of me when I froze... Endless questions.

All my dreams about being a doctor crumbled at that moment, wondering if I was doing the right thing, if I was made for this.

“You need to have a long, hard think about whether or not you're ready to be here.”

The face of Annie, unconscious, and Dr. Ramsey's words was all I could hear and see throughout the afternoon, intensifying the guilt with every passing second.

First day and I could've killed someone.

I couldn't even shut up the voice inside my head stating the facts.

First day and I am already a failure.

Because they were nothing but the truth.

Do I deserve to be here?

And there was no point in denying such hard evidence.

Right in the middle of a hallway, surrounded by immaculate white walls and shining lights, I felt exposed. Like everyone around me was going to find out the imposter I was.

I wanted to run away. Disappear.

Without thinking too much, I ran to the nearest supply closet I found before anyone could notice me and the state I was in.

Once under the darkness of the room, I leaned against the wall feeling my stomach trembling, my heartbeats resounding in my temples in slow motion.

“No puedo hacerlo,” I sighed, releasing a shaky breath as I was rubbing my hands on my face, “No… Mamá, no sé si puedo… Casi la mato.” (“I can’t do this,”//“I... Mamá, I don’t know if I can… I almost killed her”)

Fighting the tears back, I closed my eyes trying to evoke the face of my mama in my mind: her black and grey long hair, always in a perfect French braid, her dark and wrinkled eyes full of wisdom and warmth, and her thin lips curling in the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Creo que, no estoy hecha para esto,” I stated, helpless. (“I think I’m not cut out for this.”)

Just as I was trying to imagine what she would tell me in a case like this, what words she would use to calm me down and reassure me, I heard the door creaking.

A tall silhouette was standing at the entry, looking directly at me.

“Hey, Luna.”

Friendly voice. Sparkly eyes. Expensive, seductive perfume.

Lahela.

I stared speechless as he walked towards me, his brows knitted in worry, “Are you okay?”

I froze at his question. The sole fact he was there froze me, actually.

There was no way I’d tell him the truth, but I had so many things bottled up from that day; so many emotions, fears, anger, all that demanding to come out, that for a moment I thought I would spill all out.

And the way he was looking at me, evidently worried, waiting for an answer, made it even more plausible. Maybe I could tell him and maybe he would say something that could make me feel good. Just as good as he made me feel that morning on our short trip to the Atrium.

I opened my mouth to respond...

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t let myself do that. That was not me.

The risk was too big and I was a fucking coward.

So I gulped. I gulped as if I was swallowing all my feelings about to come out of my mouth, sour as bile, to let them deep buried inside of me, where they have always belonged.

I cleared my throat and I said instead, “Yeah, I'm okay…”

He arched an eyebrow, dubious, “You don't look like it. If you need to talk…”

I shook my head, nonchalantly.

He seemed earnestly worried, but I couldn't say anything. I didn't know him, and I don't talk to people I barely know, much less about the mess I was on my first day. And much, much less to another resident who could doubt my potential and right to be there. A fucking surgical resident that thinks is above anyone else.

He was the worst option in all Edenbrook.

Well, after Aurora Emery, of course.

“Don’t worry, it’s all good,” I insisted with a humorless smile, “What are you doing here, by the way? Need some syringes? Don't let me stop you.”

He shook his head this time, “No. I saw you in the hallway, I needed to check if you were okay.”

“I’m…”

I was ready to reply automatically as before, without even considering my answer. It didn't matter how bad I was, I was used to saying everything was okay even if my world was falling apart in a million pieces inside, because it was just pleasantries, force-of-habit questions, and people honestly never gave a shit about it, and it was okay. But this felt different. I couldn’t lie to him, but I also couldn’t tell him the truth.

Bryce probably realized my intern conflict, despite the darkness of the room -only dimly illuminated by some blindings mildly open behind the racks of medical supplies-, because he took a step closer to me, pensive, “Are you sure, Mat-”

The moment I saw him getting closer, I felt dread. Dread because I realized that I was an insistence away from speaking. From letting my resolve crumble and tell him the truth. Just a simple and insignificant truth that meant hell to me.

Before he could reach me, I slid away from him, and sprinted towards the exit, leaving him in the room without looking back.

What the fuck is happening to me?

I couldn't understand it. I’d always kept my shit inside and dealt with it on my own, and when I shared something, it was with someone I deeply trusted, a trust that could take months to get. But why suddenly I wanted to open up to someone I had met that day? Like a chatty drunk, the words wanted to slip out of my mouth, recklessly.

Maybe it was the fact that he had given me attention. Just a bit of attention and my stupid mind gets intoxicated with it. Drunk.

But I had to know better. I knew better. I knew that nothing good could come out of that so I ran away like the coward I am.

_____

If I was already confused before he showed up, after that encounter I was a total mess. And the only way I had to calm down that kind of a mess, to overcome such a shitty, stressful day, was with alcohol. Something that could give me a fucking break from my own mind for a few hours. So once my shift ended, I joined Sienna, another intern, to go together to the bar near Edenbrook.

I could've gone alone, or bought something at a liquor store to drink it alone in my room, but I had promised Sienna I would join her as payback for saving my skin from Dr. Ramsey that afternoon. And I liked her. She seemed genuinely nice among a hospital full of fake and selfish people. Besides, you cannot not trust a person who calls themselves a dolphin, right?

When we got to the bar, packed to the brim with people from the hospital, she led me to a booth where there were other fellow interns she had congregated during the day: Jackie Varma, Landry Olsen, and Elijah Greene. A very diverse group of people.

Elijah was a nerd who couldn’t stop throwing Harry Potter jokes at me since he found out I was renting a room under the stairs of a building, and he was really, really nice, so I couldn't even get mad at him for that.

Jackie was… tough. Competitive to a fault, but she was funny and always had some witty remarks to everyone who talked to her, so that helped me swallow her the rest of the night.

And Landry… Ooof, Landry was… Unreadable. There was something about him that I didn't like. And not precisely his lack of people skills, because, who am I to judge, but he had this air of sufficiency I couldn't stand. Something treacherous. I'd always had this sense with people, and I could sense from the start that I'd never liked him, so I just tried to hang out the less I could with him, and focused on getting to know Sienna and Elijah, the people I found more things in common with.

A couple hours later, tipsy and with all my problems momentarily suspended in midair, I reached the bar for the next round of tequilas for the group.

I had just made my order when I felt a bump in my arm, startling me.

“Hey.”

I turned around and a pair of honey eyes were looking curiously at me.

Holy fuck, not you again.

“Hey, ” I replied, looking at him for a millisecond before fixing my eyes on the dozens of bottles of alcohol in front of me, begging he would just go and leave me alone.

“Are you doing better?”

My eyes widened.

Oh no, is he really? No, please no. Don’t.

But the alcohol had made its effect by now. I could lie blatantly at him without feeling that stupid necessity of telling him the truth. Although it wouldn't be a lie because I was doing better thanks to the tequilas.

“I..., Yeah. I’m… I’m doing better now.”

Hearing my own words, I realized I had just snitched myself.

Stupid, stupid idiot. I should’ve just ignored him.

Saying I was doing better implied I wasn't good before, and I didn't want to recognize that in front of him. I didn't want to give him any permission to pry, more than he had already done.

Too late.

“That’s great, Luna, I’m glad,” he said, heartily.

Sincerely.

Why the fuck everything he says seem so sincere to me?

I turned to him to look for some kind of smirk or smugness, something that could tell me that he was amused by what had happened that afternoon, or a hint of "I gotcha" in his gaze, but he was just looking at me earnestly. With a soft, warm smile and eyes beaming with candor.

It was kind of intriguing that someone like him could look like that. Or maybe he was just a good actor.

Feeling bold because of the alcohol I had in my bloodstream, I dared to turn to him and scan him carefully, realizing details I wasn't able to get when I first met him that morning.

It was like I had only been able to get brushstrokes of him or just certain sensations about him: his warm smile, his vivid golden eyes, his imposing yet stunning beauty, but not so much about details.

Details such as the shape of his eyes -delicate monolid traces around amber and honey hues-, crowned with meticulously groomed eyebrows. His lips, generous and soft; his caramel skin, tanned, his face with sculpted cheekbones and jaw, and impossibly smooth skin. His nose, straight but slightly crooked at the bridge.

After a few moments, he arched an eyebrow, “Yes?”

And his hair -with soft golden streaks- styled in a perfect mess to one side, falling casually over his temple when he leaned one arm onto the bar, breaking the height distance between the both of us. Because he was tall. Or maybe not that tall, but everyone in this damn country was too tall to me. With my 5’2 I was a dwarf to anyone and everyone was a giant to me, so that pose let me inspect him even more carefully.

After seeing all that, there's no wonder why he was so damn handsome.

Just then I realized he was looking expectantly at me, as if I was looking at him to say something.

Oh, no, not again. Eres una vergüenza, Matilde. (You’re an embarrassment, Matilde).

“I…”

What does this human being have that always leaves me speechless?

He chuckled, his eyes wrinkling in amusement, “You’re something else, Luna.”

I blushed. Maybe even more than I already was.

What's that supposed to mean?

Without expecting any reply from me, maybe because he knew I couldn't come up with anything, he added, “Wanna go play darts with me?”

My stomach churned instantly, anxiety metabolizing to the speed of light as I imagined what that entailed.

“N-No, thanks. I don’t play darts. I suck and I don’t pretend to humiliate myself in front of the whole Edenbrook on my first night here.”

Bryce clicked his tongue, “Doesn't matter, I can teach you if you want.”

I wanted to say yes, I really did. Like always in other things. I wanna say yes, but a part of me stops me. The fear of embarrassing myself in front of everybody, of being so dumb people will realize I have no fix, or of feel so nervous that I will ruin everything.

And his sincere smile was telling me he really wanted to teach me and he was hoping I'd say yes, like a puppy waiting for his human to take him for a walk. But, ah, once again. I couldn't.

“I appreciate the offer, but this time I pass.”

“Just this time,” he stressed, pointing a finger to me playfully.

I shook my head, giggling, “We’ll see.”

“We’ll see,” he defied, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Five tequilas ready!” a deep masculine voice announced at the other side of the bar.

I turned around, startled, and I found a tray with five shots of tequilas in front of me, “Thanks!” I looked back at Bryce, “Well, I… I have to go.”

“Need any help?”

“Nah, don’t worry,” I shrugged and took the tray with naturality.

“Ah, you know your stuff,” he pointed with an approving smirk.

I arched an eyebrow, kind of baffled by his implicit skepticism, “Do you?”

“I know a cowboy when I see one,” he winked at me.

It took me a moment to catch his drift.

“Oh.”

I nodded, kind of shocked by that revelation. I had imagined he aced Med School with no worries, using daddy’s credit card and all the commodities frat boys like him have. I would’ve never guessed he had to work his way here, just like me.

“Have a good night, Luna.”

“You too, Lahela. See ya.”

He smiled confidently, knowingly, “See ya.”

----

Thank you so much for reading!!!

#bryce lahela #bryce x mc #bryce lahela x mc #playchoices #open heart #open heart fics #open heart fanfic #oph choices #choices stories you play

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punkandsnacks · 4 years

Text

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter 16; Escape

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: No warnings in this chap

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

t's not the shade we should be cast in It's the light and it's the obstacle that casts it It's the heat that drives the light It's the fire it ignites It's not the wakin', it's the risin' - Nina Cried Power, Hozier I don’t know why, but something about this song spoke to me writing this chapter 🖤❣️ Along with “Running Away” by Maverick Sabre. One of my favourite artists of all time - go and check him out, he’s simply awesome.

Waiting was her greatest nuisance. She was on tenterhooks all day.

As if expecting someone to burst in and proclaim the true circumstance of her guilt. She’s peeking around corners and dreading every moment of cursed silence. Every lapse in conversation is a dagger in her side. She keeps expecting to be caught out.

By the time the evening draws in, she’s nearly apoplectic. She’s sat in the parlour watching the sky darken. And with every second of it blackening her excitement grows in her chest. Gestating bigger and bigger with every second she hears tick by on the mantel clock.

She hardly spoke through dinner. Just listened to her sisters usual fussing and Mama disapproving of yet someone else of their acquaintance. Iris won’t miss that.

She nearly leaps out her skin when Meg bursts in the clattering dining room door without warning, with a note to hand her father. A missive from the farmhand.

Her heartbeat slows to its normal thud. She’s unaware that her father watches her from down the table with a casting silent eye and a look of concern. Mama and the girls were none the wiser.

Then they sit in the parlour as night is heavy and steely blue-black at the window like a velvet drape. Fire and candlelight cloaks them all as the girls embroider. Mama reads a novel, and father sits behind the spread wall of his paper.

Iris takes a moment to look around at them.

She catches her fathers eye as he turns the page over in his papers. He gives her a fleeting smile that passes the time of day. She watches the way the ochre of the flames in the half blade off the lense of his reading glasses. He returns to his pages.

She’ll miss his silent sympathy. His calm presence was a balm she doesn’t know how she can be without.

She looks across at her vain, silly simpering sisters. She’s astonished to find that she will miss them too.

She’ll miss their gossiping and - amazingly - the screeching matches that erupt over who gets to wear their new bonnet or who gets the silk slippers. Or Iris’s pretty pieces of jewellery. Apart from two very adored beloved pieces she’s taking, she’s leaving the rest for them to scrap over. She smiles thinking on it.

It’s odd to think she’ll be in Bavaria. Living in a castle as a Lady to Lord Ren. And she’ll think of home, and she’ll grin, wondering if her vapid sisters will be fighting tooth and claw - having a tug of war - over her earrings or her pearl clasp bracelet.

She’ll miss Flora’s fiery head. In both temper and colouring. How bravely she defends her poor choices in various men of the militia. Then loves a completely different one the next day. She’ll miss how she always puts a pouch of dried flowers on Iris’s pillow when she picks too many - she always picks too many.

And Posy. Posy and her dreadful sweet tooth. How she always gave Iris heaps of her favourite pudding even though mama insisted she didn’t want her eldest getting too plump. Posy scraped it all onto Iris’s plate when her head was turned. Even if it was her sisters favourite.

And even though the way she borrows her books and dog ears the pages makes iris grit her teeth - she’s going to miss that dreadfully. She’ll see some plain unspoiled page corner in a book and her heart will pang and ring, sobbing, and longing for home.

Such longing.

Yearning for her squabbling siblings. For the sight and scent of her father’s study. For her tribe, where she has belonged for all these three and twenty years of her life. She’s sad that she can’t seem to belong here anymore. That’s one thing that causes her grief her about this arrangement. She must be apart from the three people she loves most.

She isn’t sorry to be leaving. Running away and absconding like a thief in the night. She can’t deny that this is her golden chance to escape. Flee from the life that drowned her.

This is her chance to share in a soul shaking love. One that’s seared her devotion to Kylo right down into the marrow of her bones. Scored his name on her heart in bleeding letters. She’s forever devoted. In a way none of them can yet - or will ever - understand.

She hopes in time, they will forgive her. That their leniency will outweigh the scandal and betrayal of her actions.

She casts a glance across to her mother where she silently reads her novel. No affection springs to mind.

Perhaps if she’d loved her daughter more, Iris could hate her less. If she’d even been affectionate instead of plotting. As it stands selling her eldest like a broodmare to matrimony, didn’t encourage anything for Iris beyond resentment. She was in a loveless unhappy marriage and she has no qualms about seeing her eldest shoehorned into something exactly the same. That is unforgivable in Iris’s mind. To experience the trials of such a match for years - and to then glean no lessons from it. It’s cruel.

And all for her want of connection-

Iris refocuses on her embroidery hoop. Stabbing thread harshly through the muslin and looping it through. She works diligently until the fire starts to die down. Father retires to bed. Watching his eldest with sparkling green eyes as he quits the room. Iris is preoccupied looking into her lap at her sewing.

She too heads for bed. Feigning tiredness even though she’s never been more wired. Never been so wide awake. And she was trying not to do anything out of the ordinary as per her usual routine.

She walks past her mothers and her sisters with a lump in her throat. Committing the last few scraps of moments of them to memory. “Goodnight Flora, Posy. Goodnight Mama.” She says simply as she crosses the room.

They call affable words her way. Mother opts for a single word in passing. “Night.”

Iris wonders if she’ll realise one day that would be the last words she ever spoke to her.

She opens the parlour door and slips out. The fire in the foyer hearth crackles. She sees father is in his study. Judging by the slithering glow of candlelight under the door.

She so badly wants to rush in and sob her goodbyes into his chest. Cry that she doesn’t understand how he could’ve sat there and watches Mama push and shove and pummel her around. She’ll never understand - but all the same, that doesn’t stop her from loving him dearly.

She thinks better of it. Climbs the stairs for bed. Confines herself in her dark bedroom. And then comes the true test of her bravery. She has to wait.

And wait and wait. And listen. Hearing as the whole house slowly drifts to dark. To sleep. For everyone to take to their beds.

She can’t read a novel. She can barely stand sitting still. She sits by the fire. Watching the door. Her bag was packed hours ago. Her meagre clutch of possessions. Some loved items and a couple of her favourite dresses and chemises.

She had penned a note for her family explaining every detail of her reasons for leaving. She left a separate letter for a Hux. Though he’ll probably cast it in the fire when he hears the news.

She’ll be leaving the heirloom engagement ring sat on top of it. Leaving the two ruinous sheets of paper on the end of her bed. Waiting for tomorrow. When it’s discovered she is gone.

Her bag sits by her feet. Along with her coat. She sits in the dark like a lonely widow and lets the amber glow of the fire die.

She’s already laced into her new wool lined boots. She wore two sets of stockings and her heaviest chemise.

She’s in a thick ruby wool dress that will be adequate for travelling. It’s rather a plain gown but it’s warm - he had said to dress warm.

She puts her hair into a free loose bun at the nape of her neck. Tied back with a snip of gold muslin. Her skirts will wrinkle in the coach but she doesn’t care about such a thing. She probably looks dishevelled and not at all pretty. But she cares not-

Everything is ready. Now there is only noiselessness. And anticipation

She hears her sisters dainty thumping treads. And then mothers stern steps. And then Meg and Julia gabbing about something, a man most likely, as they extinguish the candles on the landing and all over the walls and hallways. Putting the whole house into thick dull silence and darkness. Putting the day to rest.

She listens to their footsteps creak and creep up the attic stairs. The door closing in their wake.

Iris crosses to her door and opens it a crack. Peering out she can see nothing but the dull moonlight striping from the far landing window, across the floorboards. Silver streaks chase up to her door in the fluttering moonlight swaying in drips off the tree being fussed in the wind outside. Snow is starting to flake down onto the windowpane.

She shuts the door again. It was nearly midnight and her hour is approaching. She prays her bravery rises to meet it.

Father hasn’t come up yet. He was still in his study most like - she can get out the house without disturbing him. She’s certain. He’s dozed off in his armchair or got his head in his business letters and ledgers for the farm.

