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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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Stay Strong, Alex - Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

"Detective (L/n)," Rick sneers. "And they say there's never a cop around when you need one."

"So you know me?" (Y/n) asks, her voice soft.

"Of course," Rick answers. "I took a whole year planning this. Watching Alex, preparing," (Y/n) folds her hands together and she can hear Kara pacing behind her near the door. "I know everything."

"How did you know I was Supergirl?" Kara snarks.

"That day at the beach," Rick replies. "Before you started wearing glasses." He pauses. "I had no idea that Alex would end up playing for the other team, so to speak." (Y/n) swallows thickly. "I was just happy she showed up on the date. And then there was a crash. And Alex's kid sister walked away without a scratch," Rick says calmly, looking up at Kara, who standing over (Y/n)'s shoulder. "People at school said it was adrenaline, but, uh . . ."

"But you didn't believe that," (Y/n) finishes, her head tilting a little.

Rick nods, "I saw Kara Danvers do something amazing. And it stayed with me. I knew Kara was living in National City, and then Supergirl showed up in National City . . ." Rick chuckles. "I put two and two together. I knew it was you."

"What happened to you?" Kara asks softly. "I remember when Alex had chickenpox, I was eating lunch by myself," Kara's voice sounds a little wistful as she remembers the Earth portion of her childhood. "You came and sat with me."

Rick chuckles again. "I was fourteen," as Rick begins, (Y/n) rises from her chair to lean against the table. "And I didn't have the nice house or the perfect family that you and your sister had."

"You think we had it easy?" Kara asks skeptically. "You have no idea what Alex sacrificed for me. Or what I was going through!"

"Why?" Rick sneers. "Because you had to hide your superpowers? I was hiding bruises!" Rick is yelling now and (Y/n) had taken half a step backward. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have your mother tell you your garbage every single night?" The blonde man makes eye contact with (Y/n) and the young woman crosses her arms. "A belt whenever you had the wrong opinion? And then I found a lifeline. A father my mom kept from me. And he saved me from her and he moved me away from Midvale. And even though he was always struggling, he always made sure there was food on the table and he got me enough money to go to college. And then three years ago, the state took him from me."

"Your father killed two people," (Y/n) says, her voice low. "He confessed."

"They had it coming," Rick growls and (Y/n) straightens, her arms still folded over her chest. "And now I'm going to rescue him like he rescued me." Rick pauses. "I can't believe we're still talking about me! You have twenty-four hours and eleven minutes." Kara stiffens as Rick continues, "Come on, Kara, show us some of that rah-rah Midvale Junior High Spirit." Rick is yelling now. "Free my dad! Or your sister dies."

Kara growls, zooms over, flips the table, and pins Rick to the wall.

"Oh, you use half this much gusto in springing my dad, you'll have your sister back for game night."

"Kara! We're done here!" (Y/n)'s voice cracks.

Kara lets go of Rick and the man drops to the ground. "Hey. You know what'll be fun?" Rick asks. (Y/n) frowns, an eyebrow raising as she steps back from the man. "Finding out which one of you loves her more." (Y/n) closes her eyes momentarily, a wave of anguish washing over her. "Honestly, I wouldn't know where to place my bet," Rick sneers and (Y/n) swallows thickly.

Kara frowns at the man and after a minute, the two women go to leave the room, (Y/n) pausing for a second.

"Go Stallions," Rick grins.

Just outside the room, Kara speaks, "I'm giving him one minute, then I'm going back in there."

"No," (Y/n) says and Kara turns to look at her, Kara's eyes blazing.

"Why?" Kara snaps.

"Let him sweat it for a while," (Y/n) tells her, her voice softer than usual as she talks to her girlfriend's sister. "We got what we wanted."

"What?" Kara asks. "All we know is how he knows my identity."

"We know that Rick's pinned his whole sense of self-worth on Peter Thompson," (Y/n) explains, her voice still soft. "Thompson is the key to getting Alex back."

Kara's blazing eyes seem to extinguish as she considers (Y/n)'s words.

. . .

An hour or so later, (Y/n) and Peter Thompson walk into Rick's integration room.

(Y/n) closes the door behind Thompson.

Rick grins down at the table, before standing up after a moment.

"Ricky," Thompson says with a smile.

"Dad," Rick says, and the two embrace.

"All that time in prison, I imagined a day when . . . I could talk to you without a pane of glass between us."

"The DEO moved heaven and Earth to free this man," (Y/n) says. "We did what you wanted. Now, tell us where Alex is."

"No. No, not until my father and I are far from here," Rick says.

"You think we're stupid?" (Y/n) asks. "I showed you mine. Your turn."

"So you can toss us in Gitmo?" Thompson asks. "Not gonna happen."

(Y/n) shakes her head in disbelief.

"Maybe he gives you a piece. A little token of goodwill," Thompson adds. "You gotta give them something, Ricky. That's how it works. Just tell them where she is." Thompson narrows his eyes at his son.

"Well, you really nailed his essence, I'll give you that," Rick says.

"What?" (Y/n) asks, stepping forward, her arms crossing.

"I mean, that thing . . ." Rick says, studying his father's face. "He couldn't decide whether to hug me or not. That's vintage Dad." Rick sits back down in his metal chair.

"What are you talking about?" Thompson asks, walking up to stand beside the table.

"My father would never be playing these games. He'd be wanting to get the hell away from here and making sure that he never went back to prison," Rick's expression is one of anger. "I've been planning this for a year. Do you really think I didn't prepare for you," Rick pauses, looking up at Thompson, "Martian?"

Thompson walks over to (Y/n) and shifts back into himself.

"You're down to twenty-three hours and fourteen minutes," Rick says as he gazes at (Y/n) and J'oon. "And counting."

(Y/n) closes her eyes, pressing her index finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose.

. . .

Winn runs down the hall. "Guys! We found Alex. I found her."

Kara - who is standing with Mon-el - turns to face Winn. "You did?" Kara asks frantically.

"We got a ping from her subdermal tracker," Winn explains. "She's not far!"

. . .

Back in the interrogation room, (Y/n) is sitting across from Rick, her hands folded and resting on the table in front of her.

"(Y/n)," Kara says, opening the door to the room. "Winn found Alex."

"What? How?" (Y/n) asks quickly, rising from her chair to look at Kara.

"I guess you underestimated my sister," Kara says, looking past (Y/n) to look at Rick. "Let's go."

But (Y/n) pauses, turning to look at Rick. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"You're delusional," Kara sneers. "And the second we get back here with Alex, you're going to prison with your dad."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Rick says with a shrug, and fear surges through (Y/n)'s heart.

Kara strides out of the room and (Y/n) meets Rick's eyes, holding the stare for a moment.

(Y/n) runs out of the room. "Watch him," (Y/n) tells the guard as she runs past him after Kara. "Hey, stop," (Y/n) tells Kara. "Malverne still thinks he's in control," (Y/n) tells her.

Kara turns, looking highly annoyed with (Y/n) at this point.

"He's not acting like someone who just lost," (Y/n) continues. "He didn't even flinch. It's like he expected this."

"No, no, no, we are not listening to that psycho," Kara says, walking closer to (Y/n). "Every minute we wait for matters."

"I - I want to get her as badly as you do," (Y/n) retorts, "but we can't punch our way out of this. We've got to get this right."

"If the shoe were on the other foot, Alex would already be out the door. I'm not waiting," Kara argues.

"You're not the only one who cares about her!" (Y/n) says, her voice rising.

"I'm going!" Kara yells over her shoulder as she strides out of the DEO.

(Y/n) swallows thickly and looks at the ground.

. . .

Kara flies across the city and lands in a warehouse, crashing through the roof.

"Kara!" comes a faint voice.

"Alex!" Kara yells in reply.

"I'm down here!"

Kara runs over to a metal plate on the floor and bends the metal, puling up the plate. Throwing the plate aside, Kara freezes, reading the writing on the wall: 'NOW YOU HAVE FOUR.'

"Four?" Kara asks. "What . . ." There is a rapid beeping and the timer next to the computer screen flashes to four hours.

. . .

In Alex's cell, water begins rushing into the cement cage. Alex, panicking, grabs her jacket to try to plug the pipe.

. . .

"Oh, my God," Kara whispers, her voice full of fury.

. . .

Kara walks back into the DEOs' headquarters, holding the laptop in one hand.

Entering Rick's room again, Kara sets the laptop on the table.

"Where is she?" Kara asks, her voice steely.

"I told you not to go . . ." Rick says calmly.

"Tell me where she is now!" Kara thunders, slamming her hands down on the table.

"I gave you thirty-six hours to break my father out of prison," Rick replies. "But you didn't listen. So now, that room is gonna fill up with water in less than four hours. I think it's time you got moving."

Kara's lip quivers. "Let me talk to Alex."

Rick leans forward and presses a few of the keys and there is a beep.

Kara turns the laptop around and leans down to talk to her sister through the computer.

"Alex," Kara says, her voice quavering.

"Kara! I sent out a signal, I thought you were coming," Alex says, the water up to her waist now.

"He re-routed the IP address. He sent us somewhere else. Do you have any idea where you are?"

"I was unconscious. I could be hours away or I could be in the city," Alex replies, a frown spreading across her face. "I don't know."

Rick leans forward. "Alex, it's Rick. It don't want to hurt you. I keep on telling your sister that. Tell her to get my father, and this can all be over. You can come home and get dry."

"No. Kara, no," Alex says, pointing at the camera. "You do not give that terrorist what he wants. You cannot let yourself be blackmailed. You cannot open yourself up to that, ever. Do you understand me? Supergirl is better than me."

(Y/n) enters the room and, seeing Alex on the screen, runs over. "Alex!"

"(Y/n)?" Alex asks.

"I'm right here," (Y/n) replies.

"(Y/n), I need to speak to you alone," Alex says, and (Y/n) grabs the laptop and walks out of the room.

(Y/n) stands down one of the hallways. "Hun, everyone here is working hard and we're going to find you."

"The water is rising fast and there are things that I need to say," Alex says, her voice cracking a little.

"No," (Y/n) says, tears welling up in her eyes. "Don't start talking like this is the end."

"I don't want it to be, but in case that it is . . ." Alex says, pausing for a moment.

"It's not," (Y/n) whispers. "It can't be. You're a badass, Alex. And if anyone could figure out a way to get themself out of there, it's you. You're gonna hold on until I find you," (Y/n)'s voice cracks, and a tear slides down her cheek.

"(Y/n), listen to me, please," Alex tries to get out.

"No," (Y/n) argues desperately. "We just had our first Valentine's Day and I want to do more with you. I want more firsts. I want a first vacation. We haven't even argued about where we're gonna go yet, and it's bound to happen. Or what to name our first dog. Do you want to get a dog?"

(Y/n) lets out a watery laugh. "See, there's a lifetime of firsts that we're going to do together. So," (Y/n)'s voice quavers, "you hold on, okay? Hold on until I get to you. You promise. Promise me!"

"Yeah, um . . ." Alex pauses, scratching the back of her neck. "Let's name her Gertrude or we could adopt one from the animal shelter you volunteer at."

"I -" Alex tries to say, but the video cuts out.

"What?" (Y/n) whispers, typing furiously on the keyboard. "Alex!" (Y/n), frustrated with worry, tosses the broken laptop to the ground.

"What happened?" Kara asked, striding over to (Y/n).

(Y/n) meets Kara's gaze, her eyes alight with barely controlled anger. "I-I told you not to rush in. N-now you've made things worse."

"I did what I thought was right . . ." Kara argues.

"I should have been heard," (Y/n) says, her eyes narrowing. "I should have been listened to. I'm her girlfriend."

"I'm her sister!" Kara argues angrily.

"And you think that trumps me?" (Y/n) asks. "That you know what's right for her. I . . ." (Y/n) falters. "I got her to be herself, Kara." (Y/n)'s voice cracks. "I-I have just as much to lose as you." (Y/n)'s eyes burn. "You should have listened to me."

Word Count: 2,305 words

Taglist:

@procrastinatingsapphictrash

@makegoodchoices

@fanboy7794

@theofficialzivadavid

@confusinggemini612

#alex danvers x reader #alex danvers x fem reader #supergirl x reader #supergirl x fem reader #reader insert #fem reader #female reader

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petit-chaton · 2 years

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🎄 Sous Le Gui~~Chapter Two: Wasn’t That Romantic? 🎄

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing(s): Ladybug/Chat Noir

Word Count: 2074

Warnings: none

Chapter: 2 of 4

Ao3 | Previous | Next

🐞🐈‍⬛🐞🐈‍⬛🐞🐈‍⬛🐞🐈‍⬛🐞🐈‍⬛🐞🐈‍⬛🐞🐈‍⬛🐞🐈‍⬛

Neither of them would ever have dreamed it would come to that.

