#and there's no trace of animosity or anger or sadness or anything. there is no war in ba sing se etc. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tropes-and-tales-archives · 5 months

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Sonny Carisi: Second Chances, Part Two

WC: 2107

TW: Angst; break-ups; goofy good fun.

AN: This is part of a mini-series. The rest can be found here.

You only saw Nick one last time, when he came into the precinct to empty his desk and his locker. You made yourself unavailable to talk, calling down to the lab and remaining on hold for long time that would normally infuriate you. Nick lingered around your desk for a bit, but you only shrugged and mouthed “oh hold.” You didn’t want to hear his empty words, and he eventually left. Once he did, you hung up your phone, and when you looked around the bullpen, you noticed Sonny watching you.

“Everything okay?” he asked, and you nodded and shrugged at the same time, as if to say, whatever.

Nick only tried to call you once after that, and you let the call go to voicemail. He left a message, but you never heard it. You just deleted it and tried to forget about him.

-----

You had a minor in psychology, so you were well acquainted with the stages of grief and all the theories about grieving. You mainly bounced between anger and denial, skipping the bargaining stage altogether. You didn’t pray and barely believed in god at all, seeing what you saw every day at work. If there was a higher power, you weren’t going to waste your breath on bargaining for someone like Nick Amaro. If anything, you’d send a prayer for Maria: you had zero animosity for the woman, and you hoped she would be able to find happiness, considering how she was tethered to Nick for at least as long as Zara was a minor.

You cleaned your apartment from top to bottom with the dedication of a career criminal erasing evidence. You wanted every microscopic trace of Nick out of your life. You gathered up everything he left behind: a t-shirt, a baseball cap, half a stick of deodorant, and a paperback thriller with its spine cracked and broken. You tossed everything except the book – you shoved that in a tiny library outside a bodega near your house.

You spent time at the NYPD gym, you poured yourself into you work, and you made sure that you were completely exhausted by the end of each day so that you could sleep without dreams. But you still dreamed sometimes.

You grieved and raged in your own way, but you kept it private. You took a great deal of pride in your ability to stay professional at work – you never cried, you never yelled or lost your temper. You were a steady, even-keeled presence in a precinct full of passion and strong personalities.

For the most part, none of your coworkers even remarked about Nick leaving. They knew you’d dated, but aside from a few sympathetic glances in the beginning, they left you alone.

Except for Sonny.

You caught him, more than once, watching you from across the bullpen. You begrudgingly admitted that he was handsome, especially once he lost that awful mustache he had in the beginning, and you readily admitted that he was a good detective.

He watched you, but you couldn’t read the expression on his face when you caught him. He didn’t have his usual hang-dog look like when a particularly sad case came through. He didn’t look angry. You couldn’t quite place it, but if you stared back at him too long, his ears would turn an amusing shade of pink and he’d duck his head.

You were a great detective, but every detective had blind spots. Years later, you’d laugh and tell people that the evidence – solid stuff, not circumstantial – had been right in front of you, but you had missed it anyway. But that was years away, and right now, you were nursing a wounded heart and an even more wounded ego.

So when Sonny stared at you with his big blue eyes, when he placed a cup of coffee on your desk without a comment, when he offered you the first pick of cannoli from the box he brought in, you just shrugged and thought, “Sonny is just being Sonny.”

-----

The day had started terribly, and you would have just stayed home and rode it out from the safety of your couch. You had to testify early though, so you had to try and deal with the stuff the universe was throwing at you.

First, when you sorted through your mail from the previous few days, you found a few errant pieces belonging to Nick that had somehow slipped through the post office’s forwarding system. Junk mail, mostly, but one glossy card from a national jewelry chain caught your eye. On the front, a picture of a happy, perfect couple. The man on one knee, the woman caught in happy surprise. The back of the card listed some new diamond line promising “an engagement ring as brilliant as her!”

You tore it into a million pieces, slicing a particularly nasty papercut along the crease of your thumb that burned every time you flexed your hand.

Second, the NYPD gym was closed – water main issues – so you didn’t get your usual cardio relief before dawn.

Third, traffic was a nightmare.

Fourth, you were in your courtroom suit, which was sharp and stylish, which meant it wasn’t comfortable like your usual work outfits.

You were just irritated, and every little thing was piling up. You took a deep breath and poured yourself a cup of coffee in the SVU breakroom, willing yourself to calm down. You couldn’t take the stand so angry – Barba was good, but he couldn’t fix a detective that came across as irate and hostile.

You added an obscene amount of sugar to your coffee, then turned away from the counter to return to your desk. Instead, you turned smack into Sonny, who had crept up on you like some slender Italian-American ghost without a sound.

You yelped as your coffee exploded against you, searing your hand. You jumped backwards, cracking your hip against the counter and yelped again at the bolt of pain that radiated down your leg and up your waist.

“Sorry!” Sonny said. He held his hands out to help but didn’t know what to do so he just kept them out in supplication.

You shook droplets of cooling coffee from your hand and then looked down your front. Your suit jacket and pants were mostly unscathed, but your snowy white blouse had a massive stain on it. You glanced at the clock on the wall; you didn’t have time to go home and change, but it didn’t matter anyway – your dry cleaning hadn’t been picked up in weeks, and you didn’t have any other suitable shirt at home.

You gritted your teeth. “Great. Perfect. Nice.” You crumpled the mostly empty paper cup in your hand and threw it into the garbage. “Fuck this.”

“Sorry,” Sonny repeated, and you saw how aghast he looked. He reached past you and grabbed a handful of napkins, then made as if to daub at your chest, then blushed, then handed them to you instead. You took them and tossed them into the garbage too.

“I have to fucking testify in less than an hour,” you told him.

“Sorry,” he said a third time.

You shook your head and sighed. “Are you a ninja, Carisi? You purposely creep up on me to scare me?” You glanced up at him and saw the distress in his face, so you sighed again. “It’s okay. It happens. It’s just been one of those days, and it’s not even eight yet.”

“Do you have a spare shirt?” he asked, sheepish. He ran his hand over the back of his neck nervously.

You shook your head. “My dry cleaner has all my stuff. I’m a chronic drop-off that never picks up. Besides, with traffic, I’d never make it home and back in time.”

“Can Barba move you to later in the day?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head again. “I’m the last witness he had to call.” You gave a bitter laugh. “Save the best for laugh, I guess. Nothing says ‘professional’ like a giant coffee stain.”

His face lit up. “Maybe not. Come on,” he said, and he motioned for you to follow him to the locker room. He spun the dial on his locker and opened it with a clang. He pulled out a crisp white men’s Oxford shirt and handed it to you.

You smiled despite your disastrous day so far. “I don’t think we’re the same size, Carisi.”

“Try it on,” he urged you. “It might be a little tight across the…” He trailed off and his ears turned crimson, and you caught his meaning. “But under the jacket, it might be okay. Better than a coffee stain, at least.”

You nodded and waited for him to leave, but he just turned his back instead, so you turned your back to him too. You eased out of your jacket and then removed your wet blouse, tossing it on the bench in front of the lockers. Then you put on Sonny’s shirt. It was long, and the sleeves came halfway down your hands. And Sonny had been right – it did strain a bit along your breasts, and you blushed a bit at this for some reason.

“Alright,” you said, and Sonny turned around and appraised you. You watched his eyes drift over you, faltering for a moment over your chest, then he nodded.

“I look ridiculous,” you said, but he reached out and plucked your jacket from the bench.

“Nah,” he said. He held out your jacket and helped slip it over your arms. “You’d look great in anything.” You knitted your brows at the comment, but you had your back to him so he didn’t see it. You turned back around to face him.

“Tuck in the shirt,” he ordered, and you did, stuffing it under your waistband and smoothing it out. It already looked better.

“Here,” he continued, and he took first one of your hands and then the next. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, fussing with them until they were mainly tucked under the cuffs of your jacket and only a thin margin of white stuck out. You watched his face as he helped, his brow creased in concentration. “Much better,” he finally said. He took a step back and looked you over again.

“Courtroom ready?” you asked, and Sonny smiled.

“Well, no one can compare to Barba strutting around in his three-piece suits, but you’re a close second.”

“Thanks, Sonny,” you said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s okay. I know you’ve been having a rough time.” He caught the startled look on your face at this, and he tried to clarify. “With Nick and everything. I mean, you know.” He finished lamely and rubbed the back of his neck again.

“Is it that obvious?”

He shrugged. “Nah, but it still can’t be easy.” He cleared his throat and you noticed a flush creeping up his neck from under his collar, but he didn’t say anything else.

You glanced down at your watch and noted the time. “I have to head over to the courthouse,” you said. You smiled at him and thanked him again. “I promise I’ll get your shirt back to you as quick as I can.”

He waved you off, and you started to leave the locker room, but he called out after you. “Nick was an idiot,” he blurted. When you turned and looked over your shoulder at him, his face was bright pink, and he couldn’t quite look you in the eye. “I mean…I…a lot of guys would have never left you behind,” he stammered.

You looked at him a long moment before you smiled at him. You thought about the past few months, and before them, the time with Nick. You decided to take a chance. “Well, if you know one of those guys, shoot me his number,” you said. He looked up at you, surprised, before he smiled back at you.

“I might know someone,” he replied. His blue eyes were bright, and you felt your terrible day – and terrible past few months – begin to loosen their grip on you. You nodded at him, then turned and left. You grabbed your purse and headed to the elevator bank, and you didn’t even make it out of the building before your phone dinged. You fished it out of your pocket and read the message, from Sonny.

It was a phone number that, if you checked it against Sonny’s saved contact information, you knew would match. Underneath it, a message:

He’s free this Saturday evening, and I bet he’s already crazy about you.

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes and tales

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belial-ex-tenebrae · 1 year

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"The sun must set in order for the moon to rise. For the sun's brightness outshines her more gentle soft glow.

But The Sun in his magnificence refused to set.

So Powerful was he that he choked out the stars and the Moon that he loved so much twisted within his burning gaze under the pyre of his growing obsession.

Too eagar was the sun to ever release the hold he had on the moon's thin neck. He held tighter still no matter how she thrashed in his grip, draining from her, her precious light.

The sun would not let the light die completely, and so he released the pressure of his desire to allow for her to do no more than be a breath away from him.

Bruised, Battered, the Moon's tears stained the corner of her eyes, the fingerprints creators upon her flesh. She faded, wained, hiding away in the vastness of the cosmos.

The moon sat in the illuminated caged sky, swallowed by the shadows cast on her pretty face, thin bruises darkened around her throat.

The sun’s leaving her short of breath, she asked “Can we not inhabit the same sky, not on opposite sides but in our own spaces. The world should not suffer endlessly, needlessly. I concede the right to the day and so should you concede the right to the night. It is always day somewhere and always night elsewhere. We need not touch, we need not war against one another.”

The sun laughed at her then, the small little pearl shook as he did.

“My dear Lunar I shall never concede the sky, nor shall I ever set. Can you not see how things flourish under me?”

The warmth of his fingers, against her surface, the lick of flames that would consume the world if she let it. For the sun was ambition untamed, no limit, and the moon was the one to control the tides.

And so the Moon stood close to the Sun. In the times that followed, the slow rotations.

She came to see him, to know him. The deepened anger, the restless pull of burning flame. For all that stared too long wilted, for all that gripped onto him returned with singed hands.

She lifted up trembling fingers and traced his face, the first time she has ever caressed him, showing him anything but animosity, tolerance. She watches his eyes, shift, the stillness to him, the way he leans almost into her.

“You have created much, done much. How lonely must it be to stand alone? I think I finally understand what you can not express.”

The lightness of her eyes, blinks sadness for him away, for her own sadness that he has caused shines through and the prideful sun for once is silent.

The moon turns from him, takes her small affection away.

“If you loved me, truly loved me, you would trust me and understand that this is never going to work. Those caught between us will never be happy.”

Her robes of black and blue spread across the cosmos. More bright, confident has she become, if not still sad and still a pale imitation of his light.

“And if I care nothing about their happiness only my own and yours?” He speaks though he feels it in the solar wind, the sparks of being, cracks in his fury, a different type of heat. Wishing that it would not be what he knows to be true.

"Then you already have your answer on what you must do."

Even if the Sun knew what he should do, needed to do, that did not make the idea any easier, more palatable. For she has become something that he can not afford to lose.

Bright as her stars around her, holy as a saintess, caring like no other. Something that brings nothing but ashes, dust, dryness to his mouth at the thought of letting her go. He has started to crave her soft kisses, they took away a thirst he had not known.

To have her against him, flesh with his would destroy her, but deny the need would destroy him.

The sun stared at the moon that trembled in his arms, hissed against his skin, for a thing he could never truly have, yet craved.

They would and could only hurt each other.

Those eyes looked at him with kindness, and he held tighter for a second more and then let go. For she could never truly be his if he smothered her with his flames.

The moon was free of her shackles, to roam the skies. But with her newfound freedom came the binding of his heart, for it beat slowly, shallowly without her.

Though it hurt to think her happy without him, though each breath stung his eyes, and dulled his fires. He contented himself with the thought that she loved him. If but a short time, and he could endure for her to realize that she still loved him and return as promised.

The freedom that the moon so craved, she embraced it. Wrapped her arms around all the stars she missed and sank into the clouds, but as grand as her euphoria was. It called to her, in the lonely silence of the night, where there wasn't the sun's warmth to hold her close.

The words from the other stars faded, echoed around her, and she realized that she needed to see him, if not one last time, to say a proper goodbye.

She runs to him, and he to her, separated by the skies, the earth, a space that cannot be crossed by time, nor just by love, for the two must exist on opposite ends, like two sides of the same coin.

One can’t be without the other for each has their roles.

No matter how he longed to keep her, the Sun could not without drowning her completely out, and nor could the Moon, no matter how she wished it, save him and change him.

Somewhere in their limbo was a dance, of back and forward, a sway spinning like that of a flicked coin where it could catch the light where both sides could almost touch.

They could exist, if not for that moment in time, frozen, where dark and light met, in an eternal eclipse. Known as death.

The sun set for the moon to rise to her place in the sky."

#sun and moon #story #folklore #folk tales #ancient

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aellynera · 3 years

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Word of Mouth (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

WORD OF MOUTH

(This has been sitting in my WIPs for-ev-errrrr and I finally got in the mood to finish it, since I haven’t written Santi in a while and I missed him. It’s nothing too involved, just a slice-of-life kind of deal, but I do like the way it turned out. Comments, likes, and reblogs always appreciated!)

I think this one came out as GN!Reader (I’ve read over it a few times but if I’m wrong please let me know.)

Word Count: 2340

Summary: It’s not that Santiago is mad about it, exactly; it’s more that he doesn’t like the way it happened.

Warnings: Some cursing. Some angst. Some fluff. Argument. Two people being stubborn. As always possible lack of proofreading.

Santiago comes off duty and returns to your on-base housing, and he stays quiet for far too long. Usually he greets you with a kiss, or at least a hello, but this time he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t say a word as he goes into the bedroom, peels off his fatigues, and changes into a plain black t-shirt and plain khaki cargo pants.

He doesn’t say a single word.

“Um, hello to you too,” you call out, getting up to follow him. “How was your day?”

He just shrugs and shakes his head slightly. You get the same response when you ask him if anything interesting happened today, how training went, or if he’s hungry.

You haven’t seen him for most of the day, different assignments and different meetings keeping you apart while on duty, but you just know. From his silence and the way he’s acting, you just know. You’ve been trying to find the right way to bring it up, the right time to mention it, and clearly, that time is going to be now whether you like it or not.

He’s found out.

Even when different assignments keep you apart, you do work on the same base and everyone knows you’re together, even if you never officially said anything. It’s really no one’s business but it’s not really a secret, and you live together, so people just assume. And anything work-related was never unknown for long. Word has gotten back to Santiago, and from the looks of it, it has also gotten to him.

The fact that you can’t actually read his expression is what concerns you the most.

You sit down on the side of the bed and sigh again. “Frankie told you.”

Someone who had been in that early morning meeting with you, a particular someone Santiago identified as a best friend, certainty couldn’t keep it to himself. You make a mental note to have a very, very strict conversation with one Francisco “Catfish” Morales the next time you see him.

Santiago considers calling Frankie, so he can repeat exactly what he told Santiago this afternoon, after you’d already gone back home for the day. Instead he finally decides to answer you, his voice flat and dangerous.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“It’s my job,” you reply evenly.

“It’s your job if you get assigned to it,” he runs a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s not your job if you volunteer for it. That’s a choice.”

You furrow your brow at him. “Semantics.”

“Selection,” he responds, voice clipped.

You rest your head on your fingertips, four on your forehead and thumb on your cheekbone. “I’m the best person for this mission. and.. it’s not like it’s never come up before. We’ve had this conversation, Santi, we’ve talked about this exact scenario, and you even said that no one was more…”

Santiago raises an eyebrow. “Hypothetical and actual are not the same thing.”

“So, hypothetically, I’m not actually qualified to do this?”

“Actually, you should let someone else be the flag-waver this time.”

“The flag-waver?”

“What, now this hypothetically has nothing to do with being a goddamn hero?”

Your head snaps up and your eyes narrow at him. He glares in return.

“Actually,” you start, but Santiago’s short, humorless laugh cuts you off.

This time, your words drag through the tension like dull razors through styrofoam. “Actually,” you repeat, “this has zero to do with being a fucking hero and everything to do with the fact that no one else could get this done the right way and it is my goddamn duty to do what I signed up for.”

“There is no right way that this isn’t going to be an absolute shitshow.” The venom in his voice is like ice in your veins.

“Thank you for having so much faith in me and my abilities, Santiago.”

Silence falls on the room for a few long minutes as you both fight to check your emotions. You understand he’s angry - and maybe scared, although he’ll never admit it - and he knows you’re absolutely right on all accounts - although he is not ready to admit it.

You break the silence, voice tuned down and level. “Look, I wanted to tell you myself, but I didn’t see you all day. I didn’t want you to find out like this. Frankie shouldn’t have gotten involved. But I am going on this mission. I...I don’t want you to be mad about it.”

He looks at you for a moment, and this time you can read his expression, but it almost makes it worse. It’s a combination of worry, sadness, understanding, and yes, traces of anger. It’s not a look that suits him.

You shift in your spot on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed,” he says softly, then turns and walks from the room.

Oh. Shit.

***

The rest of the evening passes in a thick, uncomfortable silence. It’s been hours since your confrontation in the bedroom, and the fullness of night has fallen without a single other word being spoken between you.

You spend the night in bed alone, and Santiago makes himself mostly uncomfortable on the couch.

Morning breaks and you pull yourself from the confines of the comforter. Not that you had been sleeping very well anyway. It was warm under the covers, temperature wise, but it somehow felt so cold, and you haven't slept well. Your mind refused to calm down.

You shower and dress, going through your morning routine almost on autopilot. As you wash your face and glance into the mirror, one side of your mouth pulls up into a sad smirk as you recall Santiago’s last words from the night before.

Not mad, disappointed.

Your parents used to say that, when you’d done something against the rules, potentially stupid, and possibly morally questionable. It always seemed to hurt more than actually having them be mad at you, and you wince as you realize adulthood has done nothing to change that feeling.

You and Santiago have your fair share of arguments. Usually they’re not serious, even kind of playful. You both like to talk and you both like to be right, so a little verbal battle isn’t uncommon. But you’re still running the previous night’s...it wasn’t a conversation, but was it really a fight? Was it even an argument? No category really seems to fit, and this one just feels different.

You go downstairs and expect to find Santi on the couch, it’s still early, but as soon as you hit the bottom of the steps, the smell of freshly brewed coffee assaults your nose.

He hands you a mug full of the dark brown liquid as you enter the kitchen. You take it with a nod of thanks and he nods back. But he still doesn’t say a word.

It’s a good sign though. At least, you hope it is, anyway.

You sip from your mug as he turns back to the stove, pushing some stuff around in a frying pan. It smells like bacon and potatoes and your stomach grumbles in protest, and you’re not sure but you think you can see the corners of Santi’s mouth turn up just a little.

Also a good sign. Maybe.

You sit down at your usual spot at the table and play with the handle on the mug. You offer him a singular glance and then stare back into your drink. Clearly he’s not going to be the one to talk first. You sigh.

This is not the first time he’s done this. Santiago is a good man, the best you know, and he’s honorable and decent and so fucking kind, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned since living with him, it’s he’s damn stubborn and can be a petulant brat when he wants to. And in typical macho hero Santiago Garcia style, he will not be the first one to cave after an argument, especially when he thinks he’s right.

You’ll give him shit for it later, when all the animosity has worn off, but for now, you’re going to have to cut the tension. You’ve never been good with silence and it’s only been one night and now this brief bit of morning and it’s starting to get to you.

And okay, maybe you’re not always the best at communicating with him, either. So you’ll be the first to break, this time.

You sigh again. “Santi…”

He turns his head slightly, away from his work at the stove, and glances at you. An eyebrow goes up.

“Are we going to talk about this? For real?” you ask.

He shrugs and turns back to the contents of the pan.

A frustrated growl erupts from your chest as you push your chair back and take the three steps over to the stove. You grab the handle and push the pan off the heat, snapping the burner off as you do, and then whirl and stare at Santi. He narrows his eyes and takes a step back, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter by the sink.

“Please say something to me,” you bite out. God, he’s so frustrating sometimes. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it first, but you cannot be upset with me for doing my goddamn job. For doing what I signed up to do. Just...fucking talk to me. Please.”

This time it’s Santi who sighs, and he runs a hand through his hair and massages a spot on the back of his neck. “I told you, I’m not mad.”

“Okay,” you nod, “but you really also can’t be disappointed.”

“I’m not.”

“You can’t just be...wait, what?”

“I said,” he says, uncrossing his arms slowly and reaching for one of your hands, “I’m not.”

You just blink at him and bite your bottom lip.

“I just...I don’t like the thought of you being out there without me.” Your mouth opens to retort but he holds up a hand to stop you, and you close it again and he continues. “I know you can do this, I know you’re totally capable and you can handle yourself, you could probably kick my ass on any given day in sparring, but...I just…” his voice trails off and he turns to stare out the kitchen window.

You squeeze his hand firmly and pull his attention back to you. He looks so handsome, his hair still tousled slightly from sleep and his t-shirt wrinkled from being on the couch all night, but he also really does look troubled and it makes your heart drop. “What is it, Santi?”

“There’s always a danger with any mission,” he says softly. “And it just kills me that I can’t protect you. I just want to protect you and have you come back safe.”

Then he’s pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your neck, and you feel wet spots on your collarbone and it makes tears prick at your eyes too. Santi shakes slightly in your arms and you whisper soft, soothing words into his hair.

He’ll never admit it, but you know. He’s scared.

Because he’s not wrong. This mission has the potential to go sideways and tits-up at the same time, and then flip over backwards for good measure. And you have to admit, although you’re not going to admit it to him because that would likely make it so much worse, that you’d give anything to have him on this mission with you. But you can’t. You can just do your job and do it well, prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

A common mantra in your line of work. One that you always stick to.

But you have so much more to lose this time, and Santi does too, and your breakfast is forgotten as you take him by the hand and drag him back up to your bedroom. You lead him to the bed and lie down on your side, pull him down with you, and curl up into his side. He just wraps his arms around you and holds on like you’re a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to come back to you,” you trace your fingers over his dog tags.

“I know,” he kisses under your ear.

You hope you’re telling the truth. He hopes you’re telling the truth. You both hold each other like it might be the last time, even though it won’t because you’re not leaving for several days, but you’re both acutely aware that you have no way of actually knowing when it might really be the last time.

So you just hold each other silently for a while, until a thought occurs to you and you huff out a gentle laugh.

“What?” Santi asks you, peering at you with heavy lids and stupidly long lashes.

You lean up to kiss him on the nose. “Wanna help me run some strategy?”

His answer is cut off by the very insistent complaint from your stomach. He quirks an eyebrow. “Wanna have a breakfast meeting?”

You giggle. “Probably a good idea.”

Santi plants a kiss on your lips and then gets up, holding out a hand to pull you off the bed and you stand, stretching your arms over your head. He goes to the doorway and says, “I’ll go finish making the food. Meet you at the table in 20, Lieutenant.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” you smile at him.

He moves to leave, and then calls out, “Oh, and Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Santiago?” you roll your eyes, another giggle escaping your lips.

He sticks his head back in the door, just for a moment, just long enough to take all of you in with a look of adoration, and mouths the words “I love you.” Then he turns and goes downstairs.

And you know you can handle - no, you will handle - anything that might happen, and your heart soars.

~end~

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#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia fanfic #santiago garcia fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #my writing #oscar isaac characters #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x you

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

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Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 5

very pretty, very beautiful

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: intoxication, swearing, feelings, nightmare, fluff, mentions of a deadly car accident

AN: WHOAH OKAY. So I’ve been thinking about the last half of this chapter every second of every minute for the last two days. It has haunted my dreams, y’all. Thanks to that, you get this before the weekend! Yay! Special thanks to @ghostlightprincess, @anlian-aishang, @cant-spell-slay-without-lay, and @horseanon--simpforall for helping me edit and giving me many encouragements and compliments which, quite frankly, made my head the size of Jupiter. I love you all dearly. As always, let me know what you think in my comments/DMs/askbox!! Don’t be a stranger!! And be kind to yourself and others<3 ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 4 here)

“I think you’re very pretty.”

I think you’re very pretty?

Fuck. Shit.

“I-I-I mean,” Levi feels his throat tighten and cheeks set ablaze, “You’re very, uh, very beautiful.” He says it because it’s true, and the truth is what Levi relies on when his brain is short-circuiting. You’re more than pretty, more than something as trivial as very pretty, you’re gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes his palms sweat. Recently, you’ve been everywhere: in his bed, in his arms, in the periphery of his life even outside of the apartment. It’s overwhelming, this is overwhelming, how his hands are on you and how you’re looking up at him with insecure, anticipatory eyes. They’re glassy and red-rimmed, pupils blown to saucers.

Oh. That’s right, she’s high.

Levi lets his hand drop from the top of your head. He tries to move his other hand away from your cheek, but you grasp his wrist to keep it there. He can feel his own pulse fluttering under your fingertips.

“Very beautiful?” It’s soft, hopeful.

He forces himself not to retract the statement (because it’s true) out of self-preservation.

“Very beautiful, kid.” He can say it without stuttering this time. It’s important that you believe him, and it’s equally important that this is as far as it goes.

You close your eyes against the pet name and turn your face into his palm for a split second, press a swift kiss to it and then drop your hand to your lap. His heart stutters. He drops his hand, too.

“Thank you,” the words fall past your lips, careful and distant, as he takes a step back.

He needs some space. To get his head on straight, to scream into a pillow, to talk some sense into himself. Can’t risk this, not with you, not with you.

“Your, um, your pajamas,” he points to the end of the bed where they’re sitting in a neat pile, then turns tail and strides out of your room, shutting the door behind him.

In his room, his jelly legs finally give out and he flops onto his bed.

Fucking hell.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

What kind of question is that? Do you not think you’re pretty? Do you care if he, specifically, thinks you’re pretty, or was it intended more generally? Very pretty, very beautiful. What does that even mean?

Levi may not be eloquent in the least, may not know how to confess that you make his every breath burn in his chest, but he does know how to paint. He stands up, wiping sweaty palms on his flannel pants and examining the painting on his easel. His mom stares back, her eyes sparkling, her hair tumbling over one shoulder in ebony waves. It had taken him the last few days to get the curls just right, and when he added the last highlights of shine, it’d finally felt complete.

“Sorry, mama,” he murmurs as he lifts her to set her against the wall under the window.

A new canvas procured from his closet finds its place on the easel. He sifts through his supply drawers for a moment, setting paints and brushes and charcoal neatly on his desk.

He takes a deep breath, situates himself in his wheelie chair, and leans forward to start sketching.

—

It’s 5 AM when you start screaming in a long, shuddering cry, causing Levi to jolt up in his seat, paintbrush poised over your left temple. It breaks off into sobs that make his gut twist and hands clench. A long moment, then you’re letting out another keening wail and Levi is out of his seat. Paint splatters from the brush where he drops it on his desk and his chair rolls back as he runs, ripping doors open and narrowly avoiding furniture in the dark.

You’re sprawled out, thrashing on the bed, sheets tangled with your legs. Levi sits on the edge of your bed, brows pinched in worry, and reaches for your shoulders. This is okay — he can touch you when you ask for his help. When you whimper and reach for him in your sleep, he can pull you close and smooth a hand across the planes of your back. It’s when you’re looking at him, all trusting and expectant for something, that he’s unsure.

He says your name, low and urgent, once, twice, before your eyes open mid-sob. They’re wide and terrified, your jaw tight, muscles clenched. “It’s me, kid, it’s just me,” he intones, “It was just a dream, you’re safe, it’s just me.”

Your heaving chest slows for a second, hitches somewhere in your sternum, and then you’re launching yourself forward and into him. He catches you there, steady against his chest.

“Breathe.” He sets an example with his own deep breaths.

It’s a long minute before he feels you relax at all, before he feels you sigh against his neck. Your arms are tight around his middle and you must be stronger than you look because after a while it starts to pinch. He doesn’t mind, though, just traces patterns on your back and stares at the pale wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He feels you shake your head.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitate before you whisper, “Only if you stay.”

Levi thinks about the wet paintbrush currently drying to his desk. He thinks about the mess of clothes on your floor. He thinks of the half-finished painting of you in his room. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You pull back, and he gets a look at your face in the near-dark. Your eyes are still acutely haunted, but they’ve regained awareness. He lets you take a moment to wipe at your cheeks as he reaches to gently disentangle the sheets and spread them more carefully over your legs.

He looks up at you again to catch your sad eyes with his. Your head is tilted quizzically, knowingly, sympathetically all at once as though he were the one who just woke up screaming. It makes him itch.

“What’s that look for?” he grumbles, toeing his slippers off and tucking them under your bed.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Come here, please.”

He blinks at you for a second. That’s my line. But he goes, crawling into bed with you and slipping under the covers. He lets you tug his arm gently so that he’s on your chest. He gets comfortable there, one arm thrown over your waist and head rested over your heart. Your own arms find a home cautiously around him. You exhale with the grounding pressure of his body on yours and let your mind sink into calm release.

—

The knock on your door breaks your attention from your laptop. You sigh, finish typing your sentence, and push your blue light glasses up your nose before standing up to answer it.

You’re not expecting anyone, but maybe Levi is. He’s been holed up in his room all morning, Chopin drifting lazily under his door, probably studying. Like you’ve been trying to. The second series of knocks on your door makes you jog the last few steps to pull it open.

“Hi—” the greeting dies in your throat when you see who’s standing there.

“Hi,” Annie says. She’s standing, nonchalant as ever, in her winter parka and leggings, holding two to-go cups and a pastry bag.

“What?” It’s a breathless question, genuinely confused. It doesn’t harbor the animosity you would expect — you’re not sure you can feel anything other than queasy right now.

“I got your voicemail.”

You blink in confusion. She rolls her eyes and thrusts the to-go cups at you with a brief “hold these” before reaching into her pocket for her phone. You just stare at her while she taps and scrolls for a minute. She looks the same as before you stopped speaking: blonde hair tucked into a bun at the back of her head and hoodie peeking out of the collar of her jacket. Maybe a little more tired, though Annie always seemed to be tired.

She holds up her phone for you to hear as a voicemail starts playing and, to your further shock, your own tinny voice spills out. It sounds like you’re crying, and slightly muffled.

“Annie, hi, um, I know it’s late but I couldn’t think of anyone else to call, I just,” sniffle, “I know we’re not talking and I’m still mad at you, like REALLY MAD, okay? But I couldn’t think of who else to call and long story short I think I’m in love with Levi and he might’ve just rejected me but I just couldn’t tell—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut in across your own voice, stepping into the hall with her and toeing the door almost shut behind you. She stops the voicemail. “But why are you here?” You know why she’s here — Annie never backs down from anything, and you had started the conversation, even if you’d been drunk and high and half asleep and you don’t really remember doing it.

“You called, here I am. That’s what best friends do.” Her tone is even.

“Not best friends who fuck their best friends’ boyfriends,” you snap, anger finally bursting from your stomach and into your throat.

She closes her eyes impatiently, sighs, then looks at you again not quite pleadingly.

“Look, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’m here now and there’s more to the story that you aren’t aware of.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“Let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you,” she offers, then holds up the pastry bag. “I brought coffee and donuts. They’re jelly.”

Jelly donuts are your favorite.

You look down at the cups in your hand. You look back at her steady blue gaze. More to the story.

“Fine.” You turn and kick the door open a little too harshly. “Just let me get dressed.”

She follows you in, even though you don’t extend an invitation, and closes the door softly. You put the cups down on the coffee table and watch her sit in her usual spot on the couch to wait for you out of the corner of your eye. You scowl but say nothing.

It only takes you a minute to shuck off to pajamas and pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and boots. You don’t bother with a bra.

You knock lightly on Levi’s door and call through, “I’m going for a walk, so make sure to lock up if you leave. I have my keys.” You jingle them as evidence and he grunts in acknowledgment. “Let’s go,” you turn and address Annie, who stands.

The walk down your street to the river is short and habitual, your feet carrying you while your mind races. You can feel the anger and hurt, visceral and stabbing, in your chest. But there’s also something tender there, too, something that acknowledges how you missed your best friend. Something that screams at you to tackle her to the ground and feel her stoic comfort. Instead, you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of Eren’s jacket and kick a pebble, sending it skidding down the sidewalk.

The pair of you reach the walking bridge over the river and pause at the railing. The sky is overcast, threatening a snowstorm. A car beeps downtown, reaching you distantly. Annie hands you a coffee and a donut. You lean against the railing and avoid her gaze.

“So. You wanted to talk. Talk.” You bite into the donut.

She sighs through her nose. “I know what you saw. We… we did kiss, but we didn’t do anything else. We never had sex.”

“Hmm.” A sip of coffee.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. I’m guessing you didn’t exactly listen to Reiner when you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t have time for his bullshit excuses.”

She breaks off a bit of her donut and stares at it contemplatively for a moment, “I know you don’t owe either of us anything, and this isn’t meant as an excuse, but will you listen to why, at least?”

You press your lips together, sneak a look into her devastatingly blue eyes, and nod. What harm can it do? And you have to admit there’s a large part of you that’s been wondering at the why, even if you’ve refused to hear it.

“Okay. Tell me why.”

She takes a deep breath and leans her elbows on the railing before starting to speak, low and pensive.

“I’ve known Reiner and Bertholdt a long time, since we were kids. We’ve always been this… this odd group. You wouldn’t think we were close if you didn’t know us. But it wasn’t always just us.” She pauses, looking distant. “Do you know Porco Galliard?”

Galliard… “He’s a sophomore on the lacrosse team, right?”

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to his brother?”

“He has a brother?”

“Had. Marcel. He was a year older than us but somehow ended up in our little group. And a couple of years ago, senior year of high school, we were all in a car accident. He was home on winter break and we’d all had a little too much to drink, and we convinced him to take us to Denny’s for midnight milkshakes. And, well, there was a winter storm coming in and it’d been freezing rain that week, and we crashed. Marcel died. It was… I hadn’t…” She pauses, tilting her head back to the sky, blinking away tears. “It was horrible.”

Your eyes have gone wide, cast downriver. You don’t know what you’d expected when you walked down here, but it certainly wasn’t this. It wasn’t Annie, only rivaled in her stoicism by Levi, choking back tears and wiping snot from her nose.

“Hey,” you start, voice gentler than it’s been all day. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, I want to, just... give me a second,” she interjects, wringing out a hand. She takes a deep, purposeful breath.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking back out across the water.

“It, uh, it hit us all really hard, brought us really close together. That’s why we all ended up at school here, actually. It kinda made us realize that, like, time is limited, you know? We don’t have forever. And Bertl, he…” she smiles, watery and reminiscent. “When he asked me out, it felt like a long time coming. It was just about perfect. He felt safe and like home, and… well, you know how in love we were. But I could see that it alienated Rei, at least a bit. He tried not to show it, but I could tell he felt like a third wheel. He was already drifting away from us, still struggling with all this guilt.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That’s a familiar feeling. Guilt. And yet, you’d never noticed it in Reiner, apparently never got close enough to shine a flashlight into his darkest shadows. He’d always seemed so… sunshiney. You clearly hadn’t given him enough credit to dislodge the aura of jock frat boy he projects so brightly.

Soft dough squishes under your fingertips where you’ve resorted to playing with your food instead of eating it as Annie continues.

“And then he met you and fell in love so fast. I was so relieved, I mean, you and I were roommates and it was just perfect, right?” You look at her and see a flicker of hopefulness still there. “I thought maybe you two getting together would bring him back to us, that maybe we’d be alright after all. And at first, it did. But then you moved off campus for sophomore year and he started drifting away again, though he was at least anchored to you, this time. It scared me, it really did.”

She kicks the bottom of the railing lazily, as if to expend the sadness there rather than in her words. The first fat flakes of snow drift down around you. One dances away on your exhale.

“He’s so withdrawn, sometimes, in his own head, and I never know how to reach him there. I didn’t know if he had told you about Marcel, or anything, so I couldn’t go through you. I don’t… I didn’t know what to do, so I just... let it fester. That night, when we kissed, I hadn’t seen him physically for a month. It hurt.”

She looks at you imploringly, like the weight of everything she’s saying lies on deep hurt. You can relate to feeling as though there’s nothing but hurt and guilt and drifting.

“So I figured out where he was from his Snapchat story, abandoned my group project, and went over there to see him. I didn’t know what I’d say or do when I got there, just that I had to get him back, somehow. He was already plastered, you know how he gets, and he wasn’t listening to me, so I just… kissed him. I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t even know you saw until he called me the next day after you broke up with him to chew me out.

“So, long story short,” her voice breaks on a mournful, almost hysterical laugh, “I fucked up the three most important relationships to me in one night because I couldn’t use my words.” She wipes at wet cheeks, not looking at you. “So, um. Yeah, that’s the why, I guess. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or him, but I just… I needed you to know. It wasn’t like, this elaborate affair.”

You aren’t sure how to right your brain from the way it’s tilted off kilter. It’s so much, so different from what you’d built up in your head. There’s no conspiracy, no grand intention to break you.

Even with all this new information, what stupidly slips out first is, “Did he kiss you back?” You blanch, turn to her with wide eyes, “Sorry, that’s not exactly im—”

“No, it’s fine,” she meets your eyes. “He did kiss me back.”

“Oh. Okay, um��” you trail off, bite your lip. You don’t know what exactly to say. Your skin is tight with the urge to forgive her immediately and wholly, but logic holds you back. Now that you know the truth, you need time to heal and get some perspective. You straighten up from where you’d been slouching against the railing. “Okay. You’ve been honest, so I will be, too.”

She stands up fully as well, facing you with one hand on the railing.

“I don’t know how I feel right now,” you start. “I think I need some time and perspective. But, I… I can see now where I went wrong, too. I assumed the worst, didn’t let any communication happen.” You swallow down the lump in your throat threatening to choke your voice. “And, I wasn’t there for Rei like I should have been. I had no idea — no idea! — what he was going through.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell you—”

“And why is that?” Your voice breaks, squeaks with the question. “Did he feel like he couldn’t confide in me? Did I make it too much about me and my trauma? I wasn’t exactly shy about telling him my shit.” You take a long draw of coffee. “Anyway. I should probably talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

She nods. “He’d like that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, watching the sparse snow flurry around you. Annie finally starts eating her donut.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess into the storm. “A lot.”

“I missed you, too.”

Your chest aches with both the cold air and the conflicting feelings of relief and regret.

“Why, uh… why didn’t you tell me all that stuff about Marcel?”

She leans on the railing again, takes a sip of coffee before answering. “I was still working through it. Still am, rather. I didn’t know how to bring it up, or that it was relevant.”

You hum, nodding. “I get that.”

There’s another silence, but it feels lighter, less charged. There are still questions bouncing around your mind, but you decide it’s better to process through them on your own rather than blurting out something stupid. Perspective.

“So,” she shoots you a look under blonde eyelashes, “what’s this about you being in love with Levi?”

“Aw, shit,” you laugh, leaning your elbows back on the railing and giving her an imploring look. “It really snuck up on me.”

“Is that so? Can’t say I’m shocked.” Her tone is dry, a little amused around the last bite of jelly donut. She wipes her fingers on her leggings and faces you. “And you think he rejected you.”

“Well, I…” you cringe, thinking back to last night. “He called me very beautiful.”

“Doesn’t sound like a rejection.”

“It was the way he said it! Like it physically hurt him to admit, and then he just ran out of the room,” you whine, scrubbing a hand down your face.

“I think that’s just his emotional constipation.”

You look at her sharply, mouth agape, to catch her eyes dancing and the corner of her lip curling upward slightly. “Annie!”

“What? I’m right.” She finishes off her coffee, tilting back the cup to catch the last dregs of it. “He likes you, or he’s an idiot if he doesn’t.”

You narrow your eyes in doubt, mirroring her half-smile. “Hmm. We’ll see.”

“Yes,” she promises, crumpling up the pastry bag in her fist and stuffing it in her pocket. “We will.”

—

(read part 6 here)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #snk fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #female!reader #levi ackerman #annie leonhart #swearing #intoxication #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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my-darling-luna · 3 years

Text

Your Majesty Chapter 3

Just a reminder that NONE of these gifs are in anyway supposed to represent what the reader looks like, I just use them for a basic look of the dress. I try to be as inclusive as I can be in my writing and if there is anyway that I can be more inclusive, I would love the feedback. Remember to take care of yourself today! I love you!!

Your Majesty Masterlist

Summary- It has been more than a decade since the Kingdom of Ultron lost their princess. (Y/n) was just a 17 year old that didn’t know much about her past. Realizations happen and lives are crossed. How will (Y/n) handle the new pressure?

Stucky x reader

—

“Murdered?” (Y/n) sat in astonishment. The people who cared for her almost all her life were dead. The hatred and disgust for them slowly washed away, leaving only despair and anger at Hydra.

The normal ride took a little under half the time than usual as the horses were no longer at a walk, but rather at a fast jog across enemy lines. The palace doors opened, Vision pulling a dazed (Y/n) along by the arm.

“How was it-” Tony’s face dropped at the sight of what was going on.

“Her caretakers were murdered and a clearly marked threat was on the wall.” Vision said to the king as Pepper pulled her step-daughter tightly into a hug.

“Vision, Rhodey, get everyone into the planning room. I want letters out to every main kingdom in the surrounding area mentioning the urgency for them to show up now.” The three men walked down a corridor and into a room, leaving the two women in the entry way alone.

“Why don’t we go see Morgan, okay? Maybe you can help her with reading.” Pepper’s hand ran up and down (Y/n)’s arm in a soothing way while walking her into the bedroom to the left of her parents’.

“Mommy! Sissy!” (Y/n) cooed at the little girl, sniffing the impending tears back.

“Hello sweetheart, what are you doing there?” (Y/n) sat down on the floor just as she had been taught; with her back straight and her legs crossed at the ankles. Morgan slowly walked over to her sister, her chubby arms held out to grab her cheeks.

“Why cryin’?” Morgan patted (Y/n)’s cheek.

“‘Cause I’m sad.”

“No be sad anymore.” Morgan threw herself into (Y/n)’s arms before pulling away after she got distracted by the colors of her blocks. (Y/n) dabbed away the tears away with a handkerchief so that her makeup wasn’t more messed up than it already was.

(Y/n) took a breath, her feelings were jumbled and her heart ached. It was her fault that her parents were dead. Parents, no that wasn’t right, they weren’t her real parents. Caretakers like Vision called them? No that was insensitive. Foster parents? She could do that. It was her fault that her foster parents were dead. She wanted to hate them so much for keeping her away from her family, but she couldn’t. What would she do if she was Mama or Papa? Would she keep a child away from their own family so that they could be with her? No.

Poking took (Y/n) out of her train of thought. Morgan held a book tight in her grasp while poking her older sister.

“Mommy told me that you would read to me.” (Y/n) smiled and nodded before getting up and sitting on the small toddler bed. Morgan scrambled in behind her and settled in between her legs.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Morgan nodded as (Y/n) opened the book so that both could read. “Once upon a time-”

***

The patter of the rain on the window was easy to lull (Y/n) into a day dream. She was clad in a thin white nightgown with her legs drawn in close to her stomach. Her arms traced the length of her calves absentmindedly.

A knock pierced the quiet room and (Y/n)’s head turned to greet the reason for the noise.

“May I come in?” Her father asked kindly, a mood that was only brought out by his children or Pepper. (Y/n) nodded and the door was closed. Tony sat down on the bed, his weight sinking the mattress. “I meant to ask you earlier, but I’ve been so busy with planning. How are you?” She shrugged.

“I’ve been worse, but I’ve definitely have felt better.” Tony rubbed his daughter’s hand before moving closer to her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” (Y/n) paused for a second before nodding.

“I...I just guess that I feel like a bad person.” She looked up at her father who gave her a questioning look. “I mean, I feel like I hate them sometimes, you know? They didn’t even try to send me back to you or anything even though they knew. But then I think about it and I realize that they took great care of me and loved me no matter how I acted.” (Y/n) sobbed, her words were broken off with hiccups at some points. “I hate them, but I love them and that makes me feel terrible.” Tony sighed and tried to make eye contact with his daughter who turned her head away.

Tony tilted his daughter’s head to look at him. “It’s okay to feel like that because I have.” She looked at him with a questioning look. “I haven’t told you much about my parents in the past week and a half that you’ve been with us, but my father- your grandfather- was the toughest person to live with and for the longest time, I resented him, almost hated him. He never seemed like he was proud of me and never showed me any love. I didn’t realize until I was older and he had passed away, that he just wanted the best for me; he just didn’t know how to show his love. And I know that your issues aren’t the same, but I also know that you loved them a lot. It’s okay and normal to feel some type of animosity towards them. You just need to realize that they needed you as much as you needed them at that point, and it doesn’t make it right, but it made them human.” (Y/n) nodded, her tears clearing up.

“Thanks dad.” Tony’s eyes glossed over, but as quickly as it arrived, it disappeared.

“No problem, okay?” (Y/n) nodded and he kissed her forehead. “Do you remember the party I talked about the morning after you came home?” She nodded. “Well all of the surrounding kingdoms are going to join us. It is scheduled in two days and it’ll be a good chance to meet some new people.” Tony’s confidence and smile were infectious and (Y/n) felt better after those words. “Now get up so we can have some breakfast together.” He left the room and soon Lillian came in and put her in a simple gown just for the day.

***

“Can you see that, Morgan?” The little girl nodded and giggled at the sight of the horses out grazing the field. (Y/n) held the little girl on her hip before wrapping her arm around Morgan’s waist.

“They fluffy!” Tony and Pepper watched the two from the inside of the castle. A window outlooked the barns and their two girls stood right outside of it.

“They’re okay.” Pepper mumbled to her husband as she leaned into his side. Tony put his arm around her and gave a quick squeeze to their intertwined hands.

“Yeah, I know. I guess I just get nervous sometimes, especially with everything with Hydra and (Y/n). I just feel like something bad is going to happen, you know?” Pepper hummed in agreement.

“We won’t let anything happen to them, you know that, don’t you? Our girls are safe.”

“Mom? Dad?” (Y/n)’s voice called as soft patters of shoes were heard on the tile. Pepper and Tony turned around to see their daughters, Pepper’s heard warming every time (Y/n) called her ‘mom’.

“Yes sweetheart?” Pepper asked, her voice soft.

“Morgan wants to go riding, I wanted to see if you wanted to as well.” The two adults looked at each other and nodded.

“We’d love to, why don’t we go get changed and meet back here. You have Morgan under control?” (Y/n) nodded and smiled.

“Let’s go get changed, bug.” (Y/n) mumbled to the little girl before walking down the corridor to both of their bedrooms. “Are you excited for tomorrow?” Morgan enthusiastically nodded, a twinkle in her brown eyes. “Good.”

***

“Good afternoon, (Y/n).” Lillian’s sweet voice echoed in the huge room as she shut the door.

“Hello, Lillian.” Lillian watched as (Y/n) rifled through dresses to find the one that she wanted to wear for tonight. “What do you think of this one?” She held up a tan dress with flowers flowing up the skirt and the bodice.

“I think it’s really pretty.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” Lillian shook her head.

“I know that you’ve never went to one of your father’s parties before, but there’s no ‘too much’ there.” (Y/n) smiled back at Lillian.

“Deal. Okay, I think this is it.” Lillian helped her get into her dress. “Have you seen the ballroom yet?” (Y/n) asked, starting light conversation with someone who she would call a friend.

“Yes, it’s beautiful and I think you’re going to love it.” Lillian moved her over to the vanity and started to blot her skin with makeup.

“I don’t know,” she made eye contact with the girl behind her, “I think this is a little much for a girl who just got here.”

“I think it is enough for a lost princess that was found after sixteen years.” (Y/n) shrugged while Lillian finished the last of her makeup.

“Say hi to all the princes that you’ll meet there. They’re all super handsome.” Lillian wiggled her eyebrows which made the two laugh.

“I’ll make sure that they know who you are.” Lillian blushed, not thinking that (Y/n) would take it seriously.

“Good luck!” She called as (Y/n) walked out of the room.

“Thank you.” (Y/n) blew a kiss to her before walking down the hallway and over to where she was supposed to meet her parents and sister.

“You look wonderful, sweetheart.” Pepper kissed her daughter on the cheek and (Y/n) flushed.

“Thank you mom.” Tony kissed her cheek as well, whispering the same compliment to her. She was about to say thank you, but she was so distracted at the sight of her little sister. “You look beautiful, bug.” Morgan giggled. Her dress was a light pink with glitter tulle and a small tiara on her head.

“Thank you!” The four were distracted by the sound of the announcer saying her father’s, mother’s, and sister’s names out loud.

“Good luck, princess.” Tony squeezed his oldest’s hand before walking through the door with the rest of the family. (Y/n) stood by the door, waiting for it to open and for her name to be called.

“Princess (Y/n) of Ultron.” The announcer called and the huge oak doors opened. (Y/n) stepped out onto the balcony and looked down to all of the people below in the ballroom. Her hands were clasped loosely and her back was rigid as she listened to the clapping from down below. This was her new life.

—

Taglist- @austynparksandpizza @aikeia @simplyfandomish @baby-noodles @lili-ann-love @rebloggingeverything @spookyparadisesheep

#stucky x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fantasy #fluff #love #bucky barnes #stark reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #royalty #x stark!reader #marvel x reader #reader insert

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flameohotwife · 3 years

Text

'Til We Meet Again

Aang has passed. Katara is heading to the South to start anew without him, and finally begins to process her grief along the way. Written for the @kataang-week 2021 prompt: the sea & the sky

Read on ao3 or ffn

Everyone who remained was gathered outside at the dock on Air Temple Island. Saying goodbye to the gang was always hard, but this time was different. This time they were missing one of their own, and he wouldn’t be coming back. Not as they knew him, anyway.

They’d held a private sky burial almost a week ago, and the public memorial the previous day, so most of the dignitaries had finally gone. Katara looked out to Yue Bay and willed herself to keep it together just a little longer. The low hanging clouds were pale orange in the early morning light, reminding her of when they’d bent the clouds together a lifetime ago. A sob rose in her throat and she hastily swallowed it. Not yet.

Her friends and family huddled around her. Toph, Sokka, Suki, Zuko, and even Mai came in for one of Team Avatar’s notorious group hugs. She closed her eyes when a breeze blew by, trying to pretend it was him. That he was still there. If she could keep pretending, she might be able to make it.

Bumi, Kya and Tenzin came out of the house and down to the dock, bags in hand. “Everybody ready?” Bumi asked. He fidgeted uncomfortably with his bag, unsure what to do with so much negative energy.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Katara said carefully. All eyes sprung to her. She hadn’t mentioned this to anyone, yet. “You all are going on the ship as planned with Sokka and Suki. Tenzin, dear, I’m going to take Oogi. We’ll meet you in the South Pole.”

Tenzin’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open comically. He had inherited the need to intricately plan every detail of their trips from his uncle, and this was surely throwing a wrench into his itinerary. “Mother, please, come on the ship with us,” he begged. “Or at least let one of us come with you. Are you sure you’re…”

“I’m fine,” Katara snapped, cutting Tenzin off and assuring everyone there that she was anything but. Sokka stepped forward to put a strong hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

“She’ll be okay, buddy,” he said. “She needs some time in the sky on her own.”

Katara smiled thankfully at her brother. Of course he would understand her grief. He had been with her throughout all her worst times, after all. She obviously hadn’t taken to the skies when their mother died, but she knew he remembered the nights she spent out by the ocean alone, after the chores were done and the family in bed. She’d often returned to find him waiting up for her, a pot of tea over the fire. And now, after a week of being smothered by friends and family and strangers alike, all bringing condolences, Katara needed some air. She pulled her babies--now so much taller than her--in for a group hug of their own.

“You’re all so strong,” she started, fighting the tears pricking at her eyes. Just a little longer. “We’ll be together again before you know it. And I’m going to make you all go penguin sledding, since your Dad won’t be there to do it.” She pulled back with a twinkle in her shining blue eyes, kissing them each soundly on the forehead in turn before heading over to where Oogi had been patiently waiting to get on the ship with everyone. She nuzzled his face affectionately. “Ready, boy?”

Oogi grunted and licked her and a laugh escaped her throat. “Toph, Zuko, Mai,” she said, turning to face her friends who wouldn’t be joining them in the South Pole, “Thank you. For everything, especially this week. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Sweetness,” Toph laughed, “I’m going back into hiding. That was too much people-ing for me. Maybe in another 66 years.”

“Well, you’re welcome at the palace anytime,” Zuko said. “We should get back to Izumi, though. Have a safe journey south, okay?”

“Yeah, don’t be a stranger,” Mai added dryly. Katara nodded, but Mai knew she wouldn’t be coming to visit the palace again. She and Aang had shared too many memories there. Maybe they’d see each other at smaller events, but it seemed Katara was going to retire from public view as well. She watched as her friend climbed up onto the giant bison’s head and Tenzin airbent her bags into the saddle for her. Her long hair, drawn up in a bun with her signature loopies, was more white than brown now, and Mai noticed far more wrinkles and worry lines on Katara’s face than she’d had the last time they’d seen each other, only a few months prior. Aang’s illness and subsequent passing had taken a physical toll on her, as well.

“Bye, everyone,” Katara waved one last time, sad eyes sweeping over each cherished face, and the place that had been her home for the majority of her life so far. That she had built with him. She could feel her heart squeezing in her chest, and knew she had to get out of there. “Yip yip!”

Finally, the wind whipped around her as they soared into the sky. It was such a familiar feeling, even though it had been months since she had left Air Temple Island while she tended to Aang, refusing to leave his side. But there was nothing tying her to this place--this home that they had dreamed of together and made so many memories in--anymore. Her children were grown and would be fine on their own, and her tether was gone.

Katara closed her eyes and just listened to the sound of the air moving against her ears. She had never felt as at home in the sky as Aang had, but after traveling with him so much throughout their lives, flying on a bison gave her a warmth in her chest that had been missing since he’d passed. She felt the walls she had built, trying to be strong for her children and friends, begin to crumble, and after keeping them in for so long, let the tears flow freely, sobbing to the sky.

Suddenly, she was 14, bending the clouds atop Appa with her best friend. She remembered being in awe of their ability to combine their elements to make something new, how much fun it had been; how it had felt like dancing, and how he had referenced that moment later, when they began to have children together, calling Bumi, Kya, and Tenzin their little “cloudbabies.”

She was soaring through the sky beside him on his glider to deal with the Harmony Restoration Movement. Learning to fly side-by-side on his glider with him had been something of an adventure, but when they did, it was like nothing she had ever experienced before. They were perfectly in sync, especially when they flew over the ocean. She remembered staring at the horizon, where the sea touched the sky, and the wispy clouds made from both of them coming together, and feeling so at home, like she had always been meant to be there, with him.

She was flying over the ocean with Aang, sitting back in Appa’s saddle and leaning into his warm chest. He was asking her to stay with him forever, and she was telling him she couldn’t live without him. Katara felt her heart shatter for the thousandth time since he passed, and he wasn’t there to glue her pieces back together again, like he always had been.

She knew she was resilient. That she had lost before, and would lose again, and that this pain--though it would never leave her--would become bearable with time. She knew her life didn’t revolve completely around Aang, and it never had, but she had spent so much of her life loving him so completely that now, with nowhere left for that love to go, she felt swallowed by it.

Alone, up in his element, without the people she always felt the need to be strong for (and the one person who had never made her feel that way), Katara let herself break. Again and again, as often as she needed to. The wind was comforting in an aching sort of way, and the crying was cathartic. She hadn’t felt this free since before Aang had fallen ill. Since the last time they’d flown together. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend he was sitting next to her, that the breeze was him teasing her, that this was all a dream. Instead she forced her eyes to the horizon, tears still streaming.

The sun had risen much higher in the sky since she’d left Air Temple Island. There was no more orangish-pink sky, but there was still a string of low-lying clouds that blocked her view of the sky and sea coming together. All of a sudden, that freeness she felt dissipated and an indignant anger rose in her. She was angry at those clouds and angry at the circumstances that caused Aang’s early death and angry that he wasn’t there to comfort her. It wasn’t fair. She felt cheated out of decades more time with him, of the chance to be grandparents together, or to really enjoy their golden years together. She erupted with a mournful wail, slashing at the clouds with her bending until they too exploded in a downpour.

Katara took some time then, to breathe, and to feel. To really, truly, deliberately feel everything she had been trying to avoid in the week since he died. Since he left her. She recalled another time her grief and anger had gotten the better of her, and how he had calmly, gently advised her, “let your anger out. Then let it go.” She could still hear his sweet twelve-year-old voice and see the concern in his grey eyes in the back of her memory. She took another centering breath, like he had taught her to do after the war when they were both haunted by nightmares and panic attacks, and as she exhaled, she tried to push out all the anger with the air. To rid her body and soul of any animosity surrounding her feelings about him.

She resolved to be at peace. To let her waves of anger and frustration flow like water, and let it go. She didn’t have a choice in the situation, after all; the only choice she had was how she responded.

“I love you, Sweetie,” she whispered to the sky. The tears were still tracing paths down her face, but it was calming, again like before. “I know you had to go. And...I know you would have stayed with me if you could. It’s just another Avatar trip--another Spirit World journey, only this time…” Katara paused, closing her eyes to allow the sorrow to pass through her in sobs before continuing. “This time, it seems so permanent. I know you said it’s not goodbye forever, that this will only last ‘til we meet again in the Spirit World, and then we’ll be together for eternity. But it just… it hurts so much more, being without you this time. I know I can be strong. I will be. I just miss you, is all.”

There was a gentle breeze that swirled around her hair and kissed her face. She opened her eyes in shock; it seemed so intentional, like bending, but he wasn’t there, of course. She smiled, though, and then she laughed, because she knew she would always find him. She had been destined to find him in that iceberg, and she would continue to find his spirit now in the playful air currents, or in the beauty of a field of flowers, or in the laughter of children, until she could find him in the Spirit World and they would be united once more.

She knew that as long as she could keep his spirit with her, she could get through this. That she could be happy again, for him, for their children, and for herself. She also understood that her decision to move to the South Pole was the right one, not only because it would be the best place to train the next Avatar in waterbending, like she had promised Aang she would, but because the open space would be perfect for her healing heart. Katara could live out the rest of her days there, surrounded by both their elements; by the sea and the sky.

#kataang week 2021 #the sea & the sky #SORRY for the sad!#katara #aang #kataang #atla #grown up gaang #cloud family #grief/mourning #i can't usually even read aang death fics but here i am writing one #I'M SORRY

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cherrywoes · 3 years

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ni. (acanthus.)

KAKASHI BRAIDED HER HAIR for her when it became evident she couldn’t do it by herself. Despite the extensive wrap job he had done on her arm, soaked in antibacterial gel and burn spray, he had been too late to catch the damage to her nerves. What little medical ninjutsu he did know had salvaged the damaged muscle underneath and prevented boils, but the upper layers of her skin had been utterly ruined. She had range of motion, but it came with pain, and flexing of sensitive muscles that weren’t quite ready to be moving yet. So, he braided her hair—it was not as neat as if she had done it herself, was messy with inexperience, but it kept the longer lengths out of her face and, for the most part, she looked like Sakura again.

She didn’t ask him where he had learned to braid. She also didn’t ask him about the scroll he tucked into the bag he had packed for her—filled with spare clothes, necessities, anything she could wish for as a girl going into virtual exile—that looked suspiciously like a summoning scroll, the wooden end ornate and the Hatake clan symbol carved into it. It looked nothing like the summoning scroll he used for his dogs, but she kept her inquiries to herself and focused on the mission statement she held in her burn free hand.

“Amegakure and Kumogakure.” Sakura traced the names written in red with a single finger. He paused from where he was tucking pre-made seal papers and explosive tags into a side pocket, turning his head back towards her incrementally to indicate she had his attention. “The last I heard we were on neutral terms with both villages. What happened?”

Kakashi hummed as he unzipped the secondary larger section of her pack and tossed a handful of nutrigrain bars inside, along with five bottles of water and a flask that she assumed was also filled with water. She watched him sneak a tin of jasmine pearls in there as well. “No one knows. One day, out of the blue, they declared they had an alliance and set their sights on Suna, Iwa, and Konoha. Tsunade didn’t think they had enough shinobi to do it—it turns out they did, and in vast droves too. They’d been planning it for a while, I think.”

“But Konoha hasn’t declared war with them; why not?” Sakura rolled the mission statement back up against her thigh, using her hand to tie the tiny string together messily. “We’re allies with Suna and Iwa, we should be helping them.”

Sakura forgot, momentarily, that she had no say in matters like war, or even Konoha at all, and chided herself mentally for forgetting such an important fact. She was as good as dead to Konoha, and she knew they hoped she would die on the battlefield in the end.

She, secretly, hoped she did too.

“We are. Discreetly.” Kakashi zipped up the pack and hefted it experimentally. Deeming it light enough for her to carry, he set it beside the door frame and took a seat beside her on his raggedy couch. It was green, littered with claw marks and obscure stains that looked like blood, and had Gai’s taste written all over it. “It would be illegal for normal Konoha nin to do what the War Ops do in wartime. There are rules, sanctions that prevent unjust actions between nations. The War Ops are similar to ROOT, but far worse, in my opinion. I was never part of it, but Genma was, at some point. They forsake the village in the name of the village, sabotage what they can, kill who they can, and when the war is done, whoever’s left alive will return and reinstate their Konoha citizenship, wiped clean of their crimes during the war.” He paused, then, his only visible eye filled with guilt and sadness. “But you won’t be able to come back when it’s all said and done. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I have no other choice, do I?” Sakura shrugged lamely, ignoring the pull of her skin beneath the bandages. “It’s alright, Kakashi. I deserve it for everything I’ve done. If they consider my crimes paid for dying on the battlefield, then that’s fine. I don’t see any reason to try and escape it.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking away from her and through his living room window, just barely lit with the first rays of dawn. She had maybe an hour before she had to report to the rear gates towards Amegakure. “Konoha will miss you. They might not realize it, but when they need you most, they will remember what you did for them.”

“Other than killing their friends and family?” She raised an eyebrow and laughed, but it was a pathetic imitation of one. “Maybe. But it’ll be too late by then.”

“Maybe.”

Sakura reported to the gates when Kakashi couldn’t put it off any longer. She carried her pack on one shoulder, wearing the uniform that had been delivered to his front door in the dead of night while they had slept. There were no identifying crests on the dark flak jacket, no familiar stitching in the hems or seams, and the fabric was foreign, exported from the hidden island nation of Hanagakure. While it was comfortable and stretchy, the long sleeves pulled and dragged on her bandages, irritating the previously calm skin. The rest looked like standard ANBU attire, save for the mask they had given her when she arrived at the gate. It was black and white, opposite of the red and white that ANBU typically wore, and depicted the face of a crow upon it: a silent jab that crows brought death, just as Sakura brought death to her teammates.

She may have found it funny had it been happening to someone else.

“Be safe,” Kakashi said as two War Ops members moved to flank her cautiously. There was no need for farewells; they had already said them the previous night. The dew on the trees evaporated as the sun rose higher in the sky, as the village woke and got ready for a new day. “And take care, Sakura.”

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei. For everything.” And then she was snapping on the mask with one hand, pinning her braid to the back of her head, and was gone, vanishing into the trees with the two War Ops members as if she had never been there at all.

“Wait!” Ino Yamanaka’s shrill yell broke through the admittedly peaceful silence the morning had brought. Birds startled at the sound and took to the sky. She looked worse for wear, her once neat hair bedraggled and frizzy, dark circles lining her eyes. Behind her, following at a slightly more hasty pace than he was used to, was Sai, his pale face pulled into an expression of aggrievement—Kakashi had never seen such emotion displayed so openly before, at least from the former ROOT member. “Shit! Kakashi, did I miss her?”

“Yo.” He gave them a two fingered salute and nodded his head towards the trees. “If you had been a few seconds earlier, you would have caught her.”

“Damnit.” Ino sunk to her knees on the ground, dirtying her skirt and tears beginning to stream from her eyes. Sai, though he was not crying, knelt beside her and rested a hand on her back, rubbing awkward circles on her back in an attempt to soothe her. “I wanted to apologize to her—I didn’t think—”

“Ugly doesn’t blame you, Beautiful,” Sai said in that same blank tone. “You’re her best friend.”

“What kind of best friend am I?!” Ino wailed, a dark red flush crawling up her neck, a product of rage, anguish, and sadness. “I’m the one who practically had her sentenced to death! I’m the one who reported her! If I had just kept my big fat mouth shut, maybe—!”

“Ino,” Kakashi sighed, kneeling down to her height and grasping her shoulders. Sai paused, giving him a knowing look, and stood, taking a few steps back to deter the growing crowd of civilians flocking to the gate. “Sakura would have been caught eventually. It’s alright. She doesn’t blame you. This way, she knew what was coming; she believes she deserves it, so she doesn’t hate you for it. She hates herself.”

Ino hiccuped, her tears growing steadier and faster. “Then why do I feel like I just killed my best friend, Kakashi?”

He closed his eyes and tamped down the flare of anger in his chest. “Because you probably did.”

Sakura heard Ino’s cries from half a mile away. The War Ops were determined and moved fast, neither speaking a word to her as they leapt from tree branch to tree branch, infusing chakra into their steps to move a little bit faster, to push her a little more harder. She was able to keep up with them but only barely, her heart tugging her back to comfort Ino, to see the village one last time. She had to stop herself several times from looking back for a brief second, just to see if she could make out a head of pale blonde hair, and focused on the rapidly moving backs of her escorts, their nondescript brown and black hair the only hints of color on them.

While they were fast, they were also silent, but Sakura could taste the animosity crawling all over them anyways. They had likely been briefed on her status, and there was always a chance she would be fighting with a relative of someone she had killed, be it Yamanaka, Hyuuga, Akimichi, or a civilian. She would not only be watching her back for their enemies, she would have to watch out for her allies, too; there would be no friendships made here, she thought grimly, and adjusted the straps of her pack. Kakashi had been smart to add a lightening jutsu to it so it wouldn’t hinder her progress, but it would be a nuisance if she had to fight with it on.