She puts her coat and slips her gloves on, she has second thoughts about her scarf and shoves it in her bag.

It contained her life, this travel bag, yet it seemed laughably light. And it carried everything she cherished. There’s something a little tragic about that, she decides.

She seized her bag in one hand, and her modest bonnet in the other. To disguise her hair. Should anyone catch a glimpse of her, out unchaperoned, at this time of night. If they recognised her. She can’t be too careful.

She steps to her door, bonnet and bag in hand. Coat on her back, and she stands there, glancing around at what’s left. She spied the two innocent squares of paper sat on her neatly made bed.

Such small things. And yet the words inked within those pages will alter lives. It seems an odd sort of cruel madness.

She silently steps out into the hall. Shuts the door on her room for good. Shuts the door on all this kind of life had offered her. She edges slowly along the floorboards. Listening to the clock in the foyer tinkle the chimes of the half hour before approaching midnight.

She wished she could give her siblings proper goodbyes. She thinks this as she tiptoed past their door. Her shoe creaks the whining boards and she freezes. Heart thudding up to choke in her mouth.

She feels horrified and sick, until her ears strain for noise and all she can hear is night drawing on around the stone walls outside.

She relaxed and crept further along the landing. The tips of her new shoes avoiding the truly noisy spots. She makes it to the top of the stairs and edges down inch by hushed inch. Glove skimming along the banister in a scraping soft hiss as she goes. When she gets to the foyer she creeps toward the door to the kitchens.

A figure awaits her in the armchair. By a dwindling fire.

Iris gasps and almost drops her bag. Her fear bubbled up and made her lip tremble terribly. She’d been caught out. Oh god no. She opens her mouth to speak but no defence comes.

Her father turns his head from where he’s sat fireside in his dressing gown, in his slippers breeches and shirt. Persian house slippers on his feet. His glasses were folded in his hands and there is a pensive weight on his greying brow.

“Papa...” She squeaks in a horrified whisper.

He eyes the bag and her coat. He is not a senseless man. He’s already well assessed what this means.

He swallows and rises to his feet. Lumbering up to his full, tall height. Pushing himself up off the chair by the arms. Like an aged old oak standing proud.

When he turns into the path of the moonlight flooded window behind him, it’s then that she sees the tears in his eyes. And ones that already stained down his cheeks. Her mouth gapes.

“Forgive me. I didn’t intend you to see me in this state...” He glances at her with red rimmed eyes. Raw and stark against the hazel bottle green of his pupils.

Iris is saddened for him. Turns out she wasn’t the only being in this house to cry alone.

“You are... leaving. So I see.” He comments offhand.

“I can’t marry him. Papa.” She blurts out in a hush.

“I’m sorry. I know you’ll want to stop me. That I’m ruining the family with reckless abandon. To convince me to stay. But you can’t. I cannot do it. I can’t walk into a life I will be leading falsely...” She tries summoning and explanation.

Her father cuts through her speech. Coming closer and clasping her hand in his. “Iris. Iris my dear-“ He soothes. He draws both her hands into his.

“I know.” He answers.

“I have no intention of stopping you. I only wished to detain you for a moment, to give you my blessing.” He offers.

She could be taken down with a tiny waft of a feather.

“Don’t mistake me. Please do not think me blind to your happiness, like your mother is.” He begins.

She’s aghast.

“I have watched you for these past few weeks. Grinding your teeth and holding that tongue of yours back when that entitled boy makes a remark you don’t agree with. I have watched him belittle and ignore you. And pass you over. To treat you as no more than a fertile vessel or commodity to be won. I want more life for you, than his meagre offering.” He holds firm.

“He dulls you. My dear. And you are too sharp and curious and intelligent to marry such a mulish man, who would never appreciate what a strong, kind and capable wife he has.”

Iris cries.

“He already sets your jaw on edge, even now. I can see it. And I cannot, will not, suffer the pain of seeing you trapped unto a marriage where your partner can never love nor respect you.” He tells her. “I know the pain well. It is not palatable.” He sighs.

He drops his eyes in shame. “I have not been a decent father to you. I have let my influence and opinion be set aside in favour of your being governed and bullied by your mother.” He bites out. His eyes fill with more tears. Voice strained.

“I am a coward. Iris-“ He begins.

She shakes her head. But he’s resolute to continue.

“No. I am. I am. And I’ve been weak. And what’s worse still is that I was a silent coward. I didn’t even speak up for the joy of my own daughter. I will never live that... dishonour...down. So long as I breathe. And for that, I am so very sorry. And you have all of my penitence for such a crime.” He says to her. Wringing her hands in his desperately.

“Oh, papa.” She cries. Voice no more than a croak. She throws herself in his arms and he sobs as he clutches her. Sways her into a hug and buried his mouth in her hair. Holding her close. He sniffs and sobs. She feels his chest bob with his cries.

“There is nothing you need apologise for.” She assures him.

Mr Ashton smiles. She was the sweetest soul under this roof. And he’ll miss her with every passing minute.

He pulls back and cups her hands. He doesn’t hide his tears. He doesn’t hide any of it and Iris aches with love for him.

“There is a great deal I must be sorry for, My sweet. I will live out the guilt of it eventually. So long as I’m contented that you are safe and happy.” He says gently. “That can be my saving grace.”

“Lord Ren is a very decent man by all accounts. I’m sorry I can’t claim to know him better than I do.” He counsels.

“I love him.” Iris says freely.

The first time she’s admitted it aloud and it makes more tears come. Father gives her his kerchief and tells her to keep it for the journey awaiting ahead of her.

“Then he is the most worthy and decent man living. Because you are every good thing embodied. And he couldn’t be lacking of those virtues either, or he simply wouldn’t be deserving of you.” He comments truthfully.

He sighs a deep breath. “Get out of this cursed god-forsaken village Iris.” He squeezes her hands tighter. Shaking his head.

Be free.

“Get out of this rotten bloody place and go to him. Marry the man your heart wants. I never did wed for true love, and it’s haunted me, my entire life long.” He promises.

She was the only decent thing his marriage has ever brought to him.

She hugs him again. “I’ll miss you most sorely.” She pledges.

“And I, you.” He strokes her back. Shuts his eyes and savours his daughter before she’s lost to him for who knows how long.

She pulls away he strokes hair off her cheek. Blinking in the sight of her face in the moonlight. For the last few seconds of her in actuality. Committing her to memory. For that’s all he’ll have of her soon.

“With you gone, I sincerely doubt I shall hear anything sensible cross your relatives tongues for quite some time.” He japes.

“Remark upon me in my poor state, once in a while, won’t you. And pray for my dear fraying sanity.” He sweeps more tears away. She blots them onto the back of her gloves.

“I’ll pray daily.” She smiles weakly. Bag in hand. Aswell as her bonnet. If that didn’t educate on the silliness of her sisters - nothing would.

He pauses to retrieve something from the mantel. She sees he clasps a little curved silver item. No bigger than a matchbox. Swirled with ornate silver gilding. He takes it and pressed it into her palm. It strikes a sudden zing of cold at her palm. She knows this ornament. It is the music box. The small Fabergé one that sat on the shelf in his office. His grandfather had imported it from Paris on his travels for her grandmother.

“I would like you to have this. So you have a piece of Ashton heirloom in your pocket as you go away to a brave new world.” He insists.

Iris opens the lid and the little while nightingale pops up, springing free to sing it’s call. She clasps it gently.

“I couldn’t-” She sobs. She remembers her sisters admiring it too. It seemed unfair he should gift it to her.

“No tears. My dear. No tears, I beg you. It’s yours and I’m bestowing it to you. I want you to see it and remark on those here at home, who still and have always loved you. Even if we didn’t show it as we ought.” He insists. Taking his hands from her.

She looks across at him. She’d been mistaken to think herself unloved by her parents. He did love her. He could just never bring himself to say so. Iris is awfully glad he’s taken this moment before all is lost.

“Go now. Make haste. Don’t linger too long bidding me farewell.” He offers. Walking with her across to the hallway leading to the kitchen. She tucks the music box safely in her bag. It chimes and chirps as she nestled it into her clothes. She reaches for him once more.

Iris squeezes his hand. “You have all my love. I’ll write when I can. Not for her.” She shakes her head, biting the word crossly. “But for you-“ She pledges.

“Send it to Mr. Grayson at the farm. He’ll see it reaches me safe.” He urges. She smiles. Nodding. Tears sparkling down her face.

“I’m sorry to say I will have shrouded this house in shame and gossip come the morning.” She frets.

He shakes his head with a fond smile. “We are tougher than we look. Never more so than when we are tested.” He assures. Such confidence in his Apple green and red raw eyes. She instantly believes him.

She throws herself into a hug. Fists a hand in his dressing gown shoulder and takes a deep breath of him one last time. Old leather musk of books and the sting of peppermint. “I love you.” She gasps with sad finality.

He nods. Swallowing a lump of stony sadness down in his throat.

“I wish you all the luck in the world, my dear dear girl.” He smiles. Eyes wet again. He cups her face and admires her for a second.

She clasps his hand tight at her cheek. And then she lets go-

He doesn’t have the strength to watch her leave. It’s too sad. Too hard.

He looks away and doesn’t return his eyes until the latch on the kitchen door softly clicks back into place in its frame.

The air hums with the absence of her. He prays to any god listening to convey her safely into Lord Ren’s arms.

He’d accompany her himself if it wouldn’t be so ruinous to explain come the morning. Why he was out of bed and out of doors at such an hour should anyone wish to seek after him. And she’ll move quicker without his old legs slowing her down.

He turns his eyes up to the snowy swirled heavens. And wills for her to have a better life than the one he could offer her here. He hopes he can see her again one day. When all this has passed. The hope for her is his salvation.

She scarpers across the moonlit lawn. Grass cold and crunching with frost under her feet. Snow is beading gently out the sky.

The clear moon of earlier has been replaced by chowder thick clouds. The cold wraps around her in a harsh biting embrace. Stinging at her exposed skin and making her hurry along all the more.

She takes the back lane to the woods. She didn’t wish to risk walking out in full view of the front of the house, down the drive. The road is pale with ice and dusted with snow. Icing sugar powder of it spills over her shoes.

The woods are already thick with it. Black trunks loom thin and warped; born out the white blanket of the ground. The tips of the trees blaze with flakes caught between them. Flecking the leaves.

She crunches her way along the lane. Her stride was something between a skip and scurry. Breath ghosting up in the air and her heart rattling in her ears. Her lungs sting and burn dry with cold as her breath drags into her body.

She cuts through the woods. Afraid her interlude with her father has made her late, and now Kylo would be worried she’d snubbed him.

She runs quick through the trees. Snapping slushing and scuffing twigs, frost and snow underfoot. Cold sneaks up her skirts where she holds them up to run but she doesn’t care- doesn’t even notice.

The trees are so gathered, that the branches rip at her skin as she sprints through them. Tears at her hair and her clothes. Snags are her and her cheeks sting. She bats away the grabbing things. They were like hands trying to tug her back. Trying to keep her tamed. To root her to this place. She’s having none of it.

Her hair got tangled in the snatching trees too. Pulls and only when she feels loose strands lap at her neck does she realise that the muslin had been torn and ripped right out. She presses onwards.

Her face stings and her eyes stream with cold. She comes up the lane that leads her to the church. Gnarled and slanted stubby shapes of the mossy gravestones are fog grey against the snow and the dark. Broken teeth of them rearing like lumpy beasts up out the snow. She throws the church gate open. Doesn’t care that it creaks. She runs up the worn grass path shoes scuffing at the pristine falling snow.

She comes out into the code of woods the other side of the church. The thing emerged out the snow with shimmering silver stone and the slate of its roof is edged with white where flakes settle. Oozing between the cold stony cracks.

The stained glass windows look dead and dull. The colours murkier in the dark. Smoky black and bleeding crimson staining the glass. The whites of the painted saints eyes seem to be arcing and watching over her in derisory disappointment.

She doesn’t glance back. She makes for the woods where she knows he’ll be waiting. She holds her skirts and she laughs as she runs. Her lungs puffed dry and freezing. But she’s so giddy she feels like her sides will split. Her cheeks ache from smiling. Not far to tread now. The cyclops of the moon hiding behind murky clouds watches her too. Silently keeping her secret.

She clears the worst of the trees and her heart soars when she sees a stark black shape of a coach up ahead. With an equally as tall dark haired man. His back to her as he stands in the snow. Head bowed down in his hands. Hair ruffled and dotted with flecks of it.

She presses a hand to her tummy where she suspects she now has a stitch. Because it simply feels so stupid - the amount of love and bliss thats coursing through her blood.

Kylo is outside the coach, of course he is. He’s much the same as her. He can’t sit still.

The gigantic elegant thing that will convey them to the Highlands set by the edge of the snowy muddy road. He’s pacing on it. Horses stamping in the cold. A shivering driver bundled up in pelts and thick coats.

He’s on the painful knifes edge of fretting. She’s not here yet. And it’s well past midnight. He’s worn circles in the snowy road. His coat heavily lapping and catching at his calves. The cold doesn’t bother him. Doesn’t touch him. He’s wearing a white shirt with the collar left undressed and pulled open.

It spills down his marble carved chest. Revealing him to the dark bitter woods and the snow.

He keeps bringing his silver pocket watch to hand - she’s ten minutes delayed. He watches the eleventh minute tick over.

His mind runs with the possibilities. She could’ve fallen and broken something in her haste.

She might’ve been discovered sneaking out and her mother tied her down, locked her in her bedchamber and threw away the key for good measure. His brain bubbles with mania and panic at the possibilities that could keep her from him.

He turns another circle and scans the horizon again. Sharp eyes not missing a thing. A cold breeze shudders across him from up the road. He stops dead in his tracks. That scent.

That was her. She was here.

He whips around, hands falling by his sides. Just in time to see her emerge quickly from the misty white of the woods.

Clad in her blue coat and a red dress. Her bag in hand. Her hair loose, curling and spilling over her shoulders. Cheeks are red and icy cold. Stung by the wind.

She’s never looked more lovely. So wild and free. And all his.

Her smile grows so great. As does his. She slows to a stop. Panting for breath that she’ll never catch. Not now. Not with him stood there looking all dashing.

Iris hikes her skirts and coat up, and runs straight to him and she’s no shame about it either.

She drops her bag on her way to him, uncaring for its contents. He meets her halfway. Their bodies clash in such a tempest of love.

She throws herself into his chest and he hauls her up so her feet don’t touch the ground. His strength was always so vastly great and he shows it in the way he lifts her so easily. Cradles the precious small weight of her in his big arms.

They collapse into glad sighs and she strokes her hand over his hair. Smiling out in bliss as she holds the back of his head. He clutched her back and her hair and buried his face in the crook of her cold neck. It delights and thrills her and she can’t conceive she can deserve so much happiness-

He sighs into her neck. Smiling into her skin. He draws back and looks right at her beautiful cold-kissed complexion. “Ready for this adventure? Lady Ren...” He asks. Cupping her cheek and most of her jaw.

“Wholeheartedly.” She answers.

He plucks a soft lingering kiss at her cheek and sets her down. Scoops up her bag and her hand and leads her through the crunching snow into the coach.

He opens the door for her and she clambers in. Erland snorts and shifts and stamps at her even from up the front of the carriage. Determined to have his share - he was such a diva he could never be left out.

“She’s coming with us, you great big fool.” Kylo comments to his horse. Iris laughs at their exchange as she settles herself in the plush velvet lined carriage.

Scarlet draping over every inch of it. A watery patch of moonlight slanted and cast down from the windows in the doors. She scoots across the bench for Kylo to sit next to her. He then commands his driver to set off.

Pelts and blankets and garnet silk brocade bolster-cushions line the seat opposite. He’s stuffed it with comforts for her. There’s a basket hamper of food and bottles of drink and a stack of leather bound books. She requires rest and sustenance. He seldom does. Not more than a handful of hours per night. But he’ll enjoy slumbering next to her.

Kylo shuts the door after himself. A gust of snow blooms with the force of it. Puffing into the velvet space. They are quite alone. And the carriage lurches off into that snowy dark midnight. Their new life together begins.

He greets her properly. Makes sure she’s snug in pelts and blankets and tips her face up to his by the chin to kiss her again. Her face pulls into an expression of agonised bliss. Tugs her closer closer closer.

Wraps his fingers around the back of one hip. Slithered his fingers between her coat and her dress.

He nudges her jaw out his way with a cheeky smile and shoved his nose into her hair to push it aside, nips and nibbles sucking teasing kisses down her neck that makes her shiver. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. You’ve no idea how long I’ve been dying to kiss your soft neck.” He grumbles.

He sucks an open mouthed kiss over her pulse and she moans and pants his name. Fingers trapping into the blankets as she says his name like she’s chiding him. They can both feel the desire marching over every vertebrae of her spine.

She shivers. God that felt good. Made her weak. Made her eyes roll back.

“Oh kylo.” She moans. Her toes curl with the sheer raw power of his seductive kisses.

He finds her left hand on her lap and strokes the empty space on her fourth finger.

“Now. I think I had better make this elopement of ours authentic. Had I not?” He smirks. Reaching for his coat pocket.

Then he’s drawing something small out the shadow coloured wool. Her lips part in a smile when he snaps open a small blue velvet box. She’s blinded by diamonds and sapphires.

A cluster of them all crowning a gold band which is set with more gems. Two sapphires surround a large round diamond. Rounded and sparkling gems.

He’s watching her carefully - with a smug expression taking over him as he plucks the ring out its silken nest and slips off her glove slowly, then slots it up onto her finger. It glides on and sits perfectly. He lets her admire for a second. Before lifting the back of her hand to his lips.

“It’s too beautiful.” She comments. Amazed at it. He reaches for the curtain at the window and draws it back. Let’s the moonlight shimmer off the cluster of stones. Fractured light drips everywhere.

“Now that looks a worthy decoration to sit on that pretty kind hand.” He smiles. Before he frowns and turns her head towards him. A curl of copper and iron drifts into his nose.

“Dove. You’re bleeding...” He remarks. When he turns her face there’s paper thin red scratches swiped across her cheeks. She raises her hand to her skin and brings away a dribble of blood.

“I ran through the trees. I must have hurt my cheeks and not realised.”

“How could you not realise?” He asks her as he brings her finger to his mouth and naughtily, suavely puts that fingertip on his tongue and sucks off the blood. Curls his tongue around her taste to savour the way most men would appreciate a fine burgundy wine.

It makes something throb between her legs when he gets his lips on her. His eyes look like they could cut her with a look.

Her blood coating his tongue is too sweet for words. Sweet sweet bouquet. An agonising temptation that he only wants more of.

“I was smiling too much to notice.” She admits in a blush. Chewing on the inside of her lower lip.

He kisses at that blushing sore cheek. Pressing his lips to the barely bleeding cut. It should help soothe and close it. “That makes me insatiably glad to hear.” He smiles.