They had dropped into a bakery after defeating a villain, just to grab a cupcake in celebration, and of course, luck would have it that as they were leaving, they happened to stand under a bunch of mistletoe hanging above the door.

“Look!” someone shouted. “Ladybug and Chat Noir are under the mistletoe!”

And they knew then they were doomed. Well, Ladybug knew she was doomed. Chat, on the other hand, wasn’t complaining. In fact, he might even have admitted to being…excited.

“You know the rules, my lady,” he said slyly, tossing her a wink and moving a step closer.

She groaned, dread crossing her face. “Do we have to?”

“Kiss!” shouted a woman, and a moment later the cry was echoed around the bakery.

Chat grinned sheepishly. “Is that enough answer for you?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever,” grumbled Ladybug, leaning in and giving him a quick peck on the lips. It wasn’t much, just a jumble of clashing teeth and colliding lips and noses, but it still set Chat’s heart racing.

And yet, when they separated, the customers didn’t seem satisfied. “That was a lousy kiss!” a man shouted.

“Yeah, do it again! That wasn’t good enough!” called a woman.

Ladybug’s jaw swung open. She stood glaring around the shop for a moment, her face contorting in fury, and then she turned and stormed from the bakery, Chat trotting meekly after her and trying to calm her down.

“I’m sorry that had to happen, milady,” he apologized, his posture tense as he tried to soothe her emotions. “I, uh, didn’t realize that—”

“No, it’s not you, kitty,” she grumbled, taking a vicious bite of her cupcake. “It was their comments. They were just being—” She paused, licking frosting from her lips, and Chat tried not to think about how kissable her mouth looked at that moment. Or all the time.

“Idiots?” he supplied feebly, offering a faint grin.

“Yes, precisely. Idiots,” she affirmed, finishing the rest of her treat and throwing the wrapper into a nearby trashcan. “Idiots who don’t know anything. We’re a team, that’s all. Friends, that’s all. Nothing else. How dare they be so crude?”

“Yeah, they were pretty awful….Uh….but I’m just…sorry you had to kiss me. I…know I’m the last person you’d ever want to kiss,” Chat said miserably, staring at the ground as he took another bite of cupcake.

She stared at him. “What? That’s not true, kitty.”

His jaw dropped, and he gave her a look of disbelief. “W-what?! Y-you wouldn’t mind kissing me?”

“N-not platonically,” Ladybug said, seeming suddenly uncertain.

“Platonically?” His heart sank in his chest. “But...aren’t kisses…?”

“Oh, for gosh sakes. Not all kisses have to be romantic, you know,” she informed him, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him a sassy look.

“Okay, true….hand kisses, and forehead kisses, maybe, but…” He swallowed, his gaze flickering yet again to her lips. “But mouth kisses?”

Ladybug scowled at him. “We weren’t talking about mouth kisses!”

He smiled faintly. “Sorry, milady, but, uh….I think we were? This whole time, we’ve been referring to…mouth kisses and…how you wouldn’t mind kissing me…”

“Platonically, in a non-romantic way!” Ladybug argued in frustration, giving an adorable little foot stomp.

Chat’s ears twitched, and he resisted the urge to smirk. “That brings us back to mouth kisses, which cannot be anything but romantic.”

Ladybug’s eyes widened slightly. “Is that so?” she murmured.

“Y-yes,” Chat squeaked, unnerved by the sudden look in Ladybug’s eyes.

“We’ll see about that, mon chaton,” Ladybug said sweetly, and then she was kissing him.

Ladybug.

Was kissing.

Chat Noir.

He was positive he stopped functioning after that, because for a moment he couldn’t process that the softness brushing against his lips was Ladybug, that the pressure on his cheeks was her hands cupping them, that the movement at his jawline was her thumbs moving gently back and forth. And then, finally, his brain seemed to register that this was really happening, that Ladybug was kissing him, and he melted, placing his hands over hers where they rested on his face, pressing himself closer to her and losing himself in her scent, her taste, the frosting on her lips, everything.

And then, all too soon, it was over, and Ladybug was stepping back and surveying him proudly. “See? I proved you wrong. That wasn’t romantic. So now you know that not all mouth kisses are—”

“M-my lady,” gasped Chat, sure his face was going up in flames from the heat spreading through his cheeks. He stood in shock for a moment, his mouth slightly open, before he managed to stammer, “You call that unromantic?”

She spluttered slightly, taken aback by the question. A blush spread across her face. “I-I—Chat, that wasn’t—”

“That was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” breathed Chat, touching his fingers to his lips in reverie. “The best thing. And you say it wasn’t romantic? You didn’t feel the passion? The love?”

Ladybug’s mouth swung open, and slowly she shook her head.

Chat gulped, sweat rising to his palms. “Then…can I show you?”

She chewed her lip, her hands fisting at her sides. “Show…show me what?”

“If you didn’t think that was romantic…can I show you what a romantic kiss is like?” he whispered, his eyes fixed on hers.

A swallow nudged her throat.

“Please,” he said, and the word was a prayer, drifting into the silence.

She nodded, once. “O-okay, chaton,” she murmured. “If you really want to.”

He did want to.

Oh, she had no idea.

He stepped towards her slowly, savoring the moment, his hands reaching forward to grip her face gently. He rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone, eliciting a shiver from her, and leaned in, his breath ghosting her lips, his eyes searching hers for a few seconds before, all at once, their lips connected.

This time Ladybug was the one who stopped functioning, because how could someone as ridiculous as Chat Noir know how to kiss so gosh darned well. His mouth was moving against hers with impossible softness, his breath mingling with hers and fanning across her cheeks, which he cupped so tenderly that she felt herself melting. Ladybug wanted to lose herself in the kiss, to be caught up with Chat Noir for the rest of eternity, trapped in his embrace until time was no more. She was desperate to be closer to him, to be pressed against him as near as she possibly could, breathing in his scent, feeling his gentle touch.

Instinctively she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him, and he responded by moving one hand to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair. Before she knew what she was doing, Ladybug was jumping into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips, her lips moving against his with an intensity she didn’t know she possessed as he moved his hands to grip her waist.

Finally they broke apart, gasping for air and brushing noses on accident as they pressed their foreheads together. Ladybug forced her eyes open, and found herself staring into a face that beheld her with such adoration her knees would’ve gone weak had she been standing. The flush that was furled across Chat’s cheekbones was surely mirrored on her own, a thought that made her blush even more, because how dare he make her feel so flustered.

“So, my lady,” Chat whispered, his breath hot on her lips, “was that romantic?”

Ladybug tried to speak and stammered instead, then buried her face in his shoulder, eliciting a chuckle from him. She stayed that way for a moment, just breathing in his scent, content to be in his arms, before lifting her head and looking him in the eyes.

“Yes, mon chaton,” she breathed, closing her eyes as he pressed a soft kiss to her nose. “It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He laughed softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and keeping the other hand balanced on her waist. “Me too, my lady,” he murmured. “Me too.”

#🐞🐈‍⬛#ladynoir fic #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #miraculous ladybug #mlb #miraculous #kisses #kissing #mistletoe #Christmas #*gasp* they were caught under the mistletoe!!#Sous le gui #catbug

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frenchmemories · 3 years

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Renaissance (Chapter 1/?)

Series: Axis Powers Hetalia (APH) Ship: FrUk NSFW: Yes

---------

It was late. One-thirty in the morning to be exact.

He didn’t know where he was going at a time like this. All he knew is that he wanted to get away from home right now. He barely got his phone and wallet into his pocket in his desperation to leave his house.

His dreams have become less subtle and more violent. It became harder to ignore. He used to be able to shrug it off after a few minutes and go back to sleep but recently, that had been nearly impossible. He found himself slipping back into his old habit of smoking late at night a couple of times just to stop the pounding on his chest every single time he would dream about it. It was getting worse.

His dreams have consisted of nothing but what happened. That night that he watched him walk away from him and out of the door. It was that night where the alcohol and the sex weren’t enough to pacify the explosion that was waiting to happen. The ticking time-bomb that was their relationship. Jealousy, pride, and lust truly were demons that ate you from the inside. They turn love into a minefield that could be catastrophic with one wrong move.

0--0--0--0--0

“Arthur, I don’t know what you are talking about.” Francis groaned after a sigh. He’s been dealing with this whole on-then-off-again relationship with this man for about four months and it’s been… bittersweet.

Francis loved him. Truly he did. He adored Arthur from the tips of his disheveled, blond hair to the last inch of skin on his body. Every breath out of his lips was a prayer that Francis held on to and revered. There was no denying that Arthur was a beautiful man. His sharp, green eyes and his thick, downturned eyebrows, as well as his skin that put cream and roses to shame. Arthur made every hair on Francis’s body stand with every time he would see him as a whole, sprawled against his velvet blankets.

However, Arthur was an unhappy man. He was jealous, insecure, and easily stressed. He makes small things feel like unsurpassable mountains. A look, a change of tone, a sudden silence, all could mean huge to him. Francis often felt like he was treading on eggshells around Arthur and was often being careful not to upset him. He found this to be absolutely tedious, but he bore it with grace as Arthur was the complete opposite when he was happy. Arthur was affectionate and loving when he was happy. When Arthur was happy, Francis was too.

Today was not one of those days though. Judging from the tight, downward line that his lips had taken shape into and the heavy, deafening silence he’d been emanating, Arthur had a lot to say that he kept inside him. So many unsaid things pounded behind the door of his curt reply as he crossed his arms.

“Don’t play dumb.”

Francis couldn’t help the exasperated scoff that he let out. His hand shakily flew to his head, his fingertips massaging his temples and his eyes closed in strain. Frustrated. Annoyed. He could almost feel how long he would have to work to stabilize his lover.

“Arthur, please-” he began, his voice a little tense and high. “I just want to know what is going on. Don’t make me guess again. How are we supposed to sort things out if you don’t talk to me?”

Arthur’s frown intensified as he heard Francis strain to keep his voice level. Shouldn’t he be the one frustrated and not Francis? He uncrossed his arms and he sat down on the bed, turning to Francis, equally frustrated.

“You have been doing a lot of overtime at work, you’ve been unreachable on your phone, and you’ve been too tired every single time you come home. We barely do anything anymore. Your weekends are always packed with activities with those two lunatics that are your friends-“ he rambled, pausing when he saw Francis’s eyebrows knit as he made that remark about his friends. “I just don’t know where I fit in to all of this. I can’t help but be a little suspicious Francis.”

Francis’s hand ran through his blond locks, and he bit his lips, a habit he’s developed out of stress. Here it is again. The jealousy and suspicion. He has become so adept at dealing with this, but he has become increasingly aggravated the more he had to.

“Arthur, it’s a job. I need to focus. I am working overtime because we are planning that vacation to Santorini in 2 months right? You need money for that-“

“- I KNOW THAT Francis. I am not a child!” Arthur interjected

Francis only gave him a look and a little raise of his eyebrow. “-then stop behaving like one. As for my friends, I have only gone out with them twice last week and none at all the weeks prior. Am I not allowed to spend some time with them?” he asked, his voice increasingly getting more tense and on the verge of breaking. “You got to keep me almost all the other days before that, Arthur. I am allowed to have a life outside this relationship you know?”

Arthur stood up and turned around to face away from him. He struggled to find words for his frustration and was combing his brain for a reply. It seemed that with the way Francis said his piece, it would make anything he said in response sound unreasonable and demanding. He groaned.

“I know that.” Was all he could manage. He frowned heavily and walked towards the cupboard where his liquor was. He heard a small “…of course…” from Francis as he grabbed a bottle and a glass only to start pouring himself a bit of bourbon.

The silence that followed was so heavy that Francis couldn’t help but just sit on the small armchair at the corner of their room. He leaned back heavily and threw his head back against the back of the couch, then sighed and closed his eyes. He could hear the soft sound of liquid pouring into a glass and Arthur setting the bottle down on the wooden desk. He could hear the quiet gulping sounds from Arthur’s drinking. He could even hear the soft whirring noise of the radiator and the faint, muffled noises outside that were leaking through the window. He sighed once more.

“I’m sorry” he whispered. This was routine too. He would apologize. He would always apologize just so they could finally make up. He was the type who couldn’t sleep unless they were on good terms. So, he would apologize. Always.

“I’m sorry Arthur.” He repeated firmly and didn’t open his eyes or made a move to look at him.

He waited.

Soon he heard shuffling and movement towards him. He stayed still. It was coming and he knew it.

Finally, he felt the soft hand on his shoulder and the slow adding of Arthur’s weight on top of him. His legs adjusted so he would catch Arthur slowly latching on to his lap. He waited a bit more and soon felt soft lips on his cheek. His hand naturally moved to pull Arthur closer by the waist. He let off a soft breath and opened his eyes, only to be greeted by those soft green ones, looking at him intently. His hand squeezed Arthur’s waist and he lifted his own chin up, leaning into Arthur’s proximity. Arthur took the cue and leaned down to kiss him.

He kissed back softly but keenly, and softly grunted. His lips moved with a slow need. He deepened the kiss a little more and now held Arthur with both hands on his thighs, gently squeezing. Arthur’s one hand pulled at his hair gently while the other rested casually over his shoulder. He could taste the bourbon on Arthur’s tongue.

This was how it always went. They would fight. They would get frustrated. They would stop, issue still unresolved. Arthur would drink and Francis would apologize. Then this. The heat would come. The touches would come. The passion takes over and he gets reminded on why he stays. He remembers how much he loved and wanted Arthur, and he would succumb. He would always surrender first and pull him closer to him, where he deemed Arthur belonged.

Francis groaned softly as Arthur’s resting hand began to move to unbutton his shirt while they continued kissing. He could already feel his pants tightening a bit and he was absolutely sure Arthur could feel that too. He felt the small smirk on Arthur’s lips in response to it. His face was heating up. His own slender fingers toyed with the button on Arthur’s trousers and popped it open. He was satisfied with the soft gasp he received in response.

“Francis….” Arthur whispered heatedly. Francis shuddered every time that Arthur would call his name that way. The needy, flustered breathlessness of it was like a drug to Francis. He hears it and he gets greedy to hear it more.

He couldn’t help how he squeezed at Arthur’s thighs before he pulled those pants down and exposed the pale, smooth skin of Arthur’s hips and legs. He growled softly. He would get to see it again. Arthur’s dangerous beauty.

“Mon amour….” He hummed softly. He took off those offending trousers and simultaneously, Arthur also slid Francis’s shirt off of him. Arthur’s beautiful fingers were now on Francis’s skin, exploring. Meanwhile, Francis gently moved his lips off of Arthur’s and moved more to his jaw and neck. He softly kissed one after another until he was at his nape. He then sucked softly, his hands now on Arthur’s ass, squeezing. Arthur stretched his neck and leaned his head to the side, letting out a breathy moan. Francis’s blood rushed.

All traces of the fight forgotten; Francis suddenly braces to lift Arthur. The other man must have felt it coming and moved to wrap both legs around him as Francis stood. He gently set the Brit down onto the bed and crawled atop him. His hands slid down to hold on to Arthur’s knees to hold his legs up, his lips still on Arthur’s neck, paying it the attention it deserved. He licked softly and nibbled at his skin. Arthur let out a breathy and flustered chuckle before whispering. “Git… don’t leave too many marks.”

He laughed softly as well before gently starting to rub their members together. He pulled back to look at Arthur’s face and wasn’t disappointed. He was greeted with such a lewd, erotic expression while Arthur panted and bit his lips, eyes closed, a couple soft moans escaping him.

“Mine” Francis mumbled.

That was that. Another cycle continues of them solving their problems through this, yet again. Francis heavily disagreed with this at first but after a few times of their arguments ending this way, his body craved it in a sick, twisted way. Each time they would fight, it would feel like his body anticipated the heat. As if it was automatic. There were times he found himself aroused by their arguments as he knew what came after. He hated it. He loved it.

-END OF CHAPTER 1-

#axis powers ヘタリア #axis powers hetalia #aph #aph france #aph england #francis bonnefoy #arthur kirkland #fruk #ukfr #fanfiction #ooc #munfics #renaissance #chapter 1

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

Sniper/Spy request #2

Here it is: "Spy draws Sniper and the Aussie finds out."

"Mh…"

No alarm clock? Oh, yes, it was Saturday.

He opened his eyes.

The light outside was faint, turning the sky from blue to pink. It was the early morning and the Aussie rolled on his bed to push away the blanket. It was summer and already warm enough for him. He closed his eyes but after long minutes of waiting, he did not fall back asleep.

Well, better get up and ready up the laundry or something, before the rest of the base woke up.

First things first. Clothes.

Sniper climbed down his bunk bed and grabbed a shirt as well as a pair of trousers. He went to the sink and splashed some water on his face to better wake up.

Now glasses, hat, and let's go to the base.

The Aussie stepped out of the van and turned to face the base when-

"The hell…?"

There was a silhouette. It was far away, a man sitting on a little boulder. It wasn't the first time that Sniper had seen it. But usually the silhouette disappeared before he thought about acting about it.

However, that day was a Saturday, the Aussie hadn't anything else in mind but the usual chores. He went back to his van and grabbed his kukri. Whatever lunatic was over there surely couldn't be one of his mercenary colleagues. And the base was in the middle of nowhere, so whoever was there had driven for more miles than was reasonable, making them thus, a lunatic.

Sniper walked to the silhouette on the boulder and as he got closer, the tension on his body melted away. He recognised the pinstripe pattern on the trousers, he recognised the white shirt and mask.

"Bonjour, Sniper." The man said in his native tongue, still giving his back to the Aussie.

[Good morning, Sniper]

"What the hell are you doin' here this early? And on yer own?"

"Capturing the colours."

"What?" As Sniper got closer to the Frenchman, he saw that he was holding a sketchbook and drawing. "You're drawin'?"

"Mh-hm."

"With a black pen."

"Very observant, Sniper."

"What colours are you capturin' if you're drawin' in black and white?"

"Look in front of you."

Sniper raised his eyes from over Spy's shoulder and looked at the rising sun. The colours were stunning, Spy was right. The hints of orange through the pink early morning was a treat for the eyes.

"Yeah…" Sniper looked at Spy again. "What the hell are you doin' now?!" The Frenchman had lit a cigarette and was now burning the page of his sketchbook with his lighter. "You lunatic…"

Spy slowly turned to his colleague.

"Says the man who is investigating a shadow he saw from the confines of the van he calls home at some terribly early hour of the morning?" He cocked an eyebrow and smiled. Sniper rolled his eyes up with a grin. "You are a lunatic too, mon ami."

[My friend]

"Guess I am." Sniper chuckled.

"Coffee?" Spy took a thermos that was on the ground.

"Oh, why not." Sniper watched as Spy poured the hot beverage into two cups. "You were waitin' for someone?" He asked as he raised an eyebrow. The presence of the second cup surprised him.

"Oui."

"Oh, I can leave you if you want."

Spy chuckled and sat at the edge of the boulder.

"Pray take a seat."

The Aussie obeyed and took the cup that Spy handed him.

"Thanks, eh."

"You are welcome."

They both took a sip.

"I'll drink quickly and I'll be on my way." Sniper said.

"Oh, are you on a schedule?"

"No but you said you were waitin' for someone. I don't wanna be the third wheel, eh." Sniper put the cup to his lips.

"You already are."

… and the coffee nearly sprang out of the Aussie's mouth. He gulped down and turned his head left and right trying to look for the guest that Spy was awaiting. No one was in sight, and the base was far behind them.

"Where's your mate?"

"Sitting right next to me." Spy turned his eyes to Sniper's and smiled.

"Me?"

"Oui."

"What?"

"It has been weeks of me waking up this early, especially on the weekends. The season is showing its best colours early. Look at the pink, the rose, the fuscia, the peach, the flamingo and strawberry…" Spy pointed in front of them and his finger trailed in lines, as if he was painting the canvas of the sky itself. "Oh, and from the peach, then it all leans towards more orange tones, doesn't it? Coral, and yet tangerine, maybe even a fiery tiger tint sometimes, ah..."

Sniper looked at his colleague as he went on and on. The colours he was describing made his irises even lighter...

"That's a lot of words to say pink and orange, Spook."

"Because it is so much more than that. Like anything else, or anyone else."

"Like you?" Sniper asked.

"And you." Spy answered.

Silence fell just the time for them to take a sip.

"So you come here early, draw the sky and then burn the page?"

Spy chuckled and raised his eyes to Sniper.

"Non, I do not. I usually do not draw the sky."

"Oh? What're you doin' here then?"

"The colours of the sky help my nerves."

Sniper frowned as he changed his position to sit cross legged. He did not really follow his colleague.

"They are warm and soft colours, non?"

"Yeah."

"Don't you find it soothing? Here, far from the base and the rest of the lunatics that our colleagues are, just you, your thoughts, and the colours that God chooses to display for the day. It brings some peace to me and helps me draw."

"I didn't know you liked drawin'."

"Neither did I until there was a picture that I could not get out of my mind."

"What is it?"

Spy took a deep breath. He was sitting at the edge of the boulder, one leg on the other, his varnished Italian shoes dangling off of it.

"A sight of poetry on a scruffy canvas."

Sniper chuckled.

"You make no sense."

"Oh but I do." Spy insisted. "I do, but only to myself, I guess. Such things are hard to describe if you don't feel them yourself."

Sniper turned his head and realised that his colleague was staring at him with something painted on his face, an emotion that the Aussie didn't manage to decipher. His eyebrow twitched, but then he blushed as he thought that he himself had just been staring for a few seconds. He looked away into the immense desert.

"One day, God graced me with this vision." Spy started. "A man, taller than me and his shoulders broader than mine. It was an evening in a crowded place. There was a lot of noise, people's chatter, their laughter, and the room smelt of cheap beer. But I could see only him." Spy paused to take a sip of his coffee. "That man, he was closing his eyes and whispering in the ear of a golden dragon. It breathed a fire that did not burn, a fire that was… enchanting. It was shy, woody threads of air that tied a knot here." Spy put his gloved hand on his chest and sighed. "His eyes were closed and his lips moved with such mastery, such elegance… Even the dragon was melting in his hands, under his agile fingers."

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow. Had Spy drunk something odd, or did he replace his nicotine for something else in his cigarette that morning…? He seemed normal enough, his eyes were clear, no signs of funny cigarettes in his breath.

"Sniper?" The Frenchman hadn't moved his eyes away from the Aussie.

"Yeah?"

"I fell in love that day."

The Aussie's body temperature soared as his cheeks burst in crimson.

"With a guy?"

"Oui."

"Who's… talkin' to dragons…?"

Spy chuckled.

"It is a metaphor."

"Ah…" Sniper exhaled, relieved that his colleague wasn't high or drunk, he was just being a bit too poetic for the Aussie. "So you fell in love with someone?"

"Oui."

"If it's all a metaphor, I guess it was with a woman?"

"Non."

"Oh…" Sniper nodded to himself and looked away. The way that Spy was looking at him was impressive. It was almost as if the Frenchman could read Sniper's thoughts straight through his eyes.

"It happened months ago now, on a Friday evening." Spy went on. "We were celebrating the victories of the day in the common room. Some of us were playing music."

"Yeah, as always."

"One of us is the one I described." Sniper's eyebrows jumped. "And since that day, I could not get that image out of my mind. That fool who was playing did not know that a few metres away, the old man that I am was falling in love. With what, you ask? The way his brow furrows when the intensity of the music gets to him, the way he gently rocks his hips along his instrument to better flow on the rhythm, and the way his eyes are always hidden behind a thin, yellow curtain of mystery."

"Woah… Really deep in love you are, eh. And I didn't know you liked blokes."

"It is a curse."

"Why?"

"I can see beauty in a lot of things and in a lot of people, yet my work requires me to see none."

"Hey, you can still see beautiful stuff and say 'it's beautiful'. You're not gonna get shot for that."

"I guess you are right."

They took a break from the conversation to finish their coffee. Sniper looked at his colleague who was looking at the horizon and the sky. He didn't know Spy could be that poetic. Maybe that's why he was so secretive, maybe he just didn't want people to know that about him. But then why would he tell Sniper?

"So you drew that vision you had in your head in your book?" Sniper asked and Spy gave a sad grin.

"If only I did." He answered. "I have tried. I have filled sketchbook after sketchbook of it. But in the end, it is never good enough and I end up destroying it."

"You burn all your sketchbooks?" Sniper asked, surprised.

"I burn the pages, oui. And then I am left with an empty sketchbook."

"Why d'you do that? I'm sure you're gettin' better at drawing. Practise makes you good, you can't get worse."

Spy sighed.

"Perhaps you are right. But seeing that person on a sheet of paper tears my very heart apart. When I finish drawing and I look at it, I am tempted."

"To do what?"

"To keep the picture with me, at any time. But it is too risky, what if someone found it? So instead, I destroy the evidence of my crime."

"Hey, quit the drama. You're just in love and can't get the bloke out of your head. Makes sense."

"I suppose so." Spy answered and raised his eyes to Sniper. "Are you not curious to know who it is?"

"Well, if you wanna tell me, go ahead. If not, it's fine. Feels special enough that you tell me you have feelings, and for a bloke at that."

They exchanged a smile.

"What about you, Sniper? Is there anyone in that wild heart of yours?"

"Wild? Heh, maybe." Sniper blushed and averted his eyes. He stared down at the empty coffee cup he was nervously fiddling with.

"Here." Spy handed him the sketchbook.

"Why're you givin' me your book?"

"I am giving you a choice." Spy said. "You can either draw him or her here, or you can have a look at my latest drawing of that special man."

"So it's either I get to know who you fancy or you get to know who I fancy?"

"Oui, why not?" Spy smiled. "On my end of the bargain, I have nothing to lose."

Sniper raised an eyebrow.

"I cannot have more with him but short chats, like we are having now, you and me. I sometimes see him and try my best to not stare when all I wish is to take in his charms for as long as I can."

Sniper smiled.

"Y'know, you sound really different."

"I don't believe I do." Spy answered. "I think that you never heard me on such topics before."

"True…"

"So, what do you choose?" Spy put the sketchbook and the pen on the ground, between them both.

"Spook, listen, I-I can't really tell you who I fancy…" Sniper removed his hat and scratched his head. "It's complicated… It's just… I like it when I see him and-"

"Him?" Spy repeated.

"Y-yeah… Oh, bugger I've said too much already…" Sniper let a hand sink on his face from his brow to his chin.

"Then have a look at the sketchbook to see who is in my heart."

"You sure?"

"I think so."

"Not gonna regret it?"

"What could happen, hm?" Spy asked. "The second you will know who it is, he will too and this weight I have been carrying on my shoulders for months will be no more."

"Why tell me who it is rather than go and see him to tell him straight."

"Open and see. I think you will have the answer to your question." Spy took his cigarette case out of his inner pocket and lit one.

"Alright…" Sniper took the sketchbook and put it on his lap. "You really sure?" He looked at Spy. The Frenchman held the cigarette between his fingers and exhaled the smoke elegantly between his parted lips. He nodded.

Sniper took a deep breath and opened the book. Spy hadn't destroyed it yet, it must have been his latest book then.

"Holy…"

The Aussie looked at the sketches, page after page. It was the same face drawn from different angles, with different expressions. Spy really had an obsession with that man, it was the only thing drawn there covering all the paper!

Sniper blushed intensely and as the sweat broke on his brow, his heart started pounding in his chest.

And as Sniper turned yet another page, he started to understand Spy's metaphor. The man wasn't whispering in a golden dragon's ear, he was playing the saxophone. The dragon wasn't breathing threads of air, it was music, and the thin, yellow curtain of mystery was nothing else but the Aussie's yellow tinted aviators…

Sniper shut the book for an instant and took a deep breath.

"Now you understand." Spy simply said.

But Sniper was boiling on his seat, on the bare ground. So that was the man Spy had been fancying? For months? How did Sniper not see anything coming? How did he not guess?

Maybe because Spy wasn't alone playing the game of averting his eyes whenever they got too close to Sniper. Maybe because there was a reason as to why the Aussie needed to close his eyes when he played the saxophone on Friday. Maybe because if he kept his eyes opened, he would stare at the man he was playing for? Maybe the movement of his hips as he played betrayed him?

Sniper grabbed the pen and quickly found an empty page in the sketchbook. Spy's eyebrows jumped but he remained mute and didn't dare ask what was going on. After all, his colleague seemed way too agitated to be able to answer.

The Aussie scribbled and scratched the paper recklessly. He could sketch too, in his own style. He had learnt from drawing animals, and that skill he had transposed it to humans too.

It took him a few minutes and when he was finally done, he slammed the book shut and put it down between Spy and him.

"May I?" Spy asked and Sniper nodded, still not making eye contact. The Frenchman put his cigarette between his lips to hold it there, and took the book between his gloved hands. He opened it and turned the pages until the style changed. "Mon Dieu…" He whispered to himself when his eyes fell on the portrait of the man who made Sniper's heart beat.

There was an atrocious second of agony before Spy shut the book and put it away.

"Do you smoke, Sniper?"

"Huh? Y-yeah, sometimes…" Sniper's brain was turning faster than a hamster in a wheel trying to understand why Spy would ask that.

"Good." Spy leaned on his colleague and took a deep breath. Sniper was petrified.

"Why?"

"This is about the only bad habit I have." Spy answered. "That, and singing when I cook. Some previous partners did not like it."

"Why're you tellin' me all this?"

"Because, given the portraits in that sketchbook, it might be a good idea to start knowing each other better."

"Ah, yeah… Ok…" Sniper cleared his throat. "Well uh… I-I don't really know what to say."

"Then don't say anything."

"Isn't that unfair?" Sniper asked.

"It is not about fairness." Spy answered. "It is about feeling the best way possible."

"C-can I do somethin'? I feel like-"

"Oui."

"But you don't know what I was goin' to do?"

"If doing that thing makes you feel better, then pray do. I do not wish to know more." Spy answered and closed his eyes as his head rested on Sniper's shoulder.

"Right." Sniper opened his arm and wrapped it around Spy's frame. He let his hand hang in the air next to Spy's hip. It might be too much. Yeah, yeah it was, he shouldn't have been so upfront, he should've -

"Merci." Spy answered.

[Thank you.]

He pulled Sniper's hanging hand to his hip and snuggled closer to him.

"Spy?"

"Oui?"

"Thanks."

"The pleasure is all mine."

"Nah, really. Thanks." Sniper leaned his head on top of Spy's.

They stayed there, perched on that boulder for long minutes that felt like a flash. The temperature rose slowly in the desert while the air was already very hot between them.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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spiderling-space · 4 years

Note

hello, welcome to the fandom! may i please request headcanons of Floyd, Kalim, and Rook with an s/o who is usually very shy and in musical theater, but has a very loud singing voice and always gets the main role? thank you!!! ~~~ (ps. i cant wait to see how all of your writings turn out!!!! :00000 )

Hey anon! Do you have any idea how much I love High School Musical? This request made me think of Gabriella Montez in first HSM movie. So I based the shyness off of her and expect to read some lyrics from HSM songs.

I have no regrets hahshssh

PS I didn’t check google for lyrics; I memorized most of the songs

PPS I just picked a random names for the musicals

Putting them under the cut because they are long

🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐

Floyd Leech

Land dwellers believe every mermen/mermaid have enchanting voice. While it’s not true, it is highly regarded to have a beautiful voice in Coral Sea.

He planned to give a surprise visit to his Shrimpy.

When he goes to their room, he doesn’t find them there yet there is a faint sound coming from their dressing room.

“I gotta do what’s best for me; You’ll be okay; I got to move on and be who I am; I just don’t belong here I hope you understand; We might our places in this world someday but at least for now I gotta go my own way..”

Floyd thinks his Shrimpy wants to break up with and his mood turns sour.

“SHRIMPY!”

A shriek comes inside dressing room.

(Y/N) opens the door while holding a perfume/cologne bottle on the other hand, face flushed.

“Floyd, you scared the hell out of me!” (Y/N) notices him pouting. “What happened?”

“Shrimpy, do you really mean it?” — “I can explain.” — “If you want to break with me, you could have just told me.” — “What? I like you too much for it. I was just practicing for the show. See this perfume/cologne is my mic.” — “Show?” — “I’m the lead actress in Starry Nights The Musical!” (Y/N) finished their sentence so fast that they doubted Floyd understood them. All they want is to bury themselves in their sweater.

Floyd has no idea what a musical is so (Y/N) needs to explain it then their role in it.

Floyd is shocked and amused to see their shy partner, who get flustered even when they want to ask a question in class because people staring at them, can go on a stage and sing their heart out without any issue.

Floyd wants to see (Y/N) on stage and gets himself invited to their show.

(Y/N) is worried that Floyd will jump on stage to hug them in the middle of musical but invites him - also Azul and Jade - to their show, securing the best seats. (Y/N) hopes Jade or Azul would prevent Floyd from jumping on stage.

Lastly, since Floyd heard (Y/N)’s voice, expect him to drag them in secluded corners in NRC and hug them tightly, demanding a one-person musical.

🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is throwing a party in his dorm and of course, (Y/N), his partner, is invited.

Knowing their shyness, Kalim stands by their side, offering some sort of comfort if they get flustered too much for their comfort.

During one of parties, (Y/N) feels as if everyone’s eyes on them and asks Kalim if they could go somewhere private.

Kalim tried to distract them by talking about random things.

Accidentally (Y/N) mentions their new role in upcoming musical called A Whole New World and how they are nervous about it because they got the lead role.

Kalim has never heard of it but he just wants know all about it. So he asks about everything from the plot of musical to what made them want to star in the musical.

When he learns being the star of musical in The Narrowway is (Y/N)’s childhood dream and that they have been working hard and managing to get lead roles ever since then, he just gets excited for them.

Kalim is there to support their partner.

(Y/N) tells Kalim that their parents gave them moral boost and helped them to feel at ease when they are on stage.

Since their parents aren’t with them, Kalim tells (Y/N) that he will do the same.

Next day - Jamil stopped Kalim to go at 2 am-, Kalim goes to Crowley and tells that he wants to build a musical theater in Scarabia, Crowley accepts it with a some amount fee.

Thanks to magic, the theatre construction is done in 2 days and Kalim surprises (Y/N) with it.

Until the day of (Y/N)’s musical, they practiced in the theatre in front of Kalim everyday.

“We’re soaring; We’re flying; There is not a star in heaven that we can’t reach; If we’re trying yeah we’re breaking free...”

Kalim applauds after every performance, solidifying (Y/N)’s confidence.

On the day of the musical, Kalim will fill (Y/N)’s room with flowers and good luck wishes.

Expect to hear praises from him everyday for a long time.

Kalim will definitely ask you when your next show is so you two can practice again! Oh by the way, the theatre in Scarabia is named after (Y/N)

🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹

Rook Hunt

“Everyday of our lives; Wanna find you there, wanna hold on tight; Gonna run while we're young and keep the faith; Everyday; From right now, gonna use our voices and scream out loud; Take my hand; Together we will celebrate...”

Rook coaxes (Y/N) into singing the song they would sing in A Night in City of Lights.

Rook already knows (Y/N) is going to be The Star of the musical.

He is ecstatic that people will see the beauty of his partner, hear the beauty of their voice and be in the presence of their beauty.

Rook is already getting excited from just thinking about it.

Rook, as a man of romance and hunter of love and beauty, starts serenading a poem to (Y/N) right there right then.

(Y/N) freezes on spot, blush covering their cheeks. They try to hide their face with their hands but Rook takes their hands with his own and plants kisses on them.

He finds (Y/N)’s flustered state extremely beautiful; in fact any state of (Y/N) radiate beauty.

Rook knows (Y/N) is shy. He thinks they are worried about how people will react to them.

“Don’t worry, mon amour, if there is one person who disrespects you, I’ll help them to see your beauty!” — “No no there is no need!” — “Ahh, they will appreciate it as well!”

Well there is no point of arguing with Rook at this point.

Rook attends every practice (Y/N) has with the crew. Seeing his face during practices encourages (Y/N) to try their best and of course hope for the best.

On the day of the musical, Rook does the make up and hair of (Y/N). He can’t let his beloved to go on stage with second rate make up and hair!

He sits in the front row with Epel who was persuaded to come with Rook.

When it ends, Rook gets up from his seat, clapping non-stop, singing praises with all he got. While at the same time, he scans the theatre with his eyes in case some are not applauding.

He spots 4 guys laughing among themselves instead of giving attention to the beauty, his partner, on the stage.

RIP to them

They attend the next show and this time those 4 men are among the ones appreciating (Y/N)

#floyd leech #kalim al asim #rook hunt #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #prefect #vice prefect #headcanons

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punz4lyfe · 4 years

Photo

Pokemon Journeys Episode 45. Let’s review:

1. How are the news reporters not dead yet in that flimsy helicopter in the middle of this apocalyptic event?

2. The fact that Team Rocket were able to reach out to Gigantamax Meowth to have him control himself and try to take on Eternatus absolutely speaks grand possibilities for both funny and awesome Team Rocket moments in the future in the Galar region! That, and Meowth’s knowledge of G-Max Gold Rush, too! Hopefully, the writers won’t miss out on these blatant opportunities.

3. I swear Leon and Charizard cheated death like 4 to 5 times in this episode.

4. The Ash vs. Chairman Rose fight was really done, with Ash using Pikachu and Riolu’s speed to take advantage of Ferrothorn and Copperajah’s bulk and put them against each other. In addition to that, Rose shows how much of a villain he is by smiling throughout the beginning of the fight with sadistic intent, even going as so far to command his mons to attack Ash and Pikachu and crush Riolu. Great display of character, writers! And, of course, as we’ve all been waiting for, Riolu’s evolution into Lucario. Absolutely done well, with Riolu showing his strong friendship with Ash and Pikachu by defending them against Rose’s mons, despite all odds being against his favor due to the sheer size and weight difference. Absolutely perfect. And then Lucario used his aura to tell Ash “Screw Vacuum Wave, I got the Poke-Hadouken, now!”, which was a sweet callback to Ash and Riolu’s aura bond in the latter’s debut appearance. And once the battle was over, Rose showed concern for his Pokemon and not for his failing plans, showing that he’s still human on the inside and is really just in a lot of turmoil due to the trauma he experienced as a child at the mines. So yeah, great moment of the episode all around! On the other hand though..... ugh.....

5. Goh vs. Oleana. Like I said in my last review, I was not looking forward to how this would turn out due to Goh’s win being obvious, and.... yeah, there are some problems. Compared to Ash and Rose’s battle, the action in this one was a lot less impressive. At the start, it was mostly just Raboot using Ember, only to get countered and splooshed by Water Pulse every time. When it actually picked up with Goh using the environment, leading to Raboot’s own evolution into Cinderace to finish Milotic off with Pyro Ball, it was still not done well, as Milotic was knocked out by Pyro Ball and a few consecutive Embers beforehand, which should NOT be enough to make it faint. Look, when Ash fought Rose, it took Pikachu and Riolu a good number of hits to push back Ferrothorn and Copperajah before both were finished off by Aura Sphere, a super-effective move. In this case, Milotic was taken out solely by A FEW attacks its strong against. That shouldn’t have done it in, especially with how untrained Raboot is compared to Ash’s mons. Not to mention, it also kinda digs further a little problem there is with Goh and Cinderace almost always winning/achieving every little thing they do that I’ll go further in-depth with my future blog over them. And while I’m happy Cinderace is back to his enthusiastic self (with some of Raboot’s coolness still left in) and the moment where Goh communicated with Raboot to use the environment for his preferred Ember attack was a good character moment between the two, the cons of this part of the episode kinda outweigh the pros. Moving on, however.

6. Sonia x Raihan? That’s.... kinda cute honestly.

7. Seeing Ash run around with a Lucario at his side is probably bringing a lot of fanfics to life. That, or Lucario and the Mystery of Mew flashbacks. Man, that was a good movie, wasn’t it?

8. Ahh, look at those five dorks gawk over each other and fist bump. It’s stuff like this that makes 2020 better.

9. Remember that part in the original Final Fantasy VII where Sephiroth attacked the whole gang with shockwaves before the fight against Bizzaro Sephiroth? The scene with Eternatus escaping Leon’s Ultra Ball gave me flashbacks to that. And I don’t even know why lol.

10. Oh my Arceus! The up-close shot of Eternamax Eternatus was honestly a little frightening!

11. Chairman Rose...pl-please get away from the helicopter windshield.... That’s just.... creepy.

12. Eternatus’ onslaught of Screw-U laser beams. At this point, it’s natural for Ash and Pikachu to take this kind of stuff in the face everyday.

13. Becoming the Sword and Shield legend? Yeah, that was expected. Look, when it comes to stuff like this in the anime, it’s about as obvious and cliche as it can get to the point it’s really no longer a bother to long-standing anipoke fans. And Leon? Please, my boi, stand down. You just want all the credit to yourself. (I’m only joking please don’t attack me fellow Leon fans)

14. The whole final battle between the good guys and Eternatus was alright. It was really cool seeing the Sword and Shield doggos’ signature attacks in the anime, though, it would’ve been cool for Ash and Goh to actually command them a little just like in the games. (and Ash’s whole thing with Nebby should prove that you don’t necessarily have to own a Legendary to command it in a crisis) It also nice for Pikachu, Lucario, and Cinderace to give Eternatus another three-way combo so that the doggos could have their opening. How it ultimately ended though.... well....

15. GOH’s REGULAR Pokeball caught Eternatus. I repeat, a REGULAR Pokeball from GOH caught Eternatus. Yeah......

16. Legendaries doggos, come back! I wanna see our dorks scratch behind your ears! Ah well, it’s more than likely they’ll return in the anime, given usual tropes and cliches.

17. Chairman Rose and Oleana are also definitely gonna make a return someday, no doubt about that. We still gotta wrap up Rose’s whole character with his childhood and father!

18. PROFESSOR SONIA!!!!! I STAN THIS SO FREAKING MUCH!!!!!!

19. Oh, Goh. You and your love for catching. Unfortunately, as the whole thing with Eternatus kinda proved, the anime is willing to have you able to capture Legendaries. With a plain Pokeball no less. You’re lucky I love you, my boy.

At with that, we’re done with the Darkest Day Arc! Pretty dope arc, ngl! While there were some things I felt were missed out, like Pikachu Gigantamaxing or Goh using mons other then Raboot/Cinderace, given how the episode ended, I feel there will be more of that kind of stuff in future Galar episodes. So that’s worth looking forward to you!

For the overall episode alone.... it was okay. Again, there were some things that kinda made it avoid being perfect (which sadly all involved Goh), but what we got was still great. The visuals and music were all amazing, there were a ton of great character moments, and for the most part, the action was intense and awesome! I’d give this episode an 8/10!

Now, to end things off, who else is excited for Mewtwo next week?!?!

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megamegaturtle · 3 years

Text

mon chou, mon chou, mon chou

pairing - draco malfoy/luna lovegood

raitng - m

words - 1,993 (complete)

summary - mon chou:1) A French term of endearment meaning honey or sweetie; literally translates to "my cabbage"2) The time Draco helps Luna steal cabbages from her neighbors

(For the Rare-Pair Judged by the Cover flash comp in the Dumbledore's Armada Discord; Prompt: Crimes and Cabbages; Winner for Host's Favorite)

ao3/ff.net

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Magic thrives in the midnight hours when the world sleeps. Magic is at work, too, when Draco Malfoy knocks on Luna Lovegood’s door. He lingers on her doorstep, nerves fluttering under his skin like both butterflies and bats. Draco longs for fresh air that is not within Wiltshire. He longs for company that sees through him and what he could be rather than his past mistakes and follies.

Draco knocks on the door, the oak firm under his knuckles. The knob twists as if Luna had been waiting on the other side for him. She greets him with the same hospitality she would if she’d provided an invitation.

“I am torn between saying ‘good evening’ or ‘good night’ at this hour,” she muses with a smile. “But, hello, Draco.” Her voice catches between sleeping and awake.

He clears his throat before leaning on her door frame. “Fancy a walkabout, Lovegood?”

She nods and grabs her coat, granting his wish like a creature of the night. Luna leads him down a path only her feet have traveled.

The forest and moon witness them together, standing shoulder to shoulder with all the world’s creatures as their eyes. Down the path they wander, Luna’s hum filling the silence as she carries a basket at her side. They stroll passed a farmhouse before discovering a vegetable patch guarded by Britain’s loneliness scarecrow.

Luna does not fear scarecrows and enters to greet her old friend.

There’s a hum in the garden and a dance in her step as she inspects the perfect cabbage. She kneels in damp soil and unsheathes her blade. She peels back the outer leaves with tenderness, pats the head, and kisses its forehead like a baby.

“One cabbage, two cabbages, where can I find you? Mon chou, mon chou, mon chou,” she sings, off-key, but sweet.

Draco watches from the edge of the cabbage patch, his dragonhide shoes free of any mud. Her footprints lay heavy in the soil, weaving between pumpkin vines and corn stalks, looping around large, midnight-colored aubergines.

The night stills, but watches with bated breath.

The moon swallows Luna, soaking her in silver. She wears the moonbeams like a cape. Bright blue eyes find his across the darkness, and he can see the smile in them. Eyes are windows to the soul, but Luna’s are only labyrinths.

Draco can’t find any scorn or malice in her mazes.

“Cabbages don’t pick themselves, Draco,” she says, her voice drifting across the garden as if she speaks for it. Luna’s voice echoes from all corners and looms in his ears.

The soil squelches under his shoes, the sound reminiscent of spongy bodies and bloody puddles. But Luna beckons again and cares not what he remembers. Draco is at her side in fewer steps than he’d assumed, heart hammering out of sync as she serenades the cabbages.

“Three cabbages, four cabbages, oh how’d I’d like to know you. Mon chou, mon chou, mon chou.”

She saws the cabbage’s stem halfway before she snaps it free and the ringing crack reverberates in the air. She does not look at him as she moves onto the next one. It is a dance, the way she dips into a curtsy, her hand fanning out to her side as if she grabs the skirt of a ballgown. She sinks her knees into the soil again, unbothered by the moisture that sticks the fabric to her skin.

Draco sighs and charms his trousers so they don’t get wet. “Why are we stealing cabbages?”

Luna stops ruffling the leaves and gives him a sidelong glance. “Stealing implies we’re taking something that doesn’t belong to us.”

“Well, yes. The family that lives here might think we’re stealing their vegetables.”

She shrugs and returns to her work. “The fairies that live here said we could take whatever we need. They were here first.”

“And you always listen to fairies?”

“Yes. It’d be stupid to cross a fairy. They know things we don’t know. Wizards? We know just as much as them. More even.”

“Because fairies?”

She gazes at him, her head tilted to the side. “Oh, no, Draco,” she states simply, “it’s because you and I are intelligent.”

Draco nods but says nothing. Dirt packs under his fingernails. A rocky piece of soil pinches his skin. He pulls back the cabbage leaves in search of a head that’s smooth and green.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye as Luna walks further into the garden. She squats with some herbs and takes a sprig of mint. She holds it up to night sky, almost as if it is an offering to the moon who watches from her palace amongst the stars.

Draco isn’t sure when he came to her side again, but he was not called to be. He lowers himself beside her and plucks the herb from her hand, placing the sprig of mint behind her ear like a flower. Luna blinks with surprise, her hand gently touching the leaves as if rose petals.

“Thank you,” she whispers, wearing a faint smile. “This will help me keep cool.”

“Are you feeling warm?”

He tries to rest a hand on her forehead, but Luna jumps up and away, leaving Draco kneeling in the mud alone.

Her gaze is to the sky, her arms overhead as if she’s stretching. “Sometimes, I feel very warm when I’m with you. You take all the coolness when you occlude.”

The stare of the forest weighs heavily on Draco’s shoulders, the expectations haunting him from the shadows.

“All set?” he asks.

Luna fastens the buttons of her coat. “As a bone will ever be.”

The forest’s stare lingers as they walk along to Luna’s cottage. She still wears her spring of mint as if a treasured jewel. Her hum and their footsteps the only noise in the silence.

She invites him inside as if he has always belonged inside her cottage in the dead of night. The moonlight pushes him forward and closes the door as he crosses the threshold. Together, they place their harvest on her modest table. A warm fire crackles in the corner.

They scrub their hands in more silence at her sink. A cauldron bubbles on her counter with a nondescript potion. It smells like springtime and fresh lemon despite that autumn is to be winter next month.

“You have not slept,” Luna says.

“You steal vegetables from your neighbors,” he replies.

“Only wizard neighbors. Fairies gave permission.”

Draco swallows. “Do I—can I—” he says, but then stops.

He closes his eyes and inhales. The warmth of the cottage settles into his bones. Luna taps the counter in a steady rhythm that soothes his heart. He opens his eyes and gives her a deprecating smile.

“What is the unknown?”

Her lips purse together, and she rests a hand on her chin. She does not blink when she answers, the universe wide in her eyes. “The absence of known, but it has its own siren call.”

He laughs. “What does that even mean?”

Her gaze softens. She steps closer. The moonlight filters through her window, and outlines of enchanted wings rest on her back. “It means that I forgive you and I want you,” she says. “It means your unknown is known.”

Draco stops breathing for a second, but then confidence awakens in his chest. “Does that mean I can steal a kiss, mon petite chou?”

She chuckles quietly. “Stealing implies it’s not yours.”

In the moments that don’t add up, Draco crosses the arm’s length between them, kissing Luna on the mouth. She smells of mint and soil, but her touch is fire on his skin as she cups his face. He buries his fingers in her fine hair and their bodies meld together.

“Sleep with me,” she commands, and he obeys.

Like her muddy footprints, their clothes trail them as they make their way to her bed. He trips trying to get out of his trousers, and she is there to catch him with calm yet sturdy arms. They laugh as they fall into bed, her lips peppering his face with kisses. They are only vested in their undergarments.

He settles into the plush comforter, the scent of lavender encompassing them both. She leans over him, her hair a silky curtain that tickles his bare shoulder. Luna traces the soft skin under his eye. “I’m so happy that you’re here.”

He grasps her hand and kisses her palm. “You’re too good for me, Luna.”

“I am only as good as one’s idea of morality. To me, we are both good. I wouldn’t invite you in otherwise.”

Adoration wells in Draco’s chest, and he pushes himself up to kiss Luna again. He takes his time and savors each moment. There is no rush or need for frantic passion as his hands trail down the curve of her spine. He unclasps her bra and relishes in the feeling of her chest against his.

She giggles as he lightly glides his hand across the dip of her waist, but then he tugs her knickers off without a care in the world.

“Perfect,” he whispers with reverence. “Absolutely perfect.”

Luna does not hide her body and preens under the praise. Her fingers trace his forearm as she spreads her legs open. Her arousal perfumes the air.

“Touch me, please.”

In the soft glow from the moon, Draco teases her warm slit. His fingers slide inside her with ease, and there is nowhere more he’d rather be. He kisses her neck as he pumps his fingers inside of her, enjoying the way she moans. Her hand finds her clit, and together they bring her pleasure. She presses hard onto herself, her fingers moving in precise circles she’s traced a thousand times.

Draco matches her pace, the tension in the room mirrored in the locking bones of her body. Luna fucks herself on his fingers, and their hands bump into each other’s. She stops breathing, her back curving off the mattress. She smiles to the moon hiding behind the roof, her free hand intertwined with Draco’s. Her hips jerk, the tension of her body snapping as she rocks into his hand in a slowing descent. Her content sigh as she opens her eyes reminds him of a gentle breeze at the seashore.

With a breathy laugh, she reaches for him and palms his cock through his briefs. “Hi.”

He kisses her chest, sucks on the spot above her heart until he’s left a mark. Her fingers find his hair as he shimmies out of his pants. With a lightness that only comes with hearing Luna’s breath in his ears, Draco allows the warmth to encircle him as he enters her. He feels worthy of this moment, feels that he belongs to the witch beneath him.

Luna crosses her legs behind him and forces him to bottom out inside of her. She giggles as he groans into her neck, her hands gripping his shoulders to draw him closer. He rocks into her slowly, taking his time as the concept disappears. There is only now, only the feeling of Luna under him, meeting him stroke for stroke.

She touches herself again, blunt nails smooth against his cock as he fucks her. She squeezes tight, and Draco wonders if these are how constellations are made. Supposes the stars above come from moments where two people join as one. Her breath hitches again, her back curving. Her nipples skim across his skin.

“Draco,” she whispers, a ghost of a kiss on his shoulder.

Draco holds her tighter, finds her mouth to swallow her moans, steals her breath because she’s given it to him. He comes with her lips cool across his, her tongue soft and saliva sweet as she orgasms. He can feel her heart beating hard as he cuddles into her chest, finding home and purpose where his future has no crime, except for stolen cabbages.

#druna #hp fanfic #draco malfoy #luna lovegood #draco x luna #dmll #drabble #my fic #i'm really happy with this story!#i'm really glad i won host's favorite too!#eeee :D #also #totally old school on the tumblr by posting the whole chapter #I WILL ALWAYS DO THIS LOL #can't get it out of me

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we-always-hit-our-ass · 4 years

Text

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder Pt. 2 (Eugene Roe x Reader)

Part 1

Requested by @wolfers-stuff: “Can you please make a part 2 for 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'?...”

Author’s Note: One last farewell fic for y’all before I disappear. I apologize if the pacing or writing is wack, I’ve been trying to revise it- I’m also sorry for makin’ you wait this long, it was not my intention to. I hope you still enjoy this 💕

Words: around 8.3k

Disclaimers/Warnings: Angst witha happy ending, mild cursing, ooc Gene(??), and longass writing

Italics means the past or a memory

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Taglist: @deldontplay, @thatsonefishyboi,@noneofurbusinez, @meteora-fc, @gutsandgloryhere, @hihosilvers, @basilonely, @floydtab, @wexhappyxfew, @sherlollydramoine, @meganthesunflower, @3milesup, @jamie506101, @sunflowerchuck, @softlieb, @k-websters, @punkgeekchic, @speirs-crazy-ass, @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant, @runtdrummer, @fromtheoldtimes, @liebegott, @tvserie-s-world

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Carentan was successfully captured but work was just beginning for Gene. Countless men were taken in and out of the building where the medics were treating them. While it was better than getting shot at, it was still a far cry from somebody’s idea of relaxing.

Eugene sat wearily as he took care of men after men, but the stream never really seemed to stop. As much as Genie cared about the boys, a break would’ve been well appreciated by the medic. Chatter and the work kept Gene busy and soon his mind was focused on nothing other than what was in front of him.

That was probably why Eugene was so spooked when he heard a few light taps on the wooden frame behind him. A familiar light chuckle reached his ears and he turned around to see you with a smug smile carved on your lips. The cramped building felt just a bit more tolerable ever since you made your way to Eugene.

The tension that built up in Eugene’s soldiers dissipated faster the longer you were near him. Your presence was a blessing, and he stood by that statement. However, Eugene couldn’t help but slightly frown as he looked at the numerous men who still had to get treated. Carentan really did do a number on them, huh?

“As much as I want you by my side at all times, apparently being in a war doesn’t allow us to. I promise I’ll make it up to you, mon ange.”

Eugene’s reply held hints of disappointment and he directed his thumb towards his supplies and the men waiting to be treated. Yet you came closer and looked around the room before pressing an inconspicuous peck on his cheek. You leaned back to take in the slight red flush on Eugene’s cheeks before quickly crossing your arms.

“That’s what I came here for, Genie, y’know I will always try to make things a little bit easier for you.”

“If you’re saying you’re gonna help me patch all these boys up, be my guest.” Eugene lightly joked, shining blue eyes lighting up as he focused on your small grin.

“I thought you were just an ordinary paratrooper.”

“Genie, y’know I am, I just came here to tell you that one of the medics in Dog Company offered to help us. You’re working yourself out, take a break. I think you of all people need one.”

Eugene couldn’t help but let out a soft, relieved sigh as he leaned back. You let out a chuckle as you helped him up from his seat and you could already see his tired and worn out eyes brightening up just ever so slightly.

The two of you maneuvered your way through the building, finally making it out to the bright day. It was no surprise to say that you two spent the day laying soft kisses on each other’s skin, holding each other comfortingly in the secure enclosure of each other’s arms.

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Eugene frustratingly ran his hands through his black hair, his brows furrowed and teeth clenched as another memory of you ran through his mind.

He hated to admit it, he really did but it was no secret that all hope was gone after the first week of you being missing. It was then that they knew that the world had lost an angel on that day. Eugene would’ve never allowed himself to think of that just a few days ago. Everyone had seemed to have moved on, everyone else except him.

No one actually knew if you were dead, yes, but the idea of you returning became more far-fetched as the hours dragged on into days. Eugene had always used to cling onto the small string of hope that you would come back to them. But now Eugene couldn’t help but let that hope slip through his fingers and fall into the never-ending loop of despair.

The Cajun man would tell himself that he would soon get over it for it was just another aspect of war. The scars never really healed properly though, and once again Gene would find himself quietly lamenting on prior events in the dead of night.

Of course, he stopped that habit and learned how to choke it back down but still... It still hurt so, so, so much.

After his little dispute with Cobb, Eugene distanced himself from the company more than ever before. Many attempts were brought to bring back the Eugene Roe they once knew. The lone and quiet medic who still kept to himself but also the one who still shared a few smiles and laughs with them.

But as soon as they saw the lost and void look of the medic, all attempts would be forgotten. Then all the men could do was offer a few words of comfort before slowly walking away to leave Eugene to his thoughts.

While he wasn’t very vocal, everyone knew what was running through his head. The young man bottled all of his emotions up, and even with a brief mentioning of your name, he felt like all of his feelings would just combust and burst out of him.

Days bled into each other and it was all but a cycle of the same thing. Eugene couldn’t be described as nothing more than a hollow shell of his former self. He could’ve been a stone statue for all that he knew. As much as he tried to steer his thoughts of your well-being, it was inevitable that maybe some thoughts would slip by.

If you were actually dead… Was it quick? Slow? Somehow peaceful? Though Eugene particularly disliked those ones, he would do anything for just a hint of closure. It was all too much to bear and it wasn’t long before his heart became so heavy that his chest would cave in.

Eugene would then quickly drift towards never ending questions if you did make it out. Hypothetical thoughts and scenarios played through his head in a loop.

If you were somehow alive, then why was it taking you so long to get back to them? If you came back, what would be the first thing you would do? Would you cry, hug the person closest to you, crack those jokes of yours, or would you take your time to look for him? Perhaps pull him into your embrace, or maybe even kiss him—

And that’s when he would stop himself. Eugene knew that if he continued to think of it, he knew it would just break him more if he ever found out that you were taken away from them.

You were a beautiful flower, the flower that he could admire and the flower that gave him happiness. Your vibrant petals and graceful stem flowing ever so gently in the wind. Yet you were plucked from the ground right before his eyes. His beautiful flower, his ange.

The love of his life reduced to nothing but a mere memory— a dream that will never come true.

Before he knew it, faint footsteps were heard as somebody approached him. Eugene didn’t look up as he continued to let thoughts swarm his head, occupying the vacant space.

He could feel someone sitting beside him and he ever so slightly scooted away. It was only until he heard a familiar voice ring out in his ear did he look up.

“Gene?” Babe’s concerned face was evident but Eugene’s cold indifference was more.

Eugene stared at the Philly man for a few more seconds before glancing back down, his back hunched over with his hands intertwined.

“Gene… How— How are you, buddy?”

“Things could be worse,” Eugene responded curtly and Babe’s eyebrows furrowed more.

He knew what Eugene was thinking about. He was also one of the very few who could talk about you to him without getting the cold shoulder.

“Everyone’s worried about you, Gene. Can’t you see that?” Eugene only offered a small glance at his friend before turning his eyes back to the snow-covered ground.

He could feel Babe scooting closer and hear his soft, exasperated sighs. Eugene lifted up his head to give him an empty stare, as if to say for him to continue. Babe leaned his head back as he fiddled with his thumbs.

“What is it—”

“We’re really trying our best, Gene. Y’know… To make you slightly okay. It ain’t much, but you have to understand that we don’t want you... We don’t want you like this anymore.” Babe continued, lightly motioning his frigid hands toward Gene’s form. Eugene stayed silent once more and the air grew stale.

No one was around, and the sounds of Babe’s words were only amplified by the empty space. Eugene couldn’t find a response for Babe, how could he? Everything was just hard, even when they shouldn’t be. For now, it was all just too much for the Cajun medic.

“I know, Heffron.” It was all he could say to him at this moment.

“Well.. I’m glad that you do. But… For now—” Babe offered Eugene a hurried glance as he leaned his head back more.

Words were stuck in his throat and he couldn’t find it in his heart to say them to Eugene. But he needed to. And so he continued.

“Genie— I think… I think it’s best if you… Just— Forget about her for now—”

“No.”

He responded immediately. Eugene looked hard into the pleading eyes of Babe, and his face hardened for just a second before it softened once more.

“But Gene—”

“No…”

It was softer this time, almost like a leaf falling to the earth below— yet however Eugene’s husky voice held intensity. Babe didn’t even know if he heard it, but it was clear that Eugene did. The medic shook his head slightly and his vacant stare was replaced by a look that could be described as longing and miserable.

Babe got the memo and slowly got up from his spot. He offered a comforting hand on Eugene’s shoulder but Eugene didn’t mind one bit. Babe stood silently beside Eugene, offering slight comfort to the Cajun man. Babe stepped back slowly and made his way back to the main building.

He offered one last look to the unmoving figure of his friend before reluctantly continuing on his path. The loud crunching of snow that once occupied the space faded away with each second. It wasn’t long before it turned silent, and Eugene was left to his thoughts once more.

Eugene remembered a time where when he still thought of you, butterflies and warmth filled his stomach and a bashful smile would replace his previous expression.

But now those butterflies were replaced by a sharp feeling of agony. No longer the warm and comforting feeling he once knew when his mind drifted towards you, but rather a deep, overwhelming feeling of despair that stayed forever in the pit of his stomach.

The thin lines of his lips would turn down every time it happened. He couldn’t even breathe at this point, taking deep breaths in hopes to recover, but it never worked. If he could, Eugene would’ve already screamed out all his worries and pain until his vocal chords were raw.

The decrepit stone buildings made him trapped and the frigid atmosphere of Haguenau didn’t help him at all. But Eugene knew that it wasn’t the weather that was the problem. More or less, it just contributed to an already hopeless morning, afternoon, evening, or night. The days were gloomy and held no life and Eugene associated most of it to your disappearance.

Eugene felt at bliss whenever he was with you, for you were his small beacon of joy during all of this. You made everything more tolerable and happy that it actually was. No matter how grim the situation, your mere presence made everyone’s days brighter.

But Eugene lost the one thing that kept him going, and he couldn’t do anything about it other than shove past it or dwell on it a bit longer. He didn’t like either options.

Eugene really had no clue as to how he’s still holding on. For someone who was realistic and almost pessimistic at times, Eugene couldn’t bear letting the thought of you returning go. As impossible as it seemed now to everybody, Eugene never let that thought falter too much. And though Eugene hated it when a memory of you ran through his head, he made an effort to not forget those either.

It was really one of the few things that you left behind.

But now only constant flashes of memories occupied where you once were. Though he loved the silence with all of his heart, it now only served as a constant reminder that you weren’t there with him. It festered in his stomach restlessly and anything and everything reminded him of your absence.

But of course Eugene still loved you, his love for you was all but forgotten. It’s just… Almost funny how the world still manages to continue. Eugene didn’t even think that was possible, how it goes on and all.

Even when you were gone. Eugene thought of Babe’s words and he told himself countless times that for once he should listen to him.

He just… He just couldn’t. But you—the person who always kept her head up during hard times— would’ve wanted him to move on.

You wouldn’t want him looking like this. Eugene could almost hear your concerned words and jokes that always cheered him up. He couldn’t help but crack a tight smile as he wondered at what could have been. Just when he’d thought this war couldn’t become worse, it did.

Eugene reminisced about the times he called you ‘mon ange’, the loving term of endearment taking another meaning.

He was too immersed that he couldn’t hear the footsteps coming towards him. Before he could delve any deeper in his speculations, Babe’s voice stops him. Eugene could see Babe’s figure just a couple steps away. The redhead’s face was still concerned and he waited idly before speaking.

“Let’s go, Gene.. Come inside, will ya?” Babe called out to him.

“Yeah.. Coming.”

Eugene sat in the same spot for just a few moments before he stood up. He looked back on what Babe said, maybe, just maybe— he’ll try to move on. Eugene couldn’t fathom the loss, as morbid as it was, he’d trade 10 men just to bring you back. God had other plans and Eugene wanted to scream at him for taking you too soon.

Why? Why? Why...?

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

It was one of those days where you and the company had time to rest and to say that you were overjoyed was an understatement. Settling on a spot that was private but still near, you and the Cajun man immediately loosened up. As the medic almost let his eyes close, you nudged him gently on the shoulder.

Eugene let out a questioning groan and as he slowly opened his eyes. Eugene’s eyes were met with you fumbling with the inside of your jacket. You were rummaging through it, looking for a certain something that might cheer him up.

Before Eugene knew it, you pulled out a chocolate bar, one that was surprisingly unbroken on smushed in any way. Eugene looked at you in amusement as his eyes glanced quickly between the bar and your closed eye grin.

“Look what I got, Genie! I found a candy shop nearby, thankfully no one managed to blast it— And I may or may not have snuck in and gotten a few bars.”

A mischievous glint flashed in your eyes as you offered Genie one of your many cheeky smiles.

“I gave some to the boys to share but I’m keeping the rest of it for us two. Genie— you have no idea how long it took me to find you so I could get you one of these. So you better be thankful.”

You scooted closer to him and you gently unwrapped the chocolate from its wrapper. You tenderly leaned on his shoulder and you can feel him lean his head on yours. You offered a broken piece out to him and he gladly took it.

Disbelief flashed across his face but it was washed away as soon as he once again laid eyes of your radiant face. Eugene gave you another small smile before popping the chocolate in his mouth.

After finishing the piece, the amused smile he had before slowly made its way to his face again.

“After all of this, instead of checking in on yourself, you went into a candy shop to get us chocolate?”

A light teasing tone with the tiniest hints of concern coated his words and you gave him nothing but a glance. Eugene let out a breathy chuckle that was only accented by his husky voice and familiar accent. You really couldn’t help but let out one of your own chuckles while your face heated up. You then broke off another piece and handed it over to the medic.

“I have my ways— And stop with the questions, just enjoy your chocolate, will you?” You replied, shoving more pieces of chocolate to him.

Eugene offered you one last glance and smile before looking forward and relishing in the sweet moment you two shared.

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

You didn’t know how long you were traveling, but it was obviously more than a couple of days. You lost a basic concept of time and all you focused on was how to get back to Easy. The snow made everything harder and you could’ve sworn you were already dead. The amount of times you almost got captured or shot were too many to count.

For now, you were just slowly relying on luck.

But you needed to get back to them, you desperately needed to. No matter how long it’ll take or how hard it’s going to be, you were determined to finally see them.

To see the boys. To see him. In times where you almost gave up, Eugene popped up into your mind. It was only then that you found the strength to keep traveling.

The crushing of the snow grew redundant and it wasn’t long before you grew sick of it. Your only support was the trees but you had already lost feeling in your limbs a long time ago.

Small fires were made during the night but they never lasted long. You got used to the biting air of the forest but of course you would do anything to get out of it.

It took a long time to get the Germans off your tail and it was even harder staying low. The instance of you falling into a hidden German foxhole still left you in disbelief and in shock. You luckily weren’t hurt and most of the injuries you sustained were minor and didn’t need any serious maintenance.

The forest was a maze; it was a wonder that you managed to make it out. But at least you’d die of hypothermia or starvation instead of a bullet wound. Either way, you still had to find Easy.

It’d felt so long since you were separated from them in Bastogne— waking up trapped in somebody else’s foxhole and only getting out to see that all of them were gone.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and you took a coat from a German you killed a few days ago. As much as it disgusted you that you were wearing one of your enemy’s clothes, it did keep you warm. So you sucked it up and put it over the coat you wore since you came into this icy hellscape.

You took shelter in the destroyed towns nearby, and you knew you’d find them soon. It’s been so long already and knowing them they were probably already done with their mission in Foy. From what you could remember, Haguenau was the next spot. Based on the map you stole a long time ago, you were pretty darn close.

If the cold wasn’t going to drive you mad then this certainly will. It wasn’t long before the sun set and night fell over the destroyed town. After finding shelter in a broken house, you immediately went to work on a small fire on the floor. The tiny pile of branches you gathered lit up into flames and a long sigh of exasperation fell from your lips.

“Holy shit— Finally…”

You brought your numb hands close to the fire and for once you actually felt warm. Maybe this time you wouldn’t have to put this fire out, maybe this time you can finally fall asleep for more than 3 hours. You continued to hold your hands close to the flames as you looked around your surroundings, flinching at every sound.

Sleep caught up to you though and you could ever so slightly feel the heavy lids of your eyes drooping, your cumbersome body slumped down against the long and your cold fingers gripped onto the fabric of your coat. You huddled closer into the little warmth that you have and your tense body relaxed.

Though where you lied was all but comfortable you couldn’t help your eyes from closing and your whole body from succumbing into sleep.

Not even a few hours later, your tired eyes open up and get used to the building around you. It wasn’t even morning, and the crack of dawn was just peeking around the corner. You let out a few grumbles into the silence and you huff, white puffs of air forming in the cold air.

The floorboards creaked as you stood up before centering yourself on the hardwood floor beneath you. The small fire was long extinguished and the burnt remains stayed on the floor. Your feet ached as if trying to get you back to settle down, even for just a few moments.

Overwhelming urges to go back to the broken down house bounced to and fro in your mind. But the strong desire to once again lay your eyes upon the company which you called family swiftly took over. A new surge of motivation flourished through you and the numbing ache you felt was soon nothing but washed out.

The cold air was just as overbearing and the chattering of your teeth was the only thing that your ears could pick up. It was slightly dark, and the sun just barely peaked over the horizon, and you longed for its rays to shine upon your frigid form. You could only long for so much though, so you chucked the thought away and carried on.

Large destroyed buildings loomed over you, and the soon to be bright sky made everything seem ominous. You brought your shivering arms to wrap around yourself, trying to take in as much warmth your cold body could offer.

Everything had a purpose in life, but you still don’t understand why life decided to fuck you up this much.

All you wanted to be back in Eugene’s arms, to hear his comforting voice, and to run your hands through his dark hair once more. You’ll do it. For him you’ll make it. Just for him to take you up in his embrace. That thought was more than enough to push you. You were so, so close. You could make it. You knew you could.

Each step was worth it and before you knew it the sun rose, the bright rays just peeking ever so slightly beyond the dead trees. This might be the only time that you’re the only one moving in the vicinity. If it weren’t for you chattering your teeth and not feeling anything in your body, this walk might’ve actually been calming.

If you planned correctly and only took a few breaks that are about 2 hours maximum, you could make it to Haguenau in the afternoon. You’ll finally see the boys and be reunited with Easy after being separated from them for more than a week. The thought filled you with warmth no coat or sun could ever give you.

But fucking damn the snow. It made everything harder than it needed to be. It was only two miles but yet the snow made it seem like 200. Hours went by and you took as little breaks as possible. Laying down on the snow with your back on a tree as you tried to reclaim your lost breath.

Things were serene almost. And by that you meant at least you weren’t getting shot at and trees weren’t exploding all around you.

Then you saw it— the ever so faint outline of what looked to be a small town. This was it, you thought. It was right there, just out of your reach. Your slow steps from before grew more frantic as you neared the grey looking town. You shrugged off your coat, you knew they would start blasting if they thought you were a German soldier.

The coat dropped limply to the snowy floor and your (E/C) picked up a few figures along the edge. It was so blurry, why was it so fucking blurry?

Shivering and huffing, you whispered words of encouragement to yourself, “Come on, come on. You’re almost there... You can make it...”

The two men you saw raised up their rifles to take aim at you, yet you couldn’t bring the strength to raise the icicles you called arms. Instead you kept shuffling forward. Your movement was sluggish and your coordination wasn’t the best at the moment, but you plowed on.

The figures held their ground and with each passing second, the cold wasn’t bothering you— it was the fear that you’ll get shot by your own friends.

Shoving the thought away, you instead focused on the town— no matter how blurry it was. Your knees and legs almost gave out beneath you, yet you somehow still found the willpower to hold yourself up. The soldiers gave each other a look as their eyes focused on your form.

Babe’s breath hitched as he recognized you. He immediately lowered down his weapon and threw his fellow paratrooper a wide-eyed look.

Your knees and legs almost gave out beneath you, yet you somehow still found the strength to hold yourself up. The soldiers gave each other a look as their eyes focused on your form.

Babe’s breath hitched as he recognized you. He immediately lowered down his weapon and threw his fellow paratrooper a wide-eyed look.

“Jesus Christ, lower your fucking gun, Lieb— It’s (Y/N)... It’s (Y/N)!” Heffron yelled vehemently into his friend’s ear.

Liebgott also dropped his gun, he squinted his eyes at you and his jaw grew slack. He was left in shock and all sorts of emotions shone throughout his face in the matter of mere seconds. A look was shared between the two men. After a brief moment of standing still to take the moment in, they broke out into a sprint.

Your body collapsed into them as they reached you, their two arms hoisting you up as you could only pick out a few words. (E/C) eyes grew weary and tired, and you simply let fatigue take over your being.

Liebgott and Babe grew increasingly worried and it wasn’t long before they panicked. They shook you hard and your chin was tilted up to meet their faces.

“She’s freezing—”

“Yeah no shit, Babe. C’mon we need to get her back into town and get her to Roe—”

Everything was fading but your chapped lips stretched into a faint grin. You could faintly see their faces, and you have never been any happier to see a person this much. Babe’s hand cradled your head as they slowly brought you up. Liebgott carried your limp body and brought one of your arms to hang over his neck.

The two men hurried so fast into the town and you couldn’t pick up anything other than fragments of sentences. Your eyes drooped and your teeth chattered unbelievably hard. Your head was pounding and everything was just a cacophony of various sounds, nothing made sense.

“She— passing out—”

“—here the— is Roe— Bring h— over here—”

Roe… You recognized that name. Genie, your Genie— Everything was such a blur, it was all chaos in your mind. But you’re here, and you’ll get to meet Eugene after how long. It was worth the wait, you’re going to finally see him.

Whatever was going on didn’t matter anymore and you tuned out the distant shouts and ruckus. Your eyes fluttered shut and your expression was nothing but content, after all, you had a certain Cajun man in your mind. The whole world went black and you inevitably passed out in the arms of Liebgott.

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

Everyone in Haguenau was utterly shocked when they caught wind of what happened. Others were in glee, some relieved and happy, but the majority was shrouded with a thick cloud of doubt and disbelief.

Questions were thrown left and right but no one could find a definite answer. All words that were about to escape were cut short at what was to come.

Rumors were turned into facts and all who rejected the idea could only gawk at the sight. Multiple eyes rake over the two men frantically yelling and running like their lives depended on it. But their focus was immediately averted to you— the weak soldier in the arms of Lieb.

It was hectic and no one knew what to do next, but the shouts of the fiery-headed man brought them out of their daze.

Desperate cries for the medic rang for a few moments and then after what felt like an eternity, the Cajun man arrived. It’s an understatement to say that his heart stopped as soon as his eyes ran over your unconscious form.

Caught frozen in the moment it was only when Martin practically shoved him into your direction did he start moving.

Nodding stiffly with his cerulean eyes blown wide open, almost everyone in the area rushed to the building where all of Roe’s supplies laid. The door busted upon and could’ve flown off it’s rusty hinges at that point, but everyone’s nerves were wrecked to oblivion.

The shuffling and the jagged huffs of air you released filled the air. They laid you on the wooden table in the center of the room, gingerly plopping your body on the rough surface.

Cold. You were so cold and barely hanging onto an inch of your life… Eugene felt himself grow more rushed and panicked with every move he took, yet he still proceeded each step with the precision and stability any medic wished they had.

He remembered to treat you with the utmost care and gentleness and carefully shrugged off your soddy coat. Removing his own, he dressed you his dry and warmer coat.

“Blankets,” Eugene uttered while looking into Lipton’s eyes

Lipton was too busy fretting over your being and when Eugene said the word, and he couldn’t make out a word. “Roe, what?”

“Sir, just give me blankets, please,” the medic practically keened.

The First Sergeant let out a hum of acknowledgement before rushing off to God-knows-where to get the blankets Eugene so desperately and quietly pleaded for. As soon as Lipton disappeared behind a corner, all of Eugene’s attention was on you.

Requesting hot water, Roe immediately soaked a towel in it. Removing excess moisture before letting it cool down for a few moments, he placed the warm towel on your neck. He poured out all his medical knowledge into action, he needed to keep you alive. Eugene needed to.

He couldn’t lose you again, he wouldn’t allow it.

His mind processed so many things, like how you suddenly appeared after everyone thought you… Thought you died. Appearing out of nowhere, collapsing, and in severe need of warmth. Nonetheless, you were alive and breathing. You were back and now all his answers have been answered.

With the heavy weight lifting from his chest, a new weight arrived and took its place. Right now, all he needed to do was to get blood circulating through your body and to keep you warm.

He just hopes he can deal with the emotions that would later come, and he most definitely hopes that you’ll make it out of this just alright.

“Roe. The blankets,” Lipton returned and in his arms were a heaping pile of blankets which would be more than okay.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Eugene thanked curtly as he took the heavy pile off his hands and placed them on the cold stone floor.

“Of course, Eugene,” while Lip had addressed him, his eyes were still glued at your shut eyes. The fatherly compassion in his face made Eugene feel warm for just a bit before taking a glance at your serene expression.

Eugene’s hands grabbed about four and laid them across your form, and he took two more to make a makeshift pillow. Tenderly raising up your head, he placed it under and let out a sigh in relief as he finished treating you. The soft rise of your chest reassured him that you were sleeping well, the frigid temperatures of your skin subsiding and returning to normal.

You’d be alright, you just needed to rest and wake up and Eugene couldn’t wait more for that moment to arrive. Loosely dropping the blanket he held tightly in his fist, Eugene made his way over to you. Everyone had crowded around the table but made space back when Roe told them to make room.

Everyone had crowded around the table but made space back when Roe told them to make room. They mimicked his actions, and stepped closer like before. They were all so nervous, but they all held caring and content looks in their eyes.

As time passed, more and more of the men left the building to go to their bunks. But every time they left, they made sure to spare you one last glance before retreating into the afternoon.

Soon enough it was only him, Babe, Lipton, Speirs, and Winters left in the building— the commanding officers talking amongst themselves while throwing concerned glances at you. Heffron opted to stay on the other side of the table, biting nervously at his fingernails.

“(Y/N) will wake up soon, right?” Heffron questioned, his voice quavering ever so slightly and Eugene turned his eyes to him.

Babe’s eyes were so filled with hope that Eugene couldn’t help but agree too— his own orbs begging for everything to be alright.

Everyone in the room kept watch for as long as they could, but it was only so soon that they had to attend to their own duties. Lipton definitely made sure to give words of encouragement and comfort to the shaken medic and soon he left with Winters and Speirs, the latter offering a stable nod of the head whilst leaving.

“Don’t worry Roe, (Y/N)... (Y/N) will be alright, she’s strong. (Y/N)’s stronger than anyone I know.”

“You… You think so?” The Cajun man carefully began as his dexterous hands took off his helmet to run his fingers through them.

“I know so.”

Lipton placed his glove-laden hand on Roe’s shoulder, the gesture made the tension in his body lessen by just a bit. He gave a salute which Eugene returned and he wistfully watched his company return to their prior business.

With just the two of you left in the building, Eugene let his walls go down and he collapsed on a nearby chair. Both of his hands flashed up to sink themselves deep in his ebony hair, the sniffling of his nose overtaking the silence. It’d been so long since he last cried… It’d been even longer since he saw you…

The salty tears blurred his vision but he hastily rubbed them away, the rough fabric taking them off and clearing his sight.

He dragged the wooden chair closer to you and his hands reached out hesitantly to caress your face. Eugene delicately moved stray strands of your hair away from your face and the back of his hand rested on your forehead to check your temperature.

A melancholy look was glazed over his gray-blue eyes and he slowly retracted his hand away from your forehead. Now that the dust had settled, the realization hit him, and with that came the many thoughts.

You were alive, that was obvious enough, but he couldn’t over the fact that you were. Eugene felt immensely relieved that you were, he wouldn’t be able to live if you weren’t. But seeing you limp in Liebgott’s arms left him frozen as if he was being taken back to your abrupt appearance just about two hours ago.

Eugene’s pale hand found its way on your warm cheek, with you subconsciously nuzzling yourself into the palm of his hand— the action making him weak. You had always used to do that and a tender fondness washed over his once tense features.

All in all, he was completely overjoyed that you were here— even if you weren’t conscious, you were still here. If Eugene’s mind wasn’t keeping him busy, he spent his time checking up and taking care of you.

“I just… You’re back..” Eugene drawled out, even if he knew you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Maybe it was better that way…

He had to choke back tears as he continued, emotion pouring out with every word, “I missed you— I missed you a lot actually.”

Even without anyone listening, Eugene acted like there was— with no one there to judge him, he spoke with utmost passion. It had been long subdued and held back, and in those short moments Eugene had spoken more than he ever had in the past days. His fists were aching from how hard they were clench, appearing ghostly white as he continued spouting heartfelt words from his lips.

“I love you, (Y/N). I was so scared that I lost you, I love you so much, mon ange…” Eugene held your still hand, and there you remained serenely resting.

The words hung in the air, dissipating into nothing as seconds passed by. His term of endearment used to feel heavy on his mouth whenever he had said it, but now at this time— it felt right, it fit.

Eugene’s nerves were utterly wrecked, but your presence was the best thing that has ever happened to him. Two weeks, two weeks since Eugene thought he lost you in Bastogne. But he stopped worrying because all of his prayers were answered.

With his back to the old wooden chair, he observed the light pouring out from the dusty windows— almost golden even though it was a bit too early in the afternoon for it. Eugene felt tumultuous and he tried his hardest to come to terms with today’s events. Tilting his head down he folded his hands and shut his eyelids. With a final look to your passed-out figure, he let out an affectionate smile.

It wasn’t long before Eugene too fell into unconsciousness— his mind being transported to dreamland with you in his head.

“I love you, mon ange,” he mumbled quietly, just hoping you could hear him even in your state.

The soft smile on Eugene’s face was prominent then.

----------

The early afternoon light turned dark, the light—even filled with smoke—shone its pinkish and golden hues through the grimy windows of the brick buildings. It wasn’t long until the evening colors turned into ones of navy blue and soon dark cobalt, the moon shining dimly in the sky. Eugene was still passed out, arms crossed and as still as he could be.

No one decided to bother the medic, and anyone who decided to enter the building anyway decided to do so quietly. A menagerie of people checked up on you and Eugene through the hours, but nonetheless people were sparse. With no patrols, wounded, or future assignments, Eugene could stay in that building for as long he wanted to.

His helmet rested idle next to his chair, and the room looked like a moment frozen in time.

The lantern casted a yellow glow throughout the space, shadows playing on the medic’s face and the edge of the room. And that was where you found yourself, wrapped in blankets, in an unknown rickety building. Nonetheless you were warm and you were thankful for that.

Yet you still felt fuzzy, like static was making a home in your brain. You softly let out a groan, your shoulders sore and your skin tingling.

“Shit… My head…” you brought a shaky hand to your temples and the pile of blankets fell off your torso and pooled in your lap.

The old wooden table creaked with each movement and you didn’t notice the sleeping figure sitting on the side of you. The corners of the moon could barely be seen from the angle you were in, and your tired digits clenched around the thin fabric that was splayed out in front of you.

You were in… That was right— you were in Haguenau. You made it, saw Babe and Lieb and inevitably passed out. That was all in the morning, it must be. Just how long have you been passed out? It must’ve been half the day.

Your weary (E/C) eyes glanced across the room, taking in your surroundings. With the dim lantern light bathing you, it was quite hard to make out anything. Turning your head slowly left and right you jump out of your skin when you see a body just beside you.

Your eyes widen swiftly, your mouth agape. But looking closer, it wasn’t just anybody. Bringing your palm to your chest to calm your turbulent heartbeat, you gazed at him— to assure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating.

It was Eugene— good God it was Eugene.

Gathering your thoughts, you leaned forward, slightly wincing at the slightly numb and uncomfortable feeling of your abdomen and legs. Your eyes held want and need, you never wanted someone so badly. A strong urge to just throw away the regard of your own safety and bounce into his arms was tempting, but you knew better than to do that.

You’d simply pass out again, and if you were to die right here in this moment, then so be it. One glance at the ebony locks that were lightly tousled, the same ones you loved to run your (S/C) hands through, was enough to make your heart weak.

His closed eyes just radiated like unexplored waters, and even when sleeping he held such a refined grace and elegance.

This must’ve been the longest sleep he’s had in days, and while you had gone through considerably worse these few days, your heart panged at the thought of him not getting enough rest.

“Eugene…?”

It slipped out suddenly, you didn’t even mean to utter anything. But his eyes opened before you could even register the fact that you did speak.

Ever the light sleeper or even borderline insomniac, Eugene bolted up. Stormy blue orbs revealing themselves and his whole upper body staggering up at the sudden noise. While soft, it was clearly abrupt, and so it woke him up immediately.

At first he thought it was one of the boys, maybe one of them telling him to come back to the bunks or something similar. But when his head lurched its direction at the door, no one was there.

Blinking away his grogginess, he saw you. Awake. Right in front of him.

Even though it was you who needed the most rest, you made the first move. Steadily balancing yourself on the table with your legs hanging loosely on the edge, your head tilted and your eyes glassy. Eugene Roe didn’t want to cry, he wanted his first moment with you to be happy.

But tears don’t listen to the silent pleas of broken soldiers. And so they fell on his trousers, wet droplets plopping gently on the fabric.

With a blink on an eye, the moment was cut short by your sudden movements. The flickering of the lamp illuminating your tired face as you plopped from the table with a wince. The patter of your feet as you trekked the small distance which separated you and your lover. The longing in your heart ceased, but even with Eugene there your heart seemed to crave more once again.

Chuckling dryly through his tears, Eugene took off his gloves, “Ain’t this the part where I tell you to keep resting?”

The first thing he says to you and it’s one of his stupid jokes, Gene mentally reprimanded himself but when he saw you smile he didn’t think it was such a bad idea anymore. The first laugh you had in such a long time bubbled in your dry throat, you softly coughing after the act.

Eugene stood up with a concerned look in his eyes, only stopping himