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pleasantanathema · 3 years

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Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter One

Chapter One: Living Ghosts

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of violence, enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (don’t worry, it’ll come sooner than you think).

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Here’s chapter one of my multi-chapter series for Reiner— chapter two is already ready!

A very special thank you to @present-mel , and @whats-her-quirk for encouraging me to take the plunge and create this monster (I’ve got a lot planned for this fic and I’m so excited for it) 💕

Masterlist | Next Chapter

You were having that same dream again, the one where you felt like you were dying. Your shoulder ached with the memory of bursting pain, but there were warm hands there, holding you, pressing down to keep the bleeding at bay. You could never recognize the face, never identify the voice, your ears still ringing from the sound of a piercing gunshot. It was always the same; a delirious memory warped into a nightmare. Sometimes the dream ended in the hospital, other times with you staring at the inside of a coffin, or in a shallow grave.

But this time, you were waking up, eyes flickering open to meet harsh fluorescent lights and clinking, cold handcuffs around your wrists.

A white-hot sense of dread pooled over your body.

You knew where you were. You knew how you got here. And suddenly, you wished you were dreaming again.

You could still see it all, still hear the deafening blades of the helicopter whirring above you. None of your team had expected the Marleyans to be in the warehouse; they hadn’t been on the soil of Paradis in years. They’d caught you off guard and sent your escape plan into action sooner than expected. You’d tried to follow Mikasa and Armin, but Jean was in your way. The lines of your vertical movement gear had tangled with his as you both hurriedly attempted to ascend and meet Levi in the aircraft, sending you spiraling back into the window, back into enemy territory.

Someone kicked you in the skull when you landed, you could still feel your head throbbing with the soreness. That must’ve been what did you in, what made you easy pickings to become a captive to the Marleyan government.

You sat up, taking note of your surroundings: of course, they’d put you in a cell, one void of a bed but thankfully containing a fucking bucket. How considerate. Just outside the iron bars was a table scattered with broken pieces of your gear, undoubtedly torn apart to be studied and to keep you from using it to escape.

Anger brewed inside your chest, a familiar feeling of betrayal returning that you hadn’t felt in years. There were faces here you didn’t want to see, enemies with broken facades that still haunted your thoughts at night. People you’d trusted, people you’d loved.

You knew they would show themselves soon. If you were still alive, it’s because there were questions that Zeke Yeagar wanted answers to, tendrils of doubt and duplicity that he wanted to sink into your mind.

━━━─── • ───━━━

Reiner felt sick. He’d never wanted to see you again, yet he’d been the one to carry your unconscious body through the compound, to cuff you and leave you on the frigid concrete floor. He’d stood over your figure for a while, heart pounding his chest out of fear that you’d wake up and flash that scrutinizing gaze of yours toward him again. But you’d just laid there at his feet, small, vulnerable, like a lost memory washed back upon the shores of his life.

And of course, now that you were awake, you weren’t talking, refusing to take Zeke’s bait.

He watched the older man pace around the room, glasses glinting as he wrung his hands. Truly, Reiner had been surprised that Zeke didn’t kill you on the spot, instead opting to transport you all the way across the border to their headquarters, insistent that you be treated like precious cargo. Though, it had been hard to keep Porco from poking at your body in the floorboards of the armored truck. Reiner had tried to keep his gaze away from you, eyes glued to the dark horizon outside of the rain smeared window. Maybe if he had stopped looking at you, you would have disappeared.

There was something pressing Zeke, something worrying him that he wasn’t sharing with the rest of the warriors. He thought you knew something, or perhaps that you could be valuable in some way.

Reiner knew that if you were to live, you needed to speak, needed to give them a piece of information to work with. He placed his head in his hands at the table, palms rubbing at his eyes. He shouldn’t—he didn’t—care if you took your last breath here. You were the enemy, someone who’d once held a knife to his throat when his true intentions within the ranks of The Scouts were revealed. He almost wished you’d killed him then, that you’d ended all the years of misery and regret that still clung to his mind like a poisonous leech.

“Maybe she’ll give in to someone she knows,” Zeke stopped his pacing, attention turning to Annie Leonhart who sat across from Reiner, “why don’t you give it a go?”

“Absolutely not,” she rejected, long legs crossing at the ankles upon the table.

“Bertholdt tells me that you two were quite the comrades during your reconnaissance mission.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We just found each other tolerable. Bertie was always sweet on her, though.”

Zeke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Bertholdt is kind to everyone, he’s as soft as they come.”

Bertholdt, per usual, stayed quiet in the face of Zeke’s remarks.

Porco Galliard chuckled at that statement, straightening his shoulders before he spoke.

“Which is exactly why you should’ve sent me to Paradis instead, Chief. I could give her a go. You were being too easy on her, anyways. Once you start ripping off fingernails people really start to give in, you know.”

Reiner’s gut twisted at the thought.

“You’re not allowed anywhere near her, Gailliard,” Zeke crossed his arms as a smirk settled into the lines of his beard, “she’s far too pretty, you’d break down and grovel to her before it was all over.”

Galliard huffed, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as he shrunk down in his seat.

“Reiner—”

He had an inkling that it would come down to this. There would be no point in disputing it, he’d have to come face to face with his past, with sins he thought he left behind four years ago.

He stood before Zeke could complete his thought, heavy knuckles rapping at the wood of the table.

“Well, looks like we finally have a volunteer.”

Every inch of Reiner’s skin bristled as he marched down the corridor to the prison cells. His footsteps were jarring, heavy, like he was determined to leave prints in the floor to mark a final walk of shame. Some part of him hoped you’d be gone when he opened the door, that you would have used your wits and crawled through some air duct and run away from this, from him.

He almost didn’t turn the door handle. He felt invisible, burdensome hands pulling at his shoulders, calling at him to run. He’d always been a coward, especially when it came to you. He hated you, loathed you because he knew you pegged him as fraud from the beginning. You never threw a kind word in his direction, always looked at him like he was below you, like his pride meant nothing to you.

Reiner just wished that you had meant nothing to him. Even when the opportunity had presented itself, he couldn’t even find the strength to kill you like his orders demanded. He wondered if you remembered it at all, if your memories had finally flooded back after all this time. Something inside his heart wouldn’t let him that night, some unknown, egregious feeling that by some means overshadowed his hatred.

That feeling returned when he entered the room and found you sitting with your back to the wall, your tightly bound hands in your lap.

He took in a deep breath as he averted his gaze, teeth gritting at the sight of you awake. Zeke was right, four years had done you justice; time had only made you more beautiful than before, and he worried he might fall to his knees before you.

“Reiner.”

Sometimes, he just really wished people would stop saying his name.

━━━─── • ───━━━

A strange relief settled into your stomach at the sight of him. Reiner was as hulking as ever, broad shoulders stretching the threads of his shirt to their limits. But he was different, older…demure, in some ways. He didn’t hold his head as high anymore, didn’t immediately cross his arms across his barreled chest to appear larger. He took tired, golden eyes less intense than you last remembered. His fingers rubbed at his lips, at the facial hair that adorned more pronounced cheekbones.

You hated to admit that he appeared even more handsome than you remembered.

There was a red armband tied around his bicep, an insignia emblazoned on it that you’d never seen before.

“Do I make you nervous, Braun?”

You caught his attention then, made his eyes look at you as you leaned your head back against the stone wall.

“Tough question from the one behind bars.”

His voice had changed, too. He sounded more stoic, more serious. There used to be a hint of glee under that tongue of his.

“Why am I here?”

“I’m supposed to be the one asking you things.”

You shrugged, biting at your cheek as you wiggled your toes to try to make them feel again. Your limbs were starting to ache, your head too, body feeling like it was starting to cement to the floor. You didn’t want to be Zeke Yeagar’s plaything, but you knew that if you were alive, there was something they wanted. There was some leverage you held, but you weren’t sure what it was just yet. You had hoped they would send Bertholdt in to talk to you, you always could get under his skin.

Reiner was a more difficult case for you. He always coated himself in arrogance, made it harder for you to chip away at his armor. He never let anyone in, just always grinned, acted like he had everything under control. But before you was a man with cracks, a man that time and guilt had eroded. You almost felt sorry for him, almost. A man like him deserved to bear the weight of his burdens.

“Listen, if you don’t start talking—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?”

“We’ll torture you.”

He said the words with a weight that knocked you back a bit, stole the last breath of gusto you were holding onto. You expected as much, but hearing it said aloud made fear crawl up your spine, made the cuffs around your wrist feel even more strained against your skin.

“What do you want to know? I could tell Yeagar was prodding for something tangible to use against Paradis.”

“I just want to know what you know about us, if you know anything about what Marley has been doing in the last few years.”

“You’ve been fighting a war, that much I know.”

And he looked like he had been through battle, been through hell in trenches and gunfire. Your intelligence agents had reported that Braun had been promoted to be Vice Commander of the Warrior Unit, and the hardline of his frown told you he’d seen more horrors than you wanted to know about.

“Tell me something you don’t know from news headlines.”

Levi had trained all his scouts for this situation once upon a time ago. You could still hear his voice in your head, commanding you to give up as little as possible, learn what the enemy wanted and then give them something else to cling on to. You had a few things you knew you could feed to them, beneficial tidbits that would satiate their hunger and keep them from feasting upon your teammates. But relaying any kind of information was a death sentence within itself; give the dogs a treat and eventually they’ll want more.

And you knew that Reiner, that Zeke Yeagar, was a very greedy host.

You stood slowly, releasing the aching tension in your lower back. Reiner didn’t flinch away from his place beyond the rusting iron, instead eyeing you like you were some exotic thing in a cage.

There was a nostalgia of being in his presence, even if the atmosphere around him was contrary to what you were used to perceiving. He still made your blood boil, still made your fighting instincts come alive in the back of your mind. You still felt small in his shadow, but there was still a lingering feeling, a fleeting memory, about how being around him once made you feel safe.

Your bare feet moved toward him, toes stinging against the cold of the floor.

One of your hands wrapped around a bar to your prison, the metal of your handcuffs clinking against the barrier.

You could catch his scent from being this close, and at least that much stayed the same—he always smelled like cedarwood, earthy and sweet, like the spice of the forest floor after a fresh rain. It was almost funny how smell created memories more frequently than any other sense.

Suddenly, you felt like you were back home, like nothing had changed, as if his deceit had never been revealed. Your mind’s eye flashed images of your old training camp, of Reiner lifting Connie onto his shoulders after the small boy had successfully managed to triumph over Jean in his marksmanship practice. He’d used one of the tricks that Reiner had taught him. That once sweet memory turned sour as you remembered just why Reiner was always such a good shot.

You tilted your chin up to look at him, to come face-to-face with the imposing penumbra you thought you’d warded off. He was a living ghost brought back to haunt you once again.

“You seem pathetic, Braun, like you’ve lost all that bravado that made you so special.”

He took your words, let them bounce off his chest like you hadn’t even spoken them.

“Why did they send you in here? Did they really expect I’d crack under such pitiful pressure? You’re a deplorable, miserable—”

His fist wrapped around your hand, crushing your fingers between his might and the metal bar you’d secured yourself to.

You hissed at the pain, but…there was something you had missed in that touch of his; he felt warm, worn, like there were secrets being pressed into your skin.

“Be. Quiet.”

You expected his fingers to flex, waited for him to crack your fingers under his pressure. But he kept his strength at bay, electing to keep a steady, continuous tension against your knuckles.

“Talk, or tomorrow will be your last day. You wouldn’t want to die at the hands of a pathetic, wretched man like me, would you? No, you’re too proud for that.”

He took a step back, releasing his bruising grip before turning on his heels to leave.

A string of panic began to uncoil inside you, snapping as his arm extended towards the exit.

“Reiner,” you called, “tell me something. How much do you really know about Zeke Yeagar?”

“I know enough.”

“No, you don’t,” you were starting to sound worried, you could hear it, “there’s something I know that you don’t, and I’d be willing to give you information in return for you answering a question for me.”

You could feel your heart beating in your chest, every pump within your ribs like the ticking of an oppressive clock. He was silent, steady, back still turned away from you. You noticed that his fists were clenched by his side, a vein starting to appear up the exposed length of his forearm.

“I’ll consider it. Depends on what your question is.”

He still didn’t turn to look at you.

“Reiner…tell me what happened to Marco.”

The door was slamming shut before the last syllable of the dead man’s name left your lips.

Next Chapter

#reiner braun x reader #reiner braun #reiner x reader #snk reiner #AoT #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot reiner #aot reiner braun #snk x reader #snk reiner braun #reiner #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader

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tocrackerboxpalace · 3 years

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Le Rêve - Part 5

Summary: John goes to a certain friend to seek advice. Paul has an eerily similar idea.

The door cracked open, and Brian stared back at him in surprise.

John pushed his way into the room, ignoring the flutter of guilt as Brian stumbled backwards. His eyes followed John closely as he crossed the room, surely taking in the unsettling blend of anger and nerves. Brian slowly closed the door behind him as John irritably shoved a stack of papers off of the armchair and lowered himself into it. It was then that he realized he must have been in a bad sort, because the action garnered no sour or disapproving glares.

“Everything all right, John?” He tugged self-consciously at the belt on his gown, pulling the fabric closer around him.

No. John scoffed. Everything is quite the opposite of all right, thanks. Making no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice, John replied stiffly: “Eppy, I need your help with something.”

Brian took a seat opposite him on the edge of the bed, crossing an ankle over his knee apprehensively. John averted his gaze, seeing and hearing only Paul as the bed dipped with a creak. He fingered the fringe on the armchair, pushing the scene away and with it, hopefully, some of his animosity. It would be no use if he uncontrollably berated perhaps the only man he knew that could help him.

“Right,” Brian replied. John could practically feel the probing gaze burning into his side. “What is it?”

John stared back at him, dumbfounded. The idea that he’d have to explain himself to get Eppy’s advice had never actually occurred to him before this moment.

What could he possibly say? Hey, Eppy. Paul’s been having wet dreams about me, so we almost fucked. Did practically everything but the actual shagging. But we didn’t, because George walked in on it and ran to tell Ringo and God knows who else, while Paul and I screamed at each other and may have effectively ended the Beatles and also our lives.

John almost laughed. Oh, and one more thing. It was my idea in the first place, because I think I’m fucking in love with him.

He was buzzing with hundreds of thousands of thoughts, his mind never having felt so full. Dozens of clips played simultaneously in his memory: Paul’s stare, his shame, his wonder, his willingness, his arousal, his unraveling. His fear, his shock, his pain. And then nothing.

John would punch himself, if he could. Perhaps that’s what he should’ve done instead. Snuck out the back alley and taunted a right frightening lad, until he could get what he bloody deserved and be beaten to a pulp. It sounded far better and warranted than sitting in Brian’s room in heart-wrenching silence.

He had to be fucking crazy to suggest the reenactment. There was no other explanation for it; no one in their right mind would put their entire livelihood on the line for such fleeting pleasure. There were what-if’s about his future and the band’s endurance, of course. But they took the backseat to his concerns over him and Paul. As individuals, rather than bandmates or friends or even lovers. John’s mind knew all too well that their dynamic could never be: societally speaking, yes, but personally, too. Paul knew John—and was far too smart to chain himself to such a burden.

All of John’s fears that had developed over the past few weeks had looked him in the eye tonight and told him that they’d dreamt of having sex with him. They had moaned into his ear, the most beautifully obscene sounds expressed just for him. Just for him, and not some other bird; for a moment, there was no need to pretend anymore.

What might have been the most painful, John reckoned, was that they had let him kiss them. A shock traveled down John’s spine. Paul had let John kiss him, and Paul had kissed back. It was the first time in their sudden union that feeling shot somewhere besides John’s cock. When Paul’s lips nipped at his with abrupt insistence, John could’ve wept.

John could be stripped of everything he had, and still go on. Possessions, wealth, fame, dignity, sense of self—it was all meaningless. The only thing he couldn’t bear was the thought of losing Paul. A life where John could not cling to the hope of holding Paul tightly; of feeling Paul’s breath on his own; of cradling his head in his hands and ghosting his fingertips across sinfully sweet eyelashes and arched eyebrows that would taunt Marilyn and a nose sculpted by Phidias and lips that were made from the stardust on Mars; was not a life worth living.

For a long time, they were silent.

Brian was watching him with guarded apprehension. John could ask the practical questions that even then felt too incriminating. How do you know if you’re gay? When did you realize? What did you do? What do I do?

“I’m not sure how to help you,” Brian started, his voice careful and soft despite jarring John out of his trainwreck of thought, “if you don’t share what’s got you so worked up.”

John swallowed. The next part had to come very carefully, or his cover would be blown. Though he knew he was only delaying the inevitable, somehow, the fact that Brian remain oblivious to the details was crucial to him.

“I’ve done something I shouldn’t have.” He spoke slowly, refusing eye contact. “It was something I’d thought about, but I went too far.” A shaky breath. “A-and… I’m not sure—I don’t know if I can fix it.”

Something just short of clarity sparked in Brian’s eyes. John’s face grew hot with shame, albeit swearing he didn’t give away anything unnecessary.

“Well,” Brian opened. His eyes were too kind. If only he knew. “We all make mistakes. Even if you think you’ve never messed up this badly, it’s all right. Time moves forward and life goes on. You can’t change what’s been done now. But you can take your best shot at apologetics. If this person—if there is a person—and they really love you, you can always fix it.”

John’s heart gave an uncomfortable twitch at the mention of “love”.

Brian shifted closer to John, reaching towards the arm of the chair. He tentatively rested a hand on top of John’s, and though he knew the intention was reassurance, the gesture made him feel sick. An odd expression crossed his face, the twitch enough to capture John’s gaze, but it was gone before he could interpret it. John’s gaze flicked to Brian’s lips. They were pressed together tightly, forming a worried line.

A striking realization occurred to him. John could lean in, right now. He could pry the lips open with his own. A bit of a shift in his chair, and all he had to do was tip forward. Brian would let him; he knew that.

Then, as he deepened the kiss, heightened the circumstances, he would know. He wouldn’t have to try and ambiguously skirt around the problem to get Eppy’s advice. John would know, for sure. Whether it was himself, or whether it was…

“Eppy? Eppy, you in there?” Despite the rapid succession of about seven knocks, the voice wasted no time waiting for a response and slipping inside the door. John lurched back into the chair, despite not actually having gotten closer.

Whether it was just Paul.

“Eppy, I need your help with something.” The words tumbled out of Paul’s mouth, his back still turned to the room as he went to close (and lock, mind you) the door. When he turned around, his eyes immediately fell on John’s face and he went still.

“Oh,” he said, hoarsely.

John’s mind was absolutely blank, his stomach twisting grossly. His mind had lost the ability to spontaneously produce language as he gaped at the man in front of him. He hadn’t intended on seeing Paul for quite a while after tonight, and the shock of his presence right now was utterly baffling. The two stared at each other for far too long, neither making any effort to move or speak. It was only when Brian piped up that their stares finally shifted from the other.

“Paul?” The inquiry held much more than the one word. “Are you all right?”

John watched Paul’s head twitch a bit, almost as if he were about to shake it. Both boys very well knew the answer to that question.

Paul forced a distracted smile in Brian’s direction. “Right chuffed.”

Interesting choice of words, there. John’s nose crinkled into a scowl.

Brian’s gaze continued to drag between the two of them almost curiously. He was no fool; John knew he was sensing the tension that seemed far from their regular spats. He didn't intervene, though. Only watched.

Finally, John worked up the courage to spew in Paul’s direction. The words carried just as much bitterness as he’d intended. “What are you doing here?”

Paul blinked. “I need Brian’s…” He faltered. “Advice.”

John snorted. His heart was hammering so violently in his chest he was sure the room could hear it. The reality of seeing Paul again so suddenly was blinding. God, he wanted to hurt him. He wanted nothing more than to break Paul, to cut so deep that Paul could never in a million years guess what was truly going on in his head. “Ain’t that so,” he spat. “But, if you can’t tell, we’re in the middle of something. So kindly fuck off.”

“John.” Brian’s voice, a warning tone.

Paul’s expression twisted in sudden vitriol. His voice was low, directed entirely at John. “What is your fucking problem? I didn’t make you do a goddamn thing.”

Something cool settled in the pit of John’s stomach at Paul’s final quip. Don’t you think I fucking know that? he wanted to scream. Don’t you know that’s what I’m here for? To find out why?

Suddenly, the reality of the situation came rushing to him, and a newfound fury spiked his veins. Was Paul coming in here to tell Brian what happened? To tell him that John had made a pass at him, or something? John would be painted as the villain. As an attacker.

“Did you finish after I left?” John asked quietly.

The look on Paul’s face was a glittering trophy. Before he could answer, however, Brian abruptly rose to his feet. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but—”

No, no, no. “Don’t go,” John choked out hoarsely.

He shot John a warning glance. “—It doesn’t seem like any of my business. You two need to talk this out on your own.”

John hardly registered Brian grabbing his coat from the rack by the door and slipping out of the room. His eyes were trained on Paul’s, a vicious visual battle between the men that conveyed more than all words ever could. John felt Paul radiating towards him in ways that had no conceptualization, no name; just raw, unadulterated emotions. The pair had always been on that telepathic wavelength, though certainly it was no great pleasure for them now. The only identifiable sensation was vulnerability.

After a long time, Paul spoke. “John.”

John’s breath inexplicably caught in his throat. The words came out choked. “Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t say it like that.”

Paul threw up his hands in exasperation, casting his gaze sideways. “I don’t know what you want me to do, John. I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to say I’m sorry? Is that what you want? An apology?”

It wouldn’t be until long after that John would realize it was an offer Paul never followed through on.

“It shouldn’t have happened. There’s a million reasons for that. I don’t know if either of us really even wanted it to. But it did, and you can’t—” Paul ran a shaking hand through his hair. “You’re not helping me figure this out. You can’t run away from this like it’s just another bother in your life, like… like I’m an inconvenience.” Paul’s lip trembled slightly. “Am I an inconvenience, John?”

John shrugged helplessly. It seemed like the wrong answer, but how do you give an answer to a question you don’t know?

“Fucking say something.”

John looked him dead in the eye. It was funny; Paul had always been teased for his eyes. They were droopy and wide in a cartoonish fashion, remarkably like that of a puppy, or a doe. His lips could form the most filthy utterances (as they often did, the cheeky bastard), but the meaning was washed away by the pure innocence of the eyes. They betrayed him at every turn; despite his best efforts, he would always be the “gentleman”, the “romantic”, the “cute Beatle”. A curse, or a blessing, who was to say? But it was different now. John no longer felt the childlike wonder they often conveyed, the underlying pep and charisma. They were blank now, laced with something quite sinister. They darkened, and rather than a warm pool of molasses John would dip into, they were an abyss. John wanted to claw away from them in a panic, but they had frozen him still.

Despite his mind screaming it was the right decision, it was impossible for John to swallow down the violent wrench of his heart. “Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

Paul’s eyes dropped to the floor, blinking rapidly. John dully noted the shine in them as tears threatened to breach the brim. Paul cleared his throat. “Okay.”

John offered a half-hearted handshake; a truce. It was a miserable attempt at reconciliation. Paul glanced at it with distain before shaking his head and turning on his heel.

John momentarily considered calling out after him. He took in a breath once, twice, but the words wouldn’t come. What could possibly be said?

Before Paul turned the doorknob, he glanced back in John’s direction. John’s stare raked over his form, and for the first time all night, the weight of the situation fully hit him. John’s vision blurred abruptly, and before he could make any move to stop it, silent tears began to slip out.

“John,” Paul started, his voice breaking. He paused for a moment, before wrenching the door open and leaving as promptly as he entered. There was nothing left to do, even if they tried.

They didn’t.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #john lennon #paul mccartney #brian epstein #mclennon #part 5 #chapter fic #ao3 #angst #sorry

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whattodowithkpop · 3 years

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Blind Senses (Ravn)

Title: Blind Senses

Pairing: Reader x Ravn (Oneus)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, Superhero AU, Enemies to lovers, Soulmate AU

Word count: 2,543

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

*****

There is a lie that every parent tells their child, we hear it when we get scared at night. We are reminded of it over and over again. 'Monsters don't exist' Monsters aren't under your bed, they aren't in the closet, they aren't trying to get in your window. The doors are locked, the window is sealed shut, everything is fine.

The only thing I was worried about when I was little was who my match was; Every child is born with a soul mark, it's the tell of where your soulmate will touch you for the very first time. But when you are touched by your soulmate, the birthmark will turn a bright shade of pink and purple before withering away. Your soulmate having been found.

My birthmark encases my right wrist, a common place for people to have their soul mark. I often forgot about my mark until I looked down and saw my one marked wrist. But every now and again a flutter would slice through my stomach at the thought that one day, that mark would be gone. And I would have found my other half.

When I was 15, my childish dreams changed forever. A science plant exploded suddenly. An experiment gone wrong. There was an orange smoke that rose from the ashes of the building, its angry smoke rushing toward our city. I still remember seeing it outside my bedroom window a second before my mother rushed in with my father and hurried us down to our basement. My father boarding up the windows and doors to block the smoke out. Screaming could be heard outside, ones of fear and agony for those who didn't get inside in time.

In the wake of that science experiment, we were left with mutants. People caught in the smoke developed supernatural powers. Some of these people developed a spiked aggression, using their powers for the worst. That is how my father died. He and a group of scientists were working on a cure for the genetic mutations. But some didn't like that. A group of mutants set up a bomb in the basement of the plant, angry that someone wanted to take their power away. Take away their sense of control.

I still remember being home with my mother when we saw the black cloud with angry flames fill the sky. The earth shaking slightly in its wake. Dread and grief filling us, knowing exactly where the explosion came from. On that day, my life, my goals, and how I viewed people with these special powers, changed.

`````

Alarms ring through the large building, the sound jarring and disorienting. I stand my ground at my station and continue working quickly. I enter a series of commands into my laptop. My fingers shaking violently.

Red lights flash and the sound of people running down the halls fills the small room. I take my lab coat off, the room sweltering. The screen on my laptop shows a loading bar, making me tap my foot impatiently. I was so close to finishing this, it would change how we see mutants. It reversed their DNA to go back to normal, their powers vanishing. The work my father started would finally be complete and I would have a sense of closure.

The lights and alarm cut out, leaving me in blackness except for the screen of my laptop. I suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I was putting my life at risk for the sake of this experiment, but I had come too far to stop now. Eventually, blue lights come on, slightly illuminating the room. When they do, the loading bar on the screen is almost done, my muscles tense. Then the laptop suddenly gets slammed shut, making me jump back.

"Did I interrupt something?" A deep voice asks coldly, his palm firmly on the laptop to keep it shut.

"That's government property." I say firmly, but my voice cracks.

The man smirks at me, seeming amused by my weak attempt at a threat. Like me saying it was something the government owned would make him remove his hand from it and leave in fear.

"Yes, well, you and your government should really stop trying to cure something that doesn't need a cure." He glowers.

"And maybe we wouldn't have to look for a cure if you people weren't destroying families and killing the innocent." I shoot back, anger rising in my chest and filling my veins. My thoughts going to my father.

The man hesitates, his eyes showing a sort of concern and sympathy for my words. I take my chance and make a dive for the laptop, trying to jerk it out from under his strong hand. The man grabs my right wrist, stopping me.

"Do not try it." He snarls, his grip on my wrist horribly tight.

He slowly removes his hand from my wrist, my eyes widening and a gasp escaping my lips when I see my wrist. My soulmate mark shined a bright purple, matching the mark on his hand, then both marks slowly began to fade. Our soulmate marks disappearing. We had found our soulmates.

I stare at the man in front of me, both our eyes wide in disbelief. We were on opposite sides of a war, yet we were meant to be together. Suddenly, everything goes black. At first, I think the lights in the room have gone out. But it's my vision that disappears. I fall to the floor, my legs unable to support me. Panic grips me. I've gone blind.

"Don't worry." The man says soothingly. "I only took your sight away temporarily. Your vision will return in 10 minutes, that's just long enough time for me and my team to escape."

I take several deep breaths, trying to soothe my heart that pounded in my ribs. I spread my fingers out along the cold tile floor, trying to feel for something, anything. That's why I jump when I feel warm hands incase both my hands, making me cower away from the touch. But the grip holds firm.

"I hope we meet again." The man says. His tone sounding like he really meant that. "Maybe then it will be under better circumstances, soulmate."

He squeezes my hands before letting me go, his footsteps fading into the distance. Leaving me to recover my sight slowly, with a swirling heart and mind. I thought he had left, then I hear his voice again.

"By the way, just because I think we should know this for the future, my name is Ravn."

````

3 Years Later;

"No, we have to finish this." I demand as I follow my co-worker around the lab. The earth shaking beneath us, making everyone scurry around the room. Anxiety levels high.

"Well then you finish it then." My co-worker snaps irritably. "We don't want to die here. Unlike you and your obsession with finding this dream cure."

"It's more than that." I plead. Pushing my way through people pushing passed me in panic. The earth giving off another tremble while bright flashes of red light flash outside. Heavy rain pounding against the building like fists.

"You say that and he always comes for you." My co-worker says, whirling around to face me. His eyes raging.

I pause, my brain looking for an excuse. Any excuse. Ravn had come for me and the sought after cure for three years. No matter what I did, no matter how much I tried to hide, he always found me. His devilish smirk always reappearing.

"We're so close though." I say quietly. More of a reminder to myself than to anyone else in the room. Not that they ever listened to me. The population had given up on trying to find a cure a long time ago.

My co-worker sighs, rubbing his temples. "I know this experiment is the only thing of your father you have of him." He says, his tone softened. "But they won't stop chasing you and trying to tear you down. And they are outside as we speak."

I look over my shoulder to the large glass window behind me. Flashes of light and tremors in the earth reminding us that these weren't from natural sources. But from people. People who could control the weather and even create earthquakes to topple a building in seconds. And their leader, my soulmate, just waiting for them to break through our defenses.

"We're evacuating." My co-worker says, pulling my attention back towards him. "Come with us if you want. Otherwise, you can stay and talk to your boyfriend."

I feel a surge of heat course through me, flushing my cheeks a scarlet color. I couldn't find my voice in time to deny that he wasn't my boyfriend before my co-worker hurries off with the rest of my, supposed to be, teammates. At this point in my journey, I was used to working alone and everyone thinking I was crazy for trying to fix something that everyone else had just adjusted to and given up trying to control.

I set my jaw in determination and whirl back to my station, opening my laptop and entering the code. I watched the clock carefully as I worked. The world around me seemed to fall away as I worked, being used to Ravn coming for me to stop me from developing a cure. Our relationship having grown in a strange way. We were soulmates, but we were also enemies.

The lights in the building flicker off, just like they had three years prior when I first met Ravn. My heartbeat picks up but I keep working, knowing I still had a few valuable minutes before he showed up. My laptop gives out a series of beeps, making me step back in surprise. I stare at the screen in shock.

"I did it." I whisper under my breath, a smile spreading across my face. I found the cure to return the mutants back to their normal DNA.

"We really have to stop meeting like this." A familiar deep voice says behind me.

I whirl around and press my back against the counter's edge, trying to hide my laptop screen from his sharp eyes. Ravn stood a few feet away from me, his dark hair dripping wet from the rain. His black trench coat leaving pools of water around his boots.

"You say that, but you seem to enjoy chasing me." I reply, trying to keep my tone even. I slowly reach my hands behind my back to find the USB with the cure downloaded on it, pressing it firmly against my palm for safety.

Ravn's eyes flicker to my hands that were behind my back, his eyes taking on a cautious look. "You just can't give up on that cure, can you?"

"Someone has to keep trying."

Ravn chuckles, stepping closer to me. Making my muscles tense. "Give me the USB, sweetheart." He says dryly, extending his palm towards me.

I stare at him, how could he know?

"I'm not stupid." Ravn says, as if reading my thoughts. "I know you found the cure. Please, give it to me."

"Why is it so bad that you could all go back to your normal lives?" I ask, my voice pleading as I slide my way down the counter as Ravn comes closer.

"Because some of us have nothing to return to." Ravn answers calmly. "You would be taking away the one thing people feel they can control since they inherited their powers."

"You don't use your powers for anything good though." I argue.

"That's not true and you know it." Ravn replies. "We aren't all like that. Even if you gave the cure to some of us there would be others who would refuse to take it and would continue to wreak havoc. You take away the good people with powers you're left with the bad and you won't be able to defeat them."

I pause, that thought never having occurred to me since I took over my fathers work. The population of people with special powers had grown. 40% of the worlds population had citizens with some kind of power these past three years.

"The cure." Ravn says again, extending his hand out to me once again.

I stare at his hand, the hand that once held his soulmate mark, just like my wrist once did. Despite all he said, I still held onto the USB tighter and turned and ran from him. I knew how stupid of a move it was, it was pointless when Ravn could strip away human senses. But I still ran, and I almost got to the door when my vision disappeared, immersing me in blackness. Making me fall to my knees, the USB still clutched in my hand.

I feel Ravn's hands encase my waist, picking me up off the tile floor and taking me to the closest counter to let me lean against it. My vision a milky white.

"You know running from me does no good." His voice sounding as if he were a bit hurt by my actions.

"This cure is all I have." I choke out, still clutching the USB in my palm. My hands trembling.

Ravn seems to freeze, his breath fanning across my cheeks that were starting to streak with tears. "This cure is all I've known since my fathers death." I gush, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. My mother having completely shut down since my fathers death. Her attitude cold and isolated from me.

"It's all I have."

Ravn touches my eyes, wiping the tears away but also giving me my vision back. I'm alarmed by how close he stands to me, our eyes locked. His brown eyes hold a sadness to them I had never seen before. A sort of sympathy that had faded from people's eyes long ago when it came to me.

"It's not all you have." He whispers. "It never has been."

I stare up at him, words freezing in my throat. Before I can form a response, his lips press against mine. His hands cupping my face. I suck in a breath in shock, but soon my eyes close and my arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer to me. A sense of completeness washing over me.

Ravn slides his hands down to my ribs, picking my up and setting me on the counter. His body between my legs, his hands going to my thighs as he grips them firmly. I feel my fingers uncurl their grip on the USB, it clatters to the floor. My fingers weaving through Ravn's hair instead. His lips tugging at mine in a sort of desperation, both of us craving each other after being deprived for years.

The cure fades into an obsession that melts into my past, something I had chased thinking it was all I had. When my life had the chance to start over with Ravn and actually do something to help others. He had known something all this time that I never had. We were on the same side, I just wasn't willing to accept it. My senses blinded. And it took him to uncover them.

#oneus #oneus ravn #oneus x reader #oneus fanfic #oneus fluff #oneus spice #ravn #kpop x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop au #kpopmadness writings #Ju admin

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winterhawk-olympic-bang · 3 years

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Emotive Writing

Guest Poster: @thepartyresponsible

Emotive writing is about making people Feel Things. People use this all the time to sell you stuff, but we’re out here giving emotions away for free. Here are a few tips and tricks I’ve found to make people feel the most emotions.

Word choice:

This is the most straightforward part of emotive writing. Your word choices add an extra layer of complexity to your message. You aren’t just telling readers what happened; you’re signaling to them how they should feel. Most writers do this unconsciously, but being deliberate can make it especially effective.

Here’s a non-emotive, just-the-facts sentence: The soldier lifted his weapon and turned toward the enemy.

Here’s the same sentence reworked to make you care a bit more: The exhausted soldier raised his broken shield and faced the invading army.

The actions here are fundamentally the same, but exhausted and broken invoke sympathy while invading skews negative.

The words you choose are sign posts for the reader. They indicate how to interpret the story and help your readers orient themselves and form expectations. Subtly building expectation is important because, while surprise can be effective, shock is generally numbing and confusion tends to be irritating, so word choice helps you frame things and guide your reader along.

One of the keys here is to attempt some subtlety. If every sentence about your protagonist reads like an ad campaign (effervescent, brilliant, impervious) and every sentence about your antagonist reads like a political diatribe (cruel, spineless, malicious), you’re probably overusing your sign posts. People want to know who to root for, but too much emotive language can make them feel manipulated.

Think of word choice like adding spices to food. If you put oats in boiling water, you’re making oatmeal, and the spices you use won’t change that. But if you throw in some honey and cinnamon, I know we’re headed somewhere wholesome. If you sprinkle in little discordant notes of garlic powder and cayenne, what we’re cooking is a tragedy. And if you upend an entire bottle of cinnamon, a quarter cup of nutmeg, and toss in seventeen whole cloves, I am not staying for breakfast.

Narrative distance:

Narrative or psychic distance is the space between the reader and the character, usually navigated by the intermediary figure of the narrator. Your narrator can be an omniscient figure that knows the thoughts, feelings, and intentions of every character in the world. Or your narrator could be sitting on the shoulder of your main character, close enough to hear their thoughts and know their story but not so close that they speak with the character’s voice. Or your narrator could be your character.

If you want to ramp up emotion, you usually want a narrator who is very close to one character (or, alternatively, to separate characters in turn). But you don’t have to stay at one distance for the whole story, and, just like word choice, shifts in narrative distance can be helpful indicators to your reader about the story and the characters.

A sudden, dramatic shift in narrative distance is quite jarring, like a sudden zoom-in during a movie. It can be effective, but it’ll lose its punch if it’s overused. Generally, if you want to shift narrative distance, you should build to it slowly. Here’s an example of shifting from a distant third person to a closer third person:

They wake the Soldier because the archer is missing. He has a habit of slipping his lead, disappearing post-mission. The chase grew tedious years ago, but the Soldier runs it just the same. He’ll do as he’s told. But it bothers him, when he lets it. The why.

Why does he do this? the Soldier wonders, when he shouldn’t, when it isn’t his place. Where is he going? he thinks, when he can’t stop himself. Who is he running to? But he tries to think nothing at all.

Another trick of narrative distance is to suddenly pull back to show a character who’s been compromised, shocked, or deeply hurt by something. Imagine spending a long time in a close Bucky perspective, hearing his thoughts, and then being abruptly walloped across the face with: The machine went quiet, and the Soldier opened his eyes. Zooming out can emphasize what’s been lost. Because you aren’t just taking the soul of Bucky Barnes right out of him, you’re also taking that closeness away from the reader. You’re silencing the voice they’ve been listening to.

Whether you zoom in or out during highly emotional moments depends on what you’re trying to accomplish and also on who’s involved. Some characters have loud, messy emotions that will get louder when they’re hurt. Some characters will freeze over and push a narrator further away. You can use narrative distance to show a character slowly opening up or suddenly slamming a door. But you need the reader to have a solid understanding of the character in order to follow what the shift means, which leads to the next component.

Know your characters:

So, here’s the thing. You gotta Velveteen Rabbit this. Every character is Tinker Bell. If you stop believing, they die.

If you want people to care about these characters, you have to treat them like living, breathing, fully feeling people. They have favorite colors. They have phobias. They have Friday night plans and blisters from new shoes and sesame seeds stuck in their teeth. They have superstitions and secrets. You don’t need to know all of these facts, but you should try to give the impression that someone could know them. The more real your characters are, the more we’re going to care about them.

Since this is fanfiction, you start with a receptive audience. Your readers are fond of these characters. Figure out why. Figure out which parts of the character you can relate to and dig in until you feel like you can understand the parts of them you can’t relate to.

Try to collect things that make you feel close to that character. I always have music playing when I’m writing, so I make playlists for characters and playlists for stories. If I feel like I’m losing a character, I’ll go back to their playlist. But you could also use Pinterest boards, reread favorite fics or comics, rewatch movies or fanvids, or spend an unreasonable amount of time researching bows and tactical knives. Whatever works!

Also, remember, your characters don’t know what story they’re in. They don’t know it’s going to end well (or terribly). Maintain that tension, because that’s where the emotions are. When you watch a good horror movie, you’re not really scared of the monster. You’re scared for the characters, because they don’t know if they’re going to survive.

Emotions come from the characters. That’s why it’s still sad that Tony Stark dies, no matter how many times you watch it happen. Tony Stark was brave and flawed and usually right and often sarcastic, and it hurts to watch him die because that’s a full, unique human we’re losing. We know him well enough to know he’s choosing to sacrifice himself and why he made that choice and who will mourn him.

Know your characters, and let them be messy and weird and wrong and hopeful and cantankerous and unique. Fear is relatable, flaws are relatable, and awkward, ungainly, stubborn progress is relatable. Just remember what it is that makes their progress their progress because, if you can swap Dominic Toretto in for Ted Lasso and have the exact same story, you’ve probably lost your characters.

Plan your emotional trajectory:

Okay, time to get a bit technical. This is for people who like to plan. For those terrifying, godlike writers who just sit down and write, this might not be helpful. For my fellow planners:

There’s a theory (which you can get a general overview about here or, if you’re very into data, right here) that there are six core emotional trajectories in narratives:

1) Rags to riches (rise)

2) Riches to rags (fall)

3) Man in a hole (fall then rise)

4) Icarus (rise then fall)

5) Cinderella (rise then fall then rise)

6) Oedipus (fall then rise then fall)

Since rise and fall can mean different things, I find it helpful to combine these building blocks with emotional axes, which you can find some examples of here.

So, basically, for my winterhawk baseball au Got a Heart in Me, I Swear, I planned to follow the “man in a hole” trajectory (fall then rise) along the anxiety-confidence emotional axis with some bleedover from the humiliation-pride axis. Which basically means Clint started comfortable enough, nosedived deep into anxiety and humiliation, and then slowly built his way to confidence over the rest of the fic.

If the listed axes don’t appeal to you, you can very easily create your own. Just think of an emotion, identify what links it to its inverse, and then list the related emotions between the two opposites. Disgust and adoration are opposites, but they’re linked by attention, right? You can’t ignore something you find disgusting or adorable. So, here’s an example emotional axis you could follow: Disgust – Resentment – Obsession – Fascination – Reverence – Adoration. Enemies to lovers, anyone?

Emotional axes help provide a natural framework for your character’s emotional trajectory. They can be subtle; you don’t have to start on one end of the spectrum and go all the way to the other. A story that moves just a step or two on an emotional axis can be incredibly compelling. That small progress from discomfort to hope can hit really hard if the progress feels fought-for and earned and real.

Tips for writing emotions:

· Get physical: If you want to show an emotion instead of telling it, describe its impacts on the body. Most characters won’t think I’m embarrassed. They’ll feel a drop in their stomach like someone cut the elevator cables and a hot stinging in their face like they’ve been slapped by some disappointed version of themselves. The more visceral your descriptions, the more the reader will feel them. If you want your reader to feast on feelings, you have to set the table.

· Dramatic zoom: When something very intense happens, shift the narrative distance. In or out is fine, but a sudden, dramatic event should result in a sudden, dramatic change in focus. Characters might hyperfocus on their physical bodies (the mechanics of breathing, the ringing in their ears, the mad animal urge toward flight) or they might be kicked so far out of their own heads that they feel like they’re dreaming or watching the scene play out from overhead. This distance is useful for two reasons: it feels real, and it allows readers to absorb the situation in pieces, without being overwhelmed by it.

· Unreliable narrator: Some emotions can be so charged that people don’t want to own them, like grief, shame, jealousy, rage, lust, and guilt. Characters might unconsciously misrepresent these to themselves as something else. A grieving mother might insist she’s tired. A rehabilitated assassin who’s fallen in love with an absolute dork might tell himself he’s just tracking a target. Everyone knows what it’s like to lie to themselves, so this makes characters relatable. And, also, everyone likes being in on a secret, so, sometimes, this is just fun.

· Face the monsters: We’re often conditioned not to dwell on unpleasant things, which is part of why it can be powerful to examine them in stories. From small things like inglorious emotional states (envy, cowardice, resentment) to character flaws (recklessness, withdrawal, arrogance) to personal tragedies (loss, betrayal, abandonment), the negative parts of human emotional life pack quite a punch. Acknowledge them. Not only are they relatable experiences, but redemption and recovery arcs are some of the most compelling stories we have.

#whob #winterhawk #winterhawk olympic bang #writer workshops #writer workshop: emotions #guest post #thepartyresponsible

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hardsr · 3 years

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daddy with a family

seulgi becomes a daddy with a family.

part 3/finale of my daddy series.

[M]: gp!seulgi x pregnant!irene x family dynamics.

irene was walking the line of going into labour with her stomach healthily swell at 9 months. while seulgi did her best to overcome her wife’s needs, there was one thing she simply couldn't control: her wife's hormones. there were times where the woman's mood would shift so drastically that seulgi would be genuinely scared, and would urge her wife to see a doctor. but once irene agreed and they did a visit, the doctor had simply stated that these mood swings were very common and natural. while his words came from knowledge, seulgi didn't know if she would survive another week or so of the hormones. she had came back from the supermarket with bags of groceries and while irene was delighted to see the abundance of junk food, she immediately threw a tantrum seeing that seulgi had forgotten her gigantic jar of pickles. but the atmosphere quickly changed as seulgi pulled her wife into the bedroom to calm her down and in the blink of an eye had her pants stripped down and a tongue running along her length. it took everything in her absolute power to push her stunning wife off of her and to settle her and the baby down on the bed to rest.

it continued on for a few days like this, irene waking up and whining and craving something, throwing a fit, suddenly retrieving a sex drive out of nowhere that was ten times the amount of seulgi's, leaving seulgi with blue balls, crying because of seulgi, crying over seulgi, loving seulgi and repeat. the pattern continued the same until seulgi stopped to question irene when the pattern was suddenly disrupted.

"irene? is everything okay?" seulgi gently asked, wandering into their bedroom.

"seul..." irene groggily mumbled underneath the blanket. her voice made seulgi’s heart drop. something was wrong.

"what's wrong baby?"

"seul... my water broke."

seulgi froze, "your water broke?"

irene nodded helplessly, revealing the puddle underneath the blanket.

"oh," seulgi said stunned. "your water broke!"

within a moment, chaos induced as seulgi began throwing their belongings into a suitcase, which got a giggle from her wife.

"seul,"

"just a sec honey, i need to find my toothbrush!"

"seul, we already packed a few days ago, the suitcase is in the closet."

"right, right, i remember," seulgi mumbled.

seulgi firstly carried her wife into the car and followed quickly with their suitcase, tires screeching when she pressed the gas to hurriedly get to the hospital.

it had been about a week since then. it only took a few hours from their house to the hospital to have a bundle of joy be born. irene had given birth to a beautiful baby girl, which the couple agreed to name yerim, and so took off home after a day back to their home with a new name under the kang family.

"she's so cute," irene mumbled tiredly, letting her lover stand behind her and ground her with arms around her waist. seulgi smiled and rubbed her nose against the back of irene's ear, "she looks just like you."

irene giggled, "me? she has your eyes, your nose, your mouth..."

"and she has your gigantic ears," seulgi playfully said and chuckled at the gentle slap on her chest.

irene looked up at seulgi, her tired eyes and weak posture, just two of the physical hints for her tiredness, irene knew she had been a great burden during her pregnancy with the constant mood swings and tantrums and much more, but her lover had supported her throughout all of it as she did with her. she smiled and cupped her wife’s face.

"i love you." irene kissed seulgi and lowered her arms around her neck once she felt the familiar strong hands on her hips.

"i love you too, so much darling." seulgi mumbled back, eagerly kissing back her tired wife.

the two stumbled over out of yerim's bedroom and into their own, kisses growing hotter and hands getting greedy. the back of irene's legs hit their bed and she fell over, gripping seulgi to fall down with her. the taller hovered over her wife, kissing her lips and down her throat, causing irene to let out a deep gasp and arch her back in response.

it had been almost a month since the two had sex, and while it wasn't that long, it seemed like a decade in relation to pregnancy measures. it had been so long and the two wanted, no, needed to feel each other's skin again.

"you're such a good mommy, carrying that baby for almost a year and then letting me fuck you down," seulgi mumbled against irene's lips, feeling the desperate hands of her lover tug on her button up.

"hurry seul, i need you," irene desperately said with her hands cupping seulgi's neck.

the two kissed like there was no tomorrow and the sight of irene's large milk filled breasts underneath the soft moonlight was enough to make her pop a boner. she groaned as the girl underneath her ran a cool hand down her abdomen and palmed her growing bulge underneath her pajama pants.

just when seulgi had managed to shimmy down irene's pants from her delicious thighs, the startling noise of a crying baby rang out through the house.

"oh..." seulgi groaned and let her head fall onto her wife's shoulder, causing a giggle from the latter.

"it's your turn baby." irene said with a kiss to her forehead.

"i know..." seulgi sighed and stood up from her half naked partner. she waddled over to the next room and looked down at the crib where little yerim was softly crying.

"what's wrong yerim-ah?" the monolid woman gently cooed, picking up the tiny thing into her arms where she relaxed for a few minutes. seulgi gently cradled the baby, holding her like she was the most precious jewel, which she was, close to her warm chest. while it did seem to calm down the baby for some time due to seulgi's warm and protective aura, yerim began to soon cry again, yearning for her other mother who in the end had what she wanted: food.

"you want mama, right yerim? not me." seulgi giggled and walked into the master bedroom where her beautiful wife sat, already ready to feed her little one.

"i think she wants your milk," seulgi whispered and carefully handed yeri to her wife, watching with glinting eyes the way their baby naturally calmed down and latched itself onto irene.

seulgi had left the room for a few minutes, her selfless demeanor telling her to leave the two in a quiet space overruled her desire to coo over her two beautiful and most important people of her life. a few minutes had passed and she wandered back in, watching irene get up and ponder over to the yeri's bedroom to put the said girl back into her crib. the moment irene returned, a hand was on seulgi's nape and once again she was crashing down onto the bed.

"i want you to fuck me like what i deserve seul, okay? but not too hard, everything's still kinda sore," irene mumbled and kissed seulgi.

"as you wish my darling."

"and i want you cum inside of me, understand? we have a month without anything needed before i can get pregnant again."

"oh?"

irene nodded, "i have a month left before i can get pregnant again.”

“sounds good to me,” seulgi grinned.

“good, now fuck me like it’s your last day fucking me.”

#gp!seulgi #futa!seulgi #seulrene #smut #family dynamics #pregnant!irene #seulgi #irene #kang family #romance #fluff

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fantastic-bby · 3 years

Text

Pairing: (F)Reader x Youngjae

Word count: 1.3k

Genre: Fluff | Vampire!Youngjae | Witch!Reader

Summary: Just a vampire trying to get his witch away from her books and into bed with him.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury | Use of magic

Masterlist

[00:36]

“Darling,” your lover calls, “come to bed.” With your face buried in your spellbook, hands busied with glass bottles and herbs, and a candle burning brightly in front of you; his call falls on deaf ears. “(Y/n),” he tries once more. You finally look up from the book to see Youngjae laying on his stomach, watching you intently from the bed with a soft look in his brown eyes. “The bed’s awfully cold with your presence, my love.”

You chuckle, “you’re a vampire. You’re always cold,” and turn your eyes back to your book. Your partner snorts at that as he rolls over onto his back.

“Why must you always reject my romance?”

“I’m busy right now, my love,” you mumble absentmindedly as you place a sprig lavender into the stone bowl sitting on your altar. Youngjae watches you, his view now upside down with how his head hangs off the edge of the bed. You catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, noting how he looks like an impatient puppy. “Give me one moment, Youngjae,” you look up. His head perks up at the sound of your voice and his attention is locked on you almost immediately. “I’m almost done with this.”

He slides off of the bed, taking a step closer towards your altar to look at what you’re doing. “What are you making?” Youngjae questions.

“An spell jar,” you hum. Youngjae stays a safe distance away from your work space, knowing well that he might mess with the energy around you. A witch’s altar is not something he should mess with, that much he knows very well from experience. “One step back, Jae,” you give him a warning look. He nods understandingly and takes one step away, but still close enough to watch curiously.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" You look up and see him pout. Youngjae's eyes flash red and you're sure he's trying to use his magic to try and convince you to stop, but your spirits snort at that.

"You can't use your magic on a witch, Youngjae." You shake your head, amused. "My spirits find your efforts amusing, but they appreciate it.” He huffs once again, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just a bit longer, my love. Be patient. We have an eternity to spend together—there’s no rush.” You put the glass bottle down and fill it with various herbs and crystals before closing your eyes. Bringing your hands together, you take a deep breath and allow your magic to charge the spell jar. You hear Youngjae moving around the bedroom while your eyes are closed, but you know that he’s probably trying to give you more space for you to concentrate on your magic.

The only reason Youngjae fears your altar is because he fears you. Who would’ve thought that an immortal vampire would be terrified of a human witch? Well, you’re a witch that managed to figure out the secret to immortality. And you’re a witch that has granted yourself immortality purely out of spite. Youngjae, on the other hand, was unwillingly granted immortality when he had become a vampire. Your first meeting was definitely something that he would never forget.

“A vampire?” Your head tilted when your eyes caught a glimpse of his fangs. “Are you hurt?”

Youngjae forced himself to sit upright despite the burning pain of the wound that sliced his stomach. “What would a human have to offer me?” he grunted, giving you a good look at his dark crimson eyes.

“A human witch,” you clarified, “there’s a lot my magic could do for you. Judging by your condition, I really don’t think you’re in any position to refuse anyone’s help.”

“I’m a vampire. I can heal myself.”

“You’re weak.” Your words made him freeze. “I was watching the fight from behind the trees. You need to work on your technique as well.” You crouched down beside him, placing your leather satchel onto the ground beside you before rummaging through to find one of your healing spells. You barely had time to react before Youngjae had shoved you into the ground and pressed a dagger into your side. Your magic was strong enough that you had cursed yourself to not feel pain, making the dagger even more useless for Youngjae’s hand. Staring straight into his eyes, you just stared at him in confusion. You kicked him off of you, making sure to hit his wound. He stumbled back in pain, falling onto the ground and watching as you stood up. You pulled the dagger out of your torso, sighing when you saw the blood that soaked the metal, “a waste of energy.”

“W-What—”

“I’m immortal, dumbass,” you tossed the dagger behind you before turning back to look at him. “I don’t feel pain either.” Your arms crossed over your chest as you watch him crawl further back.

“But you’re a human.”

“I’m a witch. I used my magic to make myself immortal because someone told me that they’d outlive me.” You turned around, gathering your things and pulling out the healing elixir you were originally looking for. “You should’ve seen the look on their face when I showed up to their deathbed,” you snorted, popping open the cork to the vial, “they tried coming back to haunt me so I trapped them in a jar and threw them into the ocean. Serves them right.” You bring the small vial to your lips and swallow the dark blue liquid. Your body shuddered at the bitter taste of it, your stomach almost rejecting it from how bad it tasted. But you could feel the knife wound starting to close up almost immediately. “If you really don’t want help, then I’ll just leave you here.” You slipped the glass vial back into your satchel and turned around to leave.

Youngjae winced when he reached out to you, “wait!” He let out a grunt, his hand reaching to the bleeding wound in his front. “I-I’m sorry. Help me, witch, please.” You turned around and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

“My darling?” Your voice snaps him out of the memory. He looks toward your direction to see you watching him from your altar. “I called you a few times but you didn’t respond. Are you okay?”

Ah, he must’ve zoned out. “I’m fine,” he chuckles, “I was just thinking.” You raise an eyebrow as you close your spellbook. You must be done, Youngjae thinks. Rounding your altar, you climb into bed and sit cross-legged beside him.

“Close your eyes, Jae.” He obediently does so, closing his eyes and feeling something cold press against the centre of his forehead. “Open.” His eyes flutter open and suddenly, he’s yawning. “You mentioned that you’ve been having trouble sleeping so I made a spell to help soothe your mind,” you smile as you pull the jar away from Youngjae’s face. His own lips curl into a small smile when he sees yours. You slip away from the bed and put the jar away while your partner watches in complete awe and adoration. He loves you so much.

Almost a two centuries together and Youngjae’s still as in love with you—if not more—as when your relationship had started. The beginning of your friendship was just a vampire seeking advice and company from a witch, a relationship that had changed when you both realised you had fallen in love with each other. He watches as you make your way back to bed, sliding under the covers with your phone in your hand.

“Hey, (Y/n).”

“Yeah?” you turn to him.

“I love you.” Your heart melts, a warm smile creeping onto your face when he leans closer to press his lips against yours. Youngjae pulls away and smiles.

“I love you, too.”

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hlcreators · 4 years

Photo

AUTHOR REC: louistomlinsons / @adoredontour

Be sure to show some love by leaving kudos and comments!

this town’s just an ocean now (31k)

“I have really great friends. Do you remember Louis? You guys were always hanging out when you were growing up.” Harry remembers Louis. Harry remembers Louis. Suddenly, his throat feels way too dry, despite the ice cream he keeps licking at. He chokes a little on a chocolate chip before saying, “I, uh. I remember Louis.” Her face brightens. “We have dinner every Sunday. He owns the house now. His parents moved further north, and he wanted to stay here, so they just gave it over. Now if you want to worry about someone being lonely, that’s who I worry about.” inspired by watermelon sugar, featuring picnics on the beach and boys being dumb

daydream about me (21k)

“Anything else going on for you at the moment?” she asks, leaning forward on her elbows across the table, mindful of the radio equipment in front of her. “What about you and that Louis Tomlinson?” Harry sputters, mouth moving but no words coming out. She can feel her cheeks heat up, darkening with embarrassment. “It’s not, Louis and I, we don’t—” Harry can’t finish the sentence, tongue heavy in her mouth. She takes a deep breath, thankful they’re not being videoed, and tries again, “We’ve never even met, actually.” alternatively titled 'harry styles does not have a crush on louis tomlinson and other lies she tells liam payne'

robbers and cowards (33k)

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think that you’re enjoying yourself.” The familiar voice immediately gets Louis’ blood boiling, shoulders tensing as he calmly spins around, trying not to draw any suspicion to the pair. “You don’t know me at all,” Louis spits, managing to maintain the polite smile he’s been wearing all evening. “You’re just some asshole who always ruins my nights.” “If I keep ruining your nights, why do you keep going home with me?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his own wine glass. “I don’t go home with you by any choice of my own,” Louis says. “I think you’re annoying and I have no idea how I keep ending up in your bed.” “You end up in my bed because you knock on my apartment door at two in the morning.” Louis wants to punch the smirk right off of his face. “Maybe you should move,” is what he says instead. or a modern day robin hood au where louis and harry (don’t really) hate each other but they hate greedy billionaires more

I’m a Rocket Man (47k)

All he could hear were the faint sounds of Pina Colada coming from the radio and his own heart beating erratically against his chest.

“Oops,” he heard coming from the other side of the front window. He quickly pushed the grey rubber towards the back of the car, the rubber of the thing groaning and squeaking as he did so. Finally, after wrestling the thing away from him, Harry came into view, face pressed against the other side of the window.

“Hi.” Louis smiled, looking towards Harry, eyes curious. He almost got lost in the way Harry’s face was so cutely pinched, green eyes glowing in the sunlight. He was brought back to reality when Harry tried to move, causing the grey whatever it was to push against Louis again. “What the fuck is this?”

“Uhh... it’s Randy?”

or, Niall is an investigative journalist, Liam is his biggest fan, Zayn is just along for the ride, and Harry probably isn’t an alien. A roadtrip au no one asked for.

sip it slowly and pay attention (12k)

“So I’ve got a guy I think you might like,” Louis says. He’s standing in the doorway of Harry’s office, drinking from what is most definitely Harry’s mug. “You’re going to set me up?” Harry asks, rightfully wary. He can’t imagine that this could end well. “Don’t look so afraid.” Louis takes a sip from his mug, wincing as it burns him. Harry rolls his eyes. He’s always warning Louis to be more patient before he loses all his taste buds. “I know you better than anyone else. Who better to set you up on dates than me?” “I guess you’re right,” Harry says, still slightly hesitant. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Louis, but. He doesn’t trust Louis’ taste. Louis has about the same track record with men that Harry does, if not quite as extensive. or, harry is a guidance counselor, louis is an english teacher, and harry just wants to go on one successful date

i hope that you won’t slip away in the night (13k)

He turns back to Maybe Jessica. “Who’s going to be here?” “Harry Styles,” she says. “The one-” “I know who he is,” Louis snaps. “Who invited him?” “Uh, you did, sir.” Louis didn’t think that was serious. When he had responded to Harry’s cheeky tweet about the gala with his own cheeky ‘You should come - I’ll put you on the guest list’ he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Least of all for Harry to show up. or the one where louis is a prince and harry is a popstar

feels like we’re finally free (13k)

louis just wants to write a breakup novel. falling in love was never part of the plan, but the cute barista at his favorite coffeeshop makes him think otherwise.

who’s that girl? (13k)

“So, do you want to tell us a little bit more about why you’re here?” “What do you mean?” Harry asks, furrowing his eyebrows together. “I’m here because I need a place to live and you guys need a roommate.” “I guess let me rephrase that,” Leo (or maybe Liam) says. He taps his pen twice against the notepad, drawing Harry’s attention away from a large hole in one of the walls. “Why do you need a place to live?” “Oh, that’s easy.” Harry sits up straighter in his seat. “I walked in on my boyfriend of four years banging my boss. I couldn’t very well keep living with them, could I?” harry is canadian, louis owns a bar, zayn comes and goes as he pleases, liam's just trying to keep everyone alive, and nobody knows what niall does. a new girl au.

we’re not who we used to be (30k)

“Harry…” Louis’ voice catches in his throat, thick with tears threatening to fall out, so he coughs to clear it before trying again. “Harry is Liam’s best man?” “You didn’t know?” Harry is standing at the entrance of the garage, mouth slightly open and face pulled together. He sets his bag on the ground and puts his hands on his hips. When he does that, he looks just like the Harry that Louis remembers (and loves, he thinks with an aching heart). “I’m sure I mentioned it,” Liam says, but Louis can tell he’s lying by the way he chews on his lower lip and twists his fingers together. “You’re all a bunch of dick heads, I’m getting in the car.” Louis isn’t sure if he’s being unreasonable. He has no idea what the protocol is when your ex-boyfriend shows up after three years and nobody bothered to give you a heads up. He’s pretty sure he’s allowed to be upset about it, even if it’s only for a bit. or an exes to lovers canadian roadtrip au

old macdonald had a farm (5.1k)

Louis is a hedgehog, Harry is a fish, Niall is a parrot, Liam is a golden retriever, and Zayn is Zayn. It’s a crazy twenty-four hours.

or are you giving it to someone else (3.3k)

“Dude, last night I couldn’t tell if he was being murdered or having the best sex of his life,” Louis said, taking a sip of his beer. He tried to say it as quietly as he could in the loud pub, worried about who may overhear him. “Is this your neighbor?” Liam asked. He was newer to the group, and therefore, newer to the situation. He had only heard a handful of the stories about the strange things Louis heard his neighbor doing, as opposed to the book Louis could most definitely write about the man. In the hallways, he seemed perfectly normal. He would smile at Louis and sometimes make polite conversation. He didn’t seem like the type to be having loud, kinky sex every night at the craziest hours of the day. But he was. or, louis hears his neighbor having loud sex through the walls and it's not a problem until it is

The F Word (23k)

When Louis finds himself at a party for the first time after his boyfriend cheated on him, the last person he expects to meet is Harry. They hit it off immediately, conversation flowing all night. Louis finally thinks he’s ready to jump back into the dating scene, when a wrench gets thrown in his plan.

Harry has a boyfriend.

Or, a movie AU based on the F word

tonight’s not over (come over and stay) (16k)

Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment, pausing and worrying at his bottom lip. Finally, he asks, “Have you heard that Cox guy is coming out with a new song?” Louis freezes, fingers hovering over his keyboard where they had been typing his password. “No, I hadn’t,” Louis says truthfully. “Where did you hear that?” “Tell anyone this and I’ll kill you, but I’d consider myself a big fan,” Zayn says. His face doesn’t change in expression, completely serious as he admits this to Louis. “Big fan? Like run a blog and everything?” or, harry is a famous singer and louis is a student who just wants to write his novel

honey, honey (7k)

another sorority au that no one asked for - featuring squirt guns, copious talks of marriage, and more useless lesbians.

fall in love with the moon (and everything beautiful) (10k)

“It’s adorable that you think you can compromise with me on this,” Louis says. He places his hands on his hips and tries his best to look intimidating. “But I am not budging on this. Every book pun you say will result in one quarter in the jar.” “What jar?” Harry asks. He furrows his eyebrows together. Louis rolls his eyes. “Like a swear jar, but now I’m going to make yours ‘Harry’s dumbass pun jar.’ Maybe I’ll have you put a quarter in for every pun you say, not just the ones about books. Niall was right - you tell the worst jokes.” “One time Niall told me I’d never said a funny joke in my life,” Harry says casually. “Funny. He told me that too.” or, louis and harry work in a bookstore together and harry tells dumb jokes and they fall in love

get a little bit nervous (14k)

Liam goes to say something, probably something dumb, but he chokes on his spit, coughing loudly. The man in front of him is one of the prettiest people he’s ever seen in his life; he’s got thick eyelashes that fan out and frame his dark eyes and tanned unblemished skin. Liam forgets all of his previous thoughts. “You okay, mate?” he asks, concern filtering into his voice. “Yeah, yeah,” Liam says, still choking and coughing. “Sorry.” “We all reacted the same way we saw Zayn for the first time,” Niall says from next to him, laughter evident in his tone. “He’s a god, isn’t he?” or, ziam farmer's market au where liam, louis, and niall work at the produce stand, harry and zayn work at the bakery stand, and nobody's straight

i’ve heard it both ways (26k)

“I, uh.” Harry is scrambling, trying to think of something believable on the spot. He remembers the woman from reception and her phone call and says the only thing he can think of. “I’m a psychic.” Everyone stills. Zayn laughs, Detective Edwards looks confused, and the officer holding the door open looks mildly frightened. “A psychic?” Zayn gets out between his laughs. “I’ve heard it all. You’re definitely spending the night in the holding cell now. You’re wasting all of our time here.” an au based on the tv show psych where harry is shawn, louis is jules, liam is gus, niall is mcnabb, and zayn is lassie.

i just know you (got to taste like candy) (3.9k)

Harry seduces the cute cell phone repair girl with her phone's wallpaper.

i just want you to dance with me tonight (7.6k)

The sorority au no one asked for. Featuring a prank war, Lirry friendship, and useless lesbians.

beautiful wreck, colorful mess (4.4k)

Harry's been desperate to try out the toys she bought for her and Louis.

she says she doesn’t love me (don’t believe her) (17k)

Harry is a disaster gay who works in a coffee shop and Louis doesn't want to admit she's in love.

only you know me (4.5k)

“It’s just unfair.” Louis can’t help her complaining. “You always get these opportunities I would die for to throw parties. I’ve got, like, a billion siblings, so I never get the house to myself. You’re home alone at least three times a semester. Your parents wouldn’t even be mad or anything.” “That’s not even the point,” Harry says, calmly and evenly. Sometimes it’s frustrating to Louis just how easily Harry keeps her calm. “And what is?” Louis asks, throwing a goldfish cracker in Harry’s direction. It misses. “That I don’t want to.” - Based on the prompt, "Nothing really specific just a harry/Louis sleepover while Harry's parents are out of town involving sexy lady times? "

#writer appreciation week #hljournal #1dsource #fics #author rec

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sithsecrets · 4 years

Text

The Littlest Princess

A chronicle of sorts, centered around the pregnancy of Kylo Ren’s lover (and the birth of the galaxy’s littlest princess).

---

3.1k words

Mentions: sex (not explicitly), pregnancy, childbirth

---

When the nurse tells you that you’re pregnant, you make her say so twice, just to be sure.

“You’re pregnant, miss,” she repeats, rubbing your arm in a comforting manner. The nurse must be able to sense the panic spiking in you, because she reaches out to hold your hand as well.

She knows who you are, obviously, you can tell by the look on her face. Anyone who doesn’t live under a rock knows that you’re the Supreme Leaders beloved, and this nurse must know the implications of the news she’s just given you.

“You can’t tell anyone,” you say to her, and you pray that she understands why.

“Of course,” the nurse affirms, nodding and rubbing your arm again. “I would be fired from my job immediately if I revealed anyone of my patients’ medical histories to another person.”

You nod at that, still rather shocked by the notion that you’re carrying Kylo Ren’s child at this very moment. Gripping the edges of the examination table, you try to steady yourself, knowing that you need to go to your quarters and gather your thoughts as all of this washes over you.

“Would you like to make another appointment?” the nurse asks you, helping you down off the table as you begin rushing to leave. The meaning of her question isn’t clear, and you’re sure that’s not by accident. You appreciate that, though, the choice that she’s giving you.

“Not right now,” you say, doing up the last few buttons on your dress.

As you go to leave, the nurse calls out to you. “If you ever need guidance, or help, or if you decide to start prenatal care, please don’t hesitate to call.”

You nod quickly and smile politely, wanting nothing more than to just leave and think about all of this. Before the woman can speak again, you duck out into the corridor, walking as quickly as you can without breaking into a run as you leave the medbay.

The whole walk back to your rooms, your head swims with a million thoughts. You feel drunk, almost, dazed by the revelation that you’re pregnant. This was far from planned, but you can pinpoint a time a few weeks ago where you forgot to take a couple of your contraceptive pills. That must have been the time you conceived, it had to have been, because you and Kylo have been careful every other time you’ve been intimate together.

Stars, Kylo. As you burst into your quarters, panic burns in your chest at the notion of telling your lover that you’re carrying his baby. You and Kylo are fully committed to one another and very open about your relationship, but still— the two of you haven’t been together all that long, and neither one of you has ever started a dialogue about children. You know that Kylo loves you, he tells you all the time, but will he love you like this?

You sit on the bed you share with Kylo, forcing yourself to breathe and think rationally. Quickly, you dispel ideas of terminating the pregnancy as they come to you. You have no problem with women taking control of their own bodies in such a fashion, but it takes you only a moment to recognize that this baby is something you want, no matter how Kylo feels about it. All your life, you’ve thought about being a mother, and now your opportunity is here.

After about ten minutes of breathing deeply and thinking clearly, the panic you felt mellows out into a steady thrum of curiosity and excitement. You’re still nervous about telling Kylo, of course, but the feeling is glossed over by a deep desire to know everything you can. You begin to wonder about so many aspects of gestation, musing on what your baby might look like inside you right now, in this moment. It must be small, smaller than the eye can see, but you wonder nonetheless if it has a heartbeat. Is it a boy? A girl? You have so many questions, and the prospect of even one of them being answered in the near future makes you want to weep with joy.

You come to stand in front of the large, floor-length mirror propped against one wall of the ‘fresher, the marble floor cold on your bare feet as you strip off every last bit of your clothing. Studying your body in the mirror, you turn this way and that, trying to imagine yourself swollen and heavy with child. Your stomach will grow, obviously, but what will your breasts look like as they become ready to nurse? Which parts of you will become softer, plumper, as the baby grows and develops within you? Suddenly, you find yourself mesmerized by thoughts of your pregnancy. It’s not vanity that has you fixating on your body, though, not at all. You and the baby will change and grow together, it seems, and the thought of that has you grinning and crying at the same time.

---

Kylo comes bursting into your shared quarters that evening in a swirl of dark cloak, mask tucked under his arm. You’ve been waiting for him, perched in a chair in the living room, and a whole new wave of nervousness washes over you at the sight of your lover’s face.

Kylo’s smiling tiredly as he comes to you, leaning down for a long kiss.

“How was your meeting with the Knights?” you ask, laughing lightly as Kylo gives you a deadpan look to indicate his feelings on the briefing he just came from.

As you listen to Kylo change in the other room, every fiber of your being wants to scream out to him, I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant! But that’s no way to tell Kylo that you’re carrying his child, so you make yourself focus on guarding your mind.

“I’m starving,” Kylo announces as he putters about, putting his things away neatly. “Have you ordered dinner?”

You stand, meeting him halfway as he walks back into the living room to be with you. “Darling,” you say softly, tentatively.

“Yes, my love?” Kylo asks easily, going in for another kiss. You push him off gently though, taking a step back. You’re trying to work up the courage to just say it.

“Kylo.”

“Are you alright?” Kylo’s regarding you with a questioning gaze now, obviously confused by your behavior.

You draw in a deep breath, steadying yourself. Still, the words stick in your throat as you finally say, “I… I’m pregnant, Kylo.”

Kylo’s whole expressions shifts to one of utter and complete shock. He says nothing in response, just stares straight at you as if he cannot fathom the idea of what you’ve just told him.

Panic spiking, you fight back tears as one of your hands clutches weakly at your stomach. No, at your womb—

“Kylo,” you say softly, voice breaking. He just keeps staring and staring at you, and your anxiety snowballs. “Kylo, are you upset?”

Suddenly, Kylo is on his knees, falling to the floor with a dull thud. He reaches for you, eyes still fixed on your face in shock. “Come here,” your lover commands, arms outstretched, reaching for you almost like he needs you.

“I know we didn’t plan this, but you don’t—”

“Baby, please come here,” Kylo begs, and you finally walk into his waiting arms, jarred by how Kylo grips your middle and clings to you as if you’re something sacred.

“Do you mean it?’ Kylo asks you. “Are you really pregnant? With my child?”

You stare down at Kylo, bewildered by his behavior but overjoyed nonetheless because, yes, yes you are.

“Yes, darling,” you tell him. “I found out today.”

“Oh,” Kylo breathes, awed, nuzzling his face against your abdomen gently. “Oh, stars.”

For the first time, you allow yourself to relax, to enjoy this joyous news. You drape your arms across Kylo’s shoulders, rubbing his back gently.

“I know,” you laugh, crying openly now, “that’s how I felt when I found out, too.”

Kylo gazes up at you again, tears sliding down his cheeks as he grins. “You’re going to be the most beautiful mother,” your lover tells you, reverent and seemingly consumed by adoration for you.

All you can do is laugh and look down at the father of your child, excited and afraid all at the same time.

---

“What do you think the baby will look like?” Kylo asks you that night, whispering in the darkness of your bedroom. Like you, he has a million questions, and the two of you have been up all night talking.

“If we’re lucky, they’ll look like their daddy,” you say sweetly, reaching out to cup Kylo’s cheek. He snuggles against your hand, obviously flattered.

Kylo pulls you towards him, rolling you gently so that your back presses against his chest. One strong arm circles your middle, and his hand comes to rest on your stomach, right where the baby is supposed to be.

“Marry me,” Kylo murmurs, talking right in your ear, and all you can think to do is close your hand over his.

---

Peering attentively at the screen before her, a doctor scans the image of you and Kylo’s baby, looking for imperfections and signs of healthy development. Yourself and Kylo watch her carefully, trying to make sense of the image as well. The baby sits suspended in amniotic fluid, and you can make out the outline of the child’s body. It all looks good to you, but then again, you’re not a doctor.

“Well,” the doctor finally proclaims, turning away from the machine she had been fiddling with, “would you like to know the sex?”

You nod quickly, grinning at Kylo. He’s trying to play it cool, being the Supreme Leader and all, but you can see the excitement shining in his eyes.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor says after a moment, and you grab for Kylo’s arm, ecstatic.

“A girl!” you exclaim, giggling as tears well up in your eyes. Kylo kisses your forehead, cracking a smile now, and the doctor looks on at the two of you with a content expression.

She leaves you alone briefly so that you may redress and have a moment with your boyfriend, and Kylo cannot stop chattering as he helps you back into your clothes.

---

Having always been partial to relaxing in the tub, you find yourself in the bath more and more often as your pregnancy progresses. There is the smallest, sweetest little swell in your stomach now, and every appointment and imaging session affirms that your baby girl is developing just as she should be. Soaking in warm water calms you these days, soothing any aches or pains that you may be feeling. None of them are too bad yet, but you’ve definitely felt a change in your body as you approach the halfway point of your second trimester.

Your eyes slip close as you sink down further into the water, steam wafting around you. But just as quickly as you relax, a slightly, fluttery sort of sensation in your stomach has you sitting right back up again. Breathless, you pause, waiting for confirmation that what you’ve just felt is what you think that it is. And then it’s there again, the fluttering low in your abdomen, and you feel as though you could cry.

“Kylo!” you shout, excitement thrumming through you as you feel another little movement in your womb.

Kylo is barging into the ‘fresher in an instant, seemingly panicked. He falls to his knees beside the bathtub, already looking you over.

“What happened?” he asks quickly, stricken by the notion of you being harmed. He’s been like this since you found out about the baby, so protective, always fussing over you. But you’re too distracted to calm him down, too excited, so you just grab one of his hands and press it against the swell of your belly.

“Feel,” you breathe, smiling big enough to make your cheeks ache.

Everything is so still and quiet, and then the baby kicks again.

“Whoa,” Kylo says softly, and it’s like he’s not even aware of the fact that his sleeve is soaking wet.

---

As it turns out, Kylo was serious when he asked you to marry him all those weeks ago. Tomorrow, just before sunset, the two of you are to be married in front of nearly every important person in the galaxy. You lost count after the guestlist tallied north of three hundred, and the number of gifts yourself and Kylo have already received is almost unfathomable. Tomorrow, you will be swathed in the finest fabrics and surrounded by luxury unlike anyone has ever known. You will receive guests, and dance, and be made over by everyone in your presence.

But tonight? Tonight is just for you and the love of your life.

Kylo was the one who insisted that the two of you actually be married the night before your decadent, opulent wedding. “I want to enjoy you,” he had told you.“The wedding is for everyone else, really. I want something that’s just for you and I.”

(And really, you should have expected it— Kylo’s always hated parties.)

So that’s why now, under the cover of darkness, you and Kylo stand with your hands clasped, reciting your vows to one another in front of an officiant. Your first kiss as husband and wife is lit by nothing more than moonlight, but it is the sweetest one you’ve ever shared.

The officiant walks down the beach after all is said and done, leaving you and Kylo to enjoy your first moment together as newlyweds. You take Kylo’s arm as the two of you begin making your way back to your accommodations, not at all in a hurry to be back inside. The resort chosen for your wedding is settled on the most beautiful tropical planet, and the warm breeze feels heavenly on your skin.

It’s late when you get back to your rooms, but you let Kylo undress you anyway. He’s so gentle as he lays you down and parts your legs, murmuring sweet little things about how beautiful his wife looks laid out underneath him. Kylo’s always so soft and tender with you these days, always so concerned about harming you when the two of you make love now. You miss the rougher stuff sometimes, if you’re being honest, but being handled like something sacred is an excellent consolation prize.

Later, when the two of you are finished, the crash of the waves outside lulls you to sleep as Kylo drifts off in your arms.

---

Your labor is long, and the baby does not come easily. Kylo is by your side for all of it, the pushing and the cussing and the panting. But finally, after many hours of trying, you deliver your baby girl. And stars, is she beautiful, an absolute vision with wisps of dark hair and light eyes that you’re sure will darken with time.

After you and the baby are bathed, cleared to leave the medbay, and dressed in fresh clothes, your new little family migrates to your normal quarters. Kylo tells you to rest once he has you settled in bed, and you’re more than happy to close your eyes for a few minutes. There will be plenty of time for you to fuss over your perfect little daughter when you’ve recovered a bit, and besides— it looks like Kylo’s got it for now.

It’s such a dream to watch your husband hold your new baby in his arms. He’s so gentle with her, so sweet, shushing the little bundle of blankets softly when she makes a discontent noise. You drift in and out as you watch Kylo walk about the room, showing your sweet little baby things you know she can’t see, like her bassinet and the couch in the living room. Still, Kylo gives her a complete tour of your quarters, and you supposed it would be comical to watch your rather large husband cradle your little girl in his arms if it didn’t make your heart swell so much. You had no idea that Kylo could speak so softly, that he could handle another person with so much care. He’s come close to it with you, of course, always so loving from the very beginning, but this is a different level of tenderness.

Later, when you’re feeling a bit better, a few visitors come by to see the galaxy’s littlest princess. It’s only a handful of people, really, and you’re only a bit surprised to see Chancellor Hux amongst them. You know good and well that he and Kylo have a history that’s punctuated with animosity, but you’ve always suspected that they liked one another a bit more than either of them was willing to let on. They respect each other, Kylo and Hux, and they’re secretly friends in their own strange sort of way.

Hux greets your graciously, bowing deeply and smiling as he looks down at you and your child. “Empress,” he says, tone shifting as he addresses your little girl. “And Princess!” Hux exclaims, still speaking rather softly. He fusses over the baby for a few seconds, more than happy to accept your invitation to hold the squirming bundle of blankets in his arms.

Yourself and Kylo share a pleasantly yet rather bewildered look behind Hux’s back as he makes over your little girl, surprisingly skilled and warmer than you’ve ever seen him to be towards well, anybody. As Hux walks the length of the bedroom, bouncing your baby girl gently as he goes, Kylo comes and sits beside you on the edge of the bed.

The two of your share a gentle, private smile, and though you’re tired, though your head is spinning with a million thoughts and worries about the baby, and nursing, and being a good parent, you cannot help but feel completely content in this moment. You have everything you want— a loving husband, a healthy child, and even friends that are willing to love your little girl like their own— and you cannot fathom what would make you even happier.

“Again?” Kylo asks, cutting his eyes towards the bundle of blankets in the Chancellor’s arms. He’s mostly joking, you can tell, but there’s also something serious in his tone.

You huff, exasperated. “At least give me some time to forget how long my labor with this one was, darling,” you plead. You’re sort of joking, too, but only sort of.

Kylo and Hux both laugh at that, and you can’t help but crack a wry smile.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #star wars #star wars imagine #my writing #tw: pregnancy #tw: childbirth #pregnancy #childbirth

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dontcare77ghj · 4 years

Text

Choice

Steve x reader x Bucky

Note: I’m not very good at staying gone.

When everyone was born, somewhere on their body was the name of their soul mate. The person who was supposed to be your perfect match. In your case, when you had been born you had two names. Born with two perfect matches. Featured on your collar bone were the names James Barnes and Steven Rogers.

As you’d come to understand what the names meant, you found yourself constantly studying their names. James name was written in his swirly handwriting, every letter was connected by loops and swirls. But Stevens handwriting was easier to read. It was very simple print, that almost seemed to slant to the side.

The handwriting made you wonder who they were as people. Made you wonder what they would be like when you met them.

Before her death, your mother had made sure you always covered your names. It was uncommon, but not unheard of, for anyone to have more than one name and there were people who did discriminate those with more than one name.

It was 2010, you were 25 and living in Chicago, studying at the university of Chicago. You had finished classes for the day and all you wanted was to go home, change, and eat some cold ramen. Locking your door behind you, you made a beeline for your bedroom wanting to complete part two of your plan.

You’d just thrown off your sweater, leaving you in your jeans and singlet, when a hand wrapped around your mouth and nose and another around your waist.

A scream escaped your throat as you struggled against the hands holding you. Your captor let out a deep grunt before saying something in another language. From the corner of your eye you saw a tall man walk towards you with a needle in hand.

The man held you tighter to him as the other stepped closer. You’d barely had time to flinch before the second man held your neck in place and injected the needle. The effects were almost instantaneous as your body became heavy.

The last thing you heard as your body sagged in the first man’s grip was,

“Hail HYDRA.”

When you awoke you couldn’t move. You were crouched into a sitting position. Lifting your arms, you saw your wrists and elbows bound together with zip ties, after a quick assessment you noticed your legs were bound in a similar way.

You let out a muffled whimper when you finally realized where you were. You had been bundled into a crate. And it was moving.

You weren’t sure how long you were in the box. You weren’t sure where you were going. You were having a hard-enough time quelling a panic attack to try and focus on anything else.

The box stopped moving for a second as you heard what you assumed to be a large door opening and you were placed down.

“Soldat. Postaraysya ne slomat’ yeye.” You heard before the door slammed, causing you to flinch. You held your breath, willing yourself not to move an inch as you heard footsteps moving towards you.

You slammed your eyes shut as the lid of the crate was opened. A pitiful whimper escaped you when a pair of arms reached in and lifted you out of the crate.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” A deep voice said into your ear as you were placed down. Slowly, you risked opening your eyes to see a brunette man kneeling in front of you. “Did anyone hurt you?” He asked, taking the gag out of your mouth.

You didn’t say anything, instead opting to shake your head.

“You don’t have to be scared of me, Y/N.” He said, taking out a knife and cutting the ties binding your legs.

“How, how do you know my name?” You whispered, watching intently as he released you. The man didn’t say anything as he lifted his sleeve to reveal your name. “So, which are you? Steven or James?” You asked as he freed your wrists.

“I don’t know.” He said, rubbing your wrists in his hands. “I don’t know.”

Winter. You couldn’t keep calling your soul mate, ‘The man’, and so the two of you decided you’d call him Winter.

Winter had explained everything to you that day. He’d been there for years, often being frozen for decades at a time, and his mind had been wiped every time they believed he was remembering anything of his old life.

Winter didn’t know his name. He knew he had two soul mates, you being one of them, but he didn’t know if his other soul mate was James or Steven because HYDRA had removed the arm with their name.

He’d screwed up on a previous mission before they’d taken you. His handler had decided that the best way to keep him under control was to bring you here. You were to be his reward and his punishment. If anything went wrong from now on, you would be punished but if he did as he was told you would be kept safe.

The first few months had been awkward between the two of you. You didn’t know how to interact with him. Yes, he was your soul mate but a part of you was angry because he was the reason you were HERE. He was the reason you were now living in hell. It was only after he’d returned from a mission bleeding from multiple areas that your interactions changed.

At first, your interactions were making sure the other was okay. Whether it be after one of his missions gone ‘well’ and you’d help him with any injuries or when a mission would go bad, he would patch you up and whenever either of you would wake up screaming in the night, you’d be there for the other.

As time went on your interactions continued to change from ‘room mates’ to friends and now to lovers. He was your soul mate; he didn’t choose for this to happen. It was not his fault.

You’d been tapped in this hell hole for what you assumed to be three and a half years. Time was almost non-existent in your windowless cell but you’d tried to keep track of your time here. You wondered some days, if anyone was still looking for you.

“Winter? What are you doing?” You murmured, sitting up in bed to see him staring at the wall. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m okay, kotenok.” He assured you, giving you a small smile. “Just thinking.”

“Care to share?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder. Winters arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you in closer.

“I have another mission tomorrow.” He said after a minute. “They want to take you too.”

“Why? They’ve never brought me along on one of your missions.” You said confused.

“They said this was a special target. That this way, I’d remember the consequences if I couldn’t do it.” Winter told you, arm squeezing you tightly.

“Pretend I’m not there.” You said, taking his metal hand in yours. “This is a normal mission and all you need to do is get the job done and not get hurt.”

There would be so many people who would find some offense with what you just said. Winters purpose in this hell hole was to kill those he was told to and before you joined him in this hole, if he didn’t, he would be hurt.

You hated that his job here was to kill but it wasn’t as if you could ask him to quit. It didn’t work like that; you would rather he came back to you alive and uninjured.

“I never wanted this for you.” Winter murmured. “I never wanted you brought into this all.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your choice.” You said, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder. “We don’t have any choices here.” You added now joining him in his blank staring at the wall adjacent.

Winters information had not been wrong. The day after the two of you stared blankly at your cells wall, he had been taken for a mission and you had been brought with him.

The two of you had been brought to a HYDRA safe house, along with two other men who only spoke Russian. You were in New York. Before being taken, you’d had a jar of loose change on your mantle to visit the city.

You never thought you’d visit this way.

You’d been in New York for almost a week. You weren’t sure what Winter had been doing during his days. His days were spent away from you and during your nights he refused to speak of his job.

It was day six of being in New York. Winter had left at the crack of dawn with one of the Russian men. This was routine at this point, he would leave with one man and leave you behind with the other. You didn’t know who he was all you knew was he didn’t speak Russian and he had a gun on him constantly.

You were sitting on the small mattress you and Winter had been sharing for a week, reading a book you’d found in the house, when the man’s phone pinged.

“Chyort!” He yelled, throwing his phone and barrelling towards you. His hand buried itself in your hair and dragged you into a standing position. A short shriek of pain left you before you silenced yourself as he placed a knife on your neck.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in that position facing the door. Any time you so much as breathed too deeply; the knife would be pushed deeper into your neck.

Everything happened so fast.

There was suddenly a loud gunshot, warm liquid sprayed your back and dripped from your neck. The man behind you collapsed loudly to the floor and your hand reached up and clutched your now bleeding neck.

“Kotenok!” You heard over the ringing in your ears. Towels were wrapped around your neck and you look up to see Winter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he had you. I didn’t know he’d cut you.” He said, placing your hands on your neck. “I have to fix this. Hold that tightly.”

Winter quickly grabbed a first aid kit and quickly got to work.

“It’s not that deep, you don’t need a hospital.” He assured you, closing the shallow wound.

“Winter, what’s going on?” You choked out and coughed harshly.

“Try not to talk too much, kotenok.” Winter said, rubbing your back. “We need to get out of here. And quickly.”

“Winter. You need to talk to me.” You said as the two of you stood. His hand gripped yours as the two of you began running out of the door.

“James.” Winter told you.

“What?” You asked as the two of you continued to run.

“I remember, I’m James.”

The two of you had run that day. Winter, James, had forced the two of you to run as far as you could before night hit. You’d ended up in a warehouse complex just as the sun had set.

“He knew me. The target he knew me. It was Steven.” James told you that night as the two of you sat huddled together. “I’ve been remembering little things from the past, my past, these past few days.” He admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You croaked.

“I didn’t want the agents to hear. They would’ve wiped me again. I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I didn’t kill him.”

“I know.” You said, pressing your face into his shoulder.

“I made the choice not kill him.”

“I know.”

“I made the choice.”

“I’m so proud of you.” You whispered, leaning over to kiss him. “You know they’re going to come after us.”

“They won’t find us.” He promised you, pulling you in closer. “They'll never find us again.”

Eight months. The two of you had been running for eight months. You stole clothes and money from wherever you could. James found someone to make you both new ids and you’d flown to Romania.

The two of you had argued for a while as to whether or not you’d find Steven. You both wanted to find him, you wanted to meet him, but in the end the two of you agreed it was far too dangerous to go and find him.

It had been two months since you’d found a place to live. It was a crummy, one room apartment in a rundown area but it was better than the cell you’d shared for three years.

“Are you sure you can’t stay in bed?” You whined, watching James get dressed.

“I’m sure, kotenok.” He smiled, slipping a red long sleeve over his head. “The woman who owns the fruit stand said she’ll pay me to fix her tables.”

“Mrs Lakatos.” You reminded him.

“Yes, Mrs Lakatos. It’ll be some extra money to add to our squirrel fund.” He said. “We’re not going to be able to stay here much longer.”

“I know. I get to choose this time.” You smiled, stretching on the mattress.

“Do I get to know your list?” James asked, slipping on his jacket and gloves. “Tell me we’re at least going to be on Earth?”

“Yes, we'll be on Earth.” You rolled your eyes. “I promise I’ll pitch my list once I've narrowed it down a bit more.” Standing up you pressed yourself into his chest. “Now go, Mrs Lakatos will kill you if you’re late.”

“She won’t kill me. She’ll throw fruit at me and make me pay for it.” He laughed, pressing his lips to yours. “While I’m gone, think about trying to sleep for me.” He said, his thumb tracing the dark circles under your eyes.

“I’ll think about it.” You nodded. “Be careful, Winter.”

“Always am, kotenok.” He said. “’ll be back soon. I love you.”

“Love you too.” You called as he left. You locked the door and checked the windows were secured before you crawled back into the sleeping bag.

Non-reader POV

Two months after the attack

The avengers had a rule. They had a lot of rules but there was one rule they all agreed upon and did their best not to break. Soul mates are sacred. No matter what, as a team they all agreed to help each other when it came to soul mates.

Soul mates were to be protected.

So, when Steve came to the team begging for their help in locating Bucky and his other soul mate, Y/N, the team eagerly agreed.

They’d been searching and destroying HYDRA bases for two months non-stop. So far, their search for information on Steve’s soul mates had turned up empty handed but the up side was they were destroying HYDRA one base at time.

“Rogers I just became our favourite person.” Natasha said over the coms.

“Unlikely.” Tony scoffed. “Bruce and I just found files that will make his day.”

“You know what’s better than files? Videos.” Natasha said. “Security footage to be exact.”

“We can talk about your contest later.” Steve interrupted. “Get what you need to get and get out of there now.”

“Feel like we just got scolded by a teacher.” Tony commented.

“I can still hear you, Tony.” Steve sighed.

“That was the point, Rogers.”

Half an hour later the team were on the quinjet and leaving behind a burning Hydra building. Natasha was loading onto the screen the security footage as Tony handed over the files to Steve.

“There’s files that date back to days after he fell from the train up until two months ago. After his attack on you, he disappeared along with her.” Tony said, tapping a photo of Y/N attached to the file. “There’s brief notes on Y/N throughout the years before 2010, looks like they were keeping tabs on her from since she was born. In 2010 is where the notes become files.”

“They took her.” Steve said, a lump in throat as he scanned through the pages.

“On October 17th.” Natasha cut in. Without another word she pressed a key on her computer and the security footage played for the team. They all watched as two men carried a crate in Bucky’s cell. “Soldier, try not to break her.” Natasha translated.

Steve felt the lump in his throat rise as he watched Bucky free their terrified soul mate. His eyes stung as he watched her flinch at Bucky’s touch and when Bucky confessed to not knowing who he was.

Natasha showed a few more tapes that showed both Y/N and Bucky’s treatment at the base before Steve began aggressively flipping through the files in hand.

“What’cha doing there, Cap?” Clint asked, eyeing the blonde cautiously.

“Trying to find out who authorised it. Y/N’s kidnapping, their torture, all of it, so I can kill them.” Steve stated, still flipping.

“That’s not the most patriotic thing to say, Cap.” Tony said.

“Not Captain America talking.” Steve said, looking up and right at the man. “This is all Steve Rogers.”

Steve only had two things on his mind. Kill those who had hurt his soul mates and find Y/N and Bucky.

Reader POV

Now

A knock on the door jolted you awake. James had a key; James didn’t have a need to knock. You were much more awake and alert as you grabbed the gun from under the mattress and pushed yourself into the corner opposite your bed.

You did not move or make a sound as you watched with baited breath to see if the door would open. You heard the footsteps move away but you stayed in your position. Staying proved to be the correct decision as you heard the door begin to be picked.

You watched as the door opened and a red headed woman and blonde man entered.

“Don’t move.” You said as the man shut the door behind him. Both looked in your direction and raised their hands for you to see.

“We’re not here to hurt you.” The woman said. The blonde moved to take a step but you unclicked the safety and he stopped.

“We’re not going back.” You said, swallowing harshly against your heart in your throat as your finger moved to the trigger.

“Steven Rogers.” The blonde suddenly said. Your attention turned to him at the mention of your other soul mate. “My name is Steven Grant Rogers, but I prefer Steve.”

“Prove it.” You snapped, hand instantly reaching up to rub the man’s name on your neck. The man, ‘Steve’, slowly lowered his hands and pulled down his sleeves. Written on his arms was James Barnes and Y/N L/N.

“Believe me now?” He gave you a small smile. You nodded slowly but did not lower your gun. “This is my friend Natasha, we’re here to help you.”

“Who do you work for and how did you find us?” You asked, lowering the gun but not clicking the safety back on. “Were you followed?”

“You don’t have to worry about anyone following us.” Natasha said. “We have people watching the building and no one saw us come in.”

You let out a sigh before clicking the safety on and putting it on the bed. “How did you find us?” You repeated, crossing your arms over chest.

“Friends with a billionaire with technology that tracks people’s faces.” Steve shrugged. “I’ve been looking for you for months.”

Natasha then said she had to go but she’d ensure no-one of suspicious character would enter the building. Steve bid his friend goodbye and locked the door behind her as you sat on the bed.

“I was for finding you when we got out.” You said to the silent man. “I’d spent years studying your chicken scratch and all I’d wanted was to find you but Winter made a good argument about how we’d just put you in danger.”

“I don’t think you’d put me in any more danger than I do myself.” Steve said moving towards you.

“Well they ordered a hit on you, so we assumed you’d get hurt if we were around.” You shrugged, playing with your fingers. “It’s not been too bad; I now know things about you from before this.” You gestured to his muscles.

“He told you about me being a twig?” Steve chuckled.

“You sounded like a cute twig.” You smiled. “Though from what I’ve heard you could be a whiny little stick.”

“Jesus.” Steve laughed.

“How much do you know about what happened to us?” You asked after a minute.

“Everything.”

“Then you’ll know we're really fucked up.” You said, not looking away from your hands. “And not really worth it.”

“I don’t believe that.” Steve said, shifting closer and taking one of your hands in his. “I really don’t think that.”

“You never were good at listening to warning signs, were you?” Winter said from behind you. “We are broken.”

“You’ve been through hell and back, but that doesn’t make you broken.” Steve said, looking at Winter and then at you.

“I’m a former assassin who has very little memories of much.” Winter scoffed, sitting on the couch opposite you.

“I have crippling anxiety and was kidnapped to be his insurance.” You added.

“We both wake up screaming more nights than not.” He nodded.

“The nights there’s no screaming is because most of time neither of us are sleeping, instead we’re watching the door.”

“We were tortured for years. And neither of us think we’re ever going to stop running.” James finished. “We’re broken, Steve, you don’t need us in your life.”

“Not in the least.” You agreed.

“I don’t agree with any of those statements.” Steve shook his head. “I think you’re both alive and you’ve experienced things no one should ever have to, but that does not mean you are broken. I’ve been trying to find you both for months because all I’ve ever wanted was to be with the two of you, to love the two of you, and I’m not going to leave without either of you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“And I’m not the man you remember.”

“I look forward to getting to know both of you then. This is your choice in the end. It is your choice if you come with me. If you choose not to come with me, I will let you go. I will not chase after you and I will let you go.

But if you come with me, I will make it my life’s mission to protect you. I will be there to help you remember, to make you feel safe. If you come with me no one will ever hurt you like that again. I will make it my life’s mission to make you feel safe and to love you. But it is your choice.”

You and James shared a long, silent, look. You gave him a smile and he then nodded.

“I think that we’ve made our choice.”

“Stevie you’re staring again.” You mumbled, not opening your eyes yet. “It’s creepy.”

“It’s called gazing and it’s romantic.” He said, running his fingers down your spine. “And you love it.”

It had been two years since your decision. Steve had brought the two of you to New York. For the first few weeks, the two of you were quite anxious about it all. You were living in New York, in the Avengers tower, it was not the most inconspicuous of decisions.

Steve had noticed the signs of paranoia you both shared and it was only when he’d sat down with the two of you, that your anxiety was quelled.

Steve had killed Pierce and Rumlow. He’d also killed a lot of members of the organisation. They were still out there but the two people who had put you through hell were dead.

It was after living in the tower for nearly six months you’d decided to finish your degree. You’d finished up online Steve and Bucky were your biggest supporters. Bucky gained back a lot of his memories from the forties. There were still many things he could not remember but you and Steve always cautioned him not to strain himself.

It was not all roses though.

You and Winter weren’t exaggerating when you said you were fucked up. There were till nights were you both woke up screaming. Days when the memories were too much and you couldn’t find the will to move. But the three of you helped each other.

Steve never seemed to regret finding you both. He never ran. And he never wavered on his promise.

“I do.” You hummed, burying your chest into his chest. “Where’s Winter?”

“I think he’s in the kitchen.” Steve said, making you groan. “He’s not that bad a cook.” He chuckled.

“That’s because you have a super solider stomach.” You said, sitting up. “Let’s save Stark’s kitchen.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Don’t want to deal with a whiny Tony.” Steve agreed.

“Hey Steve, did you mean what you said last night?” You asked.

“I said a few things last night, sweetheart.” Steve said, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“About the list.” You giggled, leaning into his hand.

“Of course, I did. I don’t care how many places you write down onto that list, I don’t even care if one of them is Mars, I want to take you and Buck wherever you want to go.” He promised, leaning down to kiss you gently.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips.

“I love you too sweetheart.” He smiled.

“Hey, if anyone asks there’s always been a hole in this pan, okay?” Bucky yelled, breaking the moment. “That’s the story we're going with, right?”

“Save the kitchen.” You nodded at Steve who sighed but nodded.

As the two of you moved out of the bedroom Steve turned to you with a smile.

"While I save the kitchen, you get to choose what you want for breakfast."

There was a time where you and James had no choice in your lives, but since running the had been full of choices. Those choices had led you to Steve and to your new family.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @hopingforbarnes @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @starlingelliot @smilexcaptainx @jelly-fishy-babie @reann-loves-sebstan

Coming soon

Dean x reader x Cas

Tony x reader x Bruce

Natasha x reader x Wanda

Tony x reader x Steve

Meg x reader x Cas

Wanda x reader x Vision

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the-creative-lounge-blog · 3 years

Text

Third Shift Kakashi - A Lounge Round Robin Story

In this modern AU in-server event for November, Loungers tell the tale of Kakashi's night shift at a convenience store/gas station one sentence at a time.

What is a round robin story? A round robin story is a story that is written by multiple people. Participants take turns contributing a sentence. The last sentence is sent to the next person, who adds their sentence, and then the process repeats through an established amount of time (our event lasted one week).

Participants in Third Shift Kakashi were contacted via DM with the last sentence, and they replied with one new sentence.

Often, round robin stories don’t make sense and they’re meant to make us laugh. To ensure this, a ridiculous topic was chosen from among the MANY fantastic plot bunnies that are Kakashi Lounge-originals:

Third shift Kakashi: Our favorite tired ninja dork punches in at 10pm to begin his third shift at the 7-11 (or Speedway, Circle K, Kwik Trip, or your country's equivalent of a 24-hour gas station/convenience store). Strange things happen during his nightshift but participants decide what those things are. The Slurpee machine gains sentience. Ōtsutsuki aliens land in the parking lot. Cheeto-fingers Obito tries to steal jerky. Deidara tries to use a fake ID to buy beer. Granny Chiyo comes in and pays with pennies. Any and all of these are believable occurrences from 10pm-6am, and more. The weirder, the better.

The only rules were to keep it rated T, and no romantic pairings.

This dumpster fire masterpiece of a round robin story was written by: @maiikawriter, @fleuraison7, Kitera_Matar, /vastments, @mouseymightymarvellous, @thetoxicstrawberry, @myaekingheart, @mallml, @nibbler747, @syusukewrites, @asiriyep, @azuzel23, @tenzosnewleaf, and @hkandiu (all contributed sentences are in italics and each are double-spaced) with opening and closing paragraphs written by @ohayohimawari:

Kakashi sighed as he punched in twelve minutes late to his shift. He’d been late enough times to warrant a written warning from management, but that threat was nothing compared to what he experienced during his overnight shifts at Konoha’s 24/7 convenience store. He pulled his book out of his back pocket with more hope than expectation that he’d actually find time to read amidst the strange things that occurred between 10 pm and 6 am.

Yukiko and her lover were just getting around to second base and ready to confess their love in this chapter when he’d had to leave for work.

Kakashi pocketed the worn Icha Icha volume reluctantly, hoping for a quiet shift so that he could dive into it again later, and took his prepared bag to head out to his workplace.

Kakashi walked through the store, prepared bag in hand, Icha Icha in his pocket, and sighed as he saw the repeat customer hovering by the front counter.

“No, Naruto, we still haven’t received the limited edition Gutsy Shinobi ramen cups; I told you I’ll call you if we get them.”

Kakashi never heard Naruto’s reply, because his voice was suddenly drowned out by the deep growl of engines pulling into the station, and any hope he had for an uneventful shift was dashed just as quickly as Naruto’s chance of indulging in the delicious goodness of Gutsy Shinobi ramen with the arrival of the Akatsuki Biker Gang.

The group of delinquents strolled into the store as if they owned the place, all sporting matching black leather jackets with red cloud patches on the shoulders and back--an omen that things were about to go south very quickly.

Without seeming to lift his eyes from his book, Kakashi sighed to himself as he watched them clumsily stuff candy bars and Slim Jims under their jackets... were the Akatsuki having an initiation night?

Should he bother confronting them? The long expired Slim Jims they were about to partake in might be punishment enough.

Kakashi put on his best fake customer service smile and didn't say anything - whatever they were stealing, he wasn't paid enough to care.

He sighed. ‘Sir, if you lick the candy bars one more time it’s a week ban. Not so funny when you can’t get those stale nachos, huh?’

Just to prove his point, and maybe because he was feeling a bit exasperated by now, Kakashi carefully unwrapped a candy bar of his own and inhaled the whole thing in two seconds beneath his mask - leaving the visitor stunned, staring wide-eyed with new appreciation at the silver-haired man’s obvious authority on the subject of candy-bar licking.

"Ew," Naruto reminded Kakashi of his presence at the same time that Deidara tried to sneak a six-pack of Budweiser beneath his shirt, so he changed tack to deal with the Akatsuki Biker Gang because he wanted to keep his loyal customers.

Although, 'loyal customers' was a bit of a stretch at times; yes, they frequented the place often, but more often than not they also gave him quite the headache.

He was too tired for this shit at this hour of the day.

Kakashi did what he was best at - feigning boredom and being unaffected by what was happening in the hope that the problem solved itself.

Kakashi pulled out his beloved Icha Icha and proceeded to hide behind the vivid orange cover as he ignored the problem happening in front of him.

The Akatsuki biker gang couldn’t be so easily ignored, as Hidan proved when he snatched the orange book from Kakashi’s hand.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Kakashi said pleasantly, his best customer service smile sharp as blades under his mask, “but that’s not for sale.”

Hidan squinted and flipped the book sideways in a gesture that made Kakashi think he had never held a book before, let alone read one, and Kakashi’s eyes flicked to the closed-circuit camera in the corner as he contemplated forgoing his service training in order to retrieve it, but stopped when he noticed the suspicious red smudges that the man’s fingertips left behind on the cover of his cherished Icha Icha.

It was too bright to be anything ominous - in fact, it matched the same shade as the cherry-flavored Slurpee they offered - but Kakashi wasn’t about to let Hidan slide on stealing a mouthful of frozen delight, or marring his favorite book, so he growled, “You owe me two dollars for the drink and a new copy of Icha-Icha.”

"Two dollars!--look, I'd pay ya, but my partner's a real Stooge [sic] with the purse strings... how 'bout I make it up to you in the stock room instead, if you know what I mean?" the gray-haired religious fetishist suggested with a waggle of eyebrows.

Kakashi considered the offer as it would lessen his shift duties and afford more time to read, however, just then his, Naruto’s, and every head belonging to the Akatsuki biker gang turned to the main entrance when the cheerful ding sounded announcing the arrival of another repeat customer, Granny Chiyo, with her fists full of scratch-off lottery tickets.

Granny Chiyo, was a legend not just for being the bad-ass take no names grandmother of one of the more dangerous Akatsuki gang members, but also for being thrifty. She slammed the scratch off lottery tickets on the counter, and reached into her jacket and pulled out Kakashi's most dreaded item - the jar of pennies.

She placed the jar on the counter with a loud clunk before reaching inside and pulling out pennies one by one, counting them on the counter under her breath. "This will only take a moment" she assured him, "I want to be precise!"

Kakashi took in the mayhem around him with a glazed 100-meter stare. There'd been worse nights, right? No machetes yet, right? All he needed was to make it to break time and have a smoke. 10 minutes.. Kakashi inhaled deeply and cleared his throat 'Take ALL the time you need Ma'am.' He shouldn't get involved right? He needed to man the till, right?

Kakashi smiled at Chiyo who was determined to pay for her weird collection of knickknacks with a gajillion pennies, but couldn't help glancing at the security camera that showed an energetic teenager mid-dance battle with the local biker gang; the only thing more bizarre would be Gai showing up to join them and to be honest he wouldn't be surprised.

The universe was not about to pass over an opportunity like that; if Kakashi had learned anything in his long years, it was that the best way to handle the sudden burst of GREEN and NOISE that assaulted his senses (out of seemingly nowhere) was to remain calm and tip a casual “Yo” to his rival while keeping an eye on Chiyo, the teenager, the biker gang, and the dance battle all at once... Gai would probably join the dance battle in a few minutes anyway.

Because, hello my dear, he wasn't going to leave his dignity in pieces. Better dead than ridiculous ... Although maybe ...?

He ran a hand through his already unruly hair as he rolled his shoulders, getting ready for whatever lay ahead; a quick glance at the clock confirmed his shift still had a long ways to go.

There was no time to relax when the biker gang was already making a move on some products, thinking he wouldn’t notice.

Kakashi decided that losing his job over a bunch of tough dudes acting like broke teenagers wasn't worth it, so he strode over to them first; maybe Gai would help him if they got violent - not that Kakashi would need help with that though.

And that was when it all exploded as Gai joined the dance battle causing them to knock over a display onto the Akatsuki teenage biker gang who exploded in rage causing both the aged Chiyo and Naruto to get knocked to the ground.

Kakashi in panic rushed to Naruto almost running over the old Chiyo and got out his flute then started to bang in on poor knocked-out Naruto's head, the Akatsuki teenage biker gang all nodded as they understood that it was an extremely necessary step of Cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

Gai—either unconcerned, not noticing the damage, or convinced that anything can be solved with the power of dance—dropped to the ground in an impressive worm, once more pulling the attention of the Akatsuki members.

Instigated by the impromptu dance party, the eccentric masked Akatsuki member jumped up onto a tower of canned diet Coke and started beat boxing, and Kakashi could only watch in horror as Gai’s worm morphed into break dancing.

Kakashi sighed and rubbed his tired eyes from behind the counter as he watched Gai break dance down the snack aisle to the rhythm of the masked man's beatboxing, onlookers pumping their fists and cheering as another Akatsuki gang member started to rap about how "art is an explosion."

'What the hell,' was the thought that echoed through Kakashi's aching head with increasing volume; what the hell indeed?--and as he ripped off his red vest and leapt to the top of the counter, the crowd, one by one, turned toward him and fell silent: the cheering onlookers, the masked beat-boxer, the pony-tailed blond... until, at last, the only sound and movement was the frenzied tricking of Gai as the spandex-clad man danced on, unaware.

As he crouched on the counter he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through with this - but desperate times called for desperate measures. He grabbed a Slim Jim and held it up as a mic. There was only one song that would shut them up.

Kakashi started the song softly, but got louder with each word, one hand leading the dance as he ever so slightly got closer to the crowd and then- 3am really was the witching hour, huh? - the crowd joined his dance and with each Ey macarena they were inching a little closer towards the exit in perfect synchrony.

Just then, Naruto regained consciousness and after blinking several times at the chaotic crowd, exclaimed, “What happened to the old lady that was here?”

Kakashi dropped the Slim Jim mic at these words, and glanced where Chiyo had once stood only to find a list of her purchases and her payment-the jar of pennies-waiting to be counted. He ran a hand down his face, noticed the mess below the dripping slurpee machine, spied Deidara passed out in a corner with empty beer cans around him, Kisame and Itachi not-so-secretly pocketing sunglasses, while Hidan sang and Gai danced on with abandon.

Irritably grabbing the mop for what would not be the last time that night, Kakashi unceremoniously stepped over Naruto.

Kakashi briefly considered whether or not this job was really worth the $7.25 per hour it paid him, before surreptitiously mopping himself within a meter of Itachi and Kisame, who he surprised with a heavy “Thwack!” of the mop handle across the backs of both their legs, causing them each to drop a pair of sunglasses and clap their hands across their backsides to smooth the stinging sensation.

He laughed devilishly, enjoying the momentary respite from the craziness of the shift and the antics of his so-called customers; was anyone actually buying anything tonight?

No matter, they didn’t need to, as long as they would get out.

But they just wouldn't get out, so Kakashi had to take more drastic measures - the fire alarm would get him into trouble with his employer, faking a power failure seemed like a safe option though, so he went over to the power box, turned off the main switch and listened with a deep satisfaction to the surprised screams and commotions in the shop.

“Lights are out,” Kakashi stated obviously, walking carefully back towards the register, “so if everybody could put any unpurchased items down and carefully head towards the still illuminated exit signs, that would be greatly appreciated.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by murmuring, and then the faint crumpling sound of what was either plastic encased items being set aside, or even more likely, being concealed in pockets.

While Kakashi knew that letting customers get away with stealing would come back to haunt him if and when his boss found out, at this rate he quite frankly couldn't even care--and besides, with all the lights off, he doubted the security cameras would pick up anything anyway.

As the subdued miscreants groped blindly to the door, illuminated only by the impassive green of the EXIT sign, Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief that his shift was finally winding down--that is, until the resounding BOOM that echoed from the front parking lot.

The screech of tires, the thundering bass, it was a sound he was only too familiar with - it could only be one man.

Finally, finally the whole bunch was gone, only to be replaced by the loudest most obnoxious person he could think of, but Killer B was a regular and as such Kakashi had to endure his bad rapping.

Kakashi threw his head back and softly yeeted with fingers pointed skywards "Pew, pew pew! Fxxx my life!"

As the giant strode inside, clapped his hands on the countertop at the register and whooped “Yo! Bakayaro! Konoyaro! Kakashi, better watch me, can’t copy me, yeeeahhh!” the shopkeep wondered where this cheerful monster had been earlier, when so many folks were acting the fool (no doubt Killer Bee would have assisted him in wiping the floor with two or five of the previous visitors); “Bee, my man, you have no idea the kind of night I’ve been having...”

Unfortunately for Kakashi, Bee had become distracted by a motion sensor dancing sunflower, and took its song as a challenge for a mini rap battle.

"Yo, this flower's got moves! Look at it swaying while I spit some rad tunes!" Bee enthused and all Kakashi could manage in reply was a tired "You should've seen the dance battle earlier."

Lifting up his sunglasses to peer more closely at Kakashi's face--how was he able to see with those on in the middle of the night? the silveret wondered--B yelled concernedly, "Yo man, feeling tired? Uninspired? Say no more! Let's hit the door!" and, heedless of Kakashi's terrified recoil, scooped the smaller man up under his arm and boogied them to his ride, parked across three spaces in the parking lot.

“What is the meaning of this?” The assistant shift supervisor, Danzo, showed up at the door, with Konoha’s 24/7 general manager, Hiruzen, right behind him.

“Um—” Kakashi began, and ended because there was no explaining it.

“You’re fi—”

“I quit!” Kakashi shouted, silencing Danzo.

Bee brandished a peace sign while Kakashi offered a much ruder gesture and the pair took off in search of an after party, or a nap.

Just then, Naruto-whom everyone forgot about-stepped out from behind an endcap of ramen cups. “Does this mean you’re hiring?”

Hiruzen smiled, “I’ll get you an application.”

The End

Do you have an idea for a title? Add it in the replies to this post!

#the kakashi lounge #Kakashi #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #Modern AU #round robin story #third shift kakashi #the man is tired #strange things are afoot #the akatsuki biker gang #gai does the worm #the power of dance #killer bee raps #did anyone actually buy anything?#penny-pincher chiyo #naruto was there the whole time #server event #server shenanigans

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thehltwoghosts · 4 years

Text

Adore You - The Story of Two Lovers

‟In all the seas, in all the world, there has never been a land quite like the isle of Eroda. Shape unmistakably like a frown, it is home to an all but forgotten fishing village that has had perpetual cloud cover for as long as anyone can remember.”

Eroda is an unique island. But still it’s like any others, can be seen by everyone, can be visited by people who want to discover and maybe someday the one who embraced the beauty can find themselves in it.

However people chose to not acknowledge it, they closed their eyes, extinguished the candles, shut the doors… Just to run away from a thing that is buried deep into their hearts. Even If lights are out or they can’t see anything or hear anything, it is still going to enlighten their darkness, fill the blanks with whispers, assemble the hearts that are too weak to be encountered.

That’s why the island is covered in clouds. Forgotten by anyone but still there, exist.

Eroda isn’t an island, it’s a feeling. Feeling that at first tried to be covered but no matter what, it was released to space for exploration. To find a place to settle or a person...

‟An isle where some still that it’s bad luck to mention a pig in fisherman’s pub.”

In a fisherman’s pub, you should find seafood not a pig. It is irrelevant, weird, inappropriate.

It’s like a snowflake on a sunny day. Different... and for them difference is something bad, something brings bad luck.

‟Where seeing a minister in the morning meant you should go home immediately.”

Religion is so venerable that it makes the person employee about unapproachable. Which causes people to behave from hearing but not from learning and when they don’t try to learn, there’s nothing that can be done.

‟Some fishermen still wore a single gold earring for luck, some say it’s to pay to have your body buried If you die in a strange port.”

"Most commonly in the 80′s, wearing an earring in your left ear was a statement showing that one was oriented towards the opposite sex. Less known, perhaps, was the symbolism of having an earring in your right ear, which meant you may have been attracted to the same sex. The motto was, ‘left is right, right is wrong.’ "

The man is wearing an earring from the left sight. Specify himself as ‘normal’ to bring him good luck, to be worth burying. For people to not misunderstand him or indeed misunderstand him.

‟It was also frowned upon to be caught whistling in the wind, in fear you might turn a gust into a gale.”

A single word, whisper, whimper can turn a gust to a gale. Can enlighten your own truth to yourself like a wave, just a blow of wind can cause tornadoes.

One person can make you who you are.

‟And If you ever leave Eroda, avoid doing so on odd numbered days...”

This is coming from fear. They can’t be left in too odd numbers, they can’t act too manly or girly, they can’t style their hair too unusually… Too isn’t something you shouldn’t do and that brings gratuitous fear.

‟Everyone was always frowning which they referred to as Resting Fish Face. But then… well something peculiar happened… or I mean… someone peculiar happened. The Boy was… peculiar… from the moment he entered the world. No one ever meant to be mean towards him but in town grown used to how the things were, no one knew what to do with something… different.”

Instead of others who don’t admit themselves as a whole and covered the parts they don’t want to feel with dreary frowning, the boy embraced himself. With every part that belongs to him as any other, with every feeling he has, he smiled to an island.

In an island that doesn’t know the light but dark, doesn’t know happiness but sorrow, doesn't know equality but disparity… They wouldn’t know how a smile could make a difference, so they wouldn’t.

‟They did their very best to ignore it… hoping it would go away… and eventually so did The Boy. He had lost his smile and without it the world grew darker, the wind colder and the ocean more violent.”

They ignored him, his feelings and his smile as always. They hoped that it’d go away or he’ll go away ‘cause in here, these are the things you have to be covered. They were scared of him, of the lightness he brought with himself, bright as sun maybe brighter than the sun because he can bore into clouds and eliminate them.

However the boy was lonely. He needed somebody to share his weight with. He couldn’t do it on his own, his luminance was so bright, either he had to keep it as a secret or explode the world that didn't have the ability to keep him alive.

So he chose...

‟The Boy tried to ignore the fish but he was not alone in his melancholy. Loneliness is an ocean full of travelers trying to find their place in the world. But without friendship we are all lost & left with no hope, no home, no harbor.”

He collected jars of disappointment, masks of suppression, rocks of desperation and decided that the world doesn’t deserve his smile or him completely. He didn’t want to be seen by others. If he existed for the last time in this paltry earth, he had to be remembered by his smile, his difference from the frowny faces.

What he didn’t expect was to see someone like him. Someone traveled through the oceans to find himself but eventually gave up with understanding that loneliness is an ocean and the only way to get out will be landing hard rocks and watching himself disappear slowly into the shallow.

The fish was lost while trying to find himself, he was left on a hard surface with no hope to accompany him, no home to settle in, no harbor to keep him alive...

‟He wondered what cruel twist of fate brought them together and If fate was involved, what did she have in store.”

He threw up fish to a place he thinks the fish belongs; however fish was tired of trying to find a piece of him in an ocean that represents loneliness. The fish came back with hope that he’s soon going to survive from his melancholy but the way he’ll survive was not expected.

The boy wanted a partner to share his weight, his difference, his loneliness with. The fish wanted to be a part of something, accepted by others that didn't need him, got rid of his lonely state of multitude.

So they found themselves like they’re two missing pieces of an incomplete puzzle. They were meant to be but fate was holding a twist, they were going to learn that soon...

‟Walk in your rainbow paradise. Strawberry lipstick state of mind. I get so lost inside your eyes, would you believe it?”

The fish found himself survived by a person who tried the same way as him to handle voidness. By dying down to oblivion. He would never conjecture what’s waiting for him but it just kinda happened suddenly, fortuitously...

He has been lifted and carried away in a closed space. But darkness after meeting with the source of light was so appalling, he wanted to escape from it and he over flowed. He came face to face with the surface again, the same emotions were going through inside of him. That was the place he belongs, a hard surface, an abandoned island. Nevertheless he felt foreign to cold after warmth touched his skin.

The familiar warmth welcomed him again, with a face full of apprehension. Maybe the boy’s scared of people to see him because the fish was gleaming in the form of golden skin. Maybe the fish’s scared of being seen by people, encounter with frowns that not just formulated but effectuated a demeanor towards difference.

In any case, the boy was so lost inside of an ocean that he was captured with fish. Would he ever guess that someday in a place where everything finally becomes an end, someone was going to be his new beginning? No, he wouldn’t. Would you believe it? He ran away with fish from the censorious eyes in a hope that they would never meet them again.

‟You don’t have to say you love me. You don’t have to say nothing. You don’t have to say you’re mine, honey.”

At the beginning the fish was tiny, the boy could find a place for him to live, where he would keep fish next to him. He was infatuated with him from the moment they’ve met, he wanted to keep him alive and close. He's paid attention to little things that make a big difference; the water was hot, it could burn fish’s skin, make him uncomfortable, however he would never let him suffer at least with pain that comes from his hands.

There were people who have been watching them. The quantity was low, the ones who perceived a sparkle and found the source affected differently. Some of them haven’t changed; same frowning, same coldness, same obstruction that restrain the truth from coming out, same eyes that were looking but couldn’t bother to see.

Some of them have changed, they brightened from the sparkle which was going to be a flame. Empty eyes comprehended a sign of vividness, sun rose above the hazy minds and made them clear, souls embraced themselves as whole. Without distinction, contempt, shame.

The boy made them realize who they really are by dint of light that was actually buried deep into their hearts. He helped them through their journey. And at the end they found themselves, their lightness, their eroda. That was the beginning of the regeneration, a reborn.

‟I'd walk through fire for you, just let me adore you. Oh, honey. I'd walk through fire for you just let me adore you. Like it's the only thing I'll ever do.”

When he’s scared people away and left alone just by himself, when there’s no reason to go outside because there is no one out there for him to talk to, he would go to his secluded place. He would spend his time here, get away or suppress his feelings that want to come out then come back to his hiding place, his bedroom.

The bedroom was inside the doors, surrounded with walls that are like a fine line between him and the others, closed and open… Bedroom’s aura has been capturing the feeling of cloudy weather before the storm arrives. Dark blue walls mixed up with baby blue and white, sheets are turquoise, ceiling is sky blue. Before the dreams had appeared in the air, he would look at his handmade sky and wonder about days which he will see the natural sky in daylight, hot and full of life.

There are jars of his sorrow on the shelves, traces of his pain in the corners. This room is a concrete form of his emotions, a shelter for his wishes, a part of his heart and now he brought the fish to his hiding place. The very first step of him to a heart that has never been loved.

First feeding each other (or the boy’s feeding the fish and himself), first love stares throwing one and another, first taste of sweet feeling in the air which collapses shirts when the boy adores the fish like it's the only thing he'll ever do, first glimpse of colors appearing on the faces. A form of red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple...

With each of these; the connection between them is becoming stronger, the reality is dreamier and their existence that encountered with a new hope is bigger. So does the fish. He’s bigger now, more noticeable but not bright enough for people who didn’t want to see, to notice.

He wanted help from another boy. An opportunity for the boy to see his journey and his new beginning through the light he came into. Another realization...

‟You wonder under summer skies. Brown skin and lemon over ice, would you believe it? You don't have to say you love me. I just wanna tell you something, lately you've been on my mind honey. I'd walk through fire for you, just let me adore you.”

His hiding place became a gate for his own heart that opened up a short time ago to someone who is going to change its ownership. His secluded place became a location for the biggest crime, robbery. When you stole something, the one left behind was never going to be the same ‘cause his one part was captured by someone and the only way for him to be whole again is finding his missing part.

The fish stole his heart at this spot, now his heart doesn’t belong to just one soul but two. This is a place where two souls complete in one body, two hearts in one beat.

Once he was filling the jars with desperate screams; now his disappointment, suppression and desperation is creating melodies into the sky that welcome each other with echoes. Once he was keeping his head low, now the sky can’t contain his smile which widens with each breath and heightens to the sky he’s been dreaming about. Once the air was misty, full of clouds; now the sun shows its face slightly, opens the thick air with light.

The source of his happiness is next to him. Listening his thoughts, hearing his screaming without him formulating it, looking at what he’s showing to him, seeing his effects on other people, dancing with him under the daylight without fear. They’re alone but it feels more crowded than when people are around. There’s something that wants to be vocalized, out and loud. It creates shivers down the boy's spine, "Lately you’ve been on my mind, honey." "I adore you."

He helped another soul who chooses love instead of hate. He gave him a hint, the rest was in the hands of fate and the boy…

‟Oh, honey. I’d walk through the fire for you, just let me adore you. Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do. Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do.”

The boy's knitting second skin for fish. Like fish’s skin this is multicolored too, a reflection of his rainbow paradise that he found with fish. But this skin is showing the fish more apparent, more certain to anyone and boy’s making this for him. He wants to be obvious to people who saw them together, thought that maybe they’re ‘normal’ but no, boy wants to say "I’m who I am, open and proud. Colorful and cheerful. I am me with all of the things that make me who I’m today, with my skin. I’m wearing myself on my skin." This is a way of expressing without the needs of words.

When darkness comes with the arrival of the night, their eyes are still continuing to shine through each other. Each look is another indication of fondness, each blink has maden is a waste of time when all the world is lying in front of you. The fish is mesmerized by him, those two eyes he had found are captivating. Capture the seconds he's had, capture the feeling that brings him somewhere he hasn't been in before, capture the moment that deserved to be frozen, capture his eyes that settled with continuity, capture a part of him.

A heart had been shining from inside but was lost in the darkness. Another heart had been trying to find his home without any compass to guidance. Somehow the light of the heart shined through the dark to a road that another’s been trying to find. It’s guided to home where you don’t find familiar faces but familiar souls. Home became not just a place but a person, heart found out that everywhere you’re loved, you are home. A decision has been made, two hearts were each other’s home and they wanted to be each other’s forever too. The infinity was impossible and death was inevitable but their bond was unbreakable. They exchanged their most precious part, most fragile... Once lost heart split its loneliness in two, once excluded heart split its needs of belonging in two and they made them one in the end. Forever and ever...

The news was telling that others like him need a new home but the fish has already found his, hasn’t he? He doesn’t want any home while his home was here with him, sleeping with peace, unaware of everything. He kept thinking throughout the night, maybe their forever has to break at some point ‘cause he needs to go.

Once his happiness was a reason for him to grow, now the sadness filled him and became a part of his growth. With every passing minute, he’s getting bigger and bigger and the boy’s hope to keep him away from censorious eyes is getting tinier and tinier.

Another person who looked at them and really saw them. Who figured out their bond with each other and how they’re too close and important to one another. She’s one of the people who have changed and found their eroda.

All fishes who immigrated to Eroda, are travelers trying to find their place in the world. They all wanted to discover themselves, wanted to finally find a hope, a home, a harbor so they ended up at Eroda. The ones who embraced the beauty found themselves in it but the consequences were bad. People killed them from outside and inside and that became a reason for others to hide in dark oceans that far away from those censorious eyes. And that was the reason for the fish’s departure…

Also another person who witnessed their hard times and learnt from it. To smile.

The boy doesn’t want to be left behind by him when finally this place’s beginning to feel like home. But sometimes you need to sacrifice your wishes for the person you love the most in this entire universe. His person saw others who are just like them but with one difference, they were open. And he saw them get punished for their honesty and for their courage by people who are ready to judge and destroy them just with words, simple words of a complicated story. He saw them getting disgusted glances, loud whispers and endless judgement by others. He saw that they were discriminated against for something that should be normal...

And he got scared to be treated like them, like you’re something that should not exist. He’s scared something is going to happen not just to him but to his lovely boy too. That’s why he wanted to leave even If that causes him to worlds.

The boy was desperate about how he’s going to handle the heavy weights he has to carry around. First he needs to let go of him, that’s the heaviest of all and he was alone. But through the moments he’s spent with him, they’ve affected lives more than once. His light that brightened with his arrival, changed people. Give them a chance to find themselves, be aware of who they really are. At the end they’ve found themselves, their own light and their own eroda. The boy helped them through their journey and now they’re helping him with sharing his weights. So the boy isn’t actually alone anymore, there are people who will always support him for who he really is.

With all friendship, dedication, importance, love he’s received from the boy, he grew with happiness; with all aversion, disgust, judgement he’s received from people, he grew with sadness. His emotions are him, the more complicated they got the more he wanted to hide them. He comes to a state where he can’t hide his feelings anymore because they’re too big and heavy to hold. But then he wanted to protect his lover too so he did what he had to do, leave to a place where he could be away from judgmental eyes.

At first his skin was golden, he’s shining like the boy he’s encountered with. Then he shared his skin with other colors because every color, every person, every love deserves equality. At the end he wore his colors with fear ‘cause even the colors could change people’s opinions about you. His colors faded but never disappeared. He’s proud of who he is, he found his eroda here, his love… But first he needs to learn what’s really important to him, people’s opinions about them or his lover’s presence next to him. He needs to learn what he has now but maybe at first he needs to lose it to find it.

‟At that moment, with the entire town united in putting a fish back into the ocean, the clouds broke, the sun shined down on the isle of Eroda, melting every frown into the unmistakable shape… of a whale’s tale.”

The boy lost him because of people who are too afraid to smile, too afraid to embrace themselves or others as a whole, too afraid to look in the eye of bravery. He was heartbroken but then something peculiar happened. The ones who have changed are still standing next to him and smiling. Big and bright. Open and free. Brave...

The sun shined down on the island. A feeling once forgotten by anyone released to space for exploration.

And now the island knows how a smile could make a difference.

‟Maybe one day you’ll see one of Kieran’s paintings in your motel room...”

At first in her painting the sky was misty, the colors were dark and pale, the road which led home was deserted. Then with the boy, her light came alive and dwell in her paintings. Now her painting is reserved, the sky looks so blue, colors are bright and vibrant. The road is full of plants, lush greenery spreading around her with every step she’s taken to go home.

She’s learnt to be bright.

"Kieran means; little dark one or little dark-haired one, produced by appending a diminutive suffix to ciar (black, dark). It is the masculine version of the name Ciara."

Kieran’s representing a person who is dark-haired and good at paintings.

‟...or read an obscure yelp review about diner with the most curious menu...”

She saw two lovers that have gone through a lot of troubles, heartbreaks, break-ups. Also she saw how two people can love each other under pressure, how two souls can line up and complete in one, how one person can make a big difference in your life. And she learnt from these, she learnt and chose to smile to the world. Now she’s happy with what she’s doing, the job she’s loved. And she smiles whatever happens ‘cause at the end the most important thing is her happiness nothing else.

She’s learnt to smile.

She’s representing a person who is always smiling and loves food.

‟...or pass someone in the street in the haircut and think, where on the earth did they get that?”

People were designing their hair styles according to others. Everybody in the town was the same. But sometimes a person’s differences can make a change in others' lives. The girls have listened to whispers that came from the deepest place in their souls. "I don't need all the answers. Feeling good in my skin. I just keep on dancing."

They don’t need all the answers to the questions that are thrown at them, they’re just feeling good with themselves in their skin, body, hair. Because all of these belong to them and the one who has control on it will be them too.

They’ve learnt to embrace difference.

They’re representing a person who changed his style through the years but still proud of who he is.

All of them are the representations of one direction members; Zayn, Niall and Liam. Also his fans, his supporters. The people who have changed with the light of the boy and found who they are, helped the boy to feel safe in return. They created a safe place where the boy just spread his smile wider. And now the boy has a family, a family will always be supportive towards him. He’s feeling loved and safe.

‟Maybe you’ll be invited to a wedding between two neighbors whom it took an ocean to bring together.”

One lover had been searching gold treasures on the ground. One day he came across an invitation, he took it and decided to learn what life will bring to him by this. He went to a place that has written on the paper then met with the person who he’s been searching for from the beginning. He’s found his treasure he had been searching for a long time, a golden. It was like a twist of fate had been made and brought them together.

His lover was too bright, so golden… That made the boy brighter, with his lover’s light, he shined too. His lover was a sun that radiated everywhere and he was a crescent moon that had an insufficient brightness. Day by day he’s been approaching his full form with the power of something bigger than the existence of them, the moon and his sun. When he took its full form, his lover was distant from him like never before. The moon was shining with his full energy meanwhile the sun was fading away from the lack of resistance. It took some time for them to come back to each other again but they’ve never given up on that something bigger. Love. Love won like always...

They’ve learnt to love.

They’re representing the boy and the fish.

"We don’t need no piece of paper from the city hall."

A approve that coming from a person who represents the fans, their supporters is enough for them. They don’t need anyone else’s opinion because the ones who have seen their love, will always be there for them. That’s enough, their love is enough.

‟And who knows maybe one day you’ll find yourself in the isle of Eroda, for each night the local bartender still pours a glass of ale to appease the celtic water spirit shenandoah.”

Someday when you’re ready to shine, when you have the courage to smile, when you embrace your difference and when you understand the definition of love, you can find your own eroda.

It is already in you; on an unexpected day, in an unprecedented location, with peerless semblance it’ll appear to you. And when the appearance’s been made, your ambiguous thoughts will be sweet melodies to an ear that only hear for you.

"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet."

‟The Boy decided to find out what other wonders awaited him in the world however, he sailed on an odd numbered day, which caused everyone in town to lose their hairs but that’s another story.”

The boy’s purpose had finally been concluded. A regeneration has happened, a reborn of the isle.

No longer, difference isn’t something bad, something brings bad luck. People don’t try to specify themselves as ‘normal’ to bring them good luck ‘cause there isn’t such a thing as normal. Everybody is normal in their own special ways. They aren't afraid to be left in too odd numbered days or act too manly or girly or style their hair too unusually. Now too isn’t something they will be afraid of.

From now on; the island doesn’t know the dark but light, doesn’t know sorrow but happiness, doesn't know disparity but equality. Also they know how a smile could make a difference.

Nevertheless the ones who don’t want to change and showing the same frowning which is referred to as Resting Fish Face, are still here too. However these old-fashioned people lost their hairs like any other things they’ve lost; empathy, courtesy, respect, kindness, heart…. There will be difficulties that they’re going to encounter with and like the people they’ve judged, there will never be a choice for them to choose.

But that’s another story...

And now the boy’s mission is completed. He’ll sail on an odd numbered day or with new understanding on a normal day.

The boy found his eroda and the heart that he completed with. He tasted a sip of love and got drunk by the pleasant flavour. This time two souls got lost but in each other. They’re swinging at the edges of the rainbow; a day with desire red, with enthusiasm orange, with lightness yellow, with acceptance green, with peace blue and with imagination purple. Then stormy weather finally arrived, the sun disappeared from the sky and left his brightness to the moon to enlighten people’s life in the absence of itself. Sentences have been made with bitterness before their separation, "We don't know where we're going but we know where we belong. Wherever I go, you bring me home. You'll bring me home..." With that sun left.

So did the boy, he has got a long journey in front of him. Thousands of lives he’ll be affected, hundreds of cities he'll shine over, tens of friends he’ll have fun with but just one heart he'll belong, forever and ever...

THE END

Thanks for reading, take care yourself xxx

#harry styles #louis tomlinson #harry and louis #adore you #love is equal #love is love #larry is love #larry stylinson #larry #larry theories #larry theory #larry analysis #larry narrative #larry is real #hl

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totallyinsecurerobot · 3 years

Text

the only lovers left alive

Summary: Asterix’s history from the moment they meet David. They keep finding each other, they keep ending up together, and maybe it’s fate, or maybe no-one else understands them quite like they understand each other.

A/N: 7718 words. SFW but there’s implied nsfw stuff. It does get a little bit violent at times, and there’s light period-typical (1950s Hollywood) misogyny, implied sexual violence, and victim blaming. It’s all very light, just mentioned in passing, but I thought I should give you a heads up. COMPLETELY UNEDITED AND JUST KIND OF A MESS. PROBABLY OOC. WHATEVER. nb oc & nb marko. poly lost boys at the end there. shut up they’re all in love street smarts.

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Perhaps it’s that he’s looking to feel powerful, that he sees Asterix, corsetted and well-to-do, taller than most, and he picks them as a victim because they look like a challenge, bragging right to - to who? Their sire perhaps, any others in the area; but Asterix would know if there were others in the area, they’ve been here long enough after all. He’s new to this, Asterix can tell; it seems strange for him to be walking at a normal pace, the movements a little too thought out, where the speed would be second nature to a human. Asterix knows from experience that it takes some getting used to, they’ve been working on it for several centuries already, at the very least.

“You alright, ma’am, you know strange things are afoot in these parts, you should be careful walking around alone at night,” he’s trying to appear charming and nonthreatening, but his clothes don’t fit right; they’re dark enough to hide the blood he hadn’t been able to get out, but nothing could hide the smell from a vampire’s enhanced sense of smell. Asterix plays along.

“Oh my,” Asterix says, eyes wide, hands clutching tight at the silk of their elaborate skirt, “I’d heard rumours, terrible rumours, but I thought this was a nice part of town.” Of course they’d heard the rumours, they’d been the actual source of them, this newbie was just trying to capitalise on how Asterix had normalised disappearances. They weren’t sure whether to laugh or be mad.

“I’m sure you won’t be bothered,” he’s alternating between walking too fast and too slow, trying to keep in time with Asterix’s consistent pace, but not quite being able to hold himself back, “would you allow me to escort you back home, to your- your husband?” He hazards a guess, a product of the time; Asterix, biologically nineteen and dressed to appear feminine, should very well have a husband by now, or at the very least be betrothed; all he’s really doing is determining whether he has to attack before or after they get back to Asterix’s house.

“Oh, I- I’m not... I’m new to town, you see, my Aunt lived here after being widowed at a young age. She passed recently and left me her house, a beautiful property on the edge of town,” Asterix’s story isn’t actually much of a lie, apart from the fact that they’d killed the poor widower who lived on the edge of town and fabricated a new life from her demise, “I certainly shouldn’t be accepting offers from strange men,” Asterix casts what they hope is a nervous glance his way, and the blonde vampire takes an obliging step back, “but I suppose if you really were some dastardly villain, you’d have already seized your opportunity.”

He really should work on controlling his expression, Asterix thinks with heavily veiled amusement; he’s practically telegraphing the ‘this is going to be easier than I thought’ that’s running through his head as he offers an arm for them to take, to be escorted. He’s too quiet, movements too fluid; if Asterix were any other person, they’d find it unnerving, off-putting, in ways they wouldn’t be able to put their finger on. Here and now, as a vampire of several centuries, all Asterix can see his youth in his movements.

Under the guise of small talk, Asterix asks about what rumours he’d heard, and he’s more than eager to warn them of the Devil that’s found a home in town, snatching up young sinners and leaving them dead and drained in the woods.

The Devil... That’s what they’re calling Asterix, they’d heard demon, vengeful spirit, monster, but devil, which had been what they’d been going for initially, was finally starting to pay off.

“Well you’re no devil,” Asterix laughs lightly, giving his arm a squeeze, as if to convey their relief. He doesn’t realise how deliberately they’re playing him, how they’re just waiting for him to reveal himself, and ruin that surprise with one of their own.

“And what about you, ma’am, would you consider yourself a sinner?” His voice is low, intrigued and tiptoeing the line between menacing and thrilling, and Asterix’s throat suddenly goes dry. He wants nothing more than to kill them, they know this, logically they know this, but if he knew the truth, what would their answer really mean.

“It’s just a load of nonsense anyways,” Asterix says, taking a deep breath, leading down a far less lit street. They’re suddenly tried of playing along. But he chuckles, low and rough, and when Asterix turns to look at them, he’s looking back, face twisted into it’s vampiric form, eyes shining bright and golden in the darkness.

“Are you sure?” His voice is a menacing snarl, but Asterix doesn’t flinch in the face of this change, dropping their nervous act in an instant, smirking. Finally.

“Yes,” and he seems confused at their cool, smug expression, their lack of overt reaction, right until they let their own face shift, ridges forming, eyes turning that very same gold, dropping their voice to a growl of their own, “because the Devil’s not a he in this town.”

Honestly, Asterix had kind of been hoping to run this newcomer out of town for trying to capitalize on their good bad name; it’s not easy to make a whole town accept occasional random disappearances, it’s certainly not easy to make them all believe it was divine justice, and to not look for the actual source. What they hadn’t expected was to end up with him apparently living with them.

Like a lost duckling, he still follows them home, and when Asterix asks after his Sire, he gets all broody and angry and admits that he had no idea. They’re in the basement, which Asterix has outfitted for their undead purposes; it’s always cool down here, which also happens to be why they store the excess blood from their victims. No use letting it go to waste, their stomach is only so big after all, and it’s always good to go as long as possible between kills, as to not arouse suspicion. They offer him a jar and he drinks hungrily; he’d been hunting tonight after all, he was probably thirsty, it’s just basic curtesy.

“I’m not going to teach you how to be a vampire... ?” They hesitate, squinting at him, and he fills in the blank with his name.

“Davidson - well, for now it’s Davidson, and I know how to be a vampire,” he frowns, unscrewing the lid of the jar, sniffing the contents doubtfully.

“It’s not virgin’s blood, but that’s an old myth, believe me,” their voice is flatly unamused; the night is young, they had planned to fly a few states over and swim naked in a lake to confuse anyone who happened to see it, not mentor a young vampire, “and boy, I knew what you were the moment I saw you, just because others don’t know what they’re looking for doesn’t mean they won’t be able to tell something’s of. If something’s off about you, soon enough the town starts speculating,” and as they explain, they sit themselves on the velvet sofa, watching him wrinkle his hose as he sips the blood, “and soon enough, the rumours I’ve worked so hard to start, but not be associated with will be linked to you, and once you’re killed or run out of town, I’ll have to start somewhere new from scratch. You’re inconveniencing me by being bad at this,” they tell him, lip curling as they look him over, as if trying to radiate ‘it was fun to meet you and mess with you, but you’re more trouble than you’re worth’.

“I’ll hunt elsewhere, but you don’t get to dictate where I am,” he responded, before raising the jar of blood, licking the excess off his lips, “this is stale.”

“Then give it back and stop being ungrateful,” Asterix held out their hand for the jar, but Davidson quickly scowled, taking another, angry sip, “and if I say I don’t want you to harm a single living person within a fifty mile radius, you’ll damn well do as I say.”

“And what makes you think that?” He sneers, looking over them, in all their silk and finery, on a dainty sofa, his tone derisive and gaze dismissive. Asterix’s lips quirk into a smile that didn’t reach their eyes.

“Because you would not be the first of our kind that I have disposed of,” they’re blunt, unsmiling and unwavering, and Davidson seems to finally start taking them seriously.

But he also stays.

He never hunts within the fifty mile radius that Asterix had set, unless of course Asterix themselves had invited him along on one of the night they hunt in one of the neighbouring towns.

The story has changed too; no longer was Asterix simply playing Lady Estelle, the unfortunate and unwed niece of the widow Sinclair, but now she was actively betrothed to Davidson, the man she’d had to leave behind when she’d accepted ownership of the property. It was the only story that explained their vastly differing looks despite living, and occasionally being seen together.

For the entire first month of the arrangement, Asterix regretted ever agreeing to it. Realistically they knew that if they stuck with the story and the hunting pattern they’d developed, they’d be able to live comfortably here for a very long time, but it didn’t stop them from being irritated by Davidson’s smugness, how bloody and messy he’d be when he came back after feeding, and how he’d roll his eyes whenever Asterix would choose a jar over hunting. They’d icily tell him that it was about now drawing unnecessary attention to themselves; Davidson would simply stick to the rules that had been set, but always chose a hunt over saved blood.

To be fair, he doesn’t see them hunt for that first full month.

When Asterix invites him, Davidson barks a harsh laugh.

“Didn’t think you knew how,” he admits, and says he’s only tagging along to see how a professional does it - his words, sarcasm dripping from them.

And so Asterix takes him to the edge of the outer limit, a sleepy town some fifty miles away, where a man was waiting in a graveyard by the church. Davidson waits out of sight as Asterix directs him to, and he watches in fascination as they approach the man, dressed in silk and lace, and he calls them a name Davidson doesn’t recognize, but Asterix greets him in kind, all quiet and sordid. They kiss like long-separated lovers, and the man, breathless and quiet, talks about running away, about horses waiting nearby, about eloping just like they’d always talked about, and Asterix plays at being thrilled, at tearing up and agreeing, and letting the man slide a ring onto their finger.

It’s it’s own kind of horrifying, Davidson realises quickly, to see how smitten this man is, and to know his fate when the man does not. He follows along, watches them climb aboard a horse that almost bucks the moment Asterix comes close; the man they’re with calms the horse however, and then they’re off. It’s a drawn out process, a slow execution for the man who does not even realise he’s on death row, and it is all but driving Davidson mad as he follows them through the night, through the darkness, for several hours. He’s about to give up, to head home, half convinced Asterix is actually just marrying this man, when the horse stops.

The moon is high in the sky when they stop at Asterix’s insistence, and the man asks what’s wrong when they dismount. Asterix claims to need to stretch, but soon they’re wrapping their arms around him, voice low and intimate;

“It’s just you and me out here, like it should be; you and me for the rest of your life.”

The man doesn’t catch Asterix’s wording as they pull him into their embrace, fingers threaded through his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his vulnerable throat, but Davidson does. It’s time; he descends from where he’d been circling them like a vulture. The horse spooks and bolts at the sudden newcomer, but this is about the time that Asterix’s teeth sink into the man’s neck, and he tries to struggle, but their grip is unyielding.

He’s begging, pleading, screaming, but as Asterix steps back, they raise their free hand to the wound, as if to stem the bleeding, face transformed and grinning eerily.

“He’s not long for this world, if you’d like to drink it fresh,” Asterix raises their voice, not looking away from the man, though Davidson knows they’re talking to him. The man in their hands screams louder at Davidson’s sudden appearance by his side, but there’s no-one else around to save him. Asterix steps behind the man, fingers still threaded through his hair to hold him in place as Davidson feeds, sloppy, not even half as elegant as Asterix had made it look, but it didn’t matter. Something about the feral, primal way in which he drank had a dark appreciation stirring in Asterix’s chest, and couldn’t help but lean in to the man’s other side and bite him again, to share in this moment.

He’ll lick the blood from their fingers, eyes aglow, and Asterix will remember what it felt like to be newly turned and fearless and reckless, and the power that came with it, the heady sense of invincibility that would surge through them in the afterglow of a kill. They couldn’t begrudge him his cockiness anymore.

There’s a moment, a sense of connection, of understanding, of finally seeing eye to eye, creatures acting on instinct alone in the dead of night. Later, Asterix will explain the countless men they have been wooing in secret, men betrothed or married to other women, men whose families are suspicious of affairs, but with no proof, men who could be called sinners, men who would be perfect targets for The Devil these little towns all feared. Later, they’ll take the body of the man back to their house to exsanguinate him, to not let his blood go to waste, to dispose of him the following night far away from the scene of the crime. Later, Asterix will take the ring off that the man gave them, and Davidson will see the countless other ones just like it in a jewelry box they keep in a dark corner of the basement, and he decides not to ask.

“Even when you kill you’re...” he searches for the words, but they’re not harsh or demeaning like they may have been before this night had occurred, “calculated; men in towns for miles, months of work put in, all so people don’t realise it’s you; it must feel so unnatural to suppress your instincts like that, aren’t you tired of it?”

“I am alive,” Asterix points out, though they grimace at the choice of words, but Davidson understands anyways.

“Next time, hunt with me, let yourself let go,” he urges, teeth sharp and eyes bright. Asterix remembers that tone, his words - and you, ma’am, would you consider yourself a sinner? - as they look at him and agree, exhausted by always playing by the humans’ rules.

It’s freeing to be feral; for the first time in decades, Asterix feels alive.

But still they hold back, terrified of being overcome completely by their bloodlust, too aware of the power they wield to use it to full capacity. Humans only ever require a miniscule amount of power to tear apart, there was no need, they told themselves, for overkill.

The good thing they’ve got going lasts all of five years before people start to get suspicious about how they never age. After a year has passed, they tell other that they’d eloped, if only to keep up the ruse; it would be suspicious if they kept their engagement going on too long in this part of world. They’re both equal parts horrified and amused by it all, not that it changes anything about their dynamic; they’re still free to do whatever they wish with whoever they wish, so long as the people in town never find out.

But still, Asterix gives him the ring that had been given to them by the first victim they’d shared, the night they’d finally started to respect each other. It’s meant partially as a joke, but Davidson wears it nonetheless.

When the time comes, and the townsfolk start asking questions that they can’t answer, they take what little belongings they’ve accumulated - Asterix takes their box of engagement rings - and burn the house they were staying in, no proof of their existence left behind, just the memory of a young couple tragically lost, and they go their separate ways.

Asterix, desperate for a change of scenery, secures passage on a ship headed to Europe, and spends a considerable few decades residing in various bogs across Europe’s various forests, preying on unfortunate explorers, and occasionally towns, if they were close enough. It’s like hibernating, as if turning their brain off to become the instinct-driven creature they truely were. Being away from society, away from humans, away from even others of their own kind, it was the exact reset they needed.

When emerging from their self imposed isolation, there comes news of a war in American having been and gone, and for the barest moment they consider going back, but ultimately decides against it. Instead they take up residency in the heart of London, sleeping in the cellar of a pub they managed to claim ownership of through dubious means. City folk are so desensitized to strange behaviors that they don’t think twice about the pub only ever being open at night, when most others offered a lunch service; they don’t question Asterix managing to be the only employee, it’s a small pub after all. No-one wonders why Asterix is never seen during the day, most assume they’re asleep anyways, since the pub is open practically ‘til dawn.

Sid Priestly, Asterix’s current identity, could be any other human on Earth as far as most of London was concerned. They don’t live in a secluded castle, or hiss, or float menacingly through the air, so none of the humans think to suspect them as anything other than one of their own, albeit one who keeps strange hours.

There’s a few vampires in London, mostly the standoffish types, however there’s a respect and understanding between them all, and they all know Asterix pub to be a place where they will be invited in without question. Asterix, for their part, had reinstated their habit of preserving their leftovers, and finds themselves incorporating blood into one of their dark beers, so their special guests could enjoy themselves as much as the humans.

The pub’s been open for almost nine months when he walks through the doors, looking pleasantly surprised in the golden glow of the overhead lights. One of the other vampires in attendance lights up at the sight of him, waving him over.

“Arthur! Glad you finally made it,” he grins, and turns to Asterix, “two of your finest dark beers, thanks Sid,” and Asterix obligingly turns to fetch two of the blood-infused beers.

“Arthur,” they acknowledge him with a nod and a smirk, placing the beer down in front of him as he sits, giving the other vampire his own, which he sips gratefully while ‘Arthur’ gives the beer a dubious look. His gaze flicks to Asterix, who’s watching with hesitant amusement, not quite sure how to proceed, and then he takes a sip.

“It’s stale,” he says with a knowing smirk, which breaks the tension, and Asterix smirks a laugh, despite the other vampire’s confusion.

“You ungrateful bastard,” Asterix shakes their head, pulling themself a beer and cheersing him.

“Do you two know each other?” The other vampire asks, and Asterix and ‘Arthur’ share a look.

“Sid’s my -” he pauses, giving a look to Asterix, to their masculine presentation and current identity, and he shifts a little, voice growing a little quieter for fear of the human patrons overhearing, “husband.” Asterix huffs a dismissive breath through their nose, rolling their eyes at the memory of their ruse, of their briefly shared life.

“Husband?” The other vampire asks, looking curiously between the two of them, intrigued.

“Wife at the time,” Asterix offers, “I’ve been a lot of things,” is the closest they get to any sort of explanation. It takes a beat for the other vampire to consider, but then he’s shrugging, mentioning that he doesn’t think the beer, or it’s special ingredient, tastes stale; Asterix gives him a toothy, pleased smile, while ‘Arthur’ rolls his eyes despite hiding his grin against the lip of his cup by taking another drink.

There’s an understanding within the community, of outliving the restrictive, human concept of identity, in almost all respects. It’s easier to explore who you are when you literally have all the time in the world; many find labels that fit them, pronouns and names that are comfortable, finding variations of themselves each time they move. Without the pressures or expectations of human society, it’s also easier to be comfortable being with whoever they choose to, especially when they’re more than comfortable ripping apart anyone to cast negative aspersions on them for their choice of partner - or partners.

“You don’t get to claim part ownership of the pub just because we told people we were married fifty years ago,” Asterix closes the pub early that night, finding themself sitting atop the roof with ‘Arthur’. Neither of them is quite sure how to interact with the other, sitting a foot apart, drinking a pint in the moonlight.

“I don’t plan on staying long,” he says, looking out to the city while Asterix is watching him, “thought I’d go be a nuisance around Romania; America’s gotten boring.”

There’s something about him that’s different from when they’d last seen him, something easy and uncomplicated about his movements. His grin stretches wide, leaning back on his elbows, confident, sure of himself. It’s only in seeing him again that Asterix can feel how much his absence ached. It had only been five years, of the few hundred that Asterix had endured at this point, what had been so special about him that they’d been so effected?

He looks at them, smiling sharp and fond in equal measure.

“You’ve gone all soft in your age,” he teases, and immediately Asterix feels themselves growing flustered in their outrage, “serving humans, and not even attempting to court on a single one? How do you ever feed yourself if you’re not stealing the hearts of unfaithful bachelors?”

“I get by,” Asterix tells him, “I’ve got an understanding with some of the others; I don’t have to do the dirty work anymore, my loyal customers provide me with everything I could ever need.”

“Surviving on scraps, always surviving on scraps,” he tuts, “I think you’re scared of yourself, I think you always have been.”

“Arthur,” Asterix warns, eyes flashing a dangerous gold.

“What are they going to do if they figure out what you really are? Kill you, Sid?” He half laughs, and Asterix sits up straighter, tensing at his words, feeling the powers that runs through their blood, their muscles, the centuries of experience built up beneath their skin, “or do you just miss being human that much that you’d do anything to pretend you’re still like them?”

“I am alive,” Asterix snarls, lip curled into something dangerous and menacing, face half-shifted to it’s monstrous form, something they haven’t had to use in what feels like years. He watches them carefully, can see the nerves he’s touched, their button’s he’s pushed, and seems to delight in their indignation.

And maybe it’s that he’s seeing the person he met all those years ago, seeing an opportunity to prove his power; he’d been young then, inexperienced, unsure of his power in relation to them, but his confidence had grown in their absence. He is aware of what he is capable of, and thinks, finally, that he could rival the vampire who’d taken him in all those years ago.

When he pins Asterix faster than a human eye could comprehend, he’s surprised by how easy it is. They’re flat on their back, his knees planted either side of their hips and his hands pinning their wrists either side of their head; for the barest moment, they lock eyes and share in a strange sense of deja vu. Asterix flushes.

“What are you looking to prove?” Asterix asks, turning their head to look at his hand holding their wrist; they flex and unflex their fingers, otherwise unbothered.

“Are you scared of being a vampire? Is that why you try so hard to drink so little? To kill so little? To push down your instincts, deny your nature?”

When Asterix looks back at him, his eyes are aglow, face twisted to reveal his true nature, just like they’d seen countless times before; he thinks he has the upper hand, that like this, he can provoke a reaction from them, get them to fight back.

They’re far too aware of their own capabilities to act so rashly, instead, with surprising ease, they sit up, into his space, surprising him, forcing him back to sit on their thighs, hands raising too, like his grip meant nothing.

“Sweetheart, if I wanted to raze towns, I am more than capable, but if I let myself burn down the world, what would be left? You?” They smiled, but it didn’t reach their eyes. Upon hearing their words, however, their companion actually grins, leaning in as his face changes back to it’s more pleasant disguise, pressing a familiar kiss to their lips.

“I never said to burn the world, but a hundred years ago, people thought you were the Devil; you’re beautiful and terrible, but even then you’d held yourself back,” he’s still holding their wrists, grip loose with their hands in their lap, the two of them nose to nose on this rooftop.

“I’ll always be beautiful and terrible, but I’m not about to sacrifice my comfort for a cheap thrill,” they murmur, lips inches from his, despite their discomfort with the subject.

“You never miss stalking a beautiful lady or handsome gentleman through the night in a quiet town in another country? You never miss...?” And he trails off, fingertips sliding up Asterix’s left arm, their shoulder, to their neck, thumb gentle against their jaw as he tips their head just a little, a gesture they both know all too well, but that Asterix is unfamiliar with being used against them. A shiver runs down their spine.

“Why do you care so much?” Asterix frowned, tipping their head back against his hand, surprised when he holds their jaw instead of moving away. Something unfamiliar began to ache in a spot behind their sternum, close to where their heart should be.

“Because it’s been a hundred years,” and then he’s holding their face gently in both hands, smirking a little, “and you’re still just surviving, I haven’t spent this past century just being afraid, and I’m still here,” he points out, and Asterix bites their tongue on the urge to ask how many of those years he spent on the run, “you’ve thoroughly proven you can lay low, you can live in a bog for decades, so what does it matter if you terrorize a few cities? Burn a few towns to the ground then be a bog mummy, at least some of the time you’d be having fun.”

“I’m having fun now,” Asterix says quietly, blushing a little at the intimacy of it all, but then, as if resentful of his words, “I am fun.” They kiss him like they’re proving a point, something familiar and warm joining that strange sensation in their chest when ‘Arthur’ kisses them back, smiling against their lips.

“How strong are you actually?” He finally asks, pulling back with their hands gripping his hips firmly, still technically in their lap. Asterix’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“We get stronger with age,” they’d said, though their lack of an actual answer does not go unnoticed.

“You’ll always be stronger than me, won’t you?” He smirks when he looks at them, and their lips twist into a wry, fond smile, leaning into his touch against their cheek.

“‘till we die,” they agree, eyes now sparkling with mischief. This news seems to both delight and disappoint him for very different reasons.

They keep finding each other in the years that follow, always with new names, new lives, new identities. Sometimes they’re together for weeks, for months, sometimes only for hours, but every time it’s like they’d never left one another’s side.

Asterix has conned their way, through both magical and non-magical means, into a life as a Russian noble at the turn of the 20th century, and he finds them at a masquerade. They’d know each other anywhere. They’re meant to be dancing with potential suitors, but the whole night they’re by his side. That night, they kill another member of nobility who had been suspicious of Asterix, who’d been planning a coup against the head of the family who’d welcomed them with only little persuading.

After the carnage of the kill, of the high they rode together, they sleep through the day, silk bedsheets and boarded up windows, a lie on Asterix’s behalf about a rare sleep disorder meaning no-one came in or asked questions, and the following night, he takes off, and Asterix acts surprised when the news of the previous night’s kill finally comes to light.

Wars come and go, and Asterix finds themselves in the middle of them, and sees men a fraction of their age take more pleasure in killing than they’d ever allowed themselves. They fight, and take bullets, and take orders from men who have never known real fear. The humans they fight alongside live like every day is their last in the time between the fighting, lives on the line because someone said it should be, from relative safety.

And they lose humans they considered friends, and they start tearing out throats, they stop caring about what if because everyone here would die quickly, they all knew it. Asterix felt like the only one with half a chance to outlive the war.

‘and you’re still just surviving’

So they start living, start letting themselves be sloppy and angry and give in when they want to fight and break bones and spill blood, because the government comes, and the government doesn’t care, and the government admits ‘we had some like you fighting with Lincoln’ and ‘we had some like you fighting with Washington’ and ‘we always had some like you’ and all they care about it what side Asterix is on.

The War ends, but the next starts in what feels like a blink after the centuries Asterix has been through, and they come out the other side understanding that the things they’d feared for so long don’t matter, that the consequences they feared would not affect them; if they were smart, the government wouldn’t care, and other people were too weak to be a real threat, so they have fun with their identity. They get malevolent after watching their fragile, human friends die, and they learn how to target terrible people, how to find humans more monstrous than themselves, and how to deliver the justice that the justice systems will not give.

In the 1950s, they’re working in the violent crimes unit in LA, focusing on targeting serial sexual abusers in Hollywood, after listening to countless victims teary statements, and hearing the men on their team laugh behind the victim’s back, saying that’s just how Hollywood was. Asterix made sure to remember each man who’d ever said that about a distraught woman, mentally promising to take them each out before they leave for their next identity.

He’s calling himself David when Asterix finds him in a bar on the waterfront, and he’s like a breath of fresh air. He admits to liking how Asterix was operating, how free they seem, and accompanies them when they offer to take him on a hunt.

By now, Asterix’s victims have all been killed in the same way, nothing to denote a vampire, but clearly a serial killer’s work, someone with experience, and within no time it’s thought to be a hitman. David’s more than happy to stick to their MO, especially since they still both get to drink their fill, and he’s delighted with how unhinged Asterix gets in the act.

People started to see the pattern, the connection between the victims, and more people come forward about others in the industry who’ve committed similar atrocities. They don’t quite know who to tell; some go to the police, some go to confessional, some tell their friends, but Asterix seeks out their voices, their testimonies, and their list grows until the word of the victims’ atrocities gets around.

They’re calling Asterix the Actresses Avenging Angel, since most atrocities had been committed against aspiring or active actresses. It’s a new version of the town that believed the Devil killed the immoral few, but it’s a title they wear with pride.

But one of Asterix’s coworkers sees them leave a bar with David, and calls them names that sting, that have Asterix’s blood boiling, all in front of the rest of their team. A team that never took them seriously when they took the assault victim’s side against a powerful man in Hollywood.

They were tired of this town anyways; their list had stopped growing so fast since the Actresses Avenging Angel had become popular folklore.

They’re on the run for almost twenty years after that day, after leaving no-one alive in that evening briefing, after stealing away into the night. The government does tend to care when Asterix, or people like them, kill a whole department of a police force.

So they lay low near Washington state, changing their look, writing ‘*’ whenever their name was required; someone asked out loud if their name was Asterix, and yes, they supposed it fit. They’d always had to be something to fit into society, but they’re tired of being anything when they never felt like anything, so ‘boy or girl?’ is met with a solid ‘no’, and they stop caring about the confusion it elicits. They will outlive confusion. They will outlive everything and everyone. Almost everyone.

In the eighties, they hear a rumour about a beachside town in California having an unusually high death-rate, how strange and unexplained it all was, and perhaps it was loneliness, perhaps it was that they were missing a very specific person, but Asterix travels in hopes of finding David. They are not disappointed.

They meet Max first, their lip curling in disgust at how he holds himself, how he parades himself like everyone else when he’d been just as smarmy and unbearable in the Late Middle Ages.

“You,” he says flatly, nostrils flaring as the only sign of his discomfort at the sight of them. He and Asterix had been sired by the same vampire some centuries ago, within a few decades of each other. He’d always resented Asterix for being simultaneously older and younger than him. Also he’d been the one to kill their sire fifty years after being turned.

“It’s Asterix now,” Asterix tells him, and Max’s lips thin into an unamused line, but before he can say anything, his gaze flicks over their shoulder to the door where there was a sudden commotion, sudden laughter. When Asterix turns, it’s to the sight of a display rack on the ground, and of two blonde boys trying not to laugh, leaning into each other as they insist they found it like that.

The eighties look is certainly kind to David. He’s always been pretty, but now he’s allowed to dress in a way that’s enhanced by his dangerous aura, and Asterix has never been so glad to see him.

And his expression lights up when he catches sight of them too.

“Asterix, do you know these people?” Max asks flatly, and if Asterix didn’t know any better, they would have thought he didn’t have any clue who they were, but judging by the sobering expression on David’s face, they knew each other far too well.

“Of course,” Asterix answers, smile turning cat-like and smug, if only to see Max grow more irritated, working harder to hide it.

“Asterix, this is Marko,” David says, unprompted, introducing the other blonde boy with curly hair and a slight frame; Marko is quiet by David’s side, looking over Asterix with something evaluative in his eyes, something evaluative and intrigued.

“All of you, get out; I told you boys aren’t allowed in here,” Max orders, and Asterix flips him off before making a beeline for the boys, and the exit. Marko stays quiet, but he, like Asterix, is comfortable falling into step by David’s side as the three of them head to somewhere more secluded on the boardwalk.

There’s a streetlight out over a picnic table not too far away, and Asterix is quick to sit, to make themselves a reasonable height out of habit, before David takes their face in his hands. It’s like he’s checking that they’re okay, looking in their eyes, hands on their arms, their hips, coming to rest on their knees, wordlessly checking in.

“Marko, this is Asterix,” David steps out of the way, gesturing to Asterix with one hand while his other still resting on their thigh. Marko steps up, offers his hand for them to shake with a grin. “They’re...” but David trails off, unsure of how to introduce them now, after all the time they’ve known each other, after all they’ve been to one another. But Marko seems to understand; he’s emotionally entwined with David the way Asterix more or less is, and surprisingly, Asterix realises very quickly that they don’t mind.

“Are you planning on staying long?” David asks later in the night, watching Marko as he talks with another pretty, blonde boy who they’ve apparently been talking to for a while, Paul. They’re intending on turning him, with Max’s blessing; Asterix is less than happy to find out that Max is technically the leader of the coven, and is right furious to find out that he’s David’s actual Sire, the one who’d abandoned him all those years ago. But he keeps himself separate from the younger vampires, so Asterix is more than happy to hang with the boys.

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” Asterix says gently, and David’s arm snakes around their hips, hand coming to rest on their hip, fingers spread wide and warm and possessive against the edge of Asterix’s exposed stomach beneath their crop top. It’s enough of an answer for Asterix to lean against him, to sling their arm across his shoulders.

Paul, where he’s talking to Marko, casts a dubious look to the pair leaning against the streetlight, arms around each other. Asterix winks at him, and though Paul quickly averts his gaze, his smile widens. It’s easy for them to adapt to this dynamic that Marko and David had developed, so long as there was a place for them. They’re more than happy to make a place for others too.

So Asterix makes a life for themselves with the boys in the abandoned hotel at the edge of the cliff, quickly getting close to both Marko and Paul once he’s been turned. They don’t think about how good it feels to not be afraid of their friends dying, or being killed suddenly. David doesn’t comment on how grateful they seem to have friends at all. Or perhaps it’s more than that, perhaps they’re all more than that; physical intimacy is clearly not a foreign concept.

Marko and Asterix will share an armchair while reading a magazine, cheek to cheek, him in their lap with their arms around his middle, and Paul has a penchant for taking one of the others down a dark alley or to a shadowy corner, only to emerge with kiss bruised lips and a flushed complexion, and in a year they have Dwayne too, who comes across as brooding to anyone who doesn’t know him well enough, never more happy than when he has his arm around a member of their little, insular gang, possessive and proud in equal measure.

Marko’s like them too, more than they realized, they learn, not nothing, like they are, but sometimes he’s both or neither or somewhere in between. Mostly they’re he but he also feels like they, and he doesn’t mind which they’re called, as long as it’s someone they love doing the calling.

Love. He’s free with that word. Freer than Asterix or David ever was, no matter how much either of them thought it in all the years they’ve known each other. But Marko says it and it sounds right. It sounds like the word Asterix was too scared to think back on the roof of their pub in London, a hundred years ago, when David had them pinned and all they could see was him backlit by stars.

“We’re a far cry from your silk bedsheets and Russian nobles,” David’s smirking up at the ceiling in the hours before dawn, stretched out on the moth bitten sheets of one of the hotel’s beds. Asterix is curled up by his side, eyes closed and content. It’s just the two of them in the hotel for now, the other three having gone out to stalk a group of assholes that had been harassing their latest person of interest, a beautiful young woman named Star.

The others don’t quite know how far back Asterix and David’s history goes, but everyone knows they’re close, know they can speak their own language without saying a word.

“You were Svetlana then, weren’t you?” He adds, and Asterix hums in confirmation, and David quietly muses that he’s not even sure if he’d given himself a proper name in Russia, since he’d just been passing through. “Do you still have that box of rings from the eighteen-hundreds?” He asks, half smiling, tightening his grip on them, pulling them a little closer at the memory.

“They were lost when my pub was burnt down,” Asterix told him, though this was new information to David, and came as a shock, “after Bram Stoker published Dracula, someone accused my pub of hosting several vampires; I was never accused directly, but someone noted how my patrons only ever seemed to come out at night, and they thought it would be best if the whole pub was taken out as a precaution. They were right, of course, but it was still fucked; I’m fine, obviously.”

“Do you want mine back?” David asks candidly, “you worked hard for them, you should have at least one as a keepsake,” his words catch Asterix by surprise, and they’re quiet for a very long time, trying to process what this all means, how this makes them feel. He kept their ring. All this time.

“It’s yours, I gave it to you,” they say, soft and gentle, finally looking at his face. He’s still looking at the ceiling, but he’s grinning, “do you not want it?”

“Depends; are we still fake-married?” When he looks at them, he’s grinning from ear to ear, all kinds of mischief and adoration at play in his expression, and Asterix’s expression melts to a sly grin as their tone turns teasing.

“As if I’d remarry after you,” they snort, and David quickly turns back to the roof, though it doesn’t quite hide his flustered grin, as he quietly mutters for them to shut up, voice full of affection -

“Get dressed, Star’s “friends” are having a bonfire and we’re gonna have a feast,” Paul bursts into the room with absolutely no warning, all but crashing through the door mid-landing, too excited to walk anywhere at a half-normal speed. He’s grinning from ear to ear, throwing articles of clothes at the pair like a hurricane localised entirely at the end of the bed.

Once the pair are getting dressed and know where to go, Paul is already gone, leaving them in relative silence, and Asterix glances over to see David patting down his pockets, before fishing a thin, gold necklace from his back pocket, holding it, and the familiar ring that hung from it, out to Asterix like proof, like an offering.

“You’ve gone soft in your old age,” Asterix grins instead, echoing his words back at him from a hundred years ago. David rolls his eyes, but puts the chain around his neck and tucks it into his shirt before they leave.

When they arrive, they let the others take the first bites, pun intended. Lord knows they’ve committed enough destruction to keep them sated for several lifetimes.

“Strange bedfellows we keep,” Asterix voice is low, teeth sharp and eyes ablaze as they drunk in the sound of the carnage. They hook two fingers into one of David’s beltloops while he watches his fellow vampires tearing their victims apart like lions tearing into gazelles. Asterix steps up to him, lets him curl an arm around them as they both watch with hungry expressions as the carnage unfolds.

“Feels good,” Asterix murmurs, locking eyes with a poor human trying to escape; neither Asterix nor David has allowed their face to shift to it’s true form just yet, so the human runs to them, begging for help. Asterix steps forward, is by the man’s side in a blur, too fast for him to get away as they wrap one arm around him, the other in his hand, pulling his head to the side to expose his neck, “though I do miss people thinking I was the Devil,” they call over their shoulder with a sharp smirk, eyes a bright gold.

David’s laugh fills the night air, amid the screams, amid the crackle of the fire, as Asterix sinks their teeth into the man’s neck.

#the lost boys #The Lost Boys 1987 #the lost boys imagine #tlb #the lost boys fanfiction #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #violence tw

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Love Isn’t Easy ~ Jungkook X Reader

Word Count: 6,795

Warnings: Mentions of death, Mafia, Beatings, hints of smut and hints of violence

Genre: Fluffy || Angst || CUTE! || AUMafia

Summary: Dating isn’t easy, especially when your dad is a big-time mafia gang leader and your boyfriend is the heir to another Mafia family yours has been at war with for the last fourteen years, you didn’t mean to fall for the “enemy.”

No one said that love was easy but if love was easy all of the romance stories, songs, poems and movies that people seemed to love so much would be boring, the world would but dull but sometimes you did wish it was easy. Dating someone was hard enough with your dad, your dad was a big mafia boss, in charge of a lot of different mafia family businesses, drug running, protective, lending out money to people, buying out dying businesses that needed saving, he took people under his wing when they were in trouble but your father wasn’t this nice man he portrayed himself to be. He would lore people in with a false sense of security, make them feel safe with him and protected before snapping, he was dangerous and you knew that. Your previous boyfriends all thought they were safe with your dad, he would tell them how much he respected them, give them jobs, and set them up in the mafia world only to later drop them as if they were nothing, threaten their lives if they ever hurt you, made them leave because no one was good enough for his daughter, no one, and God forbid any of them stayed and hurt his little princess. The last boyfriend who messed with you was killed instantly, you’d tried to convince your dad to stop, that you were fine and he didn’t need to do what he was about to do, the ex had used you to get close to your dad, he just wanted to be involved with the Mafia, to get rich quick, when he finally got what he wanted he dumped you, telling you he’d never liked you at all and it was all an act to get a job, but your dad overheard everything he’d said to you and flipped, he was going to kill the boy that broke his little girls heart, but you didn’t want that, you didn’t want anyone to die because of you, you’d tried to tell your dad that but in his mindset, no one was allowed to hurt his daughter.

Your dad was over-protective with people who weren’t involved in the Mafia business and was more protective over people who were in the business, he knew all men involved were like him.

"Good for nothing men, who just want a quick fuck and leave.” He told you one night, but you’d tried to convince him that mum was with him when he was involved in the business, he told you it wasn’t the same and to ‘stay out of it’, even though it was your love life he was messing with. So when you started dating Jungkook you had to be careful, not only because he was another boy but because he was THE boy, he wasn’t just another boy you began dating he was Jeon Jeong-Guk, an heir to one of the second biggest Mafia families, but you didn’t know that when you first met him, he didn’t know you either you were just two young adults lost in each other’s eyes to even question each other about family happenings.

You’d gone to your usual hiding spot in the busy town centre, it was down an alleyway hidden between two giant department store buildings, it was also the only place your father or his goons couldn’t find you. It was a small bookshop with two floors, the very top floor has a skylight with fake plants hanging down, the very top floor was like an attic, only accessible by a ladder that was attached to the wall. The whole shop was beautiful, every shelf was filled with classical or new novels for people to read, something for everyone.

“Seol-Hee?” You called out as the bell above the door chimed as you walked through the door to the shop, there was no answer meaning she was probably in the stock room getting things ready, it was only a small store and inside was a tiny little cafe where she sold coffees, homemade cupcakes and various other things, she’d started the business when she left college and it was one of your favourite places to come and visit. You laid down your bag on a nearby chair and headed for the ladder which leads up to the top floor.

“Y/N?” You heard Seol yell from the bottom floor, you popped your head over the bannister to see her standing there in a messy apron and flour all over her face, she knew that you always came on a Saturday at 10 am on the dot, so it had to be you, she didn’t get any other customers much.

“I need to head out, I need to get some cash. Man the shop.” You nodded and she headed out, you’d done this before for her, you looked after the place while she went off to do something that needed doing, you knew she had to go to the bank, it was rent day she owed rent to a new business owner that had taken over the street, another reason your dad didn’t know about this place, he didn’t own it, even though you wished sometimes he did because of how hard Seol worked and you wanted to give her peace of mind that rent was cared for but she would never allow it, she knew about your dad and how he treated the businesses he owned and wanted no part in it and you didn’t really blame her.

You’d been so lost in reading in the attic hadn’t noticed how much time had passed until you were reaching for the top shelf and the bell above the door sounded, you needed something new to read, you were getting bored of the same old stories but in a new setting.

“Just a second,” You croaked out, your fingertips brushing the edge of the book, it was just out of your reach, you wanted to kick Seol for not having a ladder or a step upstairs so you could take it when someone else’s hand reached for it, it was covered in small tattoos, whoever it was pulled down the book and handed it to you, you looked at the book studying the tattooed hand for a couple seconds longer and then followed the arm up to meet the face of whoever had reached for your.

“Thank you,” You whispered, slightly amazed by him, he was breathtakingly handsome, he was dressed in all black, with a leather jacket, his hair was brown and had a slight curl to it, he smiled at you and his smile could have knocked the air out of your lungs, his eyes met yours and you suddenly found it hard to form sentences and think straight.

“What can I do for you today?” You questioned looking around the shop trying to avoid making eye contact with him as he was making you a little nervous, Seol still wasn’t back from her trip to the bank so you assumed he was another customer, he was staring at you though in silence just like you had been, he was studying every inch of your face, biting down on his lip unknowingly as he took in your beauty. The thing he was supposed to come in for, now gone out of his mind, the only thing left in his head was questions about you, who you were, why he’d never seen you before and when he could see you again.

“Oh I- I’m looking for a book someone recommended to me, do you work here?” He was hoping you would say no if you said yes the reason he was here would come crashing back to him and reality would be back all too quickly.

“No, I’m just minding the place while the owner goes to the bank, I’m sure she won’t be long but I can try and help…I come here a lot.” You nodded over to the ladder and he went down first, stopping beside the ladder to wait for you to come down, watching as you made you stepped down, slipping a little at the last step and falling face-first into his arms, your faces were inches apart from one another and that’s when you could really look at him, he has a small scar below his left eye, it was healed over so he must have done it when he was younger but it made him look tough, even though his smile made him look like a bunny, and his eyes, you could get lost in them for days, they were a deep dark brown, it was like they were shining, he chuckled softly at you and you cleared your throat trying not to embarrass yourself too much in front of him, removing yourself from his arms and going over to the front desk where a laptop was sitting.

“What’s the name of the book?” You asked trying to calm your heart which was beating five times faster than it should have been, his eyes hadn’t left your face or body since the moment he first saw you and it was making you a little self-conscious, you weren’t used to this kind of attention.

“Sweet Temptation by J.R Phillips.” You typed it into the computer and found it instantly, the bottom floor behind the shelf of classical romance novels, Seol had her own organising system and you wouldn’t change a thing about it, it made everything so much easier to find. You read a quick description of the book, two star-crossed lovers who were battling odds just to be together, looked like a re-written Romeo and Juliet in modern times.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a romance reader,” You said taking him through the bookshelves and toward the secluded area where the book he wanted was kept, it was between two larger bookshelves.

“It’s not really my genre but I’m trying to expand,” You took it from the shelf and handed it to him, looking at the cover, it was a black background, a woman’s hands holding a red rose which was dripping blood, you made a mental note to pick up a copy for yourself.

“Y/N! I’m back. I got a little held up but nothing I couldn’t handle.” You excused yourself away from the man and went to find Seol, giving her a quick hug goodbye, you knew your dad would be wondering where you were and you couldn’t stay longer, your father would start to question what you do in all the time he’s gone and you couldn’t risk him finding out about this place

“I’ll come back next week,” You said to her leaving a tip in her jar and going out of the door without another word to the guy you’d met. He watched as you walked away without a care in the world, the way your hips swayed a little with every step you took and the small smile you had on your face as you looked over your shoulder at the shop, he could have stared at you all day if you’d have stayed. He only knew your first name and it wasn’t enough to find out everything about you, not when he didn’t have a family name to go by, you didn’t work here so he couldn’t demand the owner to give a name, all he did know was he was going to have to come back and see you again but right now he had to take care of something else.

You were trying to get back to the shop more often than you normally would, you would normally only go once a week, on a Saturday when your father went for his weekend days out, this was the only time he really let you out of the house, he didn’t like you out later than him and he always wanted you to have cover, he was overly protective because of how your mother died, she was killed in a shooting by a rival Mafia family, they wanted to get back at your dad for buying something that was theirs, but you didn’t see the point in hiding, no one knew where you hung out all the time anyway, but you’d managed to convince him you could be trusted to go out alone with a guard you trusted with your life, everyone knew not to mess with your father, your father agreed and sent a guard named Taylor to go with you, he was the strongest out of his guards but he was also the sweetest on you, you had him wrapped around your finger and could get him to do whatever you wanted. You cut a deal with him, he would stay in a cafe in their district while you rushed off to do your own thing, threatening that if he ever snitched you’d tell your dad he was the one leaving you behind, you had to see the boy from the bookshop again, you had a strange attachment to him, and you didn’t even know his name yet.

The shop was empty again the next Wednesday afternoon, Seol mentioned it was almost always empty except for one man who was coming in once a day to look for books, buying almost one of every genre from her, Seol was down in the basement checking her stock when the bell about the door rang, you looked through the bannister bars to see who had come through it and you saw him standing there, he was dressed in the same leather jacket, but he was in black ripped jeans with some fingerless leather gloves, he looked even better than the last time you saw him, maybe it’s because this time you could really look at him instead of being so flustered.

“She’s in the basement,” You called out, your voice came out calmer than you actually were, he made you way too nervous, he looked up at you with a smirk on his lips, he’d been coming by every day since the previous Saturday to meet you again, he had started to lose hope in you ever coming back to the shop and this was going to be his last attempt at seeing you, he couldn’t get enough of you, but you were never there so he ended up acting as though he was buying books, he currently had a stack of books piling on his bedroom desk, he was sure Seol knew what he was really up to, coming in every day just to wait around until you showed up, but you never did and he never questioned it.

“I’m not here for her,” He spoke with a flirty tone, you could tell just from the sound of his voice he had a smirk on his lips and when he came up the ladder he saw you reading the book he’d picked out the week before and a smile spread across his cheeks

“You’re reading the book?” He questioned noticing that you were curled up against some pillows under the skylight, you nodded popping a square of chocolate into your mouth and looking at him.

“It’s good, have you started your copy yet?” You asked, closing on the page you were on, he sat down next to you, sliding off his leather jacket to reveal a sleeve tattoo, he hung his jacket on the railing you smiled at him and he shook his head.

“Not yet, what’s happened so far?” He questioned looking at your book, you scoffed at him playfully.

“What do you want me to do, read it to you?” You joked but he began nodding with a serious look on his face.

“I do yeah,” You opened up the book to the first page again and began to read it out loud to him, he lent his head on your shoulder using you as a pillow and watching you as your eyes scanned the page, twitching a little whenever you finished a paragraph and the way the corners of your mouth turned to a smile whenever you said the main male characters name.

“When will I see you again?” He questioned, you were packing up your things to leave, you looked at the time on your phone, it was 3:15 pm, you were running late, you just seemed to lose track of time with him, you looked back up into his eyes.

“I’ll be here Saturday, all day.” You said looking down over the bannister, Seol was at the counter now.

“See you then, Y/N.” You smiled at him, the way your name rolled from his lips sent chills across your entire body, then it hit you, you didn’t even know his name and you were agreeing to meet up with him.

“You too…” He smiled catching on quickly to what you were trying to get at.

“Jungkook.” You shook his hand and headed to the ladder to leave, Seol sending you a bright smile as you did so.

And that’s how it started, you would go to the shop every Saturday and Wednesday to meet up with him, both of you forgetting the rest of the world existed, all your problems melting away as soon as you were together in the book shop, all your problems would melt away as soon as you entered the shop, it was two weeks into your twice a week meetups when you finally traded phone numbers so you could talk outside of the shop, having text conversations about the book, and other things. He quizzed you about your upbringing, you would both tell each other sad stories about your childhood, leaving out the important Mafia side of it all, you don’t know why, but you knew you could trust him with anything, you even told him about your mother’s death and how it affected you, leaving out that she was killed by Mafia lord and replacing it with a car accident. You never wanted to leave him, Jungkook was your own little secret and you wanted to keep it that way, and he in return he didn’t tell you about his life. Neither of you knew who the other was and it was easy.

“Our dates are going to get me fat.” You joked as he put another cookie into your mouth while you turned the page, he’d started bringing a picnic with him every time you met up and it always had cookies in the basket, which is why you had him nicknamed as 'Kookie’ in your phone now, he chuckled along with you and then looked at you with a serious look.

“Date? Is that what these are?” You began blushing and stuttering on what to say next, choking a little on the cookie and he patted your back trying to calm you down a little, you finally stopped choking and he handed you some water.

“I mean- I just- I thought-” You couldn’t finish because he placed his lips on yours to shut you up, his hand on the back of your neck so you couldn’t escape from him, you dropped the book you were holding onto the floor not caring about it right now and he smirked into the kiss, laying you down against pillows and pulling away, he smiled down at you, moving strands of hair behind your ear and kissing your cheek.

“They are,” He whispered looking into your eyes, you were now a bright red colour, you could have stayed there forever but it began raining heavily and you knew Taylor would be wanting to head back soon.

“I have to go…I’ll see you Saturday.” You whispered, leaning up and kissing him again, you didn’t want to go. You wanted to stay there under the skylight all night with him, listening to the rain and stories he would tell you.

“And you can read this time, my throat is starting to hurt.” You teased, taking a cookie from the packet and heading down the ladder, hugging Seol goodbye and leaving through the door, Jungkook was watching you from the attic until you were out of his sight and sighed, he wanted you to be able to stay longer, to stay laid in his arms until neither of you could stand laying there anymore.

It had been a month since your dates started and you had almost finished the book, you’d been taking your time with it because you would get distracted by each other whenever you would try to read, you’d always end up cuddled on the floor looking up through the skylight and talking, never finding anything to stop talking about, there were at least four chapters left which meant you would finish it tonight with him, you planned to ask your dad if you could possibly stay out later tonight, to try and get away with staying a few more hours with him, you were about to enter his office when you heard him talking to someone in there.

“I don’t care how you do it, make sure that Jungkook kid doesn’t get in the fucking, way.” Your hand hovered about the door handle as you heard him say your boyfriend’s name, you thought you’d been so careful with everything, how could he have found out. Your heart began to pound against your chest, at the thought of your dad even going near Jungkook, you began to panic a lot.

“He’s the son of another Mafia family meaning he’s a threat, find out what he’s doing near my side of town or I’ll have to kill him.” You moved away from the door, going down the stairs to Taylor and asking him to drive you to the cafe you always left him at, you were going to find out who this Jungkook was and what he wanted with you.

“So you just coincidentally found one of the biggest Mafia families daughters and decided to date her?” You asked you were both standing in the attic of the book shop, Seol had excused herself the moment you walked inside the shop looking pissed off, Jungkook was staring at you, he was leant back against the wall cockily, his arms folded across his chest as he watched you pacing back in forth in front of him.

“I had no idea who you were, I thought you were some pretty girl I’d met in a bookshop.” He defended, which was true. He honestly had no idea you were the daughter of his family’s worst enemy, Seol had come up from the basement to listen to the pair of you, wanting to say something to stop you both from fighting, she’d been watching you get closer and closer every time you’d come in and it was upsetting to see it all get ripped away because of family drama neither of you had anything to do with.

“So what is it? You were going to make me fall in love with you and then what? Steal the family business?” You scoffed going down the ladder ready to leave but Seol had locked the door and was standing in front of it, Jungkook was standing behind you now he’d followed you down not wanting you to leave him alone.

“No, He’s telling you the truth Y/N.” She said looking at you, you frowned at her and she nodded over at the front desk, you walked over and she began showing you different bits of paperwork you didn’t understand, something about rental agreements, rightful ownership and other things.

“When you first met him, he was coming to collect rent from me for his dad, which is where I had rushed off to and when I told him I couldn’t afford the payments anymore he didn’t threaten to kill me, or smash the place up like his father would have done.” She looked up at Jungkook who was standing behind you, inches apart you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as you watched Seol speak.

“He bought the place out and his father doesn’t know he’s the one paying the rent, it’s an agreement between me and him. He had no idea who you were, but he came back every day since that Saturday to met you, he would hang out upstairs until closing time, he never asked me who you were or when you came in but he made sure to come back every day.” You turned around to face Jungkook who had a blush on his cheeks as Seol admitted everything to you, the cocky confident Jungkook was gone and was replaced by a blushing shy boy.

“So you’re not trying to kill me? Or get close to me to get my dad?"You whispered, now embarrassed you’d even accused him of such a thing.

"No, I’m not,” He took your hand in his and smiled at you, moving some hair from your face, you had tears in your eyes because you were afraid he was using you.

“I understand why you were so scared but I promise you, I would never do anything to hurt you��I like you too much to let anything happen to you,” He bent down and laid a kiss on your forehead,

“Now, I have a box of cookies up there with our name on and the last four chapters of our book.” He took your hand and walked you over to the ladder, making you go up first turning to look at Seol and giving her a thankful smile.

Your father wouldn’t be a good father if it hadn’t noticed the extra spring in your step over the last six months, at first he put it down to you being happy about going out more. He’d been letting you have more days out in the town with Taylor, and you’d been telling him about your trips around the museums and stores in his area, all the shops he owned that was. You’d been dating Jungkook in secret for six months, the only people who knew about your relationship were you, Jungkook and Seol who swore to keep it a secret even on her death bed. Your father thought nothing of the extra spring in your step, he was happy to see his daughter so happy, it wasn’t until you began singing in the shower and dancing around the living room that he began to think something else was making you happy, or rather someone else was making you happy. You were meeting Jungkook that night, it was your sixth month together and you were planning on a picnic under the skylight, with a movie, snacks and cuddling together, he’d been busy with something his dad was making him do lately so spending time together was varied at the minute, but whenever you weren’t together you were texting or calling when your father was finally asleep on a night time, where you would fall asleep to the sound of his voice, telling you a story of something he had to do that day, but it was never about his family business. It always about something he or his friends did, you’d grown to know his friends through photos and names, he told you that he and his friends had been planning to leave the family business behind, go into something else. None of them wanted what their fathers had in mind for them, it was all too much for them, they wanted a simple life. Marriage, kids and growing old together without all the violence and wars, and you had agreed. You wanted that too, you’d never wanted the family business, even though it was going to be passed to you once your father did die.

“Daddy, I’ll be going now.” You said going into his office and giving him a kiss on the cheek, he waited until you were out of ear sight and nodded at another one of his guards, Evan.

“Follow her, find out who’s making her so happy and report back to me."

"Kookie! I brought us some hot chocolates and some-” You stopped midsentence, all the lights were out in the shop, the only thing that was producing any light was in the attic, you climbed the ladder awkwardly, trying not to drop the two hot chocolates, you reached the top to find rose petals scattered along the floor and candles lit everywhere, your usual pillow fortress filled with heart-shaped pillows, with other blankets laid around on the floor for comfort.

“Kookie?” You giggled seeing him standing there, he was dressed in a black suit and tie, a rose attached to his buttonhole, he came closer to you and took the drinks from you, placing them down on a coffee table and embracing you in a hug, his arms wrapped around the small of your back and yours around his neck, he was a romantic at heart and it made you fall for him even more.

“Hi.” He whispered to you, bending down and kissing you, instantly you felt the rest of the world melt away from you, nothing else mattered to you now except his lips on yours.

“I love you.” He admitted to you, pulling away and looking deep into your eyes,

“I don’t care if it’s too soon or whatever but it’s the truth…I love you and I’m going to do whatever I can to make you happy.” You were crying now, tears rolling down your cheeks,

“I love you too.” You whispered back to him, kissing him, the kiss was sloppy and wet, mostly because of your tears but he picked you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and your hands tangling into his brown locks.

“Fuck I love you so much,” He moaned as you tugged at his hair a little harder, you giggled and began kissing his neck, sucking a little to leave your mark on his body.

“Show me how much you love me,” You whispered into his ear before gently biting it and looking into his eyes, they were dark with lust now and he smirked, attacking your neck with kisses this time and laying you down on the pillows below.

The moonlight coming through the skylight and the bell above the door woke you up, you groaned turning over under a blanket to see Jungkook lying there naked, nothing covering you both but a thin blanket, he was looking up at the stars, you smiled at him and laid your head on his bare chest. He smiled back down at you and his fingers traced your skin lightly, neither of you wanted the night to come to an end, but you knew it was going to have to.

“I love you Kookie.” You said at the door, he smirked at you, kissing you again, you’d been trying to leave for the last twenty minutes, every time you would try to leave the shop he would pin you down and attack you with kisses, but it was late and you knew there were going to be questions but you didn’t care right now, all you cared about was Jungkook, you looked at the purple marks on his neck and blushed a deep shade of red, you ran your finger along them and kissed his cheek, you really did have to go now, it was 9 pm, way past your allowed times and you knew you were going to have to come up with a really good lie to get out of this one.

“I love you too, I’ll see you Wednesday.” He whispered in your ear, watching you walk away to find Taylor.

You’d gotten away with telling your dad you’d gone to a different city over, and lost time in a new museum you’d found,

“Dad? What’s going on?” You questioned later that night, you heard yelling coming from the basement and you knew he never brought business back home, he hated bringing unwanted business into the home and you went to investigate, his goons were blocking the door but you continued to shout down the staircase to him, you heard grunting and then your name being moaned out.

“Jungkook?” You whispered, kicking one of the guards in his shin and sprinting down the staircase, making it to the bottom when you were being dragged back by one of the guards, Jungkook was knelt on the floor, dressed in his suit, his shirt a bloody mess, tie ripped up and on the floor, his face badly beaten up, his eyes were so swollen you could hardly see the beautiful colour you loved so much anymore, there was bloody spit dripping down his chin and he was barely able to kneel in one place, he was swaying side to side. Your heart hit the floor as you watched your dad hit him across the face again with a set of knuckle dusters.

“DADDY!” You screamed grabbing his attention, Jungkook’s head flopped forward and you shook off the guard, rushing to Jungkook and trying to steady him, your dad looked at you as you gripped onto Jungkook’s arms making him look at you, you wanted to cry out right there and then.

“Move, I don’t want to hit you.” You shook your head, standing in front of your boyfriend and looking at your dad pleading with him with your eyes not to do this.

“If you hit him you’re hurting me.” You pleaded but your dad pushed you aside and a guard came to pick you up but you kicked him in the face, his nose busting open instantly, blood hitting the floor but you didn’t care, all you cared about right now was getting your boyfriend, the love of your life, out of there.

“Let him go dad…I’ll never see him again, leave him alone please.” You were crying now, tears streaming down your cheeks, you turned to look at Jungkook praying this would work and he would be let go, you would do anything to save him right now, him being hurt was killing you.

“Please Dad, I’ll do anything. Just please, don’t hurt him…Please.” Taylor came down into the basement after hearing you scream out and wanted to see what was going on, as soon as he saw you he went to take hold of you but you pushed him away, staying beside Jungkook who was spitting blood onto the floor through his busted lip, all you wanted to do was take him back to the bookshop clean him up and promise this would never happen again, and stay with him forever.

“Let him go, take him back to whatever hole he crawled out of and You!” You dad screamed grabbing your attention, Taylor was untying Jungkook now and you were keeping your eyes on him making sure he was okay, not wanting to even look at your father yet.

“You’re never going to leave this house again! Do I make myself clear?” You nodded and Jungkook was pushed onto his feet, Taylor steadying him as he stood in front of you, you cupped his face and tried to look him in the eyes but it was hard with them being swollen, you sobbed out a little at the thought of never seeing him again.

“I love you Kookie.” You whispered to him, kissing his cheek lightly so you wouldn’t hurt him even more and watching as Taylor walked him out of the basement, you knew Taylor would get him home safe, or at least out of the area safe, Taylor could be trusted.

“I said do I make myself clear?!” You dad screamed at you, you wiped the tears from your cheek and faced him, you didn’t want to look weak in front of him or scared of him.

“Yes. But I’m no longer considered your daughter, understood?” You screamed back, he took your phone out from your pocket smashing it against the floor.

“Don’t even think about trying to call him, you’re forbidden from leaving this house.” You turned on your heels, to see the same guard you’d kicked in the face waiting for you,

“I can escort myself.” But he grabbed your wrist cruelly and walked you up the staircase of the basement and towards the staircase to your bedroom.

“Get up. Get up now.” You rolled over to see Taylor standing beside your bed, you hadn’t left your room in a week, you hadn’t eaten anything since the night Jungkook was taken away from you and you had heard nothing from him, no news about if he was safe or not.

“Taylor, go away. I don’t care.” You sobbed into the pillow that you had been clutching onto for life, but he pulled you up to look at him. You looked around and he had an overnight bag on his shoulder and a smaller handbag with him.

“Taylor? What’s happening?” You looked at the clock beside your bed, it was 3 am, he nodded at the window in your room, the bars were blocking it, your dad had them installed them to stop you from getting out, you’d tried that first night but he had a guard manning the window until the bars were finished, he was keeping you like a prisoner.

“He’s in his office, asleep, I slipped him some pills and the other guards are asleep, let’s go.” You dove out of the bed and began to find some clothes to change into, not changing the sweater you were in but slipping into some black leggings, you didn’t have much time to worry about what you looked like, all you were worried about was getting out of that house and rushing out of the door with Taylor, he helped you into the car and handed you some shoes, your dad had thrown all yours out, stating there was no need for them anymore. You weren’t going to be going anywhere.

“Taylor where are we going, you’ll get killed if he finds out you’ve taken me out.” You were too focused on him doing the wrong thing you hadn’t noticed you were outside the book shop, another black SUV waiting for you.

“J-Jungkook?” You stuttered out noticing the bookshop, at last, you jumped out of the car without a second thought and rushed through the front door, you stayed still in the doorway and saw him, standing there was Jungkook, his arm was in a sling, his face was still badly beaten but it had gone down since the last time you saw him, your heart began to race as soon as your eyes met, you sprinted into him, making him hiss as you hit his bad arm, but he didn’t care, he wrapped his one good arm around your waist, he lent down and connected your lips, his hand moved to your face and it rested below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek, the moment he kissed you the world fell away, nothing mattered, your dad wasn’t in your mind and the fact that you were with Jungkook and he was save was what mattered, nothing else. His tongue pressed to your lip and you let him in, your arms around his neck drawing him closer, you could never get enough of him.

“The car is loaded, passports are in the front with money. Get out of here.” Taylor said interrupting you both, you pulled away, leaning your forehead against his and smiling, his eyes were shining back at you, and you turned to look at Taylor, he was holding a set of car keys, you let go of Jungkook and went over to Taylor and drawing him into a tight hug.

“You get out of here too, if he finds out you helped us…You’ll…” He shook his head, promising he’d made plans for himself already. Jungkook looked at you and took your hand in his, finally happy to be getting away from everything,

“Let’s go.” You nodded and rushed out to the car, the sun was starting to rise now and you had just enough time to drive to the nearest airport and just run away together. Once you were inside the car and buckled up he took your hand in his again, he never wanted to let you go, ever, he told you to open up the glove box, inside was a small velvet box.

“I’m not asking you to marry me yet but I am promising that I will be here. Always.” You slipped the diamond ring onto your finger and took the golden band and placed it on his finger and smiling at him,

“Always.” You whispered back to him, kissing him on the lips and looking out of the window at the road.

“Now let’s run away together.”

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gallavictorious · 4 years

Text

Fic: Foreign Country

For fuck’s sake... So I got an ask in response to this comment, wherein the lovely nonnie suggested that Ian and Mickey’s reaction to the Kash and Grab would be a reverse sort of situation, with that place holding very happy memories in spite of being a site of trauma (because Kash shot Mickey there). I’m paraphrasing here, obviously... And I spent over a week trying to write the fic that this ask (unintentionally) inspired and now when I posted it Tumblr was messing with the ‘Read more’ so I, stupid and/or tired bastard that I am, deleted the thing to repost it but of course that means the ask is gone aaaaand yeah. I AM SO SORRY NONNIE! :( Hope this one finds you all the same.

Anyway, here’s my resonse:

Ah, yes. Yes! Nonnie, I applaud your dedication to sparking joy and thank you for sharing this delightful reflection! <3 And, uh, it got me thinking about the Kash and Grab and its role as the site of so much that went down with Ian and Mickey in the early years, and yeah, now there’s a ficlet. It involves a trip down memory lane, some angst, some fluff, and a rather startling number of I love you:s. It’s also the reason why it took me so damned long to get back to you… Sorry about that!

Did you ask me to write this? No. Does it stay completely true to your observation rather than carelessly running with it? Also no, but with slightly more regret.

---

Never returning had not been a conscious choice. Neither was going back.

---

Chicago, on a Thursday afternoon in early October, and the air is unusually crisp when Ian steps out from the ambulance station. He's been working the early shift and now he pauses on the sidewalk and turns his face towards the sun, considering. No one's expecting him for another few hours, and it's a fine day: maybe he needn't rush home. Maybe he could walk for a bit.

It's an idea. He's feeling restless, though not the sort of restless that heralds the on-set of a manic episode (or so he thinks, but he makes a mental note to keep an eye out for other signs, and maybe mention it to Mickey). But yeah. He could walk for a bit, then maybe find a station for the L when he tires.

So he walks. Walks and walks and doesn’t tire, and eventually he finds himself on a familiar street and outside a familiar store and he realizes with a start that he hasn't been here in years. Hadn't even known the store was still open, but the sign on the door proudly proclaims it so, and above it the name remains the same, white letters on red: Kash and Grab.

Huh. Without making a conscious decision to, he's stopped walking and is just standing there, staring at the store. The sight of it brings a strange jumble of emotions, and the quietly jarring mingle of familiarty and distance that comes from returning to a place where once you did belong, but belong no longer.

The last time he stood here was the day before he ran off to join the Army, leaving Linda with nothing more than a short message on her phone. That’s more than what his family got, so he hopes she wasn’t too upset. He never asked; never came back; never really thought back – until now.

He hesitates for a moment, then walks up to the door and steps inside. He’s running low on smokes anyway.

It's the smell that hits him first. It hasn't changed, and brings him back to the days when it would cling to his clothes and follow him home, a not unpleasant but distinctive whiff of frozen food and sweet spices.

The interior hasn't changed much either. There’s a kid behind the counter that looks to be in his early teens, and Ian wonders if it’s one of Kash’s sons, if Linda's still running the store. He could ask, but who knows what Linda's told her kids about the teenager who fucked their closeted father before he ran off?

He glances at the boy again – and yeah, he could be Kash's, there's something about the eyes and the chin – and wonders if he ever looked that young when he manned the register. Wonders if that's what he looked like to Mickey, when he'd come into the store to just take whatever the hell he wanted, wether it was chips or, later, Ian's fucking breath away.

Ian Gallagher. You messed with the wrong girl.

And just like that, it's like no time's passed, and he's 15 and 16 and 17 again; he's doing it with Kash and he thinks he loves him; he excels at ROTC and dreams of Westpoint; his mother is alive and he doesn’t yet know that Frank isn’t his father at all – it hardly matters anyhow, because Fiona is there, as she has always been there, as he still thinks she will always be.

She got out and good for her. If she'd stayed here, she'd never been free of her role as sister-mother – never free to be Fiona. And as for him... he'd mourned the army dream when it died, but knows now that it was an uninformed dream, one he would not have cared to live even if given the opportunity.

Glancing at the counter where he used to open his trigonomy textbook he feels no regret, though perhaps a twinge of sadness for the loss of that optimistic, determined kid, who had not had an easy life by any means, but who had yet to take any real blows, any blows that truly mattered. Those had come later (had come in this very store, some of them) and standing here, where he'd spent so much time as a child and none as a man, he feels something of that kid returning. Remembers the weight of the hundreth can put on a shelf; feels the ghost of a (too) easy smile on his lips; sees himself as he moves between the backroom and counter and fridge.

And everywhere he looks, there is Mickey. Mickey, in a dirty coat or a security west, angry and rough and funny and sometimes with the briefest flash of something softer, sweeter. He is stealing and scaring of thieving kids and restocking the shelves and plotting to murder Frank and moaning as Ian pushes into him.

He is on the floor, too, cursing Kash but otherwise strangely unaffected by having been shot. Ian thinks he might have been more scared and upset than Mickey. It strikes him now as a moment of innocence lost; your lover shot by a jealous ex, a real gun and real blood and what if Kash had had better aim? This was a thing that happened in the world, and if that could happen – anything could.

It strikes him, too, as a turning point: Mickey going away could easily have spelled the end of their intense but brief affair. For all they knew each other's bodies they hadn't really know each other back then, and while Ian had been crushing hard he had not yet loved Mickey. Perhaps they might both have moved on, found other lives and loves. Perhaps that had still been possible, then.

Or perhaps not. It was the first time they were separated and the first time they found their way back to one another, but not the last. It's a dance of coming together and coming apart and coming together, again and again, and they've traced its steps for close to a decade, never once stopping, not truly.

Because even in the absences, Mickey had been, is; there, always, in the stretches of time when he was locked up in juvie; in the eager hours of wating for him to show up at the store; in the exact distance between them at any given time.

Ian can still feel the jolt, like a punch to his gut, like electricity, of looking up from stacking oranges and finding blue eyes staring straight into his.

He remembers the last time they were in here together, when him and his siblings had been taken away by the CPS and Mickey invited him to crash at his place. He remembers his giddy delight at the question, his excitement at the realization that Mickey wanted to spend time with him. He had been so nervous, and looking back, knowing what he now knows, he thinks that Mickey might have been fucking terrified, but there'd been such ease to that evening and night; such familiarty and tenderness. And oh, the sex had been fantastic.

He tries to remember only this, not what came after with the morning light and a door suddenly slammed open –

Mickey had never returned to the store after that, and a few months later Ian had left for the army. Not really for the army, though; what he'd been moving towards had not been nearly as important as what he was moving away from.

Stings, still, that memory; but less than it once did, and as he strolls down the aisles, noting where the pickled cucumber jars have been replaced with tins of tuna and where the small bottles of cheap olive oil still remain, he is surprised to find himself... okay. For a long time, so much of his past had been a painful, tangled thing he did his best to forget, and even after he made his peace with it, he made a point of looking forward rather than back. Now he thinks that maybe, if you're happy with where you ended up, the hardships of the road which led you there are easier to bear.

Doesn't make everything that happened right; just... yeah. Easier to bear.

He buys a pack of cigarettes. The kid behind the counter is eyeing him suspiciously, but Ian thinks that has more to do with him walking around the store and staring at random things rather than with the boy recognizing him from some lurid tale of Linda's. Ian almost asks him to say hello to her from him, but nah. Let old dogs lie.

Outside, twilight is coming on, and there's a slight chill to the air now that the sun is sinking. Ian lights a cigarette and sucks the smoke deep into his lungs. This, too, is familiar, and for a moment he feels unthethered, unsure of when he is, who he is.

Without really thinking about it, he picks up his phone. Mickey's still working but can't be too busy because he answers on the second signal: “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ian says, and then he doesn't say anything else for long enough that Mickey asks him if he fucking wanted something or he's just being a creepy ass phone stalker.

It makes Ian smile. Grounds him. “I love you,” he says.

A beat. “You called me at fucking work to tell me that?” And Ian knows that the gruff disbelief is partially an attempt to cover Mickey's surprised delight at the proclamation.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he says. Waits for a moment, but Mickey is silent. “You gonna say it back?”

“You fucking serious?”

“Kinda need to hear it.” Because he gets to say that; gets to ask for that. They're not kids not anymore and they don't need to hide. They’re fucking married.

That is real. That is now.

“Jesus Christ, Ian.” But then Mickey, as Ian knew he would, relents. “I love you,” he says, and Ian doesn't know if he's already alone or if he just doesn't care who overhears him, because he doesn't lower his voice or take the time to move somewhere more private.

A brief silence as neither of them speak, but simply rest in the warmth of the words, the truth of them.

Then: “Are you okay?” There's a trace of real worry in Mickey's voice now, and there's a part of Ian's that immediately annoyed because he hates that people worry about him so easily – but a larger part of him has made his peace with it; knows and accepts the reason for it; loves that Mickey loves him enough to worry.

So he offers a brief smile, even though Mickey cannot see it. Hopes it translates into his voice. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, I promise, it's just... I'll tell you when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.” And maybe Mickey isn't convinced but he takes Ian's word for it. Trust. That's another thing they've been doing better with. “I'll see you in maybe an hour then? I get off at five.”

”Yeah, I'll see you then.” And, because he can, because it's true: ”I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you fucking said that already.” A brief pause, then quietly: “I love you, too.”

They hang up. Throwing one last look at Kash and Grab before he walks off, Ian is pleased to realize that he feels nothing but a vague sense of affection for the place. Some things withered and was left here, sure, youthful dreams and ambitions and most of his naivite – but the best thing about it he kept, and Ian will see him soon and hold him soon, and this time he will neither leave nor let him go. Their new dance will move to a different beat.

#asks #gallavich #i am so mad at myself and tumblr right now #also the use of semicolons in this one is absurd #sorry not sorry #fic #my stuff

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