She searches for his hand and holds it. “I’m sorry I was late to meet you. I ran into my father as I was leaving.” She explains as he leans in to kiss her jaw again.

He pulls back and his face turns rather serious and stern. “He didn’t try and stop you?” He seeks.

“He could not stand to see me wed to such a loveless man as Hux. He gave me his blessing to wed you. I didn’t think I’d be walking away with that.” She tells.

He suspected there was a reason to Mr. Ashton’s silence. And now he knew; it was guilt. He’s glad to see she is loved from her fathers quarter. It soothes him.

“I’m glad you were able to make your peace with him.” He confesses. Holding her dear sweet little hand in his own massive grasp.

She looks up at him. At that handsome earnest face that is watching her so intently. So full of love and desire.

“As am I. But for now. Can I be terribly audacious and ask you to kiss me again?” She seeks with a grin.

She squealed nearly as Kylo tugs her tight into his lap. Folds her thighs over his. One hand covering her ribs under her dress. Fingers teasing under the swell of her breast. His smirking lips kiss and nibble under her jaw and she gasps in bliss.

“Thought you’d never ask...” He smirks and growls into the scorching heat of her neck. It tumbled right through her and she knows more desire is to come.

”And if you hadn’t? I’d have had to taste those pretty lips without your permission.” He sighs cheekily.

He swoops up and takes her mouth and she truly things she might burst into flames.

His silky tongue falls like cream running along her lower lip. She shivers at the sheer erotic desire of it. And this is only the start-

He’ll need to be careful. Or he’ll have kissed her lips raw by the time they reach Scotland.

#between wolves & doves #vampire!kylo #kylo ren x oc #adam driver #Regency era #slow burn

15 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Love, Maybe? {38}*

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Heavy Angst, Mild NSFW

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

**Slightly Interactive***

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

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Chapter 38: Reality Check

-Chris-

“No, don’t do that sweetheart, you’ll fall in.”

From what he knew about her already he knew she wasn’t going to listen. Sure enough, she leaned forward over the wooden path trying to reach something in the water and sure enough, she tumbled headfirst into the water. He couldn’t help but laugh as he ran to her.

“Really Christopher, you laugh at your daughter?”

“I told her not to do it.” She popped her head up laughing up a storm. “See, she finds it funny.” When he looked at you, you were shaking your head.

“Not funny, she could have drowned.”

“Oh stop it, she can swim.” He plopped her onto the blanket on the shore and sat.

“I otay mama.” She grabbed two strawberries and munched them as he wrapped her in a towel.

The three of you sat and ate the picnic lunch you’d so expertly made and enjoyed the sunshine and the beauty of the day. When he’d brought up showing Ella the lake you reassured him it was a great idea. The way she loved water it would have been a waste not to show her. She loved it. She splashed and was even able to swim around thanks to the calm waters. They’d played together, and she climbed all over him having him pretend to be a tree then a giraffe and finally a water horse. It was great being with her.

With each passing day, she gave him more and more confidence with his parenting and let him get closer and closer. Now she didn’t just run to you for comfort or when she was feeling shy, she ran to him and asked for him. It overjoyed him. He hoped she could tell how much he wanted her, how much it meant to be her dad.

After she ate, she whined for the whole thirty minutes she had to wait to get back in the water. Once the time was up she ran away heeding your warnings to not go too far. He watched you lean back onto your elbows then look to him.

“What?” He shook his head and continued eating his apple.

“Uh no, that was a clear something look. What is it?”

“It’s nothing. You just—I like what you’re wearing.” He really liked it. The two-piece wasn’t skimpy but it wasn’t modest either.

“You like what I’m wearing?”

“Yeah, orange is a good color on you.” He wasn’t lying, it was true. It complimented your skin and made you even more gorgeous.

You snorted and smiled. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you.” He looked to Ella in the water and he could feel your eyes roam his body. He decided to give your moment to gawk. When he looked to you, you were laid back with the sun beaming down on you. The sun loved you.

“Come pway mama, da-da.”

“Coming baby.” You stood and walked toward the shore where she sat but he didn’t move.

“You’re not coming?” You looked back at him. He was enjoying the view too much to get up.

“No, I am, just—enjoying the view.” Your jaw dropped as you looked at him making him smile.

“Watch it.”

His laughter was loud. Tossing the apple to the side, he ran to you and wrapped his arm around your waist and carried you the rest of the way to Ella.

The three of you played in the water and laughed and screamed to your heart’s content. He used his muscle to manhandle you and Ella and she loved every second of it. Every time he tossed Ella into the air he could literally see your heart leap into your throat. It was hilarious. You had to know he would always catch her.

When Ella got tired of playing with the two of you she went off to the shore and played in the mud and collected rocks. She could easily entertain herself. It left the two of you slightly alone a few times. He knew you didn’t want to give Ella any confusing visuals so for the majority of the time your interactions were flirtatious but never overtly inappropriate. He tested boundaries by slyly touching you here or there but always remained respectful. After a little while, it was like a game of who could touch the other without being obvious. He was wining, you were still a giant ball of mystery with how you held yourself reserved all the time. It drove him insane. He wanted to know how you felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Vixen-

You opened your eyes to see both Chris and Ella peacefully sleeping. A little after midday the three of you took a nap in the boathouse. You were the first to wake evidently. Chris was laying on his back with one arm across his forehead and of course, that was the position Ella was in. you smiled at yet another similarity. He couldn’t deny her if he wanted to. It was clear he didn’t want to. Rather than running from any responsibility, he was steadily piling more and more on. He wanted her. if he was to be believed he wanted you too.

Sighing, you stood and carefully walked out and onto the wooden planks and gazed out over the water and the orange glow of the sun on the water. This place was beautiful, and you were going to miss it when you went back to LA, and then San Francisco. You sat and dipped your feet into the water and for the first time thought about going back to reality. It was easy to mistake LA for your reality, but it wasn’t, San Francisco was. How was this little family thing going to work then?

When you felt him behind you, you didn’t jump or feel any alarm, your body was used to his presence. You took a deep breath when you felt his lips press to your neck then your shoulder and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped.

“Do you know that you two sleep just alike?”

“We do?” You nodded and again he kissed your neck.

“It’s cute. You have an actual mini you. She looks, laughs, sleeps and eats like you. Her sweet tooth is uncontrollable another thing you share, and God her eyes. Kristella was the right name for her.”

“It’s surreal,” he responded then kissed your shoulder. “Today was great, right?”

“It was. She loved it. Good call.” He began tracing lazy patterns in your skin and you settled back into him and enjoyed the perfectness of the day.

The silence between you stretched as did the comfort.

“I’m so happy and grateful to get a second chance not only to be Ella’s father but with you. Thank you.”

Looking over your shoulder you met his eyes and searched them trying to find any hint of a lie, any hint that he was lying but once your eyes met you knew he wasn’t. Your heart fluttered yet again forcing you to take a deep breath.

“Why couldn’t you have been this way three years ago?” Chris shook his head and a look of remorse washed across his face.

“I was stupid, a dick who couldn’t see what was right in front of me.”

“Which was?”

“The woman of my dreams. Everything I didn’t know then I wanted, everything I wasn’t ready to see. I’m ready now Vixen. I know it might be too little too late, and reap what you sow, and I agree. Honestly, I deserved to lose you back then. As much as it hurts to accept; you were right. I wasn’t ready, not for this or—you. I would have screwed it up, I would have hurt her.”

His candor shook you. it shook you so much that you had to look away or else you’d say something you couldn’t take back. His hand on your chin stops you forcing you to not only keep contact with his eyes but to also full on face him. When you were fully turned sitting on his lap with his arms securely wrapped around you holding you against him you knew what was going to happen before it did.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I regret it on my long list of regrets. I’m ready to be her father, I’m ready to be in her life, ready to step up in any and every way you want. After seeing your world in San Francisco, I know you don’t need me, you don’t need my money, my influence, my connections or lifestyle. I know you can honestly take me or leave me, but I am ready for you and everything I opted out of three years ago, everything I felt and saw but ran from. I want to be in your life.”

He took a breath and searched your face before he continued.

“You’re so hard to read all the time it really gives me anxiety. I have no idea what you want, how you feel, if you feel anything. Tell me, please.”

You crash your lips to his and kiss him with every emotion you felt. You didn’t want to talk, not with your mouth as least. There had to be a way to answer him, to show him. as you kissed him he kissed you back. You kept your moan low while your hands traveled down to his swim trunks. You unlaced them and freed his straining cock. When your eyes met he saw your intention, he knew what came next and he didn’t protest, he just pulled you down onto his need and laid back onto the wooden planks. Hopefully this was enough for him, hopefully he could hear what your mouth didn’t say.

-Chris-

As he looked out over his backyard he smiled at his family and yours. This was a long way from the first time they got together. Now everyone was laughing, talking and genuinely looked to be enjoying themselves. As he flipped the meat on the grill he smiled and finished his beer. He found you in the crowd laughing with his sisters at the same moment you looked over to him. your smile turned bashful before you bit your bottom lip. That bottom lip drove him crazy and would probably be the death of him. You looked away and went back to your conversation.

“How’s everything over here, son?” your father approached him and looked at the meats on the grill.

“Good, sir. Another few minutes and they’ll be ready to come off.”

“All right sounds good. How are you doing?”

“Good. Are you doing okay sir?”

“I’m good, just wondering when you’re going to tell my daughter you’re hopelessly in love with her.”

He nearly choked on his beer. What’d you say to that?

“Uh, well sir,” he cautiously began.

“You can call me Carmine, we’re family.”

He smiled and nodded. “I appreciate that Si—Carmine.”

“So talk to me. Why haven’t you told her yet?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Why? Yes I know she can be intimidating and appear cold and closed off but I assure you, it’s an act.”

He smiled because hearing that made him feel a lot better for some reason. It meant that you weren’t that way with just him. if your family saw it too you were this way with them too.

“How uh, how exactly do I work around that?”

“Simple. Trust. Show her she can trust you. if you get that squared away then the rest comes easy,” Carmine assured.

“I think I already fractured that trust.”

“What’re you doing about it?”

“Trying to rebuild it. I have no idea it’s even working. She’s still so distant,” he confided.

“I’m sure it’s working. The thing with Vixen is she has the best poker face, but with every poker face, there is a tell.”

“What are her tells?”

“Her actions. If her words say one thing or nothing but her actions are clearly speaking then I’d follow her actions. Like with her giving you more and more freedom with Ellie Bellie shows she trusts you with her. you found a way to lower her fierce mama bear exterior and let you in for her. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. what is meant to be will be.” Carmine leaned back and groaned as if he had not one care in the world.

“Just remember, I don’t own any guns, but I know how to kill a man with my bare hands in twenty-nine different ways if you ever hurt her.”

“Got it, sir.”

Carmine nodded and walked away leaving him with his thoughts once again. He was so lost in them he didn’t hear you come up.

“You wouldn’t last a minute in my kitchen gazing off to nowhere while precious meat was on the fire.” He smiled and looked you over.

“Precious meat huh.” You snorted and shook your head.

“You’re such a horny teenager.”

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I would be enjoying myself a ton better if you would hurry up and feed me.” Again he smiled and stepped closer to and went to your ear.

“Follow me upstairs and I’ll feed you,” he whispered. You smiled.

“You got yourself a date—later. Until then hurry up, we’re hungry.” You walked off to join everyone else.

Fifteen minutes later he brought the meat over to the table and everyone helped themselves. You made Ella a plate and he made you a plate. Conversation never died down and the laughs kept coming, it was great that everyone got along, it was what he wanted when he brought you here. He wanted his family to love you as much as he did.

The vibrating in his pocket had him groaning. He’d tried to ignore it for the last hour, but it kept buzzing and buzzing. He ignored it again and looked up to see you looking down at your phone with a confused expression.

-Vixen-

As you stared at the message from Kassius confusion filled you.

Kassius MSG: Is it true?

MSG: Is what true?

You drifted off to the side as you waited for Kassius’ reply. When his message came in it was a link. You clicked it and immediately the cover of a tabloid magazine popped up and it was you and Chris on the cover. You were sitting together in a restaurant laughing together, it was the bakery from San Francisco. The headline read “Chris Evans Bombshell, Secret Life Exposed.” Your jaw dropped and you looked up to see Chris digging his phone out his pocket with his eyes on you before he looked down to his own screen.

When you looked back to your phone you scrolled through the article. They’d uncovered your identity and even had pictures from Vegas three years ago. There were pictures of the two of you at the altar, pictures of your marriage certificate, pictures of a still from your wedding video with both of you showing off your rings. When you saw pictures Ella you freaked out.

They had it all. As you continued to skim the long article they broke the news that he’d been married for the last three years and that it was a secret. The more you read the more your confusion and alarm rose. They’d dug up where Ella was born, tried to speak to nurses and the hospital. This was invasive as fuck and you weren’t down with it.

You looked up and saw a freaked out look on Chris’ face. you saw him take a step to you, but you got another message. You were so confused as to why the article was speaking in present terms. They didn’t mention the divorce papers at all.

MSG Kassius: Channel sixty-one, right now.

You walked toward the TV that was mounted in the corner and that was when the staggered beat of TMZ came on. They were running the same exclusive.

“Again, exclusive breaking news. Chris Evans, Captain America, the man everyone loves is off the market ladies. You heard it right. These pictures that were taken a few days ago show him on an apparent date with a beautiful mystery woman. The two appear to be having a great time, but she’s not a mystery, Chris knows her well. She’s his wife. You heard right, Chris Evans is married and has been for the last three years.”

“What!” It was Lisa who shot to her feet first. All eyes went to Chris then to you and back to Chris.

“We’ve uncovered the wedding pictures, the marriage certificate, and the lady’s identity. She is Vixen Giovanni, she’s a local San Franciscan who owns a successful restaurant there and is in the works of opening the anticipated Giovanni’s here in LA. The two also share a daughter, you got it a love child who is around two years old. The timing lines up with their wild Vegas wedding.”

The only thing you heard was the blood pounding in your ears but you saw the chaos unfold around you. the parents were on their feet and the siblings were looking around and between you and Chris waiting for an explanation. You saw their lips moving and knew they were speaking but you didn’t hear any of them. You looked back to the TV and just zeroed in on the images of Ella they were plastering all over the screen and pictures of your restaurant and you through the years. It was a major invasion of privacy. Suddenly the narrative changed and the images on the screen were of the two of you in the dancehall in San Fran.

Images of you dancing together and laughing with your faces close together than kissing were everywhere. Through all of that, there was no mention of your divorce. You looked to Chris who looked stressed as fuck. When your eyes met you saw something in his eyes that didn’t sit well with you.

“Chris! What the hell are they talking about? It’s all lies right?”

When neither of you made an effort to explain they became more livid.

“Okay look wait, everyone calm down,” Chris began. Nexus took up Ella and rocked her hoping to keep her calm.

“Calm? Christopher Robert Evans, if you don’t explain!”

“It’s true.”

That was all he got out before all hell broke loose. His mother gaped at him and your mother’s jaw dropped.

“Vixen!

“Chris, I wasn’t there. We weren’t there, none of us were there to see it. how could you do this!?” Lisa looked hurt but furious.

“Chris--,” she began before she stopped.

“Maw I know, I know. I’m sorry. It was a spur of the moment thing, we were both drunk and just did it. we didn’t think about it or anything. It wasn’t a conscious decision either of us made,” he explained.

“So you married my daughter on a whim when you weren’t in your right might? She wasn’t worth a sound decision?

“Dad--,” you began attempting to smooth things out but he held his hand up to you stopping you.

“No sir, it’s nothing like that. You know what I think about your daughter. This was three years ago, we both were—look we know there’s no excuse for it and we’re sorry.” He looked to you no doubt pleading with you for help, but again you saw something in his eyes.

“Nothing to say Vixen? You got married without me there, without your mother. How could you do this?”

“Mom, everyone. Let’s take a breath. Yes, we did this and I understand how you feel. You have every right to be angry. What we did was stupid and irresponsible, we both know that, right Chris.”

He nodded.

“We should have told you guys the same time we told you about Ella. For me I knew you guys would be mad, I knew neither of you would understand and I really didn’t want to disappoint either of you because I got drunk and did something reckless. Back then you guys know I did reckless things for fun and I knew you both wouldn’t like it.”

“Same here, I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

“Wow, you married a complete stranger, then had unprotected sex with them and produced a child. My god Chris,” Lisa said as she paced the floor.

“The thing that they aren’t revealing, and I don’t understand why. We’re not married anymore. A few days after we got married we filed for divorce. We both signed the papers and handled this,” you explained.

The silence around you was the calm before the storm.

“What!” There were several voices that screamed it. It looked like that nugget made them even angrier.

“What do you mean?”

“I went to LA shortly after and we filed with Chris’ lawyer. It was taken care of.”

“So first you irresponsibly get married, irresponsibly have sex, then get a quickie divorce and decide to lie about it for three years?”

They way they said it made it sound like the two of you were children and made questionable decisions. Across the way Chris rubbed his forehead.

“Vixen, I don’t know how you could do this. You were married and you threw it away. You had a husband and now it’s all wasted.”

You were confused. She was pissed you got married and now pissed you were divorced. You couldn’t win with her.

“Actually,” Chris began. All eyes fell to him, but he avoided your eyes as he looked to be thinking about something. When his eyes met yours, you had a bad feeling.

“The reason why they didn’t break the full story is because that is the full story.”

“What?” Chris slowly walked to you, but you stepped back cautiously.

“You’re right, we signed the papers and I thought they had been filed, all this time I thought it went through but Sherman called me a few weeks ago and told me that because of some things he was going through he didn’t end up filing the papers. He went to rehab and then left LA for a while. They sat in his desk all this time. I didn’t know Vixen.”

As he spoke he kept trying to get closer, but you didn’t allow him to. A plethora of emotions filled you, shock, confusion, disbelief, hurt, anger, disappointment and a slew of other things. The one that was prevalent was hurt. He’d lied to you and kept something super important from you. something that you had every right to know. The last few weeks flashed through your head, every moment with him, every kiss, every time you slept together. It all felt manipulative now. You began to wonder if he had an agenda this whole time.

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. You walked away inside and upstairs. There you found Nexus and Ella in your room watching TV and laughing together. The minute you walked in Nexus went on alert.

“Is everything okay?”

You pasted a smile on your face and nodded. “Perfect.”

You walked to the closet and pulled out your bags and began packing them. You didn’t bother folding anything, you just threw things in not caring if they wrinkled or got ruined. you went through the room like a hurricane and just dropped everything in your bags. After twenty minutes you were done then you walked into Ella’s room and tried to keep your tears in. you packed her things and pressed the button you had that made you able to push things to the side.

When you finished you walked back into your room and scooped Ella up. “Nex, when you are leaving can you bring the rest of her things?

“What happened? What’s going on?”

“I have to go, please don’t make this a thing.” She nodded understanding you were trying to keep this as calm as possible. You walked out and down the stairs and out the front door.

“Wayo we go, mama?”

“On a trip princess.”

“Da-da come?”

“Nope, it’s just you and me, like it’s always been.”

You put the bags in the car and when you shut the trunk there was Chris coming toward you.

“Vixen wait, don’t go. Please. Please let me explain.” You ignored him and walked around the car the opposite way then opened the door and put Ella in the car seat. Throughout the whole action he continued to plead.

“You can’t just leave. What about the last few days, the weeks we’ve worked to get here. Don’t I deserve a chance to explain?”

Sliding into the passenger side you tried to shut the door but he held on to it.

“Vixen, don’t do this, I’m sorry.” You pulled it free and slammed the door then took a breath and drove off.

You had no idea where to go but you knew you couldn’t spend another minute there with him.

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#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans X black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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blackmagicforever · 4 years

Text

break my heart: chapter one

Chapter One: All The Wonderful Things

Notes: the title and chapter titles are from the song Break My Heart by Hey Violet

“You never know pain, real pain, until you have a bad case of a broken heart.” her mother told her since she was little. “My dearest Bella, I hope you never fall under the curse of a broken heart.”

Bella had been merely months old when her mother had fled Forks, where Bella’s father lived. She never asked why they left, her mother told her she was suffocating. Her father never denied or argued otherwise.

Bella thought it was because her father, Charlie, broke her mama’s heart.

“Does your heart ever love again?” eight year old Bella asked her mother.

“Maybe.” Reneé, her mother, had answered. “If you find someone that truly belongs with you.”

As she grew up, Bella met all kinds of lovers. The Rebound, who only stuck for a year as Bella turned five. The Friend, who Bella met when she was seven. The Artist, who promised her mother to make her immortal through paintings. The Good Guy, who bought her many toys despite her annoyance at the money spent and her mother’s refusal for charity. And many others that lasted between three months to two years.

Until Phil, that is. Bella stared amusedly at her mother dancing in the kitchen as Phil watched her with a fond smile.

Phil was The Sports Guy 2.0. But we don’t talk about Derek.

Phil stuck around despite Bella being a teenager and Reneé being a single mother. Bella was delighted with Phil, even if she didn’t get softball, the man clearly cared for her and loved her mother.

That’s why she left for Forks. Because she knew that it was Phil’s job to take care of her mother if she ever left her behind. That he would, because he loved her mother enough to cure her woes away, and enough to marry her.

Bella Swan was plain. Natural brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and esbelt body. Plain Bella.

She was clumsy, tripping over thin air on a flat space. She babbled, rambled when nervous.

A nerd in the sense that she could quote Jane Austen and Shakespeare in her sleep.

She was also brave. Stupidly so. She stood for what she believed in, even if she blended with the background. Loyal, hardworking. Stubborn to the bone.

Bella Swan also fell in love easily, and fast. The curse of the Higginbotham girls, they fell hard and fast with no breaks or parachute to stop them.

Maybe that’s why her mother cried after every heartbreak. Maybe that’s why Bella decided to never fall in love, at the risk of suffering the same fate as her mother.

Maybe that’s why Edward’s love felt so intense and consuming that she didn’t know she was free falling until the moment came and all she felt was ‘Oh, here you are. I’ve been waiting for you all my life.’

But that was it, wasn’t it? Was that how her mother felt when she realized she loved Charlie? Did her father wax poetics about how her mother was his one and only?

I knew it was too good to be true. Bella thought, grateful once again that Edward was unable to read her mind. This is it, this is when my heart breaks.

“I don’t want you, Bella.” Edward said, his eyes staring at her face as if he was trying to memorize her features. “It was just a game.”

Bella stumbled on her own feet, air leaving her lungs and knees weak.

Oh, she thought, it hurts.

She felt the telltale itching of her eyes as tears started to build up. The world became mute as she watched detachedly how Edward kept moving his lips. But whatever he said next was bullshit in her opinion. She already had gone through this, watched as her mother become more and more used to the excuses, learnt how to pick up the lies.

Everything that they say after breaking up with you are excuses, she remembers her mom sobbing the words out, excuses, lies, ways to get out of the relationship. God, I was a fool. If you enter a relationship without the main goal being marriage, you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak, Bella.

Bella blinked out the tears away, turning her face from Edward.

“Stop.” she said.

It took everything from her to keep her voice even, like she had seen her mother do countless of times.

“Stop,” she repeated, Edward fell silent. “I don’t give a shit about your excuses.”

She raised a hand when she saw Edward open his mouth again, “No, you talked. Is my turn now.”

“So what,” Bella rounded up on him, “got into trouble, burned a psycho, lost control over my blood and now you don’t want me? Are you serious right now, Edward?”

Edward said nothing.

“Don’t give me your excuses and lies.” Bella shook her head side to side, and then she said something Edward never thought she’d say. “If you’re doing this for your sick, twisted vision of protection you have another thing coming. Because I won’t take you back. No matter how much you say you love me or otherwise.”

Bella took a step forward, looking more menacing that she ever did before, “If you leave right now, don’t come back. Don’t grovel, don’t feel anything for me. When I die,” at that Edward flinched, “you will not have the right to do anything rash, because you lost it the exact moment you left me. Do you hear me?”

“Do you hear me?” she repeated more loudly, even if she knew that, with his enhanced hearing, his ears would pick it up anyway.

Edward nodded once, “It’ll be like I never existed,” he promised.

“No.” Bella said coldly, “You have no right to erase your existence from my past. That’s my decision, and mine alone. Don’t touch my past, Edward, you have no right.”

Edward hesitated, before nodding in acquiescence.

“Take me to my house,” Bella closed her eyes. She felt cold arms, wind whipping around her, and then her feet on the ground again.

When she opened them she was in her room, alone.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #fic: break my heart #Bella Swan #badass bella swan #edward cullen #start of new moon #new moon au #canon divergent au #what if? fic

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haledamage · 4 years

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Sleepless

(I waited until after midnight to post this so I could count it for Watcher Wednesday :P Rekke POV, Rekkai unrequited crush (or is it? :3), early enough in Deadfire that he isn’t yet fluent in Aedyran but has started to learn it. Seki is in italics)

It was late at night when Rekke woke suddenly from his sleep. It took a moment to remember where he was, to recognize the sound of the ocean, the barely familiar language spoken in murmurs around him.

He was on a ship, in a land far, far from home, and he should have been sleeping.

He opened his eyes. The hammock across from his belonged to Edér, and it's empty. He sat up in time to see Edér disappear into the Captain's quarters.

He felt a stab of jealousy, but quickly pushed it away. He shouldn't have been surprised that he wasn’t the only one interested in her. She's beautiful and clever and fearless and Edér had years to win her heart while Rekke had barely known her weeks.

He rolled back over and pushed it from his mind. He was already asleep again when Edér returned.

The next night, Rekke was awoken again as Aloth climbed from his bunk above. He caught the elf’s eye as he walked past, and he didn’t catch all of the half-whispered Aedyran Aloth said to him, but he got the gist of it. ‘Everything’s fine, nothing to concern yourself about, go back to sleep.’ Like that’d ever worked to make anyone less curious, especially a man like Rekke.

He watched as Aloth carefully entered the Captain’s quarters like Edér had the night before.

Last night’s jealousy was overwhelmed by tonight’s curiosity. It’s doubtful this was another clandestine rendezvous, which meant the other probably wasn’t either. Which meant they’re up to something else and he suddenly, desperately wanted to know what that something else was.

It took Rekke a long moment to realize he wasn’t alone with his thoughts. Next to his hammock was the little girl he’d seen climbing around the rigging of the ship sometimes - Vela, that’s her name. Edér had said she’s an orlan; near as Rekke can tell, she’s a very young girl with furry ears and a smile full of trouble.

She had that smile pointed at him now. She offered him a hand wordlessly, and he barely hesitated before taking it. She led him to the door and knocked.

It’s Edér that opened it. Rekke hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t in bed either. He looked confused before turning a look of paternal annoyance on Vela. Before he could say anything, Vela spoke up. “Rekke wants to help Mama, too.”

The look Edér turned on Rekke was less paternal and more annoyed. “Does he.”

Rekke tried not to look like he had no idea what’s going on. His Aedyran was heavily accented, but confident. “I want to help.”

“Let him in, dear,” he heard her say from further in the room. She sounded like she was in pain or very, very tired.

“Kiki,” Edér started, turning from the door to look at her. Rekke caught a glimpse through the open doorway. She met his eye and gave him a listless smile. Tired, then.

She waved off whatever protest Edér had. “Let him in,” she said again. “He’ll just hover outside the door until you do.”

Edér moved aside to let him in, though he didn’t look happy about it. Aloth gave him a polite, tight-lipped smile from where he sat in a chair in a far corner, book open in front of him. Vela dropped his hand to instead sprint across the room and scramble into her lap.

Her. Rekke wished he knew what to call her. Even in his head, she was only “her.” Captain was just a title, too formal. He’d heard some people call her Watcher, always with a hint of awe or fear, but she didn’t seem to like that and no one would tell him what it meant. But her name was all vowels and he still had trouble shaping it right, though not for lack of trying. So he didn’t call her anything. He just said, “hello.”

“Good evening.” Her accent in Seki was as thick as his in Aedyran, but he liked that she was willing to learn. “Or good morning. I guess that’s more accurate.”

This close, he could see the exhaustion clinging to her like spiderwebs. Her hair was a mess, even by her normal standards, and her normally bright green eyes were dull and shadowed. Her smile was a distant, ghostly thing. There’s a cup of coffee on the table in front of her; as he watched, she touched a hand to the ceramic cup and steam started to rise from it where it had previously been cold. She lifted it to her lips and drank it all in one gulp, grimacing at the bitterness of it.

He sat at the table with her and offered her a hand. He didn’t touch her, didn’t know her well enough yet to know what she’s comfortable with, but he tried to make it obvious what his intention was. He put the offer on the table - literally, in this case.

She took his hand. Her fingers were cold. How did a woman who controlled fire with her mind have such cold hands?

She laughed, tired but warm, and Rekke realized he said that out loud. He blushed, embarrassed, but she didn’t appear offended. If anything, some of the light seemed to have returned to her eyes. “Ask your questions, dear,” she said. “I can see them in your eyes. Ask.”

He asked. Already, he knew he couldn’t deny her anything. “What’s wrong? Why can’t you sleep?”

And, amazingly, she told him.

In a careful, meandering combination of Aedyran and Seki and, briefly, another language he didn't know but he’d heard her speak before, she told him of her curse. Of what it meant to be a Watcher. She was thrice haunted, once by the dead, once by the gods, and once by her own distant past. They whispered in her ear, danced in the edges of her vision, and tormented her sleep.

Edér and Aloth reluctantly filled in the spaces that she couldn’t, pieces she’s missing from the time they first met when she lost herself to the voices. Also, at least two times that her… soul was kidnapped? That didn’t sound right, but perhaps his grasp of Aedyran wasn’t as good as he thought it was.

It’s a fantastic story, and Rekke’s pretty sure he only believed a quarter of it. How was he supposed to believe that this tiny, tired woman in front of him was the resurrection of a woman who had created and then rebelled against her gods two thousand years ago? That because of this, she could read a person’s memories and life story from their soul? It’s impossible. Wasn’t it?

She must have seen his disbelief on his face. “I wouldn’t believe me either. It’s a ridiculous tale, truly. I can prove it to you, if you’d like.” He nodded, too confused and curious for words, and she smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Then her eyes went… blank. Empty. A few moments passed in silence before he noticed the glow in them, violet light curling in their depths like smoke. Where their hands touched, he felt her skin go colder, almost painfully so, like wherever the life in her eyes went it took all her warmth with it.

She started speaking, in a distant voice but flawless Seki, and Rekke realized with a jolt that he knew the story she’s telling. It’s his own. He heard in her words (though not in her hollow, lifeless tone) his pain and fear and stubborn refusal to surrender to the storm they call Ondra’s Mortar as the waves and wind ripped apart the boat around him. He heard how close he came to drowning when the ship splintered and he was thrown into the sea.

The light faded and the life returned to her and silence reigned over the room. Rekke watched her face as all the emotions from what she saw (what she read. From his soul) caught up with her, tears filling her eyes and spilling over silently, falling on their joined hands. She brushed them away quickly.

“I didn’t mean to put you through that,” he said, as if he had any control over what his soul remembered. “I’m sorry, Kiki.”

The pain on her face was chased away with surprise and then a beautiful, bashful smile. “Kiki?”

“That’s what Edér called you earlier. Is it okay if I call you that?” It’s much, much easier to say than her other name and it suited her more than just calling her Captain ever would. But maybe it wasn’t a name? Maybe it meant something in Aedyran that he hadn’t learned yet; maybe he just insulted her, or it was a term of endearment or something.

The smile lingering on her face said she wasn’t offended. “It’s… a nickname my family gave me, that’s all. I don’t mind if you use it.”

He beamed at her and she blushed, her cheeks and the tips of her pointed ears turning a lovely shade of pink. There was something shy in the way she looked at him now, and it was new and intriguing and beautiful. He wished he knew exactly what made her look at him like that. He’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant she’d keep doing so.

Aloth said something, his accent much different than Rekke had heard before and tone sly and playful and completely not like Aloth. Rekke didn’t understand the words, they weren’t quite in Aedyran - but maybe something akin to it? - but whatever he said made Kiki blush darker and Edér chuckle.

“Iselmyr, please don’t say things like that in front of my daughter,” Kiki said primly, motioning to Vela still curled up in her lap. The little orlan was fast asleep.

“I should probably get her back in bed,” Edér said. He scooped the child out of Kiki’s arms; Vela didn’t so much as stir in her sleep. “You okay, Kiki?”

“I’m fine.” There was that tired smile again, even more exhausted than it was before. “You should sleep, my dear.”

“You should sleep,” he said, and his worry was audible.

“I don’t think I have a choice at this point. I’m…” she huffed an almost soundless laugh, “done. Someone come wake me if I start screaming about shipwrecks.”

Edér hovered about for another minute, but when Kiki just repeated 'I'm fine, go to bed' he reluctantly left. Aloth approached, leaning down to have a brief and very quiet conversation with Kiki before he left as well, wishing them both a good night.

And then it was just the two of them. Rekke wondered if he was supposed to leave now too, but he didn’t want to yet and Kiki hadn’t made any indication that he needed to. She was still holding his hand. Did she know she was still holding his hand?

“You’re going to have nightmares about my shipwreck now?” he asked to fill the silence.

She shrugged, casual like they’re discussing the weather and not the fact that Rekke has just become another of the ghosts that haunted her. “Probably. The things I See in other people’s souls tend to leave a mark, at least for a while. Don’t worry, dear. It’s still better than my usual fare.” She gave his hand another squeeze, then pulled away and ran it self-consciously over her hair. Her eyes stayed on his face, though, studying him as if trying to read his thoughts; briefly, he wondered if she actually could. “I hope I did not scare you. This… Watcher business, it unnerves people sometimes. They think it’s creepy.”

“I think you’re incredible.” It wasn’t what he meant to say, but it was true so he didn’t take it back, though he knew his face must be red. “I have never met anyone like you before.”

“I could say the same to you,” Kiki said, and she’s blushing again too. “Thank you. For wanting to help.”

Rekke smiled, sly and mischievous. “I thought you and Edér were having an affair. The way he sneaks in here in the middle of the night is very suspicious.”

She laughed at that, real and joyous and livelier than anything he’d heard from her all night. “I told him that would happen. I don’t know why he’s trying to keep it secret. I don’t make any effort to hide my condition.”

“He is trying to protect you.”

She pursed her lips sourly. “He always does. So does Aloth. I’m still not sure if I think they’re sweet or obnoxious.” Her frown turned into a fond smile, though, and he got the impression that her protests were habitual and not sincere.

“They are family. I think that makes them both.” Kiki turned that fond smile on him now, and it made him feel warm all the way down to his bones. It made him want to do something reckless, something to impress her and earn that affection for himself. Instead he said, “Do you want me to leave so you can sleep?”

“You can stick around a little longer, if you’d like. I can’t promise I’ll be much of a conversationalist, though.” Rekke believed it. Even though she was still smiling, her head was leaned heavily on one hand, elbow propped on the table. She was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Do you want me to stay?” He thought he knew the answer, but he needed to hear it. Wanted to hear it.

Her eyes snapped open and she met his gaze in obvious surprise. She seemed taken aback by the question, like she didn’t expect to be allowed an opinion on the matter. “Yes. Just… Just until I fall asleep. If that is okay.”

He grinned. “I’ll stay as long as you wish, Kiki.”

There’s a few moments where neither of them moved, where the air in the room started to feel heavy and charged. Kiki cleared it with a shake of her head, like she simply didn’t have the desire for things to feel awkward and so they didn’t. She walked over to her bed and nudged at what looked like a pile of blankets. It turned out to be a large black dog and an absurd number of cats. The menagerie reluctantly moved to sleep somewhere else.

Kiki crawled into bed without hesitation, too tired for decorum, and Rekke claimed the nearby overstuffed reading chair. She gifted him with another warm smile, but he could see sleep pulling her down and away. Within minutes, her breathing slowed and evened out and she was out.

Rekke knew he should leave now that she’s asleep, but he lingered a little while, watching her. There was a knot of a frown between her eyebrows already from something forcing its way into her dreams. Without thinking, he reached out and smoothed his thumb over it, smiling as her expression cleared and she relaxed back into sleep. He brushed a few wild curls out of her face, then pulled his hand back and moved away from the bed in an effort to remove the temptation to keep touching her.

He took the opportunity to sate his curiosity and look around the room instead. He hadn’t had the opportunity to explore this corner of the ship yet.

There were a lot of books. What use could she possibly have for this many books? There seemed to be one or two on every surface, gathering in piles and drifts on any available space except the bed and the desk.

The desk was mostly covered in paper, haphazard stacks of letters and half-finished replies. He picked one up, but he couldn’t read it yet so he just shrugged and set it back down.

On a small shelf next to the desk was a collection of knick knacks that caught his attention. A pair of broken swords and a third sword that was still whole. Twin intricate bronze daggers. Several amulets tied together, all bearing the symbol of a black key. A speckled bird feather. A fox carved from white adra. A diving helmet. A stone bust of a woman whose eyes seemed to follow him wherever he went. He got the feeling that the woman was judging him, though he couldn’t say why.

Kiki made a small, distressed noise in her sleep and Rekke immediately abandoned his exploration to return to her side. She had curled into a ball, hands tensed into white-knuckled fists. He knelt next to the bed and covered both her hands with his. Her hands were alarmingly warm.

She whimpered again and he shushed her gently. “Shh. You are safe, Kiki. No harm will come to you while I’m here, I swear it.” When she didn’t immediately calm down, he did the first thing he could think of and started to sing. It’s a lullaby his mother used to sing to him, the first song that came to his mind, and he didn’t remember all the words, but he knew the tune enough to hum the parts he couldn’t recall.

Some of the tension drained from her as he sang, so he kept going. Most of the songs he knew were shanties or pub songs, but his singing voice wasn’t half-bad, and Kiki’s asleep so he doubted she’d judge his taste. He’s in the middle of the third song when she finally relaxed again and after a moment, he relaxed too. He rubbed his thumb over her palm, trying to soothe the crescent-moon marks left by her fingernails.

A few minutes passed and she didn’t stir, breathing still calm and even, so he reluctantly pulled himself away from her once more. He went back to the reading chair and, after a moment’s consideration, picked it up and moved it next to the bed before settling down into it. “If you need me, I am right here. Good night, Kiki.”

Rekke watched her for a little while longer, but whatever had been troubling her didn’t come back and her sleep remained undisturbed. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

Aloth found them the next morning when he went to check on Kai. She was curled up on the bed, the big black hound draped over her legs like a blanket. Rekke was still in the chair, with a cat on his head and two more in his lap. With a small smile, Aloth backed out of the room and let them sleep in.

#rekkai #pillars of eternity #watcher wednesday #rekke #kai cirdani #rhi writes #rekke has a BIG CRUSH and kiki is the only person in eora that doesn't know it #I love writing about watcher creepiness from an outside perspective #especially people that are less familiar with it than folks like aloth and eder #I haven't decided if I want to put this on ao3 or not but that's probably ye olde imposter syndrome talking #because writing from a canon character's pov always makes me second guess myself #(also from what I've been able to figure seki doesn't have any double-vowel sounds in the language #so I figured a name like kai would be something he struggled with at first #though he does get the hang of it later and calls her that sometimes #which is why he got very early special permission to call her kiki :3 totally only that reason and not because she liked him)#and yes kiki and rekke both switch back and forth between aedyran and seki #because they're at that stage of learning a new language where you can understand it find but still struggle to speak it #and it was fun to explore that a bit between them

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scarletcedar · 4 years

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SHIPPER.

NAME: Scarlet Langley AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 27 & December 6, 1991 GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Female & She/Her SPECIES: Human (Bitten) OCCUPATION: Bookseller at Topping & Co. Books

HISTORY:

Their lives are made up of stories; of cruel witches desperate for children, of foolish girls cursed to dance without rest, of clever men tricking creatures out of their riches. They cut you out of your Mama, like Red Riding Hood emerging from the wolf, Gram would say every time Scarlet reintroduced herself. Gram may have lost pieces of her own history, but recalled each fable with crystal clarity. Those stories are immortal, passed down from generation to generation, surviving wars and financial hardships and illnesses even when the storytellers could not. Scarlet collects them like precious jewels from anyone who’ll offer them to her, writes them down so they’re never forgotten by history.

The stories were meant to be lessons about the dangers that lurked in the dark corners of their small world. But little Scarlet didn’t interpret them as Gram had intended, instead taking out pieces of what she found interesting and constructing her own narrative. The woods were explored thoroughly in search of enchanted candy houses, and even now most of her shoes are red and thickets of thorns grow outside her windows. She always carries a switchblade in her purse, never knowing when she might get eaten whole.

Bright yellow eyes haunt her, but Scarlet’s not sure if it’s a memory or if her childhood imagination filled in the gaps of that day. The corpse in the Square reeked of decay and musk and wet leaves and dried blood; the whiff of it brought back childhood nightmares of golden-eyed beasts chasing her through the mountains. Her parents recalled that day in horror, and Scarlet always wished she could remember it fully so she knew what to be afraid of. But even without her memories, the wolf still haunts her along with all the other ghosts she carries. Needless to say, she’s not much of a dog person.

Got her job after getting into an argument with the manager about their dystopian novel window display. The most “dystopian” part of Brave New World is Huxley’s rampant misogyny. You’re promoting THIS but completely left out The Iron Heel? That’s practically the foundation of modern dystopian literature, and far more relevant today than Huxley’s creepy baby orgies. The manager invited her over to create new displays the following week, and in the midst of that she began to offer recommendations to customers and took it upon herself to reorganize the shelves to have more front-facing, eye-catching book covers. At some point during, she got her own name tag and the rest is history.

CAR CRASH TW There was her Mama and there was her Mom, and neither one went gently; Langley women never do. They’re artists, Scarlet boasted with pride whenever someone asked what her parents did. The Langley women were their own tribe, always welcoming strangers into their warm hearth and gifting locals with unusual handmade artifacts. Their death was untimely and unexpected, a tragedy about young lovers but not the kind they write plays about. They became another statistic, a cautionary tale for those driving through Montana during a snowstorm.

CAR CRASH TW The news reported that Scarlet was the only one in the car to survive, that she was hypothermic by the time they uncovered her from the wreckage. But it was the locals who spoke about how she lost herself in her grief, how she’s only recently been able to drive again without having a panic attack on the road, how she still only knows how to make enough food for three people, how she’s only able to sleep with the TV on at night because she can’t stand how quiet her house has become. Scarlet tries to keep all the uglier parts of her grief hidden from the town’s prying eyes, unable to acknowledge how not fine she is even to herself.

An artist like her parents. Scribbles intricate doodles within the pages of second-hand novels; writes poetry on her arms; threads colorful, dainty flowers over the holes in her sweaters. Waves and vines and stars are painted on every wall in her home, and the empty space is filled with photographs she’s taken of loved ones. Makes a little bit of side money off of commissions, which she desperately needs. Her parents didn’t leave much when they passed, and she’s burning through her meager savings in order to hold onto her childhood home. She’s lost so much and she can’t lose this, too, even if it means being tied to Blackrock forever.

PERSONALITY:

Pretty clingy with her actual friends; almost obsessively takes photographs and grows anxious if they don’t text back when they say they will. Is desperately trying to hold on tightly to those closest to her, unable to vocalize her newfound fear of losing more loved ones. A traitorous voice in her mind says they’ll one day be taken from her as well, and she can’t silence it even though she knows it’s irrational.

People affectionately called her “Scar” until The Attack, ultimately deciding it was too inappropriate. She forgets that the scar is there most of the time, even though it’s often the first thing people notice whenever she wears short sleeves. Most are too polite to ask about it, but those who have the balls will get treated to one of the many outlandish tales she’s come up with. Crashed my car in a drag race — at least I won. Some jerk at Last Drop stabbed me because I queued “Two Doors Down” on the jukebox 27 times. The government sticks trackers in our arms when we’re born but I managed to carve mine out.

Is something of a cryptid-maniac; a lifetime of absorbing myths and legends has made her the expert on the weird and paranormal. It’s not that Scarlet necessarily believes in everything she reads, but she also can’t deny that the world is full of mysteries. There’s always something new being discovered, she’d insist whenever someone tried to argue that these monsters only exist in fairy tales. She’s not crazy, really — just open-minded. Still, if someone asked her if she believes in werewolves, she’d dismiss them as mere storybook creatures, despite her haunting dreams. Her reasoning is that it’s been many uneventful full moons since she was bitten by a wild wolf. I’m clearly still human, aren’t I? Now selkies, on the other hand...

One of Scarlet’s favorite parts of her job is recommending books to people. The whole process is gratifying — from learning about what they’re already interested in, to scouring through shelves for The Perfect Book. When she’s off the clock, she doesn’t wait for permission to offer recommendations, often handing off books to people unexpectedly with a simple, “This made me think of you.” Doesn’t mind loaning out books from her personal collection, believing books don’t belong on shelves but are meant to be read as often as possible. Her second favorite part is sorting through the second-hand books because there’s always some interesting piece of history stuck between pages of used books. She keeps a box at work filled with all the little treasures she’s collected from donations: boarding passes from far off places, handwritten notes, antique bookmarks, and even torn out pages from other books. In her free time, she’ll secretly slip in her own little unsigned notes between the pages of the secondhand books she’s read before. Be sure to have tissues on hand. These characters will make you believe in true love. It’s okay if you don’t understand the ending.

LOW-EFFORT CONNECTIONS:

exes who ended on good terms

unrequited crushes

friends with benefits

childhood friends

book club buddies

CONNECTIONS I ACTUALLY PUT SOME THOUGHT INTO:

THE LOCAL → Someone(s) who knows everything about Scarlet, despite her best efforts. In return, Scarlet knows more about them than they’d want to know — Blackrock is too small for secrets, after all. They get into each other’s business, and it’s annoying but it’s been this way for so long that it’s hard to imagine it any other way.

THE BROKEN HEART → Someone Scarlet saw frequently before her parents died, romantically or platonically! Their relationship completely fractured with the death of her parents. Scarlet could’ve either driven them away in her grief, too hurt to care for them. Or maybe she smothered them with her consistent presence out of a fear of losing them, too.

THE DIVIDED → Their families never got along, a local feud that has lasted for so long that Scarlet can’t remember what started it to begin with. She purposefully puts up a front with every member of the opposing family, holding onto a longstanding grudge in the name of her mothers. But perhaps she’ll discover that it’s best to put the feud to rest, too overwhelmed by other aspects of life to find the energy for it.

THE COMPANION → Simply put, a friend. Someone who doesn’t brush off Scarlet’s conspiracy theories, offers themself as a model for her art, is willing to drive Scarlet around when she’s not up to it herself.

#car crash tw

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stahlop · 5 years

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Once Upon a Time 1x22 “A Land without Magic” Review

Reviews 1x01 1x02 1x03 1x04 1x05 1x06 1x07 1x08 1x09 1x10 1x11 1x12 1x13 1x14 1x15 1x16 1x17 1x18 1x19 1x20 1x21

Here it is! The final episode of season one!!! And wow! A lot of things happened so, hopefully I can make this review not a novel.

Summary: Henry is in a coma after eating the poisoned turnover and Emma finally believes. Gold sends her on a quest to help save Henry, who is dying because magic is unpredictable here. Meanwhile, Charming escapes Regina’s castle with the help of an old friend and has no choice but to make a deal with Rumplestiltskin in order to save Snow White.

Opening: Curse cloud (and the first time it’s not before the opening scene)

Character Observations:

Emma: Well Emma the bad ass is back! She is kicking ass, taking names, and not taking shit from anyone! Especially Regina. Emma brings Henry to the hospital and has found the time to bag up the turnover so it can be tested. Whale thinks it must be something else because he’s showing no signs of poison. Emma starts going through Henry’s backpack for clues about what else might have made him sick. Emma sees the storybook and thinks that it’s almost like magic, then she picks up the book and WHAM!!! She sees flashes of Snow and Charming getting married and holding her and fighting for her and putting her in the wardrobe! Holy shit! We see in her face that she finally believes!!! And then Regina enters, and Emma’s face goes into lion protecting her young from a predator. She throws her into a supply closet and starts screaming at her that this is her fault. Regina is still trying to take the high road until Emma tells her Henry ate the turnover. Emma is yelling at her that it’s all true and Regina finally admits that it is. Emma is crying that she was going to leave town, but Regina says that as long as Emma was alive Henry would never be her son. Emma wants her to fix it but Regina can’t Emma asks her is she has magic and you can see she’s still struggling with saying that. Regina tells her that was the last of it, it was meant to put Emma to sleep and magic here is unpredictable. Emma realizes that Henry could die. She is so broken now. She wants to know what they can do. Regina suggests getting help. Emma realizes she means from Gold. Regina tells her he goes by Rumplestiltskin and Emma’s face is priceless. She’s all ‘Seriously?’ They go to see Gold and he tells them about the true love potion and that its made from Emma’s parent’s hair and that he used a drop of it on the curse parchment for safety. Emma realizes that this is why she’s the Savior. Gold tells Emma she has to retrieve it. He and Regina make veiled references to where and how, but don’t give her any direction, except that she’ll need her father’s sword. Emma goes to talk to Henry. Let’s him know that he was right about the curse and she believe now. She’s sorry that she didn’t believe him before. This scene is a big step for Emma. She can’t deny that everything Henry has been telling her is true anymore. The fact that she’s able to believe that instead of continuing to make excuses for anything magical is a huge thing for Emma, as she’s never believed in anything before. Emma goes to see August and sees that he’s almost completely made of wood. Emma is now freaking out and wants his help, which he can’t give. She tells him that no normal person can do this quest. He turns into wood while reassuring her that she can save them all. Emma realizes she has to do this. She meets Regina in the library and she shows her the hidden elevator that will take her to where she needs to go. Emma wants to know why Regina can’t go with her to talk to her ‘friend’. The elevator is hand operated so Regina has to lower her down. Regina also says her ‘friend’ is trapped in a different form and doesn’t want to see her. Emma lets Regina know, under no uncertain terms, that if Henry dies while she’s down there, Regina is dead. Emma heads down in the elevator. We see Emma walking through the caves that are underneath the town. She comes across the glass coffin. We see that flicker of knowledge come across her face that she knows that belonged to her mother. She backs up, right into Maleficent, in dragon form. And if Emma wasn’t freaked out before, seeing a fire breathing dragon would probably do it. Emma does what any red-blooded American would do, she tries to shoot the dragon. Which, of course, does not work. Emma is basically playing duck and cover with Maleficent until the dragon falls down. Emma goes to look and for some reason is shocked when the dragon flies up toward her. Emma is still trying to shoot the dragon (enough with the gun) when she sees the sword she discarded. She grabs it, yells ‘hey’ at the dragon and throws the sword into Maleficent’s chest. The dragon explodes and disintegrates into dust leaving behind the golden egg. Emma gets back into the elevator but it gets stuck a little from the top. Gold is there and says Regina left her and just to toss the egg up. Emma doesn’t trust Gold, but has no other choice. When Emma finally gets out of the elevator she sees Regina tied up by Gold. They’re about to go after him when the hospital calls to let them know Henry is taking a turn for the worse. The women get to the hospital and Henry is dead. Emma tells Henry she loves him and kisses him. Suddenly, there is the rainbow whoosh and Henry is awake and telling Emma he loves her too. Emma notices that people are starting to act strangely and Henry is pretty sure Emma didn’t just wake him up but broke the entire curse. Mother Superior/Blue Fairy confirms this. We end with Emma and Henry looking as the purple curse cloud of doom starts coming toward them in the hospital. I will say this, I didn’t expect Emma to believe in about 2 seconds flat. I get that she felt that might have been the only explanation and that’s what triggered the flashes from the book, but she’s been in denial all season. So now I’m really interested in how she deals with this in the next season.

Evil Queen/Regina: So, the Evil Queen is upset because Charming has escaped. The Huntsman (hi Graham!) says he’ll find him, but she is alerted to where he is from a shimmering sound from the mirror. She sends a pulse through the mirror and Charming ends up in the Infinite Forest. And that’s all for the Evil Queen in this episode, because it’s all about Regina.

Regina enters the hospital about to go all mama bear on the Doctor Whale and the staff when Emma comes out swinging, literally. She grabs her and swings her into the supply closet and Regina is like WTF! That is, until Emma tells her Henry at the turnover. Then Regina’s smug expression turns into a horror struck one, because that turnover was meant for Emma. Regina finally admits that everything Henry has been saying is true and she’s basically been gaslighting him all season. Emma cries that she was leaving, but Regina admits that if Emma was still in the picture, Henry would never fully be her son. Seriously? Regina has been far from mother of the year. She’s blatantly gone out of her way to make Henry feel unloved and crazy. Is this the winning thing again? She wins Henry if Emma is gone? Regina admits she can’t fix this because she used up all her magic and it’s unpredictable. Emma correctly guesses Gold can help and Regina lets her know he’s really Rumplestiltskin. They go to see Gold. He reminds Regina that all magic comes with a price. She angrily says Henry shouldn’t have to pay it, and Gold says Regina should’ve paid it, and yet, this is what happened. Gold explains about bottling true love and Regina is shocked. I’m assuming she thinks that he could use this to break the curse without an actual true love’s kiss somehow. Emma and Regina just want to get the potion and save Henry. Gold tells them it has to be Emma. Regina claims that Henry is her son and Gold reminds her that technically, Henry is Emma’s son and she has to be the one to get the potion. Emma just wants to know where this damn potion is. Gold asks Regina if their ‘friend’ is still in the basement and Regina is stunned that he hid it with her. Gold corrects that he hid it in her. Gold shows Emma Charming’s sword and Regina is just annoyed as all hell by this point. I think she’s finally figured out just how much of this he planned and how she was just a pawn in it all. Emma and Regina go to visit Henry in the hospital before they go on their quest. Regina actually apologizes to Henry. Jefferson appears and taunts her about how difficult it must be not knowing if you’ll ever see you child again. Regina spits out that it isn’t a good time and Jefferson mocks that it’s not a good time for her but a perfect time for him. He wants her to make good on their deal. Regina tells him it’s null and void since Emma didn’t eat the apple. So she’s screwing him over, again. Regina is done with Jefferson since he won’t actually do anything to her. Regina meets Emma at the library. She reveals a hidden elevator. Emma wants Regina to go face whatever she’s going to face with her, but Regina says someone has to control the elevator as it’s hand operated. We next see Regina tied up after Emma has defeated Maleficent. She says Gold manipulated all of this. On first viewing it seems she’s talking about their current situation, but I think she’s actually talking about the whole curse. They’re about to go after him when the hospital calls. Regina and Emma enter go to the hospital, but it’s too late. They are crying. Regina is crying on Whale’s shoulder when Emma kisses Henry and enacts true love’s kiss. Regina is actually impressed that Emma woke Henry. Impressed until she realizes that Emma actually broke the whole curse. She starts sounding like a petulant child whose favorite toy was taken away. Mother Superior/Blue Fairy tells Regina to hide. Regina makes sure that Henry knows that she truly does love him before running off. We see her crying in Henry’s room into his pillow, knowing she’s lost everything, especially Henry. It’s too bad she had to practically kill Henry for us to see how much she does love him. We end with Regina seeing the curse cloud coming and she gets an evil smile on her face, either because she thinks they’re going back to the Enchanted Forest or she knows magic is coming back.

Rumplestiltskin/Gold:We see how Rumplestiltskin manipulated everything. He finds Charming in the Infinite Forest and tells him there is no way out. He steals Charming’s mother’s ring and enchants it to help him find Snow. Rumplestiltskin wants to make a deal for the ring. Charming is not about that so they sword fight. Rumplestiltskin is a good sword fighter. He wasn’t before he became the Dark One. Charming actually manages to slice Rumplestiltskin’s face, but he heals himself and bests Charming. He tells Charming they both want the same thing. For Charming to be with his true love. He shows Charming the true love potion. Charming asks Rumplestiltskin what he knows about true love. Not as much as Charming, but he knows. Charming is shocked that the Dark One has been in love. What happened to her? She died. Rumplestiltskin warns Charming not to let love slip away. It’s the most powerful magic in the world, powerful enough to break any curse and must be protected. He wants Charming to put the potion in the belly of a beast for a rainy day. Rumplestiltskin is waiting on the shore after Charming has put the golden egg the true love potion was in into Maleficent. He gives Charming the ring back. He changes Charming’s clothes into the outfit we saw him wearing in the Pilot when he woke up Snow. Charming wants to know what Rumplestiltskin is getting out of all this. Rumplestiltskin says he’s a fan of true love and also what it creates. He already knows that their child will be the key to breaking the curse and getting him to the land without magic.

Gold knows immediately that Emma now believes when she and Regina enter his shop. He says a lot of colorful things that frustrate both Emma and Regina, but the basics are that he has a true love potion that he’s hidden in someone beneath the town. He finds himself pretty clever doesn’t he? Gold meets Emma at the elevator shaft after she’s recovered the egg. He tells her that Regina abandoned her and to throw him the egg. Emma doesn’t trust him, but she really doesn’t have a choice at this point as the elevator is stuck. Gold promises Henry will be fine. Turns out he tied up Regina to get the egg from Emma. Gold opens the egg and sees that the potion is still there. He hears the front door bells and hides the egg. He tells the person the shop is closed but when he turns he sees Belle! This whole conversation is wonderful. The expression on Gold’s face is the most real we’ve seen him since before he turned into the Dark One. He is, understandably, in complete shock at seeing Belle and that she is alive. He hugs her and cries. Belle is confused and asks if she knows him. He tells her no, while trying not to cry, but tells her she will, because he knows the curse is about to be broken. Gold and Belle are walking in the woods when Belle suddenly remembers! She loves him and he loves her. They approach the Wishing Well and he tells her about the water's properties to restore things that have been lost. He drops the potion in and purple smoke starts billowing from it. Belle asks what it is. He says he’s bring magic back because magic is power. Now, here is where I have issues. I’m not sure if Gold wants magic so he himself can be powerful, or if it’s the only way he can get out of town or what. But if his whole reason for coming to the land without magic was to find Bae, and Bae left because of the magic, then why make himself have magic again? And now Belle is back in the mix and she left because he didn’t want to give up his power. So Rumplestiltskin really hasn’t learned anything from this whole curse ordeal.

Charming/David: Charming is taken from the Evil Queen’s cell is going to be beheaded when one of the guards saves him. It’s the Huntsman! He gives Charming his weapon and provisions. He tells Charming that he gave up his heart for Snow, don’t let his sacrifice be in vain. Charming is off to find Snow White when the Evil Queen sends him to the Infinite Forest. He is found by Rumplestiltskin who steals his mother’s ring and offers a deal. After a sword fight, Charming is on a quest to put a golden egg containing the true love potion in the belly of a beast. Charming is at Maleficent’s castle. He threatens her and asks where the beast is. Maleficent says she’s the beast. Charming quips he’s going to need a smaller egg. Maleficent turns into a dragon. Problem solved. At least Charming has fought and slayed a dragon at this point in his life, unlike Emma who tries to shoot Maleficent when she fights her. Charming sees the little fire flaps on the side of Maleficent’s neck and gets her to chase him throughout the castle. He gets above her and drops down on her and throws the egg into the fire flap. Pretty easy overall. He runs through the stained glass window into the ocean below. Rumplestiltskin meets him on the shore and gives him back the ring, now enchanted to find Snow. Rumplestiltskin poufs him into princelier clothes and we are back to the opening scene of the Pilot. He’s racing down the shoreline on his horse. He finds Snow in her coffin with the dwarfs. He gives her one last kiss and she wakes up. This time we see him propose and she says yes. Snow is apprehensive about King George and the Evil Queen. Snow wants them to take back the entire kingdom together.

David talks to Mary Margaret. He says he was wrong not to believe her and that he keeps making wrong decisions and he doesn’t know why (the curse!). Ever since waking up from the coma nothing has made sense (the curse!), except for her. He’s telling her this because he’s leaving town. Kathryn is no longer going to Boston but she already put a down payment on an apartment. David wants a reason to stay (that’s your cue Mary Margaret), but Mary Margaret can’t give him one. David is heartbroken. David is packing up his truck. He is just to the Leaving Storybrooke sign when the curse breaks. His expression when his memories hit is amazing. He’s like “I’m Prince Charming. I have to find Snow! What the hell has been going on these past few months? I can’t believe I was about to leave my true love!” Mary Margaret is walking down the street, dazed, when David calls to her, by using her real name. She sees him, they run to each other. They say their iconic lines and they kiss! We end with them getting consumed by the curse cloud while they’re still in the middle of Main Street.

Jefferson: He confronts Regina about his reward for helping her a few hours ago, I guess it is. She says the deal is off since Henry at the apple and it was meant for Emma. Jefferson is pissed he got screwed over again. Good thing he has a contingency plan. While Henry starts flatlining, Jefferson punches in the code to go to the psych ward. He gives tea to the nurse on duty which knocks her out. He grabs the keys and opens up Belle’s room. He tells her to find Mr. Gold and let him know that Regina had looked her up. Belle is confused, but he promises that Gold will protect her. He is insistent that Belle let Gold know that Regina locked her up though.

Questions:

How can Whale say Henry is showing no sign of poisoning when they haven’t done any tests yet? He just came in, what is he supposed to be showing? Not all poisons make you foam at the mouth. With how he presented he could have been slowly poisoned throughout the year.

Does the Evil Queen have some sort of alarm set on her mirror to alert her when it finds Charming?

If the Evil Queen can send and find things through her mirror (fireball in True North, sending Charming to the Infinite Forest) why hasn’t she been able to find Snow and do something to her previously?

Was Kathryn not going to law school anymore? Why is David going to the apartment and Kathryn isn’t?

How was Charming planning on finding Snow White before? Did he know where the dwarfs house was?

Why does Rumplestiltskin need to know how to sword fight? Can’t he just use magic to get what he wants? Or is it just for fun?

If Rumplestiltskin hadn’t made the true love potion and put it on the curse parchment, how would the curse been broken?

Is August dead or will he be a wooden man now that the curse is broken?

Why does Jefferson think Regina would keep the deal? Besides the fact that she can’t be trusted, he was right there when she said she was using all that was left of her magic. How did he expect her to be able to change the curse?

How does Jefferson know about Belle in the basement? Or the code to the basement? Or that Belle is Rumplestiltskin’s true love?

Why doesn’t anyone tell Emma she has to fight a dragon? Are they afraid she won’t do it if she knows? Seems she should be a little more prepared before fighting it.

How far did Emma have to travel to find Maleficent? She was under there for a long time. It was dark when she went down and light when she came out.

Why is Snow worried about King George? Didn’t they already secure his kingdom? Or did he escape when Snow came to rescue Charming?

Why did no one stop Regina from leaving the hospital? Mother Superior and Whale were right there, why didn’t they lock Regina in a room somewhere?

Like Emma asked, why didn’t they go back to the Enchanted Forest?

Observations:

The Infinite Forest where the Evil Queen sends Charming looks a lot like the same forest the Evil Queen sent Hansel and Gretel in 1x09 True North.

Emma passes Snow’s coffin, which the last time we saw it, was on the outskirts of town in 1x05 That Still Small Voice by the cave in.

That was pretty flimsy stained glass that Charming could just run through it so easily. He didn’t even get a scratch on him.

Well, know we know where Regina stashed Sidney. He’s down in the hospital basement psych ward.

Emma throws her sword at Maleficent the same exact way Charming threw his sword at the Evil Queen at their wedding (1x01 Pilot).

For some reason I noticed that Regina’s hair is at least 3-4 inches longer than it was last week.

And there we have it. The final episode of season one! Everyone has their memories back. Henry isn’t dead. Belle is out of the psych ward and back with Rumplestiltskin. Henry is Emma’s true love (aww to mother/son true loves). Regina better watch her back unless she gets her magic back. What is that curse cloud doing?

I will not be taking a break, so next week I’ll start on season two! Thank you for joining me for season one.

Please leave comments and reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future reviews.

@searchingwardrobes @thisonesatellite @justbecauseyoubelievesomething @laschatzi @profdanglaisstuff @mariakov81

#once upon a time #once upon a time review #once upon a time rewatch #once upon a time 1x22 #once upon a time a land without magic

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rememberingrivera · 5 years

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What’s in a name?

(Disclaimer - as a native English speaker with zero natural connection to Mexican culture, I welcome any additions, corrections, criticisms, or insights from those who are fortunate enough to be more educated or experienced than me!)

So, I was initially confused as to why Mama Imelda chose to keep Hector’s surname when all other hints of his existence were purged from memory. It seemed a bit out of character for her. Further questioning led me to wonder why Miguel, the son of a distinctly maternal line, is still proudly claimed as “a Rivera.”

Some quick research clued me in to the basics. Traditionally, children born in Mexico are given two surnames - the first is the family name of the father, and the second, the family name of the mother. Suddenly, “Miguel Rivera” makes much more sense to me. “Rivera” must have been Imelda’s family name. She keeps it because it belongs to her, not to Hector.

And this is where we enter headcanon territory.

Why, then, is Hector referred to as “Hector Rivera?”

Of course, it’s likely that there are Mexican naming traditions that I’m not aware of, or an in-universe explanation that I haven’t encountered. I am pretty new to this fandom, so any corrections, canonical or cultural, are welcomed!

But my favorite theory is that Hector is an orphan - he doesn’t have a family name. Or at least, he doesn’t know his.

Hector was born in a time when conception out of wedlock was the worst thing that could happen to a woman. And naturally, the same sexual double standards that have plagued women throughout history would have been in full-force during Porfirian-era Mexico. I won’t speculate on the details of Hector’s parentage. All he knows is that his mother was very young and heavily pregnant when she sought help from the local church. Nobody knew where she came from, and she refused to answer any questions. She died during childbirth, alone and scared. Her name was Maria.

Hector spent his early childhood in a crowded orphanage on the outskirts of Santa Cecilia. His memories of that place are vague, and he doesn’t like to talk about it, not even to Imelda. As soon as he’s old enough, Hector begins to spend as much time as possible away from that cursed place, and by the time he’s nine years old, Hector escapes altogether. He is officially a street kid.

(ask me later about Ernesto)

Marrying into the Rivera family would have been huge for Hector! (The story of Imelda’s family is one for another post). Not just because Hector is starry-eyed in love with Imelda - though that’s a big enough perk on its own! But for the first time in his life, Hector can claim a name. A place to belong. A family.

And so it’s a little funny and a little sad, how both of them cling so desperately to the name of Rivera.

Imelda because Rivera belongs solely to her. She can rip photos, silence voices, and stifle stories, but try as she might, she cannot erase the memory of Hector from the many sleepless nights or scrub the little quirks of his personality from her daughter.

So she claims what is hers. She proudly displays her family name above the little shop, the name of a woman. She builds her kingdom from the dirt up, and when Julio peeks hesitantly into the workshop to discuss his intentions with Coco, Imelda looks him hard in the eye and lays down her law. If Julio wants to marry her daughter, he will marry into her family. No more music. No more dancing. No other name. Julio will be a Rivera, through and through, because Coco is a Rivera, through and through.

And so the tradition continues.

And Hector. Hector embraces the name of Rivera just as fiercely as Imelda because in a way, it is also his. Maybe he wasn’t born into this family, but Imelda chose him. Wanted him. Named him. He clings to that name for 96 years in the same way that he clings to the memories of his precious daughter and the conviction of true, timeless love. It is all he has. To deny his name, Rivera, is to deny everything that he was, and is, and desperately hopes for his future.

#pixar coco #coco #hector rivera #imelda rivera #coco headcanon #coco 2017 #i seriously have so many headcanons #and it's hard not to dump them all into one massive post #ask box is open #or shoot me a message!#i am here to make friends #hector rivera protection squad

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andy-loves-corgis · 6 years

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Won’t Say Out Loud (Drake x MC)

Book: The Royal Romance 1

Rating: M (for language)

Word count: 1970

Notes: Hi everyone! I’m back with this fluffy (but kinda sad) piece based on the prompt by @drakewalkerrosenberg, I hope it lives up to your expectations! Feedback will be really appreciated.

This story is also my take on what happened at Applewood, and was briefly mentioned in Delicate.

Tag list: @agent-zephyrkah @mymandrake @mfackenthal @thewalkerway@silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty @thequeenchoices

“Stop!” someone shouted in the back of his dreams. “Get off me”

Drake tosses and turned in his sleep, the heat wave in Cordonia was making it impossible to sleep.

“Tariq let me GO!”

He woke up in shock, fighting with the realization that she was the one screaming, he busted through the door to see one of the most disgusting things of his life

Tariq had his hands all over her body while she tried in vain to push him. Something primal surged in his chest and all he could see was red.

“She said get off” he growled pulling him from the neck of his designer shirt.

He stumbled almost hitting the floor, brows furrowed as his eyes adjusted to notice the visitor.

“Ha! Look who’s here” Drake could see from where he stood that Tariq was highly drunk, the words being slurred from his scowl. “Isn’t it the Prince’s pet? Want to have a taste of the American whore too?”

Drake couldn’t even think before his fist met his nose, blood spilling on the floor. Tariq’s hand flew to his nose scowling even more.

“Your filthy scum, how dare you? Fighting for a foreign slut?” Breath was knocked out of his lungs right after, Drake tackled him to the ground hitting him in the jaw right after.

“Drake stop!” He heard her trembling voice, then he felt her small hands on his shoulder.

He let her pull him away, as a bloodied Tariq left limping and spitting fragments of his teeth. Drake kneeled for a second after he left, holding his right hand, it hurt a lot, last time he got into a fist fight he was a drunk college student in the US.

He heard a ragged breath a turned to see Riley holding her robe until her knuckles turned white, her whole body shivering as her stare was craved on the door.

“York” he whispered and her neck almost snapped turning her head to him.

For the brief time their eyes met he could see the damage from that altercation, a breath as caught in her throat, she fell to her knees sobbing.

He was there to catch her before her knees hit the ground.

“I n-nee-eed a-air” her shuddering got worse “c-c-ca-an’t s-sta-ay h-eere”

If Drake had stopped to think about what he was about to he probably wouldn’t have done it, the chances of them getting caught was so huge that they probably burned all their luck on the walk from her room to the driveway, her body tightly pressed on his as he carried her to his truck.

His heart was beating so fast, but he could only concentrate on the road, detach his mind from the sobs on the passenger’s seat.

After an hour his Silverado parked on the grass of what looked a lot like a farmhouse.

Not too far he could hear Bradley’s barks and a few crickets, other than that just light snores from Riley. He tried not to make too much noise as he walked through the dark house, the wooden floor lightly creaking below his feet.

Drake entered the first door on the right at the corridor, the room once belonged too Savannah, so there was a four-poster bed in the middle on the room, a small lamp on the nightstand that he was surely leaving on after laying her.

He was stopped when small hands held his white shirt.

“Stay” her voice was so weak he almost missed it “Please, I don’t wanna be alone”

He weighed on her words, if it wasn’t for the evening events he wouldn’t trust him so near her, he couldn’t let this crush evolve into something else.

But seeing her like that, so fragile, he couldn’t deny it. He laid on his side in front of her, as she tightly held his hand, her eyes heavy.

“Ne brini, dijete” his voice was above a whisper “sve će biti u redu”

He saw as her mouth tried to formulate a question, stopping midway as her breath evened.

On the next morning Drake woke up feeling like shit, he was stiff and needed nothing more than a morning swim. She was sound asleep so he thought it would be okay to let her alone for a couple of hours, his family house was the only safe place he ever knew.

The front door clapped closed behind him when he got back and he cursed, he was afraid to wake her up, after the events of last night she deserved to sleep.

Maybe after some coffee he would check on her. Drake made his way to the kitchen still drying his damp hair when the smell of bacon invaded his nostrils.

There she was humming in front of the stove, a plate of pancakes on the table. Her hair up on a loose bun, his chambray shirt on, a pink pajamas short showing on the bottom.

“Hey!” She turned to him smiling and his stomach sunk. That smile. “I made us breakfast”

He noticed when a blush crept on her neck and cheeks when she became conscious of his naked torso, looking down and clearing her throat right after. That kind of reaction made his insides burn. Drake was about to say something, anything so she would look back at him, but the sound of insatiable paws on the wooden floors startled them.

“Oh my GOD, you have a Staffy!” her voice was high pitched as his grey Staffordshire bull terrier, mostly known as Bradley, jumped on her legs, the dog was supposed to be a guard dog but come out as total fluff, his big jaws were wide open as Riley scratched his belly. “Who’s a very good dog, huh? Who’s mama’s boy?”

“You’re not my dog’s ‘momma’, Riley” Drake walked to the stove and shoved a bacon in his mouth as Riley glared at him.

“Isn’t your daddy so so grumpy?” she scratched Bradley’s ear and he huffed. “Your daddy is mean!”

“That’s enough!” Drake tried to contain his blush, he called Bradley and sent him to the yard. “So… you said breakfast?”

She finished putting the plates on the table as Drake threw a white shirt on, trying hard not to warm up to the normalcy of those interactions.

“Did you talk to anyone?” she tried to sound casual pouring orange juice on her glass, but he heard the edge on her voice.

“I scooped you out of Applewood in the middle of the night” he said matter-of-factly “Bastien called me this morning.

Her eyes fixated on his as fear and shame showed.

“I said you begged me to teach you ride Cordonian style for your next event” he calmed her down.

“Did he believe you?” she put a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Maxwell and Liam did, so you don’t have to worry” he stuffed another bacon in his mouth, for the first time it really bothered him to bring Liam’s name in a conversation with her.

Drake tried to concentrate on the tree leaves crisping under Brad’s paws in the yard, then he felt her smooth hands on his’, he slowly turned his head to her, blue eyes so warm toward him, as if they were stripping him bare.

“Thank you” she offered him a half smile squeezing his hands, and he couldn’t answer anything.

The warmth of her hand left his’, as she got up and started to collect the dishes.

“Hey!” he held her shoulder and she looked expectantly – for what, he didn’t know. “Go take a shower, I’ll take care of this. The room you slept last night was Savannah’s, you are pretty much the same size, you can borrow anything you want.”

Her eyes followed his hand as it slipped from her shoulder to her arm until he wasn’t touching her anymore, she just nodded and left the kitchen.

For a second Drake propped his weight on the sink before turning on the tap and start doing the dishes, he concentrated solely on the task, throwing himself on the couch, scrolling through his phone as he smelled vanilla and strawberry mixed in the steam flowing from the bathroom of Savannah’s room.

Riley gave him a smile, she was wearing jeans, hoodie and boots. Her hair was lazily blow dried, resulting in messy curls on her chocolate hair, he had never seen her look so beautiful, so real.

“Do you play?” she pointed to the dusty guitar on the corner of the room and she sank next do him on the couch.

“Only for myself” his phone beeped, a message from Liam, asking about her.

“Oh” she put on a teasing smile and cocked a brow up “Did you use to play for girls?”

“Yeah. Before puberty” he grinned at the way her eyes shot to his arms.

“Play for me, then” she bit her lips but couldn’t hide the smile.

He chuckled getting up from the couch as she looked expectantly from him to the guitar.

“We don’t have time for that” he moved towards the front door as she followed him outside with a puzzled look.

It was a perfect spring day, sun was shining in the sky, although for Riley it was still a little bit cold, so she relished on the sun’s warmth on her face. When she opened her eyes again Drake was back with a chestnut horse and a black and very imposing one. Riley’s mouth opened in shock.

“Are we REALLY ridding?” her eyes so big, like a child on Christmas eve.

“Yeah, these beauties were here to recovery, I think it’s about time the go for a ride” Drake said it like it was no big deal, but the shadow of a smiled appeared on his face as he saddled the horses.

“What are their names?” she asked as her hands ghosted over the chestnut’s snout.

“This big boy here” he patted the black horse “Is Orion, and this lovely girl is Peppermint”

“I like her already” Riley grinned fondling Peppermint’s mane.

Drake never admitted, but once they got to Cordonia from New York, he asked Bastien to let him read the file they had on Riley, one of the things he liked the most was that she had grew up on the countryside and loved horses. She wasn’t like the other nobles that only rode for the sport.

As if to illustrate his thoughts, Riley simply stepped on the stirrup and got up Peppermint.

“So, are you teaching me the Cordonian style?” she asked in a bored tone as he rode Orion.

“Nah. It’s not that important” he said guiding her to the open field.

She looked puzzled.

“What will you say to Maxwell and Liam when I can’t show off my skills?” she questioned.

“I will say you were a complete mess” he smirked, almost chuckling when she pouted.

“Well” she put on a determined look on her face holding the reins “I guess I’ll have to make you eat my dust the, Walker”

She started galloping, rising the earth from the ground obscuring Drake’s sight for a second. He wasn’t prepared for what he was about to see.

Riley was galloping with her arms open, the sun shining on her frame and her laugh echoing on the nature around her, the sweetest sound he had ever heard, he followed her speeding up with Orion and she turned her head to look at him, bright smile, skin glowing in the sun, those blue eyes engulfing him to feelings he judged unworthy, feelings he tried to hide, tried not to feel, feelings he neglected for years, but that crept inside him like forest fire, like the sunrise.

He was a damned man.

He was in love with her.

#trr #choices fanfiction #choices stories you play #choices trr #choices mc #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance fanfiction

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brattywriters-anonymous · 5 years

Text

A Rose in Harlem

Chapter two.

Oc x Erik story

Based on Teyana Taylor’s VII & KTSE

Warnings: Cursing, physical contact, feels!

Winter, 2013.

Syd cursed out as she felt the stinging pain of her broken and bloodied nail. Erik tried to grab her right arm, not even phased by the dark red bruise forming on his left cheek. Syd pulled her arm back and yelled, “Get off of me!” Erik pressed backward, throwing his hands up. Myles saw the disaster on Syd’s right index finger. “Oh, baby, That nail gotta come off!” He grabbed a fresh bottle of Dasani, poured the water on top of her finger. Diluted blood streamed down the concrete. “It hurts so bad! MM MM.” Syd shook her head over and over.

Erik approached her again, with napkins and a first aid kit. Before she could protest his presence, he grabbed her right hand, placing her index finger into the napkin. “Hey, Syeda. I am so sorry.” At first glance, she paid attention to his chest and the necklaces that were on display. He had a linked chain with a silver ring attached to it, and another smaller chain with the letter “N” on it. Then a sudden stinging sensation hit her injured finger. He put peroxide on it, to sterilize it. “That’s what you wanted to apologize for?” She yelped out in pain. She looked back up at his lips as they formed a wide smile. “Well, for that too. And for being too forward. I’m from Oakland baby, we state what we want. Closed mouths don’t get fed.” He wrapped her finger in the Band Aid, and kissed the uncovered part as he winked at her. She couldn’t deny what her body was doing in reaction to the care that he took for her in those few moments. In the December brisky yet-sunny weather, Syeda was feeling rather--hot. She briefly exhaled as he surrendered her hand.

After a successful meeting went completely south at the end, Syd retreated to her favorite local Coffee Shop. Harlem Coffee Co. She gotten Chai tea and a croissant. She needed to calm her nerves so after her 30 second encounter with “Erik” or whoever he is, “N!” She scoffed aloud before opening her macbook. She began to shuffle through photos that she took on her own, with a few models that were current students at her Alma mater, Columbia University, out to Highbridge for the official first shoot for UPTXWN. She wanted to represent not only Harlem, but all of uptown. Where it’s been, where it is, and where it’s going.So she did the first shoot on the High Bridge. She grabbed her Canon Rebel T5i that she bought herself for her birthday, and took some sunrise shots at 6 am on an early July morning. She really took the photos, and uploaded them to her laptop. She was too preoccupied with her showrunning position for fall fashion week that she didn’t even take the time out to edit them. They sat in her Macbook for over 5 months and it was about time that she started editing. Simultaneously, she was texting Myles informing him that the next shoots would be in Sugar Hill and Marcus Garvey Park and to blast the text and email out of a 10:00 am call time for the Following Wednesday and Thursday.

MYles🧡💁🏾‍♂️✨

Are you okay? I know you broke that nail pretty bad.

Yeah. 😩It hurts, but I’m good.

Alright. I’m sending the texts out now, emails will be out by tonight, l8r.✌🏾

Syd took a sip of her tea she saw a name pop up on her laptop, coming from a contact, “Sin”

Sin

Syd, it’s Yasin. The plumber. I know you said you’ll let me know if you’re free for a late lunch. You free now?

Syd read over each word then she saw three dots pop up at the bottom of the screen.

Sin

…

Turn around👀

Syd’s face turned into one of confusion. She made a 180 to see Yasin sitting on a table in the corner of the shop. She smiled as he motioned her over to him. She retrieved her belongings and walked over to the booth. “I was just about to ask you to meet me at my favorite coffee shop, and here you are. Girl, you must be an angel or somethin’.” Yasin drew across the table to her direction, he motioned out to her right hand and saw the Band Aid. “What happened Syd? You okay?” She brushed it off. “Yeah it’s fine, this guy was being a complete asshole so I socked his ass.” Yasin’s eyes fanned completely opened when she told him what happened. “Oh, so you fight guys out here?” He sat back in his chair. She reached out for his hand and honestly stated, “Only if I have to.” and smiled. Yasin side eyed Syeda, trying to get a read on her. She came off so mysterious. As old vinyl records of 90s and early 2000s music sprawled out on the living room area floor of her apartment ran across his mind, he grabbed her hand and asked, “So what you about, Syd?”

Yasin and Syd spent the next 3 hours discussing education, Islam, politics, and polyamory. Sin let Syd know that just because his mother allowed it and his father participated, doesn’t means that it was what he wanted out of life. “I’m 27 years old, it’s time that I find the right woman to build a family with. To live the life that Allah gifted to us.” Syd was about to be 25 her next birthday in two months. She let Sin know that even though she understood the overall benefit of having a 3 or more person income household, she wanted something that was exclusively hers. “I share my creativity with the world. I share my image to the world. I don’t want to share my love to the world too. I want something sacred.” Yasin nodded as he paused and took a look at his watch. “Oh shit. Ma, you lucky I got finished with all of my clients before I got here, I would’ve been late to all of em by now. It’s 6 pm.” Syd scanned over to the top right corner of her Macbook 6:30 pm. She’d only gotten half of the pictures done, so it looked like she was going to be pulling another all nighter. “Oh, I’m Sorry.” She started packing up her things and getting up. “I have to finish this anyway. So I’m gonna go back home.” Yasin stood with her and assisted her out of the booth. They walked out to a beautiful orange sunset, almost complete. Syd’s hair blew along with the wind again. As she swept the hair out of her face, Yasin reached his arms out and pulled her in slowly. “I had fun today Syd. To think, we met earlier this morning to you cussing me out.” Syd playfully nudge his shoulder. “Yeah, you were late. Which in turn, made me late for my business meeting.” “Let me make it up to you.” She tried to back away but his grip trumped her attempts. “How?” She raised an eyebrow. “Let me take you out tomorrow night. My homie is having a block party up Washington Heights. You wanna slide through?” Sin looked her in her eyes, she couldn’t evade his staring. Syd responded by slightly pecking him on the lips. “Sure.”

Syeda wrestled with her keys, finding the door key to let her into the building of 63 Morningside Avenue. She finally unlocked the hallway door, she sat at the bottom of the stairs to take off her extended high heels. She overheard Ziggy talking to Erik, “Yo I don’t know what you were thinking earlier, man. Syd don’t play.” She smiled when Zig made the infamous statement. She scurried up the steps and tried to silently unlock her door. CLINK! Her keys fell to the ground and all chatting stopped across the hall. The door opened. “Syd.” Her name sounded like honey coming from Erik’s lips. She slightly closed her eyes to it. She turned to face Apartment 2B. “N.” “N?” Erik was puzzled. She pointed at her own neck. “Your necklace.” He looked down and jumped. “Oh. Yeah. My father’s side of the family is from Africa. My African name is N’Jadaka. Zig is my cousin on my mom’s side.” he pointed over to 2B.

Syd looked stunned, shocked. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just figured you were lying about--” “About what? My name?” he chuckled. “Nah lil mama. Besides, I don’t think I could lie to you even if I wanted to.” She exhaled. It was light but still heavy enough for Erik to hear. She took a step backward into her apartment but as soon as she hit the closed door, she yelped. “OUCH!” She held her right hand with her left, dropping her heels. Erik immediately stepped in and grabbed her shoes. “Here, let me help you out.” He turned the key and opened the door. Syd turned the light on in the foyer area. “Thank you, N’Jadaka.” She repeated his name in a smooth manner that was pleasing to his ears. “You’re welcome, mooie bloem.” Syd perked up when she heard the familiar dutch nickname that Mr. V gave her. “Yeah, when you bumped into me, I stood by the stairwell..in shock I guess.” He laughed and continued, “I heard him call you beautiful flower in his language. I’m intrigued. Why?” Syd closed the door behind her and locked it, figuring that he was staying for a while, because he walked further into the studio, by her couch.

She placed her keys on the hanger beside the door, shimmied her bubble coat off, placing it on a misplaced dining room chair. “My middle name. It’s Mariposa. The cuban national flower. My mom was Cuban and African American. Afro latina. She was born in Cuba. Her and her family moved to Philadelphia when she was 8. Her father converted to Islam, her and the rest of the family soon followed. She met my dad, He’s also Afro Latino. They had me, Syeda Mariposa Diaz.”

Erik marveled at her story, appreciated that she knew her ancestry. “You have a beautiful name. So your mom honored her Cuban background and gave you an Islamic name?” He finally took a seat, awaiting her response. She nodded and sat next to him, “Yup. That was the idea.” He reached for her right hand, “May I?” She hesitated, then gave in, “Don’t break any of my other nails! They charge for fixing broken nails!” Syd looked Erik in his eyes, smiling. He grasped her hand and kissed it with the same tenderness as he did earlier and finally spoke, “Never.” She blinked a couple times to get herself out of the trance she found herself in after his lips left her hand, she actually had to look away from him as he removed the Band Aid from her finger.

“I heard your right hand man, he said you have to remove the nail. You haven’t done that yet.” He held her finger closer to her overhead lamp so he could further investigate. “Hell no! It hurts. I was going to go to the nail shop to get it removed.” “For what? So they can charge you for something you could’ve done? Nah. I gotchu.” He quickly stepped out of her studio. She shot up and began to panic a bit.

Oh my gosh! Syd, what are you doing?! You just letting this man take care of you like some damsel… Even though he is the reason why you’re hurt.---He Looks so damn GOOD though. Damn. He can’t be in here for too long!

Syd attempted to press the power button on her phone but it didn’t turn on. Signaling that it died. “Shit.” She mumbled. She shuffled around the back end of the studio where her bed and nightstand were. She reached over the opposite side of her bed, closest to her window, for her charger. She heard a laugh and turned over in fear. “Damn. My apologies Syd. It’s just me. I needed my first aid kit. You got tweezers right?” She pulled herself off of her queen sized mattress and retrieved her manicure kit from her bathroom. “In here.”

“AHHHH!” Syd exclaimed as Erik used the tweezers to pull the remaining acrylic off of Syd’s bleeding finger. “There. The bleeding should definitely stop after this.” He sprayed the alcohol on a cotton swab and patted on her nail bed. She squealed in shock as he wrapped a new Band Aid on her patched up digit. She took her hand back, relieved that the pain is subsiding. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” “You’re welcome. No sweat. I was in the Navy. I helped out injured people all the time. I’m used to it.” Erik spat out as he returned the manicure kit back in the bathroom, washing his hands. Once he dried them he clapped them together, and cut the light off. “Okay beautiful. Don’t go slapping other niggas upside the head. I gotta bounce.” Syd followed his trail to her front door, “Bye Erik. Thank you again.”

🌹

#erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger imagine #erik kilmonger imagines #erik killmonger #black panther fanfiction #erik stevens #n'jadaka #black panther imagine #black panther imagines #fanfic #arih #black panther au

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eveninglottie · 6 years

Note

CAMELLIA + WANDA/VISION MAKE ME CRY!!!

fading, blazing | Wanda x Vision, for the prompt “my destiny is in your hands” | mood music

[A direct continuation of where Civil War ends, no spoilers for Infinity War. @unseeliequeens made me do this and I hate her just a little bit.]

The Raft reminded Wanda of Sokovia.

Not the little apartment she shared with her mama and papa before they were killed by Stark’s bombs, or the many alleys and abandoned buildings she’d hidden in with Pietro before their anger grew into a double-edged knife and they went looking for vengeance.

It reminded her of Strucker’s compound.

It reminded her of the claustrophobia, of the gnawing, crawling energy pulsing under her skin when her true power had been unlocked by that damned stone. Of how trapped she had felt under the earth, under millions of pounds of concrete and steel, of how the electric hum of security had wrapped around her like a vice. Keeping her tame. Keeping her caged.

Of the knowledge that she could tear it all down whenever she wanted, if she wanted.

Even in the middle of the ocean, with miles and miles of nothing around her, she fought that impulse to thread herself into the very fabric of the world, and push.

The steady roar of water did nothing to lull her to sleep. A fitting punishment, for a woman who could sew nightmares into the minds of those around her, to be denied more than a few hours rest at a time. The constant stream of low-frequency humming in her ears disrupted her power, making it harder to concentrate, to feel where the universe held itself together—static. It wasn’t enough to stop her, if she decided she was done with playing the prisoner. She’d started to wonder if there was anything that could stop her.

But with the memory of Vision’s warning in her mind, and the screams of those people she had killed on accident (the fire still flickering over her skin as she felt them die, felt them in her own damn mind as if she herself were being wiped off the face of the earth by a girl who thought she could play god), she let herself believe the lie. That she was someone who could be held by steel and force. She let herself go numb with static.

Not like their old television set when the cable had been knocked out in a bad storm, or if her papa had been unable to make enough money to pay the bill that month. She had spent hours running her fingers over the glass surface, giggling as her hair rose on the back of her neck and over her arms, as her teeth prickled with lightning, as her eyelids grew thick and heavy with the shock flickering over her lashes. As she had revelled in the connection. Felt dwarfed by something bigger than her flesh could comprehend.

Held in another cell with her straight jacket binding her twitching fingers tight across her back, Wanda felt nothing but mute humor at how cyclical her life had become. So many cells, all with different facades. Some were nice with soft beds and wide windows. Some were cold. Some hurt. All she should have seen coming.

A fist pounded against the glass. She jumped, looked up to find one of her guards glaring at her, mouthing something. She frowned, focusing past the hum of her cage, and caught the end of his warning.

“—that grin off your face, witch.”

It took her a moment to feel the strange tilt of her lips, the smile pulling at the edge of her mouth. She had remembered Pietro’s first few days out of Strucker’s control, when he hadn’t been able to stop drumming his fingers on everything. He’d been jumpier than a cricket at dusk, buzzing, jumping, moving so much and so fast that she’d yelled at him more than once for smashing everything not nailed down in their seedy motel rooms.

Wanda blinked, and her smile faded. She stared into the hate-filled eyes of the guard watching her through a foot-thick pane of reinforced glass, watched another guard pull him back with alarm, her eyes darting back and forth, as if she couldn’t bear to let Wanda out of her sight for one moment.

Vision had been right.

She was a monster in their eyes.

Her jaw clenched, and she looked down at the floor. Her own eyes didn’t burn. She was out of tears. The water in her heart had long since turned into ice and sparks and shattered glass.

She couldn’t control their fear. Not while they were awake. Not without delving into the very fabric of their minds and pushing on that which they hid even from themselves. Playing with them. Torturing them. Being exactly what they feared her to be.

But she wanted to. Merciful God forgive her, but she wanted to.

It had to be better than taking it on all herself.

After the eighth day, she stopped counting.

Meals bled one into the next, her sight rippling at the edges like the white pendants outside the chapel on the hill overlooking a small Sokovian town where she and Pietro had stolen a car on their second day of freedom. She couldn’t even remember its name now.

She had waited for Pietro to meet her with food (she had always been better at hot-wiring cars, she had always known, even before her mind had been warped by infinity, how to unwind and reconnect, how to pull apart the fabric of the world and reassemble it to her will), staring up at that little chapel, feeling the places where its white stucco had begun to peel and chip, the small gilded alcove where Mary had rested in a shelter with her newborn son. Waited, and felt like the world had shifted when she wasn’t looking. Like she had truly grown smaller, and the air had awoken, and all that she thought she’d known had been swallowed in one, ultimate, overwhelming truth—that she was not meant for little chapels and white flags. Not anymore. Shelter was for little girls who got crushed by buildings, not witches who dreamed of the endless chaos of the cosmos. Who walked circles around black holes and pondered the nature of the space between synapses where a person hid their deepest fears.

Who killed, without meaning to. Who shattered the buildings herself, rather than run from them.

It had been easier back then, to see the same truth in Pietro’s eyes. To hold onto him as the universe spiralled around her, knowing that he remembered who she had been before. As if that mattered now.

The low current in her brain made it hard to remember anything but the dull roar of the ocean and the tightness wrapped around her chest. It stripped everything else away, made her into little more than an exposed nerve, prodded and poked to make sure she never forgot who she was, and who she could never again be.

The light in her cell brightened, and she shied away. It was too hot, too searing, the buzz of her straight jacket increasing in pitch until it was all she could do not to scream. Voices whipped past her as hands closed around the back of her neck, hauled her up from the floor. Someone was shouting her name—Clint? Sam?

The rain hit her like a slap, and she stumbled, hitting the metal grate under her feet. It shocked her back to herself for one blessed, lovely moment. Power crackled over her skin, beautiful red energy rose up over her eyes—and then something else dragged her under. Something mundane. Something familiar. A prick in her neck. A drug to dull her senses. Strucker had used something similar when he wanted to test her power in a controlled environment.

It made sense that Ross would do the same.

As if conjured from the fog of her mind, his face appeared before her, grimacing in the grey rain. Behind him roiled storm clouds, and the choppy ocean stretched on into the horizon.

“Congratulations, Maximoff,” he said, his voice grating as she fought to stay awake. “You’ve been upgraded.”

By some strange surge of loathing, she spat in his face, and in the tongue of her mother country, she choked, “Bathe in your own shit, pig.”

Ross stumbled back, cursing as he waved her away.

As she was dragged on wooden legs into a helicopter, she felt herself grin her brother’s best grin, the one that always made their mama shriek in frustration and her papa hide his smile.

Careful, Wanda, Pietro’s voice whispered to her from across the cosmos, from that little node of matter inside her heart that still belonged to him, and would always belong to him, or people are going to start thinking you’ve got a sense of humor.

Wanda awoke to screaming.

It took her a moment to realize the noise was not coming from her own mind, that she was not reliving the horror of throwing a bomb into a building and watching human ash drift down around her like snow.

No, the people around her were screaming—people in uniforms, wearing the red, white, and blue of American brutality on their arms. The world tilted to the side. Her head slammed against something hard. Pain flared in her mouth, and then blood coated her tongue.

And then, like the first breath of fresh air in weeks, she felt him.

The inside of the helicopter went soft with a lovely amber glow. The shadows parted, pulled back like a veil of silk. The shouting dimmed. Time seemed to stand still as Vision drifted up through the metal frame. His eyes spun in concentric blue circles, pupils dilating, as they always did, when they found her. The shuddering wrench of the helicopter went still though the storm outside continued to rage. She felt him directing its path, holding it steady, even as he dodged punches and tasers and people who thought they might be able to stop him.

He only had eyes for her.

Once, she had thought she might love those eyes.

Now, she felt…conflicted.

He glided toward her, snapping the tethers on her straight jacket with a flick of his fingers. She thought she saw something like anger flash behind those whirring irises, but it was gone again just as fast. Like a window shade drawn at the first sign of sunlight. Serenity descended over his expression, and she closed her eyes to it.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice low and resonating in the back of her mind, as if the stone in his forehead were able to reach into the heart of her. “I have you.”

His arms came around her as he picked her up effortlessly off the floor of the helicopter. She huddled into him out of instinct, the little girl inside her still seeking that fleeting shelter, and murmured, “These people—”

“Will be fine,” he finished, the sound of metal tearing over her head, the rain pounding on the helicopter’s shell. “They are close to shore. They will make their landing.”

As he whisked her off into the storm, she didn’t correct his assumption that she was worried about their safety. He still thought she was something worth saving. Something these people mistakenly feared.

She would not tell him that she wanted to break their helicopter, rip it into shreds of metal, and damn them all to the ocean’s depths.

Not yet.

They flew long enough for Wanda to get her bearings. Long enough for her to remind herself that this warm embrace was a lie, and that she was not safe. She was not home. She had no home. Not in Stark’s tower. Not in Vision’s arms. Not since Pietro’s death. And, if she were being honest, not since the bombs had shattered her world when she was only ten.

“Put me down,” she whispered over the cold winds. She realized with a frown that she did not feel the chill. That he must be protecting her from the worst of it, somehow.

“Wanda—”

“Now, Vision.”

He drifted down at once, the clouds parting to reveal a sprawling city with ambling alleys and old-fashioned buildings made of brick and stone, not metal, and set her on a park bench. The anonymous street was empty, the lights reflecting off puddles in the creasing of its cobbles. She tried to stand, but her legs shook, needles of pain pricking at the bottom of her feet. She was still wearing the American army’s damn prison scrubs.

“You need to rest.”

She looked at Vision, haloed in the street lamp, his face in shadow but for the amber bead in his forehead. It made his eyes look black, and lifeless.

“I need to get something to eat.”

A moment’s pause. “Ah. Of course. I will find you—”

“Nothing. You will find me nothing.” She took a deep breath, adjusting to the silence in her mind. After so long sitting in static, the night felt alarming empty. But her limbs thrummed with energy, and her fingers twitched with chaos. Soon, she would relish this momentary calm. “Where am I?”

“Edinburgh.”

She blinked, startled. “Scotland? You flew me to Scotland?”

“The prison Secretary Ross held you in was located in the Northern Atlantic Ocean.” Another pause, this one more jarring than the last. Something quaked in his voice. Something she hadn’t heard before. “I believe he intended to transport you to a facility in Switzerland. Mr. Stark’s records indicate that there was once a SHIELD base in the mountains there. One where he might—”

Wanda laughed, only to devolve into a cough at once. She felt Vision approach, and held up her hand. Red threads of energy danced over her fingers as she struggled to control herself. “Ross wanted to pick me apart, I bet. Hydra knew more about human genetics than they ever let SHIELD figure out. Probably wants to try and replicate this,” she waved her hand, watching the light dance through the darkness, “for his soldiers.”

When Vision spoke, his voice was soft, almost—frayed at the edges. “It is more likely he intended to neutralize you.”

She waited for the truth to sink in, for her fear to rise up and overtake her.

But it didn’t. Instead she welcomed it like an old friend taking its place at her dusty dinner table—with a reprimand for bad behavior, and acceptance.

“That makes more sense.” She grimaced as she looked up and down the alley, trying to determine how late it was, and where she might be able to steal some clothes.

“Does that not—startle you?”

It was so rare to hear him stumble over his words, always so precise, like a fondly-wound wrist watch whose caretaker never wavered in their maintenance, that she turned back to him. His cape billowed slightly around his legs, his body still and unmoving. No energy misplaced or wasted, no errant twitch of human weakness. He was enduring. Immobile. Fixed.

Born of the same slice of the infinite, and yet so vastly different it was laughable. He was order. She chaos.

It was no wonder she wanted to burst apart when he looked at her.

“Are you asking me if I’m afraid to die, Vision?”

His head didn’t move, but she swore she felt something tug at the back of her mind—the place where she imagined his amber stone had lodged itself into her irrevocably.

“The thought would distress most humans.”

“As I distress most humans, perhaps I’m immune to its effects.” She bit off anything more, her words swarming and tangling up together, making it hard to think. She wanted to thank him, to scream at him, to beg him to take her back to that tower where she had pretended to be normal. Where he had been kind, and attentive, and did not look upon her with fear in his eyes. Where she had wondered if her life had not ended the day she lost the other half of her heart to a flurry of bullets in a war they should not have been fighting.

But if she said anything, she would say everything, and he didn’t deserve that. In his incomprehensible mind, he believed he had been right to stop her, to detain her, to fight against her.

After all, she had struck first. She would always strike first.

“Are the others all right?” she asked instead. “Clint, Sam…the other one?”

“I believe there was a mass break out from the Raft a few hours after you were taken.”

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Good.”

He stepped forward in a movement almost—desperate, hands lifting as if to take her in his arms again.

Only to close around the air when she jerked back.

“It does not have to be this way, Wanda,” he murmured, the threads of his voice unraveling even more. “You can return to Stark tower. You can come home. With me.”

The last pricked into her chest, welling up some half-imagined dream she’d once held for herself, a dream of a man borne of metal and magic, a man who resonated in the deep marrow of her bones. A man who understood her. And did not fear her. A man whose heart she had felt even in the moments before his uncanny birth, whose heart she had loved.

But there was no home for her there. There never had been.

“No, Vision,” she said harshly. “I won’t go back. You said yourself that they would never be able to accept me. Why should I inflict myself upon them? Do you think I enjoy seeing their hatred? Seeing them flinch when they see me so much as lift my hands? Do you think I want that?”

He gave her no answer, and his hands dropped slowly to his sides. Still he watched her, the depths of his eyes more black than she had ever seen them. It made no sense. She could feel him, like another sense, like an extension of her own body. She had wondered, once, if he felt her too.

She’d been too much of a coward to ask before, and she was too hurt to ask now.

“Why did you save me?”

Why then. Why now. Would he, again, even after she pushed him away.

His head turned ever so slightly to the side, as if he were listening to something she could not hear. “I…” he hesitated, lips open on an unvoiced thought, “I lost control.”

Anger surged up finally to replace her conflict. “I see.” She took another step away from him. One more. She could keep going. “Perhaps I should remove the distraction for you. So you can go back to Stark with your mind clear. I’m sure he misses you more than I ever will.”

Her thin shoes grew damp at once. Mist soaked through her thin shirt. She wrapped her arms around her chest, held tight, as if to convince herself that she needed no one else’s embrace. That she could live on her own.

“Wanda, wait.”

She stopped without thought and cursed under her breath. Keep going. One more step. “Let me go, Vision.”

“I didn’t mean—I don’t want…”

Turning around, she found him where she’d left him, but this time the light washed over his face. Skin glistening slightly with moisture, richly purple under the faint electric bulb, he looked—frightened. Eyes wide and blue and staring at her as if she were the only thing he could see.

She moistened her lips, trying to fight the conflicting urge in her chest to go back to him, to let him help her, to let him keep her safe. To let him try, at least. “What do you want?”

Again, his head tilted, listening to something she could not hear. Could he hear her heavy heart? Could he hear the twitch in her fingers? The urge to touch him? To never stop touching him because he was the only thing her new body of chaos seemed to understand?

“I don’t know.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Tasted the dried blood on her lips. “I guess that’s one more thing we share, then.”

Wanda tore her eyes from the desperation writ plain in the vibranium lines of his face, and walked into the dark night. Alone, truly alone, for the first time in her life.

And when the fear finally came, she was ready.

#wanda x vision #scarlet vision #scarlet witch #vision #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #wanda maximoff #oh god i have no idea how to tag new fandoms #unseeliequeens

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jeichanhaka · 6 years

Text

The Star-Crossed: Ch. 03

Chapter 01 || Chapter 02 || Chapter 03 || Chapter 04 ||

Chapter 03: Fortune Accursed

Belle smiled down at her son cradled in her arms while she fed him. It was so amazing, this moment, holding her son in her arms and finally feeling that her happy ending was real. That nothing would get in the way. It’d been nearly a year since the Black Fairy’s defeat and Storybrooke was finally experiencing a long needed peace from threat after threat. Her husband had even stopped using his dark magic in a real attempt at changing.

“...I’m glad I didn’t give up on your father.” She whispered and kissed her son’s head, thinking about all she’d been through over the years. Though she had experienced more pain from Rumple than most would consider worth it, and had thus pulled away from him more than a few times, she was happy now. Her relationship with Rumple may not have been a typical or ideal romance, but she couldn’t help loving him.

“I’m glad for that too.” Rumplestiltskin said, watching Belle from across the room, his gaze loving and amazed.

“Rumple!” Belle turned towards her husband, surprised. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she thought about how disheveled she must look. Gideon had been extremely fussy since the morning, so Belle hadn’t bothered fixing herself up. “How long have you been there watching me?"

Rumple simply smiled in answer, and instead continued to stare at his wife, his eyes filled with fascination. "....you're beautiful."

Belle blushed deeper at the compliment, though with a smile on her lips. "Rumple...."

"I mean it. You're always beautiful." Rumple repeated and approached his wife, kissing her cheek once he was close enough. He chuckled slightly when Belle playfully pouted at the chaste kiss, her eyes and how she tilted her head showing what she wanted. Beaming, he kissed her again, this time on the lips. "....I love you."

Before Belle could respond, Gideon started fidgeting and burbling, his tiny hands reaching out for his mama and papa.

"Hey, little guy." Rumple smiled down at his son. "You're being good for your mom, right? It...." He froze suddenly, a peculiar expression crossing his face.

"Rumple? What is it?" Belle noticed the sudden shift in her husband's demeanor and became alarmed, her eyes widening. "What's...?"

"I...I need to go check something back at the shop." Rumple replied, his tone curt - a drastic shift from just moments ago.

"Rumple?" Belle frowned as her husband mumbled a reassurance that things were fine.

The scent of pine filled the air as a cool breeze squeezed through the forest. Her eyes followed the sway of the branches, the deep green pine needles shined brilliantly beneath the bright sun. Their movements like waves, it was easy to imagine the entire forest seeming like an endless green ocean. Especially amid the approaching winter.

"An ocean green amid a snowless winter." A young woman muttered, surveying her surroundings. No snow had yet fallen, but the skies overhead were almost leaden. "It'll come down soon. I need to hurry."

She started to hurry, but stopped, her vision blurring. Her stomach gurgled and filled with nausea, every inch of her body suddenly exhausted. Pulling her travel cloak tighter around her, she stumbled over to a small boulder and sat. The cool breeze felt like nothing compared to the nausea bubbling in her stomach.

"What is wrong with me? I've barely even eaten today." She rubbed her abdomen, mulling over how much longer her journey was.

"What is wrong with you indeed."

Her eyes widened, her body tensing at the haughty, menacing voice, and the woman it belonged to.

Deidre shivered sitting silently in a chair, her eyes closed. It had barely taken a second after sitting down for her to zonk out - the result of driving nonstop for close to thirty-four hours. It didn't help that her adrenaline from earlier had worn off or that she felt strangely safe in this town.

"....got to be kidding. She comes here for help and then just falls asleep?" Regina grumbled, shaking her head.

"She did mention something about being up driving for over thirty-two hours."

"Thirty...? No wonder she crashed her car. She’s lucky she wasn’t hurt.” Regina remarked, crossing her arms.

“Interesting you should say that.” Emma said, mulling over what Deidre had explained about her curse. Upon first hearing Deidre recount all the times in her life she’d escaped tragedy or been very fortunate, Emma and David had both wondered how it could be a curse. What was so unlucky about being so favored by fortune?

Then Deidre started talking about the people around her, about the effect her luck had on theirs. Just small things at first, like misplaced items or wrong turns - those sort of random things that could be attributed to simple bad luck or timing. But one day she had a near-miss collision with a drunk-driver, resulting in the driver’s death as well as serious injuries to another pedestrian. A small child. Since that day, her luck steadily increased, but so had the misfortune of whoever was around her.

Culminating in the death of her fiance, Allan, in a car crash just a few weeks ago. She had escaped unscathed, while he and the people in the other vehicle perished or were horrendously maimed. Furthermore, she had been awarded settlements from the car manufacturer and insurance company of much greater amount than the other survivors. Worse, when she had tried offering to pay the hospital bills, etc, of the two survivors, both suddenly worsened and died.

-“Their family was terrified of me after that. Refused any effort on my part to help, even a simple apology. And Allan’s mother’s response was even worse.” Deidre teared up, her lips and voice trembling. “...she called me a cursed demon. And I am...I killed her son. If he hadn’t been in the car with me, if he’d never met me….he’d….”-

Emma teared up just remembering Deidre’s hopeless and distraught tone; the tale was so painful and unbelievable, yet each word was true. Her superpower of detecting lies had not once acted up while the other woman told her story.

“What is it? Emma…?”

“Is it possible for someone to be cursed by good fortune?” Emma blurted, unsure whether to hope Deidre’s luck was just cruel fate or an actual curse. “Where every time something lucky happens to them, someone around them gets hurt? Or even dies?”

Regina gawked at the younger woman, her eyebrows risen in bewilderment. Her first reaction was to deny the possibility - given how curses generally were used, it was unlikely anyone would cast one like Emma described. Upon seeing the earnestness in Emma’s eyes, Regina bit her tongue, and instead thought on it.

“It sounds more like a wish backfiring than an actual curse.”

“A wish? Like from a genie?”

“Maybe.” Regina deliberated, noting how Emma kept glancing at the slumbering stranger. It didn’t take much effort to deduce who the blonde meant. Regina scoffed. “She told you she was cursed with good luck?”

“Not exactly.” Emma replied and started describing some of what Deidre had mentioned happening. When she got to the part about Deidre’s offer to help leading to the survivors’ deaths, Regina interrupted.

“That doesn’t sound like a genie-granted wish backfiring. Or...well, it doesn’t sound like any normal wish backfiring.” Regina grimaced, thinking over all she knew about magic.

“What could it be then? Because Deidre wasn’t lying when she told me about her...luck.”

“I don’t know, exactly. Maybe someone added a curse to a wish. But that wouldn’t explain why the ill-fortune started late, or why her luck changed.” Regina stopped Emma with a look and gesture when the latter started to interrupt. “It did. From what you described, her luck was minor and then grew. If a curse was cast at the same time as the wish, I’d think it’d follow her with the same severity the whole time, increasing only if she tried tempting fate.”

“‘You think’? Is that an opinion or fact?”

Regina glowered at Emma. “It’s the best I got. You want more, talk to someone more knowledgeable about curses than I am.”

“...Gold.”

Regina nodded.

Emma sighed, pressing her lips together and giving a reluctant smile. Not because she was afraid of asking the man for information, seeing as he had gotten less anal about demanding a price for his help ever since the final battle, but rather because involving him could possibly send him back to using dark magic. It’d been almost a year since Rumplestiltskin used his dagger, which was not only a boon for Storybrooke, but also and especially for Belle.

If any one was overdue for and deserving of a happy ending it was Belle.

“Why that look? Gold really seems to be trying to change this time. It’s been nearly a year since he used dark magic.”

“I know. But there also haven’t been any magical threats for the past year either.”

“What threat? It’s tragic, what you described of Deidre’s luck curse, but hardly a threat while she’s in Storybrooke. It’d been worse if she stayed out there, where there’s no magic.” Regina countered, pausing only after noting the look on Emma’s face. It was a mix of dread and knowing. “What is it? What aren’t you saying?”

“There is a threat. There was someone else with Deidre when Dad and I checked the townline - a man. A man with magic, who attacked me and teleported himself away after I tried healing him. I….” Emma hesitated. “I didn’t manage to get a good look at him, his face was all bloody and scarred, but he felt dangerous...and uncannily familiar.”

The scarred-faced man’s lips spread out into a thin smile, his eyes cold and secretive. Not making a sound, he waved his hand over his face, clearing the blood and smoothing out the scars. It’d been a gamble, his plan to enter Storybrooke, and for a brief moment he thought he’d failed or that fate may have conspired against him yet again. The moment he felt his magic return to him, although very muted, made him want to cackle and grin. He’d managed to refrain from doing so, while also slipping away from the savior’s grasp.

But now, standing in the small shop filled with magical artifacts, the most essential of which he held in his hands, Wish-Rumple chortled. “...I just have one thing to deal with, then my plan can start, hee hee.”

He glanced up at the the clanging bell of the shop door, his lips twitching.

“...speak of the devil….” He mumbled, turning around so that the one approaching would recognize him upon entrance. ‘Oh, this is going to be fun. Hee, hee.’

#wish!rumple #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfiction #once upon a midnight #oc #fanfiction #ouat #ouat fanfiction #Rumplestiltskin #belle

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