Though, if her latest fights had been anything to go by, she was more likely to obliterate organs and brains with a single rush of chakra than breaking bones with blunt, chakra enhanced fists. She would have to test it when they arrived at camp—some miles away near the borders of Ame—or if they chanced upon a group of rogue ninja along the way. And her seal needed to be examined, too, but she didn’t trust any one of the War Ops members as far as she could throw them. Her own abilities would have to be enough.

“Caravan, three o’clock. Possibly rogue ninja.” The first ninja, a woman, held her arm out in an order to pause. Sakura landed lightly on the tree branch behind her, eyes darting over the horse mask she wore and then into the underbrush, where she could just barely make out the wheels of a carriage and several men dressed in what appeared to be Amegakure gear. “No. Amegakure forces… Six chuunin and four jounin. Orders, Crane?”

The second ninja hummed in thought. Sakura would recognize the sound of Neji Hyuuga’s voice anywhere, her gaze hyper focused—the long brown hair, slight build, the way he carried himself… She should have guessed. As far as she had been aware, Neji had been sealed by his clan and virtually disappeared from the public eye, but if this was what he had been doing for the past year or so, then she would have to be wary.

“Engage hostiles. Horse, crowd control. Crow… close combat. Fight to kill.”

Sakura scowled behind her mask. He was already putting her at risk of death. She shouldn’t have been surprised; the last time she had seen Neji, they hadn’t been on good terms. If this was how the rest of her life was going to be while they fought this war, she would rather throw him to the wolves and fend for herself.

Their orders received, the triad scattered to surround the caravan. The contents were obscure, but Sakura could make out the kanji for ‘explosive’ on a barrel tied to the top. They were nearly thirty or forty miles out from Konoha, so they were clearly intended for the village, perhaps to weaken the defenses or take out enough ninja to cause an issue.

The plan of attack was clear. Sakura would be forced to go in first; Neji would come in with Horse and keep them all limited to the small pathway and prevent them from vanishing into the forest. It was a smart plan… if only it had gone as she thought it would.

Sakura leapt down from her perch on a branch and slammed down on a man’s shoulders hard enough that the chakra in her feet sliced clean through the ball and socket joint and severed his arms from his torso. It hadn’t been intentional, but she sawed a kunai across his throat anyway, arterial spray flying into the air in an elegant arc. It was warm and wet as it poured down her face and absorbed into her clothes, but she couldn’t linger on just one. She shoved the body to the ground, the impact causing her knees to jolt unpleasantly, and darted for the nearest ninja in her line of sight.

He was large, burly, with cracked teeth and eyes full of red blood vessels. The vest he wore was more kevlar than a standard vest, so when Sakura tried to force her kunai through it, she was met with enough resistance that she had to change her plan. She swung her fist towards his face, intending to break his jaw and slam the delicate bones in his nose bridge up into his skull, but he caught the chakra laced hit with his bare hand, unaware of the horror crawling over Sakura’s face as her razor sharp chakra tore through skin and muscle and flesh and bone, all the way up to his elbow, bits of gore and shorn veins flying through the little crowd they made.

Horse and Neji never came to back her up.

When the man screamed, hand flying up to grab at his bicep, she lunged forward and ground her fist into his skull. She heard the crack of bone and the soft give of brain matter and then he was dead, slumping at her feet, blood pooling between the webbing of her toes and sinking into her brand new shoes.

She was on her own, she realized, and had been set up quite spectacularly. Horse and Neji’s chakra signatures were well on their way towards Amegakure and fading fast. This must have been the elders’ plan: set her up, get her killed, and no one would be the wiser if she died due to foul play.

Sakura slaughtered her way through the Ame nin with tears burning in her eyes and a knot in her throat that she couldn’t work through. She had thought she had been done with crying when she had left Konoha. She had thought she would be stone hard and cold when she left, unmoving, and stalwart in the face of her own death. Instead, she was as scared as the day she had faced off Orochimaru in the Forest of Death; as scared as the day Sasuke had knocked her unconscious and left her at the gates; as scared when she killed that poor girl when she was trying to heal her instead. Terrified, even, and fear fueled her anger, which fueled her determination to live.

She wanted to live. But did she even deserve it, anymore?

The last of the Amegakure ninja fell to her feet, his head rolling to a stop against a tree stump. A large lake of blood, demolished organs, and gore had grown the more she killed, and the mark on her forehead stung something fierce, as if someone had taken a hornet stinger to her skin and was painstakingly drawing out the circles and lotus flower like a cruel tattoo.

Sakura reached under her mask and brushed the tears away, blood streaking across her cheek and the corner of her eyes. There was nothing left to do now but move forward. She could let them believe she had died and flee to a far away country where no one would think to look for her; but a darker part of her, whispering in the back of her mind, told her to go to Amegakure, to show Neji and Horse that she was worth more than a few chunin and jounin, and when they weren’t looking, stab them in the back as they had her.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “An eye for an eye, right?”

With one last cursory glance to the ninja she had killed, she began heading towards Amegakure, following the invisible trail that Neji had left behind.

一 (ichi) | masterlist | 三 (san)

#haruno sakura #sakura haruno #kakasaku #kimisaku #kakashi x sakura #kimimaro x sakura #naruto #naruto shippuden #anbu sakura #sakura haruno x kimimaro kaguya

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rirah1writes · 4 years

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Chapter Four: A Man Named Eddie Brock.

A/N: Hey ya’ll! I worked hard on this chapter, and I hope it shows. LOTS of angst and in this chapter, but towards the end I threw in that plot! Anyways, I hope ya’ll enjoy it and always feel free to contact me with suggestions, or anything you guys would like to see in future chapters. Also, hoping that I can stay true to the comics, and I'm building towards that, future chapter will have lots of plot and lots of nsfw content (just FYI) Love ya’ll, please stay safe!

Warnings: Smut, heavy ANGST (I.e. mentions of death, arguments) some swearing..that’s pretty much it.

Summary: Peter and y/n have some sloppy morning sex, Aunt May gives the best advice, and shit goes down at Stark Tower.

Read chapter three here

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Heavy sleep hazed over you. You could feel cold air nipping at your toes so you drew your legs closer to your chest, unintentionally kneeing another living being in your bed. You shot backwards covering yourself, heart pounding. The covers flew back revealing peters tired (and now hurt) face. His curls were matted to his forehead, eyes sleepy and heavy. His skin sported red lines from sleep, and now he was studying you.

You looked frightened, chest rising and falling, not seeming to completely understand yet your surroundings. Your hair was wild, half tied into a falling bun, and you legs were curled underneath you, ready to push off the bed and run. Peters eyes shuffled over you, wondering what made you so jumpy.

Shouldn’t she feel safe next to me?

“It’s okay hon, c’mere.” His voice was soft and inviting. You fell back against the mattress, breathing out deeply. Peter could hear you’re heart hammering, like knocking on wood to his trained ears. He placed a hand over your chest which you took into your own, bringing it up to kiss his fingers individually, meeting his eyes and offering a small smile. Peter wanted to ask if you were okay, but he needed to know what had changed in you that caused such nervous behavior.

But you’ve been gone for a long time.

Is that even my business anymore?

Peters eyes scrunched at the thought and his brow furrowed harshly. You could see his troubled expression and turned to your side, sliding your hand up his cheek and meeting those warm eyes.

“Peter, what’s the matter?” You inquired. He shook his head softly finding your eyes, knowing your inability to hide from him, to hold anything back when he looked in them deeply. Something had changed in you since he had left, and he expected things to be different. But not like this. Seeing you frightened, and jumping away from him merited worry within him, and he had to know. “What happened while I was away?” Your became small curling down, and Peter knew immediately by your expression that something had happened. He hoped that you wouldn’t get angry with him for needing to know, but his heart couldn’t help but feel as if he had failed to protect you.

And yet, here you were cowered into your pillow, hands drawn closely to your face, refusing to let anything slip. “Y/n, please...You jump away from me like I’m going to kill you, you flinch in your sleep when I touch you. If something happened I just need to know so that I can help you.” His voice was earnest and caring. His fingers gently lifted your chin to face his eyes, and you studied his face. Honest intentions and love was all that could be found. “When you left, something happened, and I had to start seeing a doctor. He diagnosed me with Anxiety...” Peter’s eyebrows raised as you trailed off. “Oh and also Major Depression.” You finished, gnawing at your nails. Peter carefully grabbed your hand away from your face, kissing your fingers. “Can you tell me what happened...Is that my fault?”

Yes. Yes it is.

“No, of course its not your fault.” you stated, your fingers tracing his lips. “And I don’t think I’m ready to discuss it just yet.” You hoped that your words weren’t too sharp, that Peter wouldn’t be able to feel the resentment you still held. Many talks with your counselor had proven that it was easy to forgive Peter when he was long gone, and never coming back. But here he was, directly in front of you, and there was a face to the name that had marred your lips for the past year.

Can I really move past this?

You knew that Destiney’s answer would be ‘Fuck no.’ So your mind wandered to your parents, what might they have said? You couldn’t gauge, they had been deceased for such a long time, you’d have no way of knowing. You were pretty sure your counselors answer would be something along the lines of... “In order to be able to forgive him, you need to let him first know what he did wrong.”

You snorted internally to yourself. It wasn’t time. And even when it was, it had to be done in a gentle way, a way that Peter could mourn as well, because it was his child, after all. It would need to be done with no animosity, no hurt feelings. Just support and love. Peter’s hands traced over your shoulders and down your arms, sending shivers over your body. “You’re so beautiful...but you look so different.” He didn’t meet your eyes, focus only trained on your body, as if he was just having a conversation with himself.

“Yeah I’ve lost weight...” your voice cracked. You were embarrassed. You used to have beautiful curves, but after becoming severely depressed you had gotten down to one meal a day. Destiney called you every day to threaten getting on the first plane to New York if you didn’t start eating again. You had improved a lot over the last few months, but your struggles weren’t lost by you. “Destiney got me back on...somewhat of an eating schedule. I’m doing much better. I kind of just lost myself after...you left...” You trailed off, noticing Peter’s sad expression, he lifted his head to meet you. “Well, I’m here now. And I’m going to stuff you full as a tick.” He winked as you laughed at the expression he had stolen from you. Something your grandmother used to say.

“Okay then, I won’t complain about that.” your eyes sparkled up at peter as his smile warmed your chest, he rolled over on top of you, warm skin blanketing you, making you feel protected. “You won’t complain about this either...” He breathed into your ear, lightly nibbling at your earlobe. You didn’t realize how ready you were for him until Peter slipped inside of you, drawing out a soft moan. The morning sun was just peeking through the curtains, and you felt safe in his arms as he caressed, and lazily kissed you, movements slow and relaxed as he savored you. And that’s how the rest of your first morning with Peter was spent, your breathless moans mingling in the air along with Peter’s soft grunts, sloppy kisses, and a lazy cleanup afterwards, followed with the pair of you tangling up, and once again falling into a peaceful sleep.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stirred again for the second time that day with peter breathing gently next to you. The sun seemed to be well into the sky now. You studied Peter as he slept and felt a giddy smile cross your face. His eyes were soft, his lips slightly parted as he snored lightly. You smirked as you untangled yourself from his arms and checked your phone, finding you had slept until eleven.

That’s what good sex will do to you.

You laughed to yourself, unable to shake your airy feeling as you slipped out of bed and threw on peters tee that was strewn over the floor with the rest of your clothes. You crept downstairs, making coffee as your phone buzzed. It was MJ.

Well that good mood didn’t last long.

A realization came to you as you stared at the picture of her smiling and hugging you around the neck from behind: Your friends knew about Peter, and lied to you. A small pit gathered in your throat as you clicked the ignore button and slammed your phone back down, running your hands through your hair.

You heard Peter clambering down the stairs, you shook your nerves pulling the cream out of the fridge and continuing to make a cup for yourself and Peter. “Still take your coffee black? No sugar, right?” Peter nodded but his look was more concerned. “What’s wrong hon?” You rolled your neck out, forcing a half smile. “Fine. MJ just called me.” He looked confused. “Did you talk to her?” You shook your head. “Nope. And I don’t really want to either.” Peter nodded slowly, deciding not to push you on the topic, but you needed to rant anyways. “I just think it’s funny she knew where you were at and didn’t say a thing to me. Especially after what I went through, she could have told you...or me... it’s whatever.” You trailed off sipping your coffee and meeting his eyes over the brim of your mug. You could feel the yearning to let your hurt and anger out to Peter building up but you kept reminding yourself, it’s not the right time.

“Tell me what..?” Peter’s curious look was making it difficult to hide your own pain. “Ugh..we have a lot to discuss...but let’s start with you. What’s going on Peter? I still don’t know exactly why you had to leave.” His expression was hard but he sat next to you at the bar, and held your hand. “I just want to start by saying that I’m sorry I left you...I never wanted to...I always made sure you were safe. Tony’s been having people watch out for you, so you were never in any danger. But, Nick Fury got word about a major corporation in San Francisco that's been harboring illegal alien life forms.” You blinked at Peter and he sighed. “This sounds fucking nuts, I know.” He ran his hands through his hair and sat back in his chair. “Yeah it does but I’m listening so go ahead.” You still struggled to process all of this information but continued to power through as Peter explained a symbiotic life form attempting to merge with him, and soon after running loose in accompany with three more and murdering several people across the United States, including New York.

You sat back and slowly nodded. “Right here in New York...” you bit at your nails softly and glared at Peter. “Yes. And the rest of the avengers have been running around here like crazy trying to contain it. It uses the victims body, like a host, for a short amount of time, and when it feeds off of them to the point they can’t go on, it abandons them to find a new host. Leaving them dead, or in critical condition. The one here in New York, that’s still on the loose, seems to be more...violent in its actions. But my focus was to go to San Fran to find the source and attempt to capture one, well only one of two that still survived anyways. But Tony ended up doing that in one week...so...” Peter sat back as he grumbled his last sentence. “Why couldn’t you tell me this?” You shook your head at him. “Because I knew you’d want to go with me to San Francisco and I couldn’t put you in danger or impede on your life. You’re so busy with school I knew you’d graduate this year, and it’s so important to me that you reach your goals, I couldn’t uproot you like that, and put you in harms way.” Trying to be understanding was hard, but you knew peters intentions were good. You had been working hard to graduate, and work for homeland security, your dream. You couldn’t imagine peter would do anything to jeopardize your career or your safety. But there was still a couple of things you needed him to address.

“And as for MJ, May, Ned, the rest of our friends? They know, don’t they?” Peter nodded with shame. “All of them.” He stated, your suspicions confirmed. “And they ALL lied to me.” Your lips puffed in anger as you crossed your arms. “They never wanted to, especially May...” you sat up straight, meeting peters eyes. “Well at least May invited me over, and cared for me. No one else ever came to see me, matter of fact, they avoided me.” Peter breathed deeply. “Because I asked them to.” Your stare was ice, penetrating peters heart.

Now you’ve done it.

“And I need you to know why...if they saw you like that they would have told you everything. I couldn’t have that happen, y/n it’s dangerous!” You slid off of your barstool, storming up the stairs into your bedroom, ripping off peters tee shirt and pulling on a towel. His eyes followed you. “Y/n please say something to me...” his voice was sad and needy, but your anger trumped everything he could feel. Your head was getting hot, anger bubbling over, clouding your judgment, you no longer cared about your actions. You stormed over to your night side table, ripping open the drawer you took out the small piece of paper he had left you, his eyes were shocked. “You left me with this. Just this. You had me watched, compliments of the philanthropist playboy-billionaire Tony stark. And I couldn’t know a thing about you. But what you don’t know? Is that I was pregnant with your child when you left me. And sad to say, I lost it right on that bathroom floor. So don’t talk to me about ‘dangerous’ because for a while, I was a danger to myself. And you weren’t there.”

You cut your words short due to the tears in your throat, slamming down the letter on the nightstand, and turning to go shower. “Sonograms in the fucking drawer next to our picture, if you wanted to see it, babe. Congrats.” You jarred shut the bathroom door with a loud thud, leaving Peter standing with tears welled in his eyes. He couldn’t say a word. His breath was caught in his throat as tears involuntary slid down his cheeks. He walked over to the nightstand and pulled the drawer open fully, revealing the picture of you and him at his internship graduation, right before he became an actual Avenger. He softly picked up the folded envelope next to it that had written in your curly handwriting “Baby Parker.” Opening it up, he withdrew a tiny print out of a black and white depiction, a tinsy little squiggle with an arrow pointing at it stated “baby.” He put the photo back in the envelope and folded it into his pocked, sniffing hard.

You shuddered as you heard the front door slam downstairs. Peter was gone. Maybe he’d walk out of your life for good this time. A part of your heart hurt for him, imagining the shock and pain he was enduring, you desperately wanted to hold him or comfort him. “I didn’t have him to comfort me, and I survived.” You spoke aloud to yourself, as if it would convince you that he would be okay too.

So much for gentle and loving.

You washed your thoughts away, letting the steam consume you.

—————————————————————————

Peter padded harshly along the sidewalk towards May’s apartment. Tears stained his face and he hoped that no one noticed as he passed them. Bounding up the stairs and fumbling with the door, Peter burst through and slammed it shut behind him. Head resting on the frame, as his hands traveled through his hair.

I shouldn’t have left her like this...

“Peter..?” Mays soft voice beckoned his attention, he turned around to meet her eyes. Her face settled with understanding. “So you know.” She stated, shifting her feet. “May it’s all my fault.” Peters voice cracked as his tears fell, he carried himself over to the kitchen table and fell hard into a chair as May’s arms wrapped around him, gently comforting him as she had done for you many nights. “You can’t blame yourself, Pete. Sometimes it happens to women.” Peter pulled slowly away from her embrace and his bleary eyes gazed up at her, he was slowly shaking his head. “But maybe if I didn’t go...” May shook her head and put a finger to his lips. “Uhh-uh, hush. You did what you needed to do, and y/n was taken care of, she had Destiney and she had me. What’s done is done, you can’t sit and hone on it. Mourne if you need to, but most of all, you need to talk to her about it.” Peter laughed despite everything else. “Talk to her? She doesn’t even want to look at me May?” May chuckled.

“That’s not true Peter, you were over there all night. Everything is new to her, and for you too. You both need time to communicate and discuss what happened.” May nodded her head at Peter encouragingly. He wiped his face clean with his hands. “Okay.” He stated simply. Peter grabbed his phone to shoot you a quick text apologizing for leaving, and to see if you’d be okay to talk later.

Pulling out the envelope his fingers traced over the little squiggle in the photo. “I was a dad, May. I didn’t even know it. Why didn’t you call me? I would have came back?” Peter looked up at may with a hurt expression, and her own features hardened. “For the same reason you didn’t tell her you’d left, Pete. It would stop you from doing what you needed to do.” Although Peter was hurt he understood why May had hidden it from him. It became clear to him everyone had something to hide from one another, not just him from you.

His phone buzzed and he hastily picked it up, sad to see Tony’s name instead of yours. He slid to answer the call and Tony’s frantic voice bleared through the speakers before he could even give a proper greeting. “Kid you gotta make it over here, ASAP!” Tony continued bellowing on so Peter hung up the phone. “May I gotta go.” Peter let out a frustrated grumble as he hugged his aunt quickly, activating his suit. Slipping out of the window, he raced towards Stark Tower.

________________________________________________________________

Needless to say, what Peter stumbled upon his arrival was a mess. Furniture was knocked over everywhere, Tony was in full suit, arm raised towards a large glass mixing bowel that Natasha was perched on top of, Steve was shouting at her, hands flailing through the air. “Get off of the fucking bowel and just let him blast the damn thing Nat?!” Natasha held fast her position, the goopy substance tumbled around in its confinement, struggling to escape. “No can do Steve! We’ve worked too hard to find these things and contain them, we need to keep them alive, for research. What if it’s potentially a more dangerous threat then we first imagined? And what if there’s more?” She struggled heavily against the rumbling bowel as she spoke. “We need to know more about them!” Steve rolled his eyes his hands met his face in frustration. “Not at the cost of killing you? That thing would have to if we wouldn’t have stopped it!”

Natasha gasped in frustration. “We don’t know that! If it wanted to infect me it would have, it’s like it’s searching for something else.” Tony stood strong, charging up his reactor, aim ready to fire. “Pete, go get her off the damn bowel and I’ll do the rest.” Peter didn’t think anyone had sensed his presence yet in all the chaos, but his mind was filled with questions. “How did it get out?” He blurted. Steve turned his head slightly, still not taking his eyes off of Nat and the vibrating mixing bowel. “We don’t know, this thing is smart, one second we were all up here having a drink, and the next it had set itself loose and was fighting to get out of the flat. Nat trapped it in this bowel.

“WHICH IS MY FAVORITE MIXING BOWEL, BY THE WAY!” Peter turned to see Pepper flying downstairs to join the madness. “Tony stark I told you to get rid of that fucking thing or take it somewhere else! I know Nick Fury has a perfectly good lab somewhere but you keep it held up here like a house pet while you and Peter prod at it day in and day out!” Her eyes flickered towards Peter, who froze in his place. “No offense, Peter...” she added, unable to bitch him out without feeling hurt.

“None taken..so how do we...handle this?” Peter stammered. “Just told you kiddo. Go tear black widow here off of the bowel and I’ll handle the rest.” Both Natasha and Pepper rather loudly protested at the same time, causing Peter to cringe. Nat carried on about how it didn’t need to be killed, and pepper seemed to be screeching about her rug and coffee table, causing everyone to jump when a voice approached behind the group.

“You could just let me have Venom back?” Peter whipped around, instinctively webbing the mans hand to the wall. Nat clung to the bowel even tighter, and Tony turned his attention, as Steve ran down to the lab. (peter presumed to go find his shield.) “Sorry, have WHO back?” Tony asked sarcastically. “And also why the fuck are you in my house?” The man was tall, with bulky shoulders, his voice was gruff and stubble lined his cheeks. He was wearing a casual hoodie, sleeves rolled up, tattoos covered his left arm that was webbed to the wall. “Yeah, security is shit here by the way, no offense mister Stark, and I’m referring to my symbiote, I’d like him back now, before you idiots fucking kill him.” Steve arrived back downstairs, clutching his shield tightly.

Peter blinked, unable to speak. Tony’s mask opened, and he stared the man down, cautiously lowering his hand. “What is your name? And why are you giving that thing a name?” He questioned. “Names Eddie Brock, I’m from Cali. Might’ve heard of me from my show, but that’s not important right now. I’m calling him venom, because that his is name, and he’s my symbiote.” Eddie turned his attention to peter. “Say kid, you wanna get this off my arm? Your girlfriend might be into this type of shit but I’m not.” Peter thought of you briefly webbed to his bed, but pushed the thought far back reminding himself now wasn’t the time. He slowly shook his head, not sure how to gauge the situation. “Oh for fucks sake, Venom, I know you’re weak buddy but ya gotta help me out here a little?” Everyone’s attention turned towards Natasha as the bowel rattled violently and busted. Glass showered the ground as the symbiote twisted and shot across the floor towards Eddie, pressing against his skin. Eddie let out a sharp cry, then a second later appeared to be normal again, ripping his arm away from the webbing.

“Alright...” he started with a relieved sigh. “That’s much better. You guys wanna come sit down, I think we have a lot to discuss?” Everyone collectively steed at each other, then back at Eddie and nodded slowly, making their way to the table. “Alright good, we got lots to catch up on, so let’s get started.”

——————————————————————————

@pcterparxer

#peter parker smut #peter parker #peter parker x reader #Smut #marvel fic #marvel #venom crossover #avengers #angst

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pink-slinky-the-best · 4 years

Text

[Ho-ho-howdy, everyone! I'm so, so, sorry for my inactivity; excluding reposts and such, I've been inactive for more than a month! I swear this blog has been on my mind, and that ideas have been rambling around in my head-- I was just oh-so busy. But! Now I'm feeling a lot looser now that the holidays are near! So, weekly updates!? I hope so! It honestly depends if I get any asks/requests...but I'm sure I can scrounge around some ideas in my head!]

[To break my inactivity, I thought I'd give y'all some angst- It's a vent fic I wrote pretty early on- before I even made this blog! Fun fact; this is the work I showed @knifebean when I asked whether I could properly open and work on a Spinel blog,,,,, here I am because of this vent (and more importantly knifebean)!]

[So, please enjoy-!]

Darkness encompasses my entire body as I collapse onto my bed, and I feel my doubt take one last strike to my head- upon a rain of blows, one knocks me down onto the mess of unfolded blankets and I begin to feel my entire body shake.

I feel my breathing hitch, hitch, and hitch- every single one moving it in a different rhythmic pattern that is all the same erratic, panicked, and loud.

My arms, coiled so tightly around my own torso as if my stomach was about to dissolve with its own acid. My hands, trembling, scratching up and down my sides, my stomach- the friction of my nails beginning to redden my skin and the scrape off the horrible shame of the fat that soiled my body.

I break my eyes open- and I don't know how they look, but I know they ache as they force themselves to squeeze out the rest of my crystalline, salty tears- tears that feel steaming as they trail down my cheeks, near my chin, and drip onto my chest. My vision isn't even here anymore, I don't know where I am. I don't remember and I don't care.

The thought to breath through my mouth flashes across my mind and I immediately take action- a breath whistles through my teeth. If I were in the winter frost, shaking in the snow- a cloud would have covered my entire face.

Why am I like this? What thought of mine did me like this?

I don't know what position I'm in. Am I coiled up? Probably. Sitting? Yes, I think.

I feel the thoughts rushing through me. Why am I so pathetic? What's wrong? I was fine earlier. All I did was excuse myself from Spinel!

Then it hits me all over again, and a sharp ache hits my head as my eyes complain to make any more fat tears.

you're pathetic. look at you.

you look horrible. your body is fucking disgusting.

unworthy and fat and slow and sad piece of spastic shit.

The thoughts come rushing through my head again, and I feel my entire body begin to tremble to brace itself for another round of sobs.

I feel my entire face flush in a haze of crimson. My nose becomes stuffed once more as as a disgusting amount of mucus drips out onto my upper lip. My face contorts itself as I begin to let out another round of tears and in my throat rises a knot of sobs and hiccups.

My lips break open and loud wail spills out, a pathetic cry that kills me even more. My lips struggle to decide if it wants to make way for my horribly loud sobs or to curl itself into a grimace.

A pounding in my ears grows impossibly louder, and i feel as if blood could pour out any second, as if i could lose hope to ever hear anything ever again.

My voice rises again, not in a wailing sob but in a yell- a scream, anything that raises my voice. A loud, angry echo fills my room, and I hear commotion in the other room. Outside. And more panic and anxiety run in my blood.

I feel the heat flush and rise in my throat, a bombastic ride that brings me to both anger and despair.

My thoughts- the thoughts.

fat. ugly. sad. pathetic. hateful.

They get lost in a flurry of anger.

"I!" I yell out, jerking my head up. My head is trembling, as the heat rises in my throat, burning the knot of sadness. I hear my door open, and--

"Doll-?"

"HATE YOU!" I screech out, flailing my arms away from my bleeding sides and ball my trembling hands into shaking fists. I begin to rain down my own, weak blows upon the wall. I feel my knuckles ache and a familiar pain explodes in my hands. My voice spills out in my frustration, in my anger- my animosity, my hate.

A flurry of steps near me, and I slam my fists once more into the walls- and I feel warm blood- so warm, so comforting- begin to lightly ooze out and drip down my walls.

"...doll?" Spinel calls out, ever so softly- her voice a welcome pleasantry inside a blizzard of hatred and doubt inside my head.

I shake my head as I will my eyes shut- and a knot forms itself into my throat, choking me- only sobs and wailing is taken away from my yelling and screeching.

Slowly, my hands fall to my sides, bloody and battered- and my body falls forward, losing my balance. My head slams into the wall, and I feel a sharp pain reverberate itself into my ears.

My knees are the next to drop to the ground. Under my weight, I thought it'd hurt more. But only a light sting came forth.

I break down crying again. My shoulders rise and fall in erratic breaks, in pattern with my panicked breathing.

"Are ya' alright...?" Spinel asks, such a tone of concern and fear in her voice. Right. She's never seen me breakdown to my thoughts. She's never seen me so pathetic before. I thought I promised myself to stay strong for her? To keep myself together? I can't even keep a promise to myself, not even for her.

I find myself unable to break my eyes open again. A cloak of darkness surrounds me, and a sliver of moonlight somehow seeps through, highlighting my absolute mess of a form. "Yer' clearly not alright..." She says, and I hear her steps near me. I feel an unbearable scorch rise in my throat, licking the knot in my throat and it burns my throat. To yell at her to keep away, to ask her why shes still with me, why she loves me- if she even loves me?!

you're pathetic. nobody could love you like this.

fat and unlovable. overweight and untalented.

unloved.

The thoughts bring down a sea of sadness, enough to only suppress the storm of fire in myself. It only brings me more sobs and loud wails as I suppress to batter my body again. Even in this darkness- in my dull senses, I can feel the remorse, the despair Spinel must be feeling seeing someone like me break down this badly. Even if she knew about this, nobody could ever imagine I'd be this bad.

"Can I-- May I come closer?" She asks me. Her voice...it's calming. A cooling breeze among my internal riot of seas and hells.

Gravelly, I feel the despair jerking at her throat, but it sounds so perfect. that's the voice of the one i fell in love with.

"Y-" My voice spills out, as I try to form a coherent word. Anything!

"Y-yhesh..." I say, a slow and low word that leaves me coughing and dripping mucus down my lips. Disgusting.

And I feel her presence ever so slowly get closer. I feel her presence soon hover beside me, a closer look in the moonlight just what a mess I really am.

"Can I touch you?" She asks me, ever so gently. I feel her inch closer to me. Probably to get a closer look to how pathetic I really am. I turn my face away in shame, and she reels back a bit.

"Yhes," I manage to cough out. Among my sobs, I'm afraid she hasn't heard my low reply until I feel her arms slowly wrap around my torso- now covered by my shirt. I feel her arms wrap around me at least three times, her hands snaking up at my back, tracing little shapes on my back, and another hand lightly patting my shoulder. Her looped embrace...it's warm. it's such a warmth that my anger can't bring. it's such a serenity that my sadness can't balance itself for.

unworthy. you don't deserve this, she's gonna leave you afterwards.

I find myself crying harder, despite her touch and warm embrace. She notices this, and I don't know what's happened.

Until I feel my face be gently wiped. A tissue softly pinches my nose and wipes off all my disgusting mucus, as another hand gently pats my tears dry. I never felt her hands go off my back in my sobs. I feel myself be turned ever so slightly, and I feel myself weightless as I feel my head lovingly placed onto her chest. She's rocking me gently, back and forth, side to side, and I feel myself disappear, away from the bad thoughts. I never thought I could.

"Hey, doll, it's 'aight..." She comforts me tearfully. A sob of her own tears at her words, but she didn't let it hinder her. "Take yer' time. I'll...always be here. For you."

#steven universe spinel #spinel imagines #spinel x reader #spinel #x reader #reader insert #self harm t/w #fic #im so sorry for my inactivity #please accept this!!#ill try to post more

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spaceskam · 5 years

Note

#75 "What did you expect?", and #90 "Forget it". I am so ready for angry/hurt Alex and how he just lays into Michael when he finally sees him after avoiding him (and Maria) for weeks (maybe months).

this isn’t EXACTLY what you asked, but i hope you still enjoy it!

ao3

“Do you think he meant it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Kyle glanced over at a pouting Alex who seemed lost in his whiskey. He’d reluctantly agreed to grab a drink with him, knowing he’d been moping ever since they wrapped up Project Shepard. Alex had run out of excuses to talk to Guerin and, even though Kyle had insisted he didn’t actually need one, he was making himself miserable with ignoring him. Kyle was trying to be a good friend, but it was so hard when Alex ignored every piece of advice he gave in favor of complaining. It was exhausting at best.

“Back at Caulfield, Michael said he didn’t love me. I thought he was just saying it to get me to leave, but do you think he meant it? I mean, he hasn’t spoken to me in almost a month.” Alex said, moving his glass to make the ice stir around. Kyle rolled his eyes. How foolish of him to think he’d get one day off from talking about Guerin.

“Alex, you literally told him not to talk to you when you found out he kissed Maria, he’s respecting your wishes,” Kyle explained, signaling to the bartender to get him a beer. He was going to need it.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it! It, it was the heat of the moment ‘cause he stood me up after all that shit that happened in the prison. I literally almost died for him and he stood me up 24 hours later! I was just angry.” Alex argued, his face screwed up in a way that resembled a toddler more than a veteran.

“Well, what did you expect to happen? You freaked out on him and then specifically only spoke to him regarding Project Shepard. Not to mention, you were awkward every time you did talk to him. He probably thinks you don’t love him anymore, so he’s keeping his distance.” Kyle explained even though he was more than certain it would be going in one ear and out the other. The same thing happened regardless of who he gave advice to. He’d become the resident relationship guru despite being single for years and also being regularly ignored.

“Forget it, you don’t understand,” Alex grumbled, squishing his cheek against his hand. If Kyle rolled his eyes any harder, they’d probably fall out. He was so tired of hearing the same shit when Alex was making no movie to either get over it or to reconcile.

He was also done with being asked for advice and then being completely ignored.

“Alright, get up,” Kyle instructed, standing up on his own. He’d barely got half a beer in his system, but he wasn’t about to listen to Alex whine all night again.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get up.”

Alex glared but obeyed and they both paid for their drinks. Kyle grabbed his arm and began dragging him outside. Alex complained, trying to shake off his grip. He was too tipsy to be successful. Kyle shoved him into the passenger side of his car.

“Where are you forcing me to go?” Alex grumbled, continuing his angry pouting in full force.

“I’m sick and tired of listening to you whine about Guerin, so we’re gonna go see him and you’re going to fix this shit when you’re just tipsy enough to be honest.”

The entire drive to the junkyard consisted of Alex insisting he had no interest in seeing Michael. It was the most ridiculous lie he could’ve told. He’d spent too much time drunkenly desiring Guerin for that to even pass as convincing. Alex missed Guerin. Kyle was pretty certain that Guerin missed him too.

Guerin spent most of his time recently with Liz which meant Kyle was seeing more of him than he was used to. The guy was actually sort of growing on him. Once you got past the brooding, he was funny, charming, and smart to the point it was intimidating. On top of that, he and Liz argued and loved like siblings which made it just a fun vibe to hang around. However, just like Alex, Guerin asked how Alex was doing all the damn time. It was time they got over their petty bullshit.

So what if Guerin slept with Maria a couple times? People make mistakes and it really seemed like that was the only one he’d made in a decade of Alex pushing him away. Now Alex was pushing him away even harder. Maybe Guerin wasn’t putting up much of a fight, but Kyle found it hard to say if he would do any different.

Alex only shut up when they pulled up to the junkyard. Guerin was sitting outside in front of the fire pit. He looked so lost in thought that Kyle couldn’t tell if he heard the car or not. There wasn’t a trace of happiness on his face. It was a sad sight to see.

“I’m not getting out,” Alex said.

“You know what? You’re not allowed to drink anymore. You turn into an actual toddler and I’m not your fucking caretaker.” Kyle rambled before climbing out of the car. Guerin looked up when the door slammed closed.

“Gotta say, Valenti, you’re the last person I expected to come for a hook-up, but I’m down,” Guerin said, offering a flirtatious smile. Kyle rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. Sometimes he could really see what had Alex hung up for a decade and what had Maria willing to risk a lifelong friendship. The guy could be charming.

“Not why I’m here,” Michael nodded, but still his eyes wandered. Alex rolled his eyes for the millionth time that night. “Alex is pouting in the car right now.”

That grabbed his full attention.

“He’s been whining about how you don’t love him anymore every time he drinks and I got tired of hearing it, so I brought him here so you’d be forced to hear it.

“But he’s the one who told me to leave him alone. I don’t think he actually wants to see me. He’s probably just drunk.” Guerin said, his cocky demeanor vanishing in favor of mimicking Alex’s pouty state.

“Oh, it’s absolutely because he’s drunk. But it’s all the truth so it should probably get out.” Kyle explained. Guerin did nothing but stared back into the fire pit. “Look, you both miss each other. Just talk.”

Guerin licked his lips slowly, “He’s in the car still.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Kyle groaned, storming back to the truck. He threw the passenger door open. “Get out. It’s for your own good.”

Alex got out once he realized Kyle wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Alright. Talk it out.” Kyle said as he forced Alex to sit across the fire from Guerin. The two men were avoiding eye contact. Kyle realized he was going to have to monitor their whole damn conversation to make sure it actually happened so he didn’t have to be in this situation again. “Talk.”

Eventually, they dared to make eye contact. The way they stared at each other made it seem like they were having an entire conversation without using any words. It was way too intense for normal staring. Then again, damn near everything they did felt too intense to be normal.

That’s why Kyle didn’t want to fucking listen to it.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Alex asked after way too many minutes of aching silence. Guerin scoffed, shaking his head.

“Alex, you told me to leave you alone.”

“So? Literally, when have you ever listened to me when I was angry?” Alex demanded, leaning forward. Guerin tilted his head to the side in disbelief.

“I always respect your boundaries, don’t say that shit to me,” he said.

“You do, but you don’t ever take me lying. You knew I was just pushing you away because‒”

“No, Alex, you were walking away. Again. After you said you wouldn’t.” Alex was the first to break the eye contact. He looked everywhere except for Guerin. If he dared to look in his direction, he focused on the fire. Kyle waited for the explosion that was sure to follow.

“You stood me up! The day after I almost died for you, you left me to go kiss my friend! Did you think I forgot? Did you forget? I thought that cleared the air, I thought that was when we were finally going to, to…” Alex trailed off, glaring harshly into the fire pit instead of Guerin.

“No one asked you to die for me, Alex! I didn’t want you to! The only fucking reason I’m alive is because you knew I wasn’t going to let you die!”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing! I don’t feel bad for you saving your life, Michael!”

“With lies!”

Guerin’s voice ripped through the desert with a painful amount of force, anger rippling off of him with nearly visible waves that caused Kyle to stumble backward. He made a mental note never to piss him off. Regardless of the power he gave off, Guerin stared harshly at Alex who gazed back with just as much attention, just with a lot less animosity.

Thank God Kyle made them have their conversation in the junkyard and not somewhere public.

“Why the hell would you think they were lies?” Alex asked, annoyance more than anything in his voice. Guerin was shaking.

“Because you just wanted to get me out of there. You would’ve felt bad if you brought me somewhere to die. So you threw my own words in my face to force me to leave. That hurts, Alex. Everything tied to you hurts.” he admitted. Kyle took a couple steps back. He suddenly felt like he was intruding. Sometimes there were things between two people that nobody else needed to see or hear.

Kyle turned to face the car for extra measure.

“Michael, none of what I said was a lie. You know me, I’m stubborn and it took you trying to die on me to get me to say what I felt.” There was slight shuffling and a small sniffle. “I don’t look away, Guerin.”

Oh God, here comes the sappy bullshit.

“You did though.”

“I didn’t. I was angry, but I didn’t stop. I meant what I said. Michael,” There was a long pause and Kyle was beginning to wonder if they fell asleep. “I miss you and I’m sorry if I pushed you too far away. Just… please don’t sleep with Maria again.”

“I haven’t since Texas. She got freaked out by the hand. You jumped to conclusions.” Another long pause.

“I love you,” A heavy breath came from one of them. Maybe both. “Can we talk when I’m sober?”

“Please,” That was a strange word to hear in Guerin’s voice. “But you can stay over tonight. If you want?”

“I want to.” More sappy bullshit. “Say you love me.”

“I love you.”

Once the sounds of kissing began, Kyle took that was his cue to leave. He gave one look over his shoulder to see Guerin on his knees in front of Alex’s chair with Alex holding him by the back of the head. Kyle smiled. Fucking finally.

“Call me if you need me,” Kyle shouted back to them as he made his way to the car. He tried to keep his eyes completely off the pair as he started it up, but he definitely caught sight of Guerin carrying Alex into the airstream. He wondered if that was all muscle or if he used his powers too. He pushed the thought out of his head before it got carried away.

It was almost weird that he didn’t have Alex whining in his passenger seat. That was something that had become a constant over the past month. However, he much preferred the space without it. He loved Alex regardless, but he loved him a whole lot more when he was happy.

And Kyle finally got to enjoy that and some silence.

—

prompt list

I write both roswell nm and all the skam remakes, so if you want to be tagged for a certain ship instead of having to sift through fics on shows you don’t watch, just let me know!

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maree-ff · 5 years

Text

Blast in the Past

CAMILA

I’ve been pacing throughout the women’s restroom for over fifteen minutes trying to get my head right. Of course I feel terrible for having Andre wait on me at the table but I needed to have a moment to myself before we continue this dinner. My phone is out there with him in my purse so he can’t reach me to ask if I’m okay.

“Why am I such a horrible person?” Walking over to the mirror I stared at myself, gnawing on my lip feeling myself about to lose control. The tears built up anyhow despite my efforts to remain cool. When the first one fell I felt my breath quicken and slow down drastically. “I don’t deserve you.” I muttered in the midst of my breakdown. Lifting my hand to give attention to this ring I slapped my opposite hand over my mouth, crying even harder.

The old Camila used to firmly believe she wouldn’t find a good man. The present version of myself has one and after so many years, memories, security, and the greatest love I have ever known, I’m realizing I don’t deserve him. Noise from outside the bathroom entrance snapped me back to reality. I quickly grabbed some paper towels, wet them and cleaned up my face. I’m not in the greatest head space and the last thing I need is a stranger pestering me about why I look so sad.

After killing some more time in front of the mirror, fixing my outfit and hair I put an end to my pity party. Leaving the ladies room with a calm expression on my face I walked back to our table. When I rounded the corner I saw Andre staring into space with his hands cupped over his mouth. The closer I came to the table I could tell that he fought his urges to make immediate eye contact with me. He opted for the latter not wanting to put me on the spot. My hand lightly touched the chair just as he jumped up from his seat to pull mine out.

My eyes met his as he towered over me slightly and only then did I reflect on the four hours we spent locked in that room. I kept a mental note of how many times we made love but after the first three climaxes I lost count. I cried each time without failure or forewarning. During the last two rounds he cried as well. That was the first time he’s ever gotten emotional in bed. That four hour long session was the first time I begged for him to cum inside of me. Every single round. I was so fucked up in the head I wanted the chances of me getting pregnant to be higher than normal. The carelessness of us going through with my demands was beyond pleasing.

He gently placed his palm against my back waiting for me to sit. The warmth of his skin seeped through my blouse making me emotional yet again. I finally sat down allowing him to push me closer to the table. When he sat across from me I thought of Jorden, Zoe, and Kenja, wondering how the aftermath of this dinner will impact our family dynamic. The conversation we’re about to have is surely going to ruin what we’ve built since I agreed to be his confidant in Texas.

Exhaling as softly as I could I crossed one leg over the other, tapping my heel against my leg. Our food came as did the bottle I asked for and still the silence dominated our table. We hardly looked at one another as we ate, drank, and repeated the same motions until both of our plates were clean. The bottle of Sauvignon was replaced with another and then two glasses half full of Brandy. From underneath the table I could feel the warmth of his legs as I switched the position of my own. He didn’t move away or give me a strange look. He simply welcomed the presence of my exposed toes touching his pant leg.

One of us has to speak or else we’ll just grow animosity towards the other. I don’t want that. I love Andre way too much to let that happen. I gulped down my drink in an instant, pushed the glass and my plate aside.

“I’m sorry.” Him and I speaking simultaneously took us both by surprise. For the first time in weeks we shared a genuine but slightly drunken laugh.

“I’ll go first. I’m so sorry for how I’ve been acting towards you. Coming off withdrawn and uninterested in our relationship was never my intention. I love you with all of my heart Andre I swear I do-“

“Please don’t say that.” He warned. The sad expression on his face has me on the brink of tears. He grasped my hand, being sure to touch base with my ring. “Say anything but that.” I could tell he wanted to beg and plead but the audience aided him in keeping his cover.

“This conversation isn’t one we can keep putting off. I’ve been avoiding it and so have you. We owe it to each other to continue to be honest no matter what’s going on. No matter how bad things get, remember?” I countered, pressing my thumb into the corner of my eye to stop myself from crying out here.

He switched to my side of the table, getting lost in toying with anything on me to avoid the subject.

“Baby, we have to talk about this. Please.” It’s time to pull out all of my tricks in order to get him to open up. Andre has always been forthcoming about his feelings towards me and anything else in life. It’s one of the qualities I became attracted to so quickly in him. But at the end of the day he’s still a man who has the tendency to shy away from certain topics.

“I can’t. I can’t have that conversation with you, Camila. I really can’t.” He fought back just as I expected him too. Pulling out my first ploy I traced the waves in his hair melting internally at how soft they are. The scent of his hair products filled my nose, putting a smile on my face.

“Andre..we can’t keep avoiding each other like the plague. This awkward vibe between us has carried on for too long now. The kids are starting to notice and rather than them coming to us about their concerns, our parents are forced to fill in the gaps. You and I pretending like nothing has ch-”

Andre decided to one up my power move by touching me back, in a way others don’t need to see. Of course. That’s the testosterone coming out to play.

“Don’t. We’ve been through too much for you to all of a sudden tell me your feelings for me have changed. Or worse, faded indefinitely. I can’t lose you. After all the bullshit I faced in the past I deserve to have a lifetime filled with peace. A lifetime sleeping and waking up next to one of my favorite human beings in the world. I cannot lose you and I’ll be damned if I do.” The delicacy at which his fingertips were drawing circles against my skin made me crave more of his touch.

I let a tear slip as I moved into him. “You will never lose me. Nunca perderás mi amor. Not for anyone or anything. If you won’t talk can you at least listen to what I have to say? Please?” One kiss to the lining of his jaw had him squirming for more gentle affection. I obliged knowing that’s what he’s been yearning for.

“Okay.” He agreed.

“Something has changed between us. I don’t know what it is but I can feel it. I can feel the shift in energy at home, in that room..in us. My gut feelings have never led me astray. And if it counts for anything, this is the first time I’ve felt like this at all. I’m not sure how to go about acting like we are who we used to be when we’re not. We vowed to be honest about any problems that arise in our union and I will always uphold my end of that bargain,” cupping his chin to point his eyesight in my direction I raked the tips of my fingernails through his perfectly groomed beard. “And I know you will too.”

“Did I do something wrong?” He questioned.

“No poppa you did not do anything wrong. I just..I can feel that we’ve changed. Like I said earlier, I still love you and I always will but I don’t deserve you right now.” Sitting up straight I got into position to take my ring off. I felt his stare and when I lifted my head I saw a tear fall from his left eye.

“Wait..you’re serious? You don’t want to be with me anymore? Why? What did I do?” He babbled. “Baby wait, I can fix this.” He openly expressed his emotions not caring who’s able to see him out of sorts. “Camila please, don’t do this.” He sniffled.

I used every ounce of strength not to show out. I pressed on with removing my ring but he forced me to stop.

“Stop. Leave it alone. This belongs with you.” He argued gently.

“Andre, I can’t wear this ring. Not right now. I don’t deserve to have this if we’re not in a good place. It doesn’t make sense. I won’t feel right. Please tell me that you understand?”

Andre disagreed. I can see the anger brewing inside of him but I know he won’t dare express that side of him with so many people around. He pushed my ring back up my finger and forced my hands elsewhere. As expected the quiet allotted us time to gather ourselves and our thoughts.

“How do you expect for our kids to react seeing us act different towards each other? How are you gonna explain to Jorden why his dad is not around? Or how about you explaining to the girls that their mama has to be the provider all by herself?” There’s the anger. I knew it wasn’t far from the surface.

Taking a deep breath I fiddled with my ring as Andre forced my hands in his lap. I chuckled dryly seeing that this conversation is taking a hard left.

“Okay hold on. Before you go into a full blown rampage let me explain something first. Number one, we will not act different towards each other. My love for you has never faded or wavered and it never will. I will always respect you and be kind to you. Especially in front of our kids. You mean the world to me and you are the father to our children, so let’s make that clear. Number two, you are not going anywhere. Jorden, Zoe and Kenja will not see any less of you than they do now. You are their father, that love is not changing and they need you. As you need them. Number three, I’m not doing this alone. We started this family together and we will die as one. Nunca olvides que.” Swallowing the mass in my throat I composed myself and took a deep breath in and out.

“None of this shit makes sense. None of it. I thought we were good. I don’t understand.” Leaning into the table Andre covered his face. When he shifted so did my hands and body. The palm of my hand is now resting warmly against the keys to this entire equation. The piece of him that is the reason behind Zoe and Jorden’s existence.

“Andre?” I called to him. Gripping his shoulder I leaned in, getting handsy.

He turned over his left shoulder eyeing me heavily.

“Don’t call me by first name right now.” He warned me. “That shit sounds too foreign. It sounds like I don’t mean shit to you.” That snarl set up on his face was enough of a warning but I understand his frustration.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But to be fair that is your name honey. And last I checked the only thing foreign is me and my first language.” I smiled.

“I love you but now is not the time for either one of us to be joking around. Why don’t you want to be with me anymore? Why would you even want to take that ring off? I’ve worked my ass off to prove to you how much I want a life with you. I’ve worked my ass off to turn my life around so we could be together. I’ve worked my ass off to be the best boyfriend, father, and partner to you. Now you want to throw all that away? How can you just throw me away like that? I have never given myself to any woman like I’ve given myself to you. Please don’t leave me baby I need you.”

“Baby, come on now, stop that. I already told you this is not the end of us. I just think you and I need to figure out what happened between us. That fire is no longer a fire it’s merely a..a..little flame to a small candle.”

Turning around in his chair with determination, a rising noise level and some attention I didn’t want, he kissed me. And I’m not saying just some regular old, PG rated kiss. No, I’m talking about the kind that makes even the shortest of hairs on your body stand up. The kind that makes your loins feel like there engulfed in flames. The kind that could lead to the making of a baby and throw in a sibling for later on down the road as a surprise. A surprise such as finding out you’re carrying triplets instead of just twins. The kind of kiss that takes your breath away and never gives it back.

I’m sure the folks around us are giving us all types of interesting looks. But neither one of us cares.

“Don’t do this.” He groaned against my lips. He got me started up again after I had to force myself to relax and remember we’re in public. “Don’t end this. It’s not worth it.” Andre went from supplying me with his oxygen to weeping quietly on my shoulder. I managed to regulate my breathing like normal again while staring at the ceiling. Him hiding away in the crook of my neck was the only chance I was going to get to remove the ring.

The logical part of me says he needs to take this ring and put it away. I wouldn’t feel right as a woman nor would I feel like myself holding onto such a valuable piece of jewelry. My movements were cautious and drawn out not wanting any added attention put on us.

“Where do you expect me to go? That’s our home.” He reminded me.

Batting my eyes and blinking rapidly I put my arms around him. I don’t even know what to say at this point. Any words that could make this conversation any easier are beyond me.

“I-” I began to come up with something and then I lost it. The distraction stemmed from his hand teasing both halves of my top. “Not here..” I felt every muscle contract and release as he fondled my chain and it’s pendant alongside my breasts as if we were in the comfort of our own home. “Dre, come on now, this isn’t the place. People can see us.” I tired bargaining with him while being careful not to displace my ring.

“Now is the perfect time and the perfect place.” He responded back with some attitude. He carried on this way for the longest four minutes I’ve ever lived through, backing away just a bit to put the ring back on.

“I told you I can’t we-”

“This is your ring. I worked so hard for such a long time to find this ring and have it custom made just for you.” As he lifted my hand I concealed myself fully aware that I do not have a bra on. He’s aware too which is why I’m surprised he was just all over me. “When I was trying to decide which cut I thought you’d love more I thought about the first time you shared with me which fruit was your favorite. The fact that you can demolish a multitude of pears in one sitting is nothing like what I have ever seen. Anyways, I couldn’t just stick to silver because it’s so plain and you are far from that. It didn’t feel right to me. That’s when I got help from the girls and let them choose the white gold. Kenja was speechless when she saw the finished product. And Zo was over the moon about the idea of us getting married. She said if I didn’t ask you that night she was gonna give it you herself. My first thought was to have the ring come in at three carats. And then I thought back to our four year anniversary and stuck with that number.” He explained.

I had no idea how much meaning is actually behind this engagement ring. I wasn’t aware that he got help from our daughters on the details either. Now I really feel the worst person in the world. There’s nothing more I appreciate than for a man to go through so much work and effort to make his woman happy. There’s no amount of times I can say how grateful I am for the lengths Andre has gone to make this ring as special as it is. His confession proves I truly don’t deserve anything that he has given to me with the exception of our babies.

Cupping my mouth with shaky hands and the ring poking at my skin. “Please just take this.” Hurriedly shoving the diamond into the pocket of his shirt I bowed my head with shaky hands covering my mouth again. “God, I’m so sorry.” I wept. “I’m so so sorry.” The tears flowed, the hiccups took over me and the intensity of them.

Without another publicly made argument Andre took care of our dinner tab and drove us home. For the first time in so many years we rode in silence. Complete and utter silence. I was too busy weeping in the passenger seat clutching my heart with my left hand. This hand feels so much lighter and so naked because of what I did and I hate it. I know it seems crazy that I miss my ring but I do! That ring was gifted to me at the perfect time in our lives. It’s a symbol of the hard work he has put in to purchase the ring in the first. The proposal was a symbol of Andre getting over his fears and making it known to me and our family how much he wants to have a lifetime with me.

Andre didn’t say a word. He didn’t even turn on the radio and shockingly neither of our phones rang.

The awkwardness came when we stepped in the house and the kids were all in our faces. The girls asked how our date went, what did we eat, did Andre buy me anything, the works. Jorden also asked questions but in his own special way. Whenever Dre and I go out alone we tend to get a bit dressed up just for the hell of it. It’s something we’ve gotten in the habit of doing. That being said, the kids always know when we’re going out for alone time.

We put on happy faces and answered their questions without a shred a negativity flowing from our mouths. Together we promised that we would keep up a good face in front of the family and our children especially when we’re having problems. Tonight is no different. Andre took the lead tonight by giving Jorden his bath, helping him brush his teeth and dressing him for bed. After that he went to Zoe and Kenja’s room to assist them in getting ready for bed too. I stayed put in the front of the house cleaning up alongside Divya. She’s been quiet which gives me the impression she knows something is up.

“I don’t mean to pry but are you okay sweetie?” She spoke up from the dining room table.

I glanced up from the dishes I was washing and nodded curtly. “I’m alright. How were they? Did they give you a hard time while we were gone?” I asked. Rinsing off the dishes I’ve already cleaned I leaned over to place them in the dishwasher.

“Not at all. I have the most well behaved grandchildren a grandmother could ask for. I don’t know what kind of spell you four put on these kids before they’re in Victor and I’s presence..but it works! Jorden ate well, even asked for seconds. The girls got all of their homework done and helped me fix dinner.” Divya’s good report boosted my mood and lifted some of the sadness off of me. Hearing about our kids behaving for their grandmother is music to my ears after the stunt I pulled at dinner.

“Was he still asking about milk?” I countered.

Divya chuckled in glee, “Yes. Yes he did. I gave him a little but he doesn’t know I mixed what you left and some of that nut milk Andre made.” She explained.

“I’m not sure how long it'll take to get him weaned off of mine. I feel like a bad parent for still giving in to his soft demands for milk. He’ll be three in September and I don’t know what else to do.” Taking a deep breath I finished up with the dishes and cleared the counters and stove off to wipe everything down.

“Camila, it’s normal for kids to have difficulty transitioning from breast milk to regular liquid. There’s no book or article that definitively says when a mother has to stop breastfeeding. Or in your case still supplying that milk as a regular drink. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that I can try out the next I have him. And don’t you worry I will share those same tips with you. Do you want me to put these in the machine?”

I looked over at Divya to see her pointing towards the dining room tablecloths and place mats. Giving her the okay I hustled around the kitchen wiping down the appliances until the room smelled fresh again. Putting the bottles away I moved the items on the counter back to their rightful place.

Divya being here cuts the awkwardness down tremendously. The minute she steps out of the house, we’ll be playing a whole new ball game. Divya and I spoke briefly just as Andre was entering the room with Jorden in his arms.

“Mommy..” he called to me. His sweet voice combined with Andre’s facial expression made my eyes swell with tears.

“Hi baby..” Andre traded places with me after I said goodnight to his mom. “Why are you still up?” Welcoming his delicate affection to various regions of my face I walked upstairs to his room.

“What is the matter with you?” I overheard Divya say to him.

“Nothing ma..” he lied.

Snuggling Jorden close to my chest I was happy that he’s being still enough so I can eavesdrop.

“I know that look baby. I know Camila quite well and you even better. Why do you look so sad?” She presses on with ease but concern.

“I’m tired. I haven’t been this exhausted in a while.” He uttered. Twice in two minutes he’s lied straight to his mother’s face. Divya would never forgive me if she found out what I did.

“I won’t press you to open up but when you’re ready to talk you know where I am. Give me a hug so I can get home. I love you sweet pea.” I heard the two of them shuffling around and then the front door opened.

“I love you too.” He said. The house was quiet again so I quietly crept upstairs to get Jorden into bed. Andre had gotten the core of the work completed leaving me the task of reading Jo whatever story he wanted to hear. The two of us got settled in his rocking chair wrapped up in his blanket.

I began reading ‘Guess How Much I Love You’ feeling the words hit close to home. Reading this book to our son has me regretting the decision I made earlier this evening. However it doesn’t shake the feelings I have on why I made the decision. Something between us has been feeling off and I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is. That is the big question that I don’t have an answer to. Why? Why do I feel this way?

Bowing my head to see if Jorden was still awake I smiled at his eyes closing and reopening at the sound of my voice. Grasping the book in one hand I rocked back and forth, running my nails through Jorden’s curls. Breaking my baby off of my body is a hard task because I’ve gotten comfortable with nursing again. Now it’s time for my little man to move on from that phase in his life. He still finds comfort in being pressed against my chest when I hold him. Like right now the tips of his fingers are tucked away in my blouse fanning them out every couple of seconds. Being that I’m braless tonight he has easy access to my breasts.

“Mommy loves you so much. Never forget that. I’ll tell you any time you want to hear it, when you need to hear it and all times in between. Okay?” Pausing to kiss the crown of his head I rocked slower, starting a smooth rhythm. This will surely get him to fall asleep.

“Luf you mama..” he got out just above a whisper.

I kept on with the soft rocking but put down the book to focus on him. With both arms around his body I closed my eyes briefly. Jorden and I must have fallen into a pretty deep sleep because the next thing I felt was my lap become lighter. My eyes flew open to see Andre taking Jorden from me.

“What time is it?” I yawned.

“Almost eleven-thirty. How long has be been out?” Dre asked. He tucked Jo in bed, pulling the blankets up over him.

“Um..a while now. How long have I been in here?” Standing up from the chair I stretched my arms above my head feeling several bones crack. Andre initially started laughing as if I told a joke that wasn’t funny but he did anyhow so he wouldn’t hurt my feelings. “Why are you laughing?” I asked with some attitude.

“Because you clearly don’t remember falling asleep. I thought you were still trying to get him to go to sleep but instead I found the two of you knocked out. Come on..”

Before he could get me out of the room I went back to give our little boy my love. Afterward, Dre and I went into our room leaving the door open so we can listen out for the kids. He helped take off some of my jewelry and my shoes and even unbuttoned the back of my blouse. I thanked him, disappearing into the bathroom to wash my face.

The duration of my time spent in the bathroom I was alone. The crippling feeling of not knowing whether Andre could stand to be around me any longer brought me to tears. My knees even. I must have knelt in the shower, knees pressed to the tile with the water beating down on my head for ten minutes. That’s just an estimate. The uncertainty of whether or not Andre would be in the room played tricks on my mind. Suddenly the bathroom door opened up and he walked in. Shoulders slouched, stress on his face, laziness in his stride..he’s not himself. I’m to blame for this all.

Slamming my hairbrush down I spun around to watch Andre busy himself. In this moment I feel invisible, unwanted, and no longer loved.

“Please tell me that you still love me?” I paused to see if my first question would grab his attention. It did. He turned to look over his shoulder briefly and further once I opened my mouth back up. “Or even like me as a person. Tell me that you still care. I just need something. I’m sorry about earlier I really am but please don’t walk around making me feel like I’m not important. Don’t walk past me and not speak. I know what I did wasn’t fair and that it hurt you but I have feelings too.”

“When did you hear me say that I don’t love you anymore? When did you hear me say I dislike you? And I know I damn sure didn’t mean to make you feel like you were no longer important to me.” He argued back.

“I saw the way you looked at me when you walked into the room while your mom and I were talking. You can’t stand there and tell me that you’re not the least bit angry or upset even.”

“I’m hurt, Maree. You hurt me tonight..alright? You really fucking hurt me. I don’t know how you expect me to act right now. I’m not gonna walk around and be a dick towards you or disrespect you in anyway but my feelings are hurt. My pride a little bit.” He sharply exhaled, laying his palms on top of his head.

Sniffling I asked, “do you feel better now?”

“Yeah I honestly do.” He nodded.

“Por qué no dijiste nada?!” I cried. “You could’ve said that before!” Realizing that my volume was too loud I rushed past him to close our door just a little to decrease the chances of waking the kids up. I stood at the door gripping the knob just watching my tears hit my own feet and the floor. The water dripping from my head made me shiver.

That’s when he appeared in front of me with the clothes I had laid out on the bed. I changed and threw myself down somewhere to give my feet a rest.

“I should’ve told you sooner, you’re right and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I was in shock hearing you say that something has changed between us. Personally I disagree because I don’t feel like anything is different. Watching you try to take that ring off the very first time broke my heart. And to see you not wearing it now isn’t making this conversation any better. Are you mad at me for waiting so long to do it? Or are you mad that we haven’t gotten married already? I know it’s been quite some time since I proposed to you but I never wanted you to think that was the end of it. Life got in the way baby. You and I both work, we brought a baby into our home and that itself is a challenge.” Andre preached.

He switched places with me, laying my legs over his. I lowered my head to his shoulder, both arms thrown around his neck to keep myself steady. A big part of me feels like I just lost the best thing that has ever happened to me. This man is the reason behind my kids, happiness, peace of mind and safety. He’s done so much to protect me, provide for me and spoil me with. But the only spoiling that truly counts for me is him spoiling me with his love. I love hearing Andre tell me how much he loves me or any part of me.

The fabric of his crew neck grew moist under my cheek as I lay here crying over my stupid, selfish mistake.

“I don’t have to move out do I? At least not yet?” He quizzed. His warm lips kissed my forehead with tenderness while he rubbed my bare back.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Sitting up straight I reached for my eyes only to be beaten to it. I stared into his eyes feeling so many emotions hit me at once. “Thanks. Not just for this but for everything I can and can’t remember. Everything I have seemed ungrateful for, I thank you for.”

“You’re always welcome.” He smiled.

That spec of hope I saw in his eyes is all I need to hold onto for the rest of our days here on earth.

#maree ff #freestyle writing

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darley1101 · 6 years

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September 4 Magic (better late than never!)

A/N Day 4 of the September prompt challenge being hosted by @i-dream-so-i-write. The theme for this one is magic. I am combining it with some requests previously made by my bestie @blackcatkita for the Bloodbound pairing of Adrian x Annabel /MC. The previous request is what was their first impression and how did they meet, what do they fight about how do they make up, and how much are they willing to sacrifice for each other any lines they won't cross. And for some resolution to Annabel's cancer diagnosis. I hope everyone enjoys. I did something different with this one. With the exception of the author's note, anything in itallics is a flashback. All flashbacks are from Adrian's POV, while all current time are from Annabel's.

Magic Is A 4 Letter Word ( L-O-V-E)

They say that at the end of a person's life the moments that defined them flash before their eyes. Lying there, eyes glazed in pain and heart fighting the inevitable end that was coming sooner rather than later, Annabel's thoughts are consumed with Adrian. There are flashes of her childhood in Iowa in between the pivotal moments of their relationship, memories forced out of guilt because her parents should have meant more to her than the man sitting by her side, stroking the back of her hand in a slow, soothing motion. “Do you remember when we met,” she asked in a voice that sounded too dry and weak to be her own, yet she knew that it was.

“How could I forget?” Adrian mused. A gentle smile stretched across his full lips. Lips that pressed a soft kiss to the palm of her hand. Lips that murmured words about how right from the start he'd been enchanted by her.

Sitting with her back perfectly straight and her chin raised just a notch the newest candidate for Executive Assistant had an air of confidence that was both reassuring and, dare he say it, attractive. No matter how hard Nicole tried to fluster her or trick her into a questionable response, the young woman remained perfectly composed. In fact, the more Nicole pushed, the calmer their potential employee became. He could tell from Nicole's voice that she wasn't impressed, that there was something about the girl that she resented. Letting out a sigh, Adrian stepped into the conference room where the interview was being held. How many times had he told Nicole that she had to stop letting personal insecurities dictate who they hired? It was those insecurities that resulted in sub-par assistants that didn't know what they were doing or, worse, had no sense of loyalty. “Afternoon ladies,” he greeted, striding towards the file Nicole was drumming her fingers against. He snatched it from her and flipped it open. Honor student with an Ivy League education. Charitable volunteer work that jived with their mission at Raines Corporation. The more Adrian read, the more impressed he became. “Annabel is it?”

“Yes,” the interviewee responded, her voice like a cool breeze on a hot day. Glancing up from the file, Adrian sucked in his breathe. Long, shiny dark hair. Intelligent hazel eyes that held his gaze. A slight body with just enough curves to stir something he'd thought long dead. There was something about her that set off sparks in his soul.

“You're hired,” he said softly, knowing it was the only way he could guarantee that he would see her again. There would be hell to pay with Nicole but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Besides, it was his company and the girl would be his assistant.

“I almost turned the job down,” Annabel chuckled then wheezed, a cough tickling the back of her throat before erupting from her lips. Her chest tightened, wrapped in invisible bands that she knew wouldn't stop constricting until there was no air left in her body. During moments like this, when the changes in her body were almost too painful to bear, she had to remind herself why she had chosen this route. It was for Adrian. She'd done it for Adrian. Another cough wracked her body, spittle bubbling up in the corners of her lips. “Sorry,” she gasped, closing her eyes.

“Don't be sorry, murmured Adrian. Through her lowered lashes, she could see a sad ghost of a smile haunting his lips. He reached up, gently brushing a lock of hair off the apple of her cheek, his finger tips lingering just to the left of her mouth. “So...why did you almost turn down the job?”

The answer was simple: Nicole. Right from the start the other woman had made it clear that Raines Corporation, Adrian in particular, was her territory and Annabel was trespassing. Annabel had taken the high round, keeping things as professional as a vampire's assistant could, and doing what she could to show Nicole there was no need for animosity. Nothing worked. The harder Annabel tried, the more professional she tried to be, the more difficult Nicole made things. Life at the office became almost unbearable once Nicole figured out Adrian was seeing Annabel on a less than professional level. The jabs about Annabel's 'duties' had escalated to a point where Annabel had point blank asked the other woman if she was jealous or just plain bitter. It made things worse. After that Nicole made it her personal mission to make sure everyone knew how little regard she held for Annabel, including Adrian. It put Adrian in a tough position. He'd spent years trusting Nicole, giving her full access to his business in both the human and vampire worlds. It had been a mistake, one that had almost cost them their lives. Annabel had had the last laugh though. She'd put an arrow straight through the bitch's heart.

“Sorry,” she murmured, realizing she'd lost herself in a memory instead of answering Adrian's question. Her mind seemed to drift lately, caught between two worlds. “I'd rather not talk about her.” Nicole had already stolen too much time and energy from her, she refused to waste what little she had dwelling on a woman who had been so full of hate she'd sold out to the devil.

“What would you rather talk about?” The tips of his fingers trailed up and down her jaw line, sparking an ill timed excitement they could do nothing about.

“My funeral.”

A hard grimace twisted Adrian's features. It was a topic he liked to avoid, one that always circled back to him refusing to accept the inevitable and her wanting something from him that he refused to give. She didn't want to fight with him, not again, not about this. Yet, there were things they needed to discuss. “Adrian, please.”

It had been close to two hundred years since Adrian Raines had set foot in a church. Ironically enough, it had been for the same reason he now stood outside the simple red brick and white clapboard chapel that loomed in front of him. Closing his eyes, he stood beneath his black umbrella, letting the gentle patter of rain and the strains of Somewhere Over The Rainbow wrap around him. It was perfect and so completely Annabel. A lump of emotion swelled in his throat as his eyes flew open. He'd fought her on this, even going so far as to say it was morbid to plan her own funeral and then ask him to attend. Didn't she understand how difficult all of this was for him? He still felt lingering traces of anger, resentment, and the urge to scream, but most of all he felt regret. Annabel asked for so few things and she had trusted him with this. He owed it to her to see it through. He lowered his umbrella, collapsing it. Adrian cleared his throat, then walked up the steps and into the church. There, front and center, was the platinum urn Annabel had picked out herself, surrounded by hundreds of floral arrangements. God, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He had nobody to blame but himself for the scene before him. It had been his choice that led to this.

Slowly, his handsome features softened, his hand squeezing hers, and adoration shining his beautiful eyes. “There were so many flowers. Mostly pink roses.” Pink roses. They had always been her favorite. It was probably cliché, everyone liked roses and pink in particular was popular, but something about the flower made Annabel smile. Knowing that others had remembered that about her and showered her funeral with them left a warm feeling in her rapidly declining heart. She could almost feel it slowing, dying. “Your cousin Chazz gave a really beautiful speech on how your smile filled a room with sunshine.” Chazz. It had been years since Annabel seen her favorite cousin. Their last moments together had been a tight hug and a promise to stay in touch before he drove out to California to start his new life working for Castle Talent Management. Had she told him how proud she as of him? She couldn't remember. The distance had done what it did best and they'd gotten lost in their own lives. “I think the hardest part was seeing your parents. They looked so broken, Annabel.” He squeezed her hand again, a little harder this time. “Your mother thanked me. She thanked me for being there for you. Do you know how hard that was?”

Almost as hard as the phone she'd forced him to make informing her parents that she had died in an automobile accident. It had seemed kinder than the truth: that cancer was ravaging her body once more. The 'accident' had also provided them a reason for having her 'body' cremated. “It was the only way,” she reminded him, gasping for air as her chest once again tightened. The end was near, she could feel it. The last of her mortal life was seeping away.

The ability to create a new life was something Adrian had never fully embraced. It seemed like too much power and there were too many things that could go wrong. Adrian had learned that the hard way. For every person he turned, there was the one who didn't. The one who, no matter how careful he was, turned feral and had to be destroyed. He'd already watched one woman he cared about fail to transition, he wasn't sure he could handle it if the same happened to Annabel. Annabel. Just her name filled him to the brim with love. Everything in him screamed that changing Annabel was a bad idea, it went against everything he believed in. Yet, he knew there was no choice. He'd been prepared to loose Annabel to old age but not to the disease eating her alive. They had been to specialist after specialist, the best the world had to offer. None of them had good news. The cancer was too aggressive and any treatments they did would only prolong the inevitable: Annabel was a ticking time bomb. His breaking point had been Annabel asking him to not forget her. It was the deciding factor. Life without Annabel wasn't life at all. And what was the point of having the magic to change a life if he didn't use it to save the only woman he'd ever really loved.

Death happened with a whisper of a breathe across her slightly parted lips. She'd been lying if she said her last mortal thought hadn't been about fear, but as quickly as the thoughts invaded her mind they were gone. There was a moment of stillness, of floating in a vast expanse of nothingness, before she let out a loud gasp and her eyes flew open. It was like magic. One moment she was dead, surrounded by a thick, black fog, and next she was alive again, ready to face eternity with the man she loved.

Perma tag list: @debramcg1106 @josieschoices @boneandfur @speedyoperarascalparty @christopher-powell @tmarie82 @blackcatkita @mfackenthal @hamulau @endlessly-searching-for-you @umccall71 @damienazariostan @drakelover78 @penguininapinktuxedo @eileendannie @kingliamthirst @stopforamoment @writtenbycandy @lizeboredom @alicars @choiceslife @leelee10898 @choicesfannatalie @liamxs-world @boneandfur @blackcatkita @umccall71@eileendannie

#choices bloodbound #adrian raines #adrian x mc

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marshmallowatheart · 6 years

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To All The Boys I've Loved Before (Part 25)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24)

Of course, Lilly gets her Irish coffee - more Irish than coffee - and Veronica's not sure why she's surprised because Lilly Kane always gets what Lilly Kane wants.

Veronica uses the excuse of getting pictures during the performance to get out of having to watch Lilly be extra touchy, extra flirty and extra mean under the guise of being tipsy.

It's an awkward situation that she's found herself in; a contractually obligating promise to help Logan get back the love of his life that is sure to hurt both Weevil and herself. Or she doesn't help him and he feels the pain of heart break all over again.

"Veronica?" She hears a familiar voice from behind her.

"Duncan?" She blinks in surprised before a smile settles onto her lips. "Came to show your school spirit to the mighty mighty, Tritons?"

"Your pictures in last week's article really did appeal to my musical senses," he jokes and she gives him a smile for the compliment even though she knows his musical senses are next to null.

"Really? I was sure it was the pun filled tag line that caught your eye."

He chuckles, shaking his head and confesses, "Actually, Lilly invited me. Can you believe it?"

For a long time, Duncan's tried his best to win over Lilly's affection to no avail. She's marked lines between them and named him her enemy in a fight for their parents approval for the simple fact that he got it and she didn't.

Veronica wants to believe that Lilly's had a change of heart and decided to bond with her brother but she knows better. She wants to be wrong, she knows she isn't. "Lilly did?"

"Who would have thought that a broken heart would be what fixed my broken relationship with my sister?"

His words sting her more than it should have. She knows he's talking about Meg because Meg is the only one that had his heart but he's looking at her with blue eyes that have longing in them and she's not sure if this is about her letter or the fact that they've grown apart since he's read her letter.

She gives him an awkward smile, trying to hide the uncomfortable feeling that settled over her. "There's that silver lining, huh?"

He lets an uneasy smile fall on his face before it falls of completely. "I kind of told Lilly about the letter you sent me."

She gasps at him, actually gasps because if there's one person besides Meg that she never wanted to find out about the letters, it would be Lilly. "Why would you do that?"

"I didn't know what to do," he confesses. "I was so confused, Veronica and I had no one else to talk to about it. And Lilly helped me, made me see we needed to reconcile before there was too much distance between us before there was no going back."

His words pass through her ears without any processed thought because all she can think of is the possible damage Lilly can now do. "I can't believe you told her, Duncan. I asked you not to tell anyone."

"I know," he lets out, frustrated and apologetic at the same time. "I'm sorry Veronica but I needed to talk to someone, I couldn't talk to you, I tried to and you always just ran away. Who else was there for me to talk to?"

"Duncan -"

"I wasn't gonna tell you but tonight I saw you guys and realized that you look happier with him than I've ever seen you even with Lilly sitting across you," he says with sad eyes and a weak smile. "And as much as I want to believe that Lilly invited me here because of our new found relationship, I think it might have been to break you two up. She's not happy that you're with Logan."

She takes a deep breath and sighs. She wants to be upset at Duncan but she feels the need to get to Logan before Lilly can taunt him about this. Logan knows about the letters but she knows this could hurt the image they want to portray to Lilly.

Her eyes flicker pass Duncan, searching the crowd for Logan, finally spotting him at the corner of the counter and sees him downing a drink.

She swallows and looks for Lilly in the crowd of people because she wants to know exactly what the girl is doing to make Logan look so upset. She sees the green eyed girl grinding along with Weevil on the dance floor and she knows now that Duncan's just here to play a role to distract her from Logan so Lilly can play her own game of torture against the boy.

"Veronica?" Duncan voices, his hand on her arm as he tries to get her attention.

It's then that she meets Logan's eyes and she sucks in a breath. It's this moment that she realizes that she's about to break a rule that she's wanted to for a long while now.

--vm--

When Veronica excuses herself to get snapshots of the band playing, Logan excuses himself to get some coffee; non-Irish because unlike Lilly, he is driving.

It doesn't take long for Lilly to follow him and he knows what's coming next; it's obvious that Lilly isn't happy with his conditioning their relationship status to strictly friendship. He doesn't understand her - how she could want him and want other guys and think that's perfectly okay? She can't share him so why does she constantly expect him to share her?

He's trying his best to get through this date, trying to show Veronica that he's moved on from Lilly and to show Lilly that he's moved on from her too.

"Why did it have to be her?" He hears Lilly from beside him. She's settled down on the bar stole, ordering another drink and at this point foregoing the coffee completely.

He takes in a breath, he doesn't turn to her yet, he doesn't want to see the hurt look in her eye that he can hear in her voice. He doesn't know why she's hurt but he doesn't want her to be, no matter what happens between them.

"She's Veronica, Lil. Once upon a time you loved her too," he reminds her. He still doesn't understand where their animosity came from and he wonders if it's possible for them to ever become friends again.

Lilly scoffs beside him. "That was a long time ago before I saw her for who she really was."

He frowns, the answer making less sense than Veronica's reasoning so he turns to her and questions. "Who do you think she is?"

Lilly's eyes snap to his and he wonders for a moment if he's going to get true answers behind the reason why the bff title had been stripped from Veronica's name.

"Did you know she sent Duncan a love letter?" She asks in favour of answering his question with a arched brow, trying to keep a straight face but losing it to her tight lipped mouth and anger fuelled green eyes.

The question throws him off and he doesn't hide the surprise of her knowledge of the letter well because Lilly's lips turn into a self-satisfied smirk.

"It doesn't matter, Lil. Veronica is with me. Can't you respect that?"

"Duncan likes her too, you know," she continues like she hasn't heard him and he clenches his jaw as he looks pass Lilly at her brother standing too close to Veronica for his liking.

"I don't care about what Duncan feels. Veronica is with me and not him," he emphasizes with certainty that he doesn't have any right to have.

"For how long, lovah?" She taunts, bright green eyes and wicked smile. "From the looks of it, I'm pretty sure Duncan thinks he's got a shot."

He knows without a doubt that even though Veronica might end this thing between them, she'd never leave him for Duncan because Meg Mars was more important than a boy with pretty eyes and a nice personality.

"And it's not like loyalty is something Veronica values," she remarks, as though this is a fact he should know as she downs her drink.

His brows crease, frowning, he asks, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what," she pointedly says.

"I really don't," he snaps because he's really had enough of Lilly making these unwarranted snide remarks of and to Veronica. "Veronica's never been in a relationship before. She couldn't have cheated on anyone," he defends. "You, on the other hand, have vast experience on the matter and I loved you anyway. God, Lil, I'm trying to maintain this friendship because you're still important to me but you're making it really hard."

He wishes he could have a drink.

"Why did you have to choose her? Of all the girls that throw themselves at you why did it have to be her?" Her voice is quieter, the bitterness gone and the vulnerability seeping out her eyes.

He loses the fight in him. He wants to understand. He wants to fix them. He wants Lilly to regain the friendship she had with Veronica because he knows that they could still be great friends. He knows that Lilly desperately needs a Veronica in her life, someone who isn't afraid to be honest with her and someone to keep her grounded.

Because Lilly is Icarus and he's afraid that one day she really will fly too high and find herself burned to ash.

"Why do you hate her so much?"

She closes up at the question, all traces of vulnerability gone as quick as it came. "God, Logan, how can you not know when you're the reason why," she angrily snaps.

She finishes off her drink and he's staring at her trying to figure out which pieces of this puzzle he's missing. He doesn't say anything as she hops of the bar stole and storms away.

He doesn't understand what Lilly means by him being the reason why. What had he ever done to cause the once upon a time best friends to become enemies?

His eyes follow her retreating figure, she's grabbed Weevil and she's pouring all her frustrations into kissing him.

He chugs his coffee, looking away from the couple and he feels frustrated, confused and perplexed.

He doesn't exactly understand the next chain of events that unfold either. He glances at Veronica and sees her still talking with Duncan; he feels irritated beyond compare because why the hell is Duncan freaking Kane touching his girlfriend's arm?

He's so absorbed in his thoughts, in his glare that he's unfocused when he realizes that Veronica is moving away from Duncan and towards him with this look in her eye that makes him feel all sorts of fire stirring within his soul.

His eyes follow hers until she reaches him, she doesn't say a word and his mouth is dry as she grabs his t-shirt and yanks him down towards her, kissing him like their lives depended on it.

He's holding tightly onto her waist, drawing her into him as he kisses her just as hard and deep as she's kissing him - can she feel how badly he wants her? Can she feel how much he loves her? Can she feel that she's the only one that he wants to be kissing?

His whole being is filled with hope because she's said very clearly and contractually that when she's making out with a guy it's gonna be real. She fought him on it and left no room for arguments about this condition so the only reason she's kissing him right now is because she wants to, right?

She's pulling away, her eyes are heavy with a dazed off look as she tries to catch her breath.

Before she can move or say anything his hand moves up to cup her face and he presses his lips back onto hers. He tugs at her upper lip with his teeth and slipping his tongue into her mouth.

He doesn't want to stop kissing her. He doesn't want to find out whether this really is real or not. He just wants to live in this moment forever.

Her fingers uncurl from his shirt and she lets go of him, sucking in much needed air and he's just staring at her, stunned, mesmerized and hopelessly in love.

Her eyes move from his face to behind him and she lets out a breath with a triumphant remark, "Mission accomplished."

He closes his eyes and it kills him that this was a show for someone - Duncan - he presumes because why else would she do this?

"I'm sorry I broke the rule," she softly says, biting her lip that was just seconds ago being pulled by his own teeth. He wants to do that again and he doesn't want her to be sorry at all. "I just couldn't keep letting her hurt you like this."

He realizes then that Lilly is the reason for this sudden turn of events. The irony would be funny if he wasn't still reeling from the kiss they'd just shared.

He forces a smirk, breaking away from his kiss induced fantasies. "Feel free to kiss me whenever you want, Veronica."

She lets out a breath, letting a little grin form on her mouth as she quips, "Think you can handle that, Echolls?"

He grins and he throws back, "Want me to show you just how much I can handle that?"

"Okay, buddy boy," she laughs, forced and flustered. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Did you taste any alcohol on my breath?" He arches a brow, knowing he hasn't had a drop of it. "Or do you need another go at it just to be sure?" He winks, grinning and focusing on the way her eyes dip to his lips.

His grin widens and he revels in the fact that it looks like Veronica Mars wants to kiss him again, which means that Veronica the-next-time-I-kiss-someone-I-want-it-to-be-real Mars enjoys kissing him. For real.

"Okay, I'm so driving," she lets out a chuckle, choosing to ignore the obvious tension between them.

"Veronica, I haven't had anything other than coffee and it's not of the Irish kind," he says with complete seriousness.

"Mmmhmm," she hums out, unsure of what to do or say or how to not focus on the way her mind is still revolving around the kiss and the way her body is tingling from head to toe, begging her to wrap her arms around him and kiss him again and again and again.

He smiles, feeling satisfied that she's gone this far for him. He truly does know how much it took for Veronica to kiss him this way. It might mean that she really does like him for real or it might mean that she simply didn't want him to further get hurt by Lilly like she'd claimed. He's not entirely sure. But he is sure that either reason means that she cares deeply about him and he appreciates that because there aren't many people that truly do care for him.

"Hey, Veronica?" He lets out, they've been staring at each other and he wants to kiss her and confess his love to her right then and there but he wants to be sure that she'll reciprocate because she wants to and not because of their audience.

She hums out, somewhat lost in a daze for a second before refocusing and saying, "Yeah?"

He gives her a soft smile, touching her arm with sincere brown eyes staring into her deep blue eyes and says, "Thank you for caring about me."

She returns his smile, leaning into his touch and nodding her head. She wants to say something to him but her voice is dry and she feels herself getting lost into his brown eyes all over again.

#veronica mars #logan echolls #duncan kane #lilly kane #logan x veronica #love #vm fic #vm fanfic #inspired by to all the boys i've loved before #to all the boys i've loved before #part 25

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blezzeu · 6 years

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because it’s dark - 3

PART THREE - FINAL

masterlist

Pairing: Reader x Yoongi college!au feat. Namjoon

Rating: S (for smut) and a bit of ol’ fluff

Three Parts [one | two | three]

Description: After one night in the hands of Min Yoongi, you find him holding on to you--unable to let you go just yet. Even if you yearn for him, you know you have to let him go, because you know he can’t understand the darkness within you. Or does he?

A/N: I JUST REALLY NEEDED TO MAKE ONE UGH MY BRAIN IS DYING

You have not been in this bar ever since that night, but you just had to find Yoongi. You had to. After reading his thoughts and emotions plainly before you, and after what just happened: discovering what he did to Namjoon—

Your mind was a bunch of thoughts and emotions that threatened to leave you broken.

It was dark out now, your skin still steaming from the shower and Namjoon’s mouth and touch on you, hair still wet and your hands still shaking. After arriving at the location, you entered the doors without looking at anyone else there, or acknowledging anyone else. You just took one step inside, then your ears were filled with the loudest noises you’ve ever heard.

The pulsing crowds you remember were there. Screams of excitement sometimes came out of the waves of people there.

You threaded your way to the bar, where you were with him. Heat flushed through your cheeks as you recall that night. Your eyes traced all around you to look for him—but he was not there—

Your heart sank from its thundering form. You let out a desperate sob, trying so hard to find him. You just had to.

Then suddenly, there he was. Handsome and alone, sitting by the bar. you wonder if this was how he saw you when he first knew that you were his.

You walk towards him, but the thick mass of people stop you from getting to him sooner. Saying “Excuse me,” to the drunken people, and trying your best not to make contact with their moving bodies was almost impossible.

You look up to scan for where Yoongi was now, and saw that another female beat you to him.

Your insides froze. Ice coated your joints and entire body. The girl was looking at him with that kind of interest in her eyes—the same way you did that distant night. Your knees threatened to buckle when you see him accept her with a nod from his beautiful head, letting her stand in between his legs.

Your heart thundered and twisted violently inside as he smiled at the girl.

He smiled at her.

You had to hold on to something, anything. Anything at all. You found a seat and gripped on it, almost ready to heave out whatever was inside of your stomach. Your head was getting light and so much emotions coursed through your body.

Why?

But you could not stop watching as the girl placed a hand on his chest, and he took it with his.

You watched as they both slip out of the club, the girl trailing after Yoongi, no more than just two lustful people who needed to get a less-crowded room.

Noise rang in your ears as you stood there, dumbfounded. You then began to doubt Yoongi—the man you held in your arms to sleep. Yoongi—the one who wrote you words that tore through your restless heart, the one who tried his best to make you happy, and was willing to let you go.

Everything was shattering. Starting with your heart.

Maybe it was just a game for him. Maybe those tears you saw, the reactions he gave you, the words he so perfectly composed—they were all false.

Maybe his goal was just to ruin people’s lives. Maybe he won, after all.

You clutched the letter he gave you in your hand, as well as Namjoon’s, rereading his words for some explanation—something, anything at all.

But you just saw the words of a broken man.

“Hello miss, anything you’d like to drink?” The barkeeper asked your stunned form. “I believe your friend was sitting over there. He asked if you were here.”

Your heart stopped when you heard the bartender say those words, bringing you out of your lethargy. “Who?”

“The man…Yoongi was his name: Min Yoongi.” He gave you a friendly smile. “He’s been asking if you were here daily for weeks now, but he stopped yesterday.”

Oh, oh.

You knew this might not work, but your were desperate enough to hope and risk it: “Did he say…why?”

The bartender leaned on the wood. “He was pretty upset recently and almost drank himself to death. I was about to bring him to see a doctor or something, but all he said was ‘No, I will wait for Y/N.’ You.”

Everything just faded away.

With blood coursing through your veins like lightning, you rushed out of the club. You clutched the papers in your hand as you half-run to where you think Yoongi brought that girl. You scanned desperately to find somewhere, anywhere he could be. You were in the darkness with only artificial lights guiding you around. Loud noises leaking from the chain of clubs down the street.

Finally you found an empty public bathroom, and beside it a closed filthy, dusty door to a room that seemed to not have been kept.

Almost instinctively, you knew this was it. Hands shaking vividly, and your heart bending and tearing, you pushed the door as it softly creaked away, the knob of the door broken.

Boxes filled the room—the room was used for storage or something, but everything was emptied out. There you saw Yoongi, eyes closed and head cocked to the side as he leaned against the wall of boxes behind him, and he was siting on a few. His face was peaceful, unamused at the efforts of pleasure this girl was trying to give him. With you, he made sure you felt amazing and good afterwards, not prioritising his own pleasure, but yours first. He was the one making you feel good, not the other way around.

Now he’s letting this girl do all the work to give him the pleasure he needs.

She was below him with higher heels than a ruler could measure, somewhat kneeling before him and palming his cock in her hands. She was the one groaning, not him.

As soon as you saw him with her, you dropped the letters in your trembling hands, and they found their way to the ground. Your mind was a puddle as you thought of all the worst things on earth you wanted to do to that girl. Ripping her hair was on top of that list.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM!” You shouted at the girl before the man you realised you loved. The man who still helped you, even after you hurt him.

His eyes opened, still half-lidded as he looked at you. The girl stood, looking in between you and him, confused.

“Get out,” you said. You saw Yoongi murmur something to the girl, and she prepared to go. Your voice was dripping venom with such lethal intent that the girl did not question you. She bounced up and down, stumbling, with wide eyes while also attempting to fix herself when she left the room.

You were in a hot rage, your limbs shaking from restraint. You and Yoongi continued staring hotly at each other, as if in a competition. He didn’t even bother zipping up his pants, he just stood there, still with nothing in his eyes. It looked close to boredom. He said nothing at all. As soon as that girl left, you leaned against the door, and closed it, needing support of any kind.

You swallowed as his eyes bore into you. Hands trembling as you make to pick up the papers that you dropped. He watched you crouch and gather the letters, eyes following every movement. You stood, visibly shaking as you rearranged the papers in your hands. You took a deep breath after raising your eyes to him, thinking of what to say. You walked closer towards his leaning form, his presence intoxicating your senses.

“Why are you here.” He said, acting angry.

Suddenly you stop in front of him, sadness and worry written all over your face. “I got your letter--”

Yoongi scoffed, finally zipping up his pants while standing up properly, muzzling his hair while he was at it. “So anyone who would ever write you a letter would have to expect an immediate reply within the day that comes in the form of a yelling, uncontrollable woman?” He spat.

You took a step back, hurt by his words. Somehow you found enough anger in you to reply with the same knives he threw at you but at a different angle. “You are the only person in this world who would write a letter claiming he loves someone, and at the same day he is found being jerked off by a random stranger.”

“You are the only person I know who would agree to continue talking to me, and being with me, but ignore me the next time you see me--”

“Min Yoongi, many people break promises for valid reasons--”

“NOT WHEN YOU KNOW THAT IT’S REAL,” Yoongi suddenly raised his voice, making you flinch at the emotional wreck that was now before you. “Not when you know that it was love between us.”

You swallowed. “People do that everyday--”

He chuckled heartlessly as he looked to the side, a finger brushing his nose. You stare at his hard, cold eyes as he gives you a hateful smile.

You were expecting some kind of closure, but not this animosity. Maybe he was acting this way because he was still hurt by you.

Yet still, you pushed him. “So you can fuck then leave girls left and right, but when one girl does it to you, you’re a wreck?” You almost screamed. “You just got a taste of your own medicine, dear.”

Emotion simmered in his eyes. It was pain--you realised. He took a breath before seating himself down again on a tall box, hands slipping inside his pockets.

You didn’t realise the tears were falling on your cheeks until one fell to the ground, His eyes caught it as well, something stirring in his face.

“I thought you understood--I thought you said you understood me.” You cried, sobs wrecking your body as you kept his gaze. He just continued staring at you. “I thought you saw and understood my pain--you said so yourself!” You gestured at the letters crumpling in your hand. His eyes flicked to it, eyebrows crunching downwards as you saw his eyes glisten. His eyes were welling up.

“I thought you got me--you got that I thought you would use me. When you said you understood my poems--I believed you.”

“I do,” Yoongi said softly looking down, hand now covering his face, touching his forehead as if rubbing an ache there. You continued.

“Yes I was wrong using you, even if I was used all my life, but I thought you understood that and forgave me for that. I’m sorry that I used you for just one night, and I agree that there is something more between us.”

You heard a sob from behind that hand, his broad shoulders now shaking as he cried in front of you. You moved forward, wanting to hold him. Seeing him this close made your heart tighten.

“I thought you understood me,” Your voice broke. “I wanted to go to the park, and read books with you or have a picnic. I wanted to watch a movie with you, or eat at your favourite restaurant for lunch, or just spend time with you in the library,” you said, reciting the things he told you that morning. You saw tears fall down his cheeks as he removed his hand that covered his face, folding his arms around himself. Yoongi finally looked up at you from where he sat, you both just inches away from each other. You had memorised each word he said, the scenarios played in your mind everyday—what might have been—what should have been.

“I am sorry,” You suddenly screamed, and it turned into a sob. “I pushed you away—I hurt you because I didn’t know—I didn’t know that you wouldn’t walk away when you saw my scars. Everyone else did,” you explained desperately.

“I didn’t know someone could ever love me. I thought all they really want is my body, or only the bright side of me. I never knew you could love all of me. I didn’t know I could find someone who can understand—who could actually understand my brokenness. I didn’t want to keep on hoping and hoping for someone to stay, and then they leave as soon as they see me stop laughing and showing my serious self. Who wants a broken girl?” You stared at him, shaking with tears. “I thought you would just be one night—a memory I’d remember. But then when I saw your sweetness and genuine self, I panicked. I truly panicked, Yoongi, because how can someone that beautiful and wonderful stay with a girl like me?”

You wiped the tears that fell down your face. “But because I left you does not mean I didn’t love you.”

Yoongi cracked, a sob breaking his cold exterior, shattering him as he tried to cover his face from you. You started approaching him, wanting to hold him, to touch him. “I love you. I pushed you away because I fell in love with you. I didn’t deserve you—I still don’t. I am nothing, I am broken—“

“I just thought you wouldn’t leave me.” Yoongi interrupted. “I fell in love with you that night. Your body, then your mind. Perhaps in the wrong order, but I did. When you said that you would not avoid me, I believed you, but you did otherwise. You used me.”

His arms were on either side of him, sometimes expressing his words through gestures and raised eyebrows. He continued: “You left me.” His voice broke.

“When I saw you again, my entire body just wanted to touch you and make you moan and scream. You were avoiding me for weeks, and during those weeks I was asking around about you. I wanted to know everything about you.”

You gasp, wondering what he heard of you. He said: “Everything about you made sense to me, except for this. Yet even then, it did make sense. You are exactly like me.” He gasped, a hand now reaching towards you. “All I had to do was look within me to understand you. And I do. I really do.”

Yoongi continued, silent tears coursing down his face. “So I came to the same bar everyday. Hoping to find you there. I went to all the places I knew you would be, but you never came. You kept on avoiding me over and over, but I knew that you wanted me. Your body told me so when I saw you in that coffee shop—immediately wet just for me.”

“But I saw that guy you were with in the coffee shop. He loved you, I could see. I knew that you didn’t return the favour because you were scared he would just use you. And so I thought that maybe if I advised him a little bit, you would find happiness with him. You would find peace and have someone while I was left alone.”

“Oh, Y/N. I’ve been so lonely. Every morning class we had together showed what I was doing the night before—drinking myself to death. I’ve been wanting someone—anyone to erase the pain and memory of you. That girl—she was nothing. I wanted your body and your lips and hands. I wanted your moans and your touch. I just wanted you because I already fell in love with you.”

You could not stop crying. The tears kept on falling, sobs rocking your body as he reached out to brush your tears away. “That easily, that quickly, I fell in love with you.”

He brought you closer to him, until you were between his legs. You held his head in your hands, your thumb wiping whatever tears still remained on his face. He buried his face on your collarbone, breathing you in as you both sobbed, holding each other. His arms tightened around you with each racking sob.

Your nose bumped his, and Yoongi moved a bit closer, entrapping your lower lip in between his teeth before fully kissing your mouth.

You both stood like that—holding each other while kissing. Each kiss an apology and forgiveness.

Yoongi opened his mouth, deepening the kiss while pushing you closer still to him. One hand tilts your face to the side so he can kiss you more effectively, making you moan to his touch.

Suddenly, he lets go of you, his forehead on yours, panting. You feel his heart thundering against your own, your breasts flush against his chest. He stared into you, taking in your beauty, and the sweat now shining on your bare skin. You close your eyes, and brushed your nose against his affectionately. When you opened your eyes, you see him still staring—completely wrecked. You saw his emotions. You saw everything in his eyes.

After you folded and hid the letters in your jacket’s pockets, you found his hand in yours as he led you out of that filthy place and you went home with him.

You never wanted walk to his apartment to end. Just being with him made you drunk in happiness. You just wanted to keep on holding him—and never, ever let him go.

It was just like how it was before, yet it was so much more different. You entered his apartment once again, him following you afterwards, locking the door from behind you both. You watched him as he turned and looked at you, his eyes still red with tears.

He suddenly rushed to you in a few strides, and picked you up from where you stood, hands digging into the backs of your thighs as he pulled you against him, your legs on his sides. Your hands found their way to his head which was placed on top of one of your shoulders, your breasts on his collarbones. You just stroked him silently as he brought you to the bedroom.

Making love to him that night was...love. After he set you down, your now-bare feet on the chilling floor, you stood before him as he slowly and quietly tugged your dress away from your body. Left in your underwear, his eyes devoured you as you removed the dark shirt he was wearing, unbuttoning each button slowly, then sliding it off his shoulders after showing his hard chest.

He laid you down gently, pulling a pillow to be propped underneath your head. His fingers then felt your entire body. From your kneecaps to your thighs. From your hips to your breasts, then down your arms. He nestled in between your thighs once again, but now both of you took your time--as if you had all the time in the damn world.

After touching your luscious skin, Yoongi licked his lips before getting to sooth your body with his lips. He was deadly slow, enjoying each and every kiss.

But as soon as your fingers found his head again when he was kissing one hip to the other in one straight line, holding your ass as his face was pressed on you, and you let out a whimpering moan at his touch there, making Yoongi accidentally bite the flesh on your hip.

You slightly screamed as he did so, giving you amounts of pleasure. He continued kissing and biting you. Up and down your torso, your breasts. He cupped them with his hands, kissing the curves and thumbing the nipples peaking through the bra. You started panting, bringing him closer, wanting his weight on you.

Suddenly his face was on top of you, his eyes watching your flushed cheeks and opened mouth. His was opened as well, in awe of your beauty and that this was happening. He said in a hushed tone: “I wanted to fuck you like this,” he grind his hips on yours through your soaking underwear and his pants, making you moan and tighten your grip on his shoulders. “Because I wanted to hear you moan in front of me, I wanted to see your reactions, and to see your beautiful, blushing face as I slipped inside you.”

You whimpered, breasts tightening as his words devoured you. You were weakened by his words, yet still you found enough in you to guide him to be flipped over.

He allowed you to do so, you now straddling his hips, his hardness right below your pussy. You kissed his throat, his collarbones, his chest and his navel. His hands reached for you, holding your legs on him. You went south, right were his erection protruded.

You got off his hips and sat on his legs. You bent forward to kiss the bulge, your hands on his inner thighs. That made him moan and lift his hips towards you, wanting contact.

You removed his belt slowly and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. You made it shift so you had space to work with—his briefs exposing the wetness his tip had formed.

You kissed his hips, then went south to his briefs, kissing him there. He groaned, fingers now tangling the sheets.

You pulled his briefs down, and your pussy tightened just seeing how erect he was, dripping already. You stroked him there, and you saw Yoongi’s head go to the side, his forehead dripping with sweat as he kept on telling you to do more.

You wrapped your fingers around him, slightly squeezing him as you moved in circular movements. What you saw it did to him was not enough with just your hand, so you released his hard form to put your mouth on him.

At the feeling of your saliva on his tip, he almost screamed. His legs were moving from underneath you, hips raising for you to swallow him whole. You complied, taking him in inch by inch. Oh, he was big and hard.

You sucked on him enough to start bobbing your head, creating more noises form him. All you wanted and needed to do was make him happy—that’s all you wanted him to do. You wanted him to scream your name.

“Y/N...” Yoongi groaned. “I’m reaching...I’m reaching my end...”

You continued bobbing and sucking on his cock, hands stroking the skin on his thighs, gripping them once in a while. You went faster, teeth slightly grinding as you hallowed out your cheeks. You watched as his chest heaved and shook with your mouth on him.

“Y/N—“

Suddenly he came on your mouth, and you took it all, tasting him. He was shuddering, a pillow tightly gripped on his hand.

As you released him, he immediately pulled you up, making you slide into his cock, your pussy already wet and aching through your underwear. He ripped what remained of it, making you gasp when he freed your crotch. As you settled on him, his long cock filling your right pussy all the way, you shuddered at his gaze on you, your breasts heavy with excitement.

He rose towards you, holding your head in between his hands as Yoongi kisses you. His mouth fitted your perfectly, moaning against your touch as you readjusted your hips on his. Him now sitting up, his cock inside of you, he suddenly pushed upwards, causing you to scream at the depth.

He continued kissing you as you moved on him, his legs kicking his pants and briefs away, folding around you as he sat properly. You paused to make him adjust, then you continued moving. You grind your hips against him, panting as your hands hold his shoulders. His fingers worked their way to your back, they were shaking as they unhooked your bra.

Yoongi threw them away, then started kissing them, slightly biting and sucking on your hard nipples as he groaned with each movement you make. His cock tormented you, digging deeper and deeper inside. You tightened around him as he was kissing your neck, making him groan and bite into the skin there.

Your fingernails stretched his back, but he seemed to not mind, considering what his length was doing to you. Sitting on him like this, your nipples in his mouth and fingers as he held you by your ribs, you went faster instead of the slow rhythmic beat you started off with.

His lips released you as you began the new pace, groaning as h held your hips, bringing them impossibly closer to his. Your hips grinding with his, as your pussy took him all in, sliding in and out.

You looked up at Yoongi and saw him watching you, sweat covering his forehead. You continued with the fast pace, grunting with each time his dick hit left and entered your folds. Yoongi said with a lust-filled tone: “You are so warm and tight, Y/N. You look so beautiful with my dick inside of you, princess.”

His hands now gripping your waist, both of you turned silent when you see him look down to where you are joined—seeing where his cock pulled and entered you. You were close to your end, as was he for the last time you tightened around him.

“Fuck,” he gasped when he came into you again. You came right afterwards, panting as his arms held you, your cheeks bright red now.

He guided you to rest your head on his broad chest, his breaths fast and uneven, and his heard thundering below your ear. Your hand stroked the area of his stomach and hips, soothing him with your touch.

Then, when you both started breathing normally, he pulled the bed sheet over your bare bodies, tucking you in beside him. You faced each other, as you did that night, his face on your chest now, counting your loud and fast heartbeats.

Then he started telling you about himself. What made him realise that he hated feeling used, and all his friends that all disappeared when he needed them most. He told you about his first and only heartbreak that caused him to start preying on women with the lost hope of ever finding love.

He told you about his new friends and how they have been helping him out. He told you their names and their lives and how easily they would get along with you.

Then you start telling him about what Namjoon did, his grip on you tightening as you mentioned his name. And you forgave and thanked him for trying to give you a life outside of him.

As if he still can’t get over your body, he started kissing you again, leaving marks as he sucked on you. You watched him do so, clenching your legs at how attractive he looked marking your body.

“I want everyone to know that you are mine,” he said as he went down and kissed your legs, flipping you over so your were on your back. “I hope you scratched me hard enough to last the week.”

“I can do it again if you want to,” you said, voice filled with passion.

After he decided to take you up on that, his mouth soaking with your cum and his back filled with your scratches, you both just held each other, talking until the sun rose and a new day start.

After having round two and three the next morning, you were nothing short of tired.

First it was in the bed, you woke up with Yoongi kissing your legs and stroking your pussy—of course you could not ignore the warmth that pooled down there.

Then after he brought you out to breakfast, smiling and holding your hand while kissing you almost each and every minute, you both went to the library together. Both of your uncontrollable desires caused you to find a quiet section of books and then his mouth was on yours and then his dick was in your pussy, trying hard not to make a noise while he tore through you standing up against a book shelf.

Then he brought you to a park, his arm around your waist as you walked through the grass and sat by a tree.

[one | two | three]

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vampiricallyinclined · 6 years

Photo

Prompts: “Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry” & “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me” & “Why are you so nice to me” - Prompt Lists

Tagging: @supernatural-lover-teamfreewill (requester)

Tears had long since stained your cheeks, but where the sobs had once wracked your body you now found yourself plagued instead with an eerie silence unlike any other. You had been friends with Elena, Bonnie and Caroline for as long as you could remember, and you had been at their sides throughout every supernatural event so far, despite your now differing status of being the only true human other than Matt; but it seemed as though none of that mattered now.

You didn’t like their plan. It was clear to you that every time you tried to get some upper hand on whatever evil you were against someone would make a move that would bring someone worse into the midst, and while you of course wanted your friends to have a chance at a normal human life, this promise of a cure held more uncertainty than you were comfortable with. Heck, even Kol Mikaelson, of all people, had warned you all against pursuing this Silas character, and while you didn’t trust him, you did know that if he feared what was to come, so should you.

But your friends did not see it that way, and when you made your thoughts known, when you finally spoke out against their plan, they were quick to not only dismiss you, but accuse you of neither caring nor really being involved in their matters; saying you were selfish and only looking out for yourself.

Their words had hurt more than you had expected, but what shocked you most of all was just how quickly they had turned on you. Your three best friends in the world had no problem accusing you of working with Kol, of working against them, and while Damon was surprisingly silent on the matter, you almost wished he had been involved, if only so you could put the blame on him and not the people that meant the most to you.

It had been over an hour since you had stormed out of the Salvatore house, and you had been anxiously hoping that one of your friends might realize their mistake ever since. So, when you heard a gentle knocking on your front door, hope sprung forth and you were rushing to the door without a care for your chaotic state. Opening the door with trepidation and fear, your hopes were instantly dashed when your sights came across a timid and shy Stefan Salvatore instead.

“Hey,” he broke the silence with a small smile, sympathy shining through his eyes without any hint of restraint. “Can I come in?”

Stepping aside to let him pass, you frowned when an amused smile played on his lips for a moment as he gestured to the doorway with a finger before looking at you with a questioning gaze. He hadn’t been to your place before, you realized suddenly, in fact, you had never actually told him where you lived, having usually only seen him at either his home, Elena’s or the Mystic Grill.

“Right, sorry,” you spoke softly, your voice cracking at the first sounds to escape your throat since the heart wrenching sobs from earlier. “Come on in.”

With a grateful nod, he entered with ease, his eyes flickering over the décor, taking in every little detail of the house, curiously absorbing the information that came from every picture and decoration. Guiding him into the lounge room, you lead him to the couch, sitting opposite him in an arm chair somewhat awkwardly. Yes, you had known him for years now, and yes, you would happily call him your friend, but you hadn’t actually had all that much one on one time with the younger Salvatore, you realized, and having him, and him alone, in your house was rather more peculiar than you had expected.

“So,” he began once more, eyes focusing on you as he attempted to read the emotions you were hastily attempting to push away. “I, uh, I heard about earlier,” he admitted with a sigh.

A matching sigh fell from your lips, and your mask slipped away. “You here to tell me how selfish I’m being too?” you asked begrudgingly.

Stefan’s brows furrowed as a clear state of bewilderment overtook his features. Leaning forward in his chair, his hands clenched onto one another as he watched you carefully. “Why would I do that?” he asked in confusion.

“Oh please,” you rolled your eyes, trying not to let the pain from your earlier fight show, attempting to appear stronger and more confident than you felt. “I’ve already had Caroline yell at me, Elena tell me I’m being selfish, Bonnie tell me I’m not being supportive and Damon, actually, surprisingly Damon was very quiet on the matter,” you tilted your head in consideration, propping your elbow on the arm of your chair and letting it hold your head up.

Seeing Stefan nod at your words, your curiosity was peaked, and, with a pointed look, he began to explain. “He’s actually the one who called me and told me what happened,” he admitted with a hesitant smile.

“So, why are you here?” you asked in an exasperated tone. “Because if it’s to get me to apologize for pointing out the bleeding obvious to the others-”

“You don’t owe them an apology,” Stefan interrupted, waving his hands in dismissal of your words as he stood once more. Making his way over to your chair, he sighed as he sat on the armrest, a determined, albeit somewhat tired, expression on his face as he looked down at you. “As much as I wish it weren’t true, you’re probably right about the cure. These things always come with a cost, and none of us have taken that into account, other than you of course,” he pointed out, wrapping an arm comfortingly around your shoulder, tracing calming patterns against your forearm.

“Then what did I do wrong?” the question slipped out of your lips before you had a chance to stop it; a hint of the desperate sadness and vulnerability you felt within seeping out.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he sighed tiredly, pulling you into his chest as his hand continued to rub soothing motions against your arm. It was odd how comfortable his hold was, not only because of the odd position in which you sat, but the fact that you had never actually been that close with him before. Yet, despite the oddity that played on your mind, you felt an abyss of adoration at the gesture.

But as comforting as it was to have him at your side, your mind refused to release you from the negative thoughts that were plaguing you. You had been friends with Elena, Caroline and Bonnie since you were all children, and never had they treated you like this before. Usually you were the peace maker, the one standing in the middle of whatever feud was going down and trying to make the parties involved see reason, you had never actually been the one involved in a fight, and that terrified you. But what was worse was that they refused to give you the time of day, they wouldn’t let you explain your stance, or hear anything you had to say; they were resolute in their anger and animosity, and you didn’t know if you could come back from that.

A single tear made its way to the corner of your eye and you hurriedly brushed it away, not wanting Stefan to see how fragile you were in that moment. You had tried to be strong for every battle, every new foe you had to face, you couldn’t let that mask slip away now when he was trying to show you such incredible kindness. But he did notice your rushed movement which was made clear when he pulled away from you enough to face you properly. “Please don’t cry, I can’t stand to see you cry,” he spoke softly, pleadingly, as his thumb traced over your cheek, catching another tear as it made its run for freedom.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you sighed, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch, curiosity mixing with the utter gratefulness you felt at his kindness.

“Because you’re you,” Stefan shrugged, struggling to grasp an actual answer for you. “You’re kind and helpful, you’re always there whenever someone needs you, you’re just… you…” he trailed off, looking down at you in wonderment.

He had never really questioned it before, but in that moment, he couldn’t stop the questions from running through his mind. After all the chaos and madness that he and his brother had brought with them to Mystic Falls, you had stayed loyal to your friends, you had never backed down from a fight, and you had worked, perhaps harder than anyone, to figure out a solution for every drama that had come to meet you. How the others could see anything but that, he had no idea.

He had always known you were different, that you held a special place in his heart unlike any of the rest of the group, but as his heart seemed to clench at the thought of you in tears, realization dawned on him, and, as he often did when he was around you, he found himself speaking his thoughts without hesitation. “I think I’m in love with you,” he admitted, his brow furrowed in concentration, “and that scares the crap out of me.”

#stefan salvatore #stefan salvatore imagine #stefan salvatore imagines #tvd #tvd imagine #imagine #imagines #tvd imagines #the vampire diaries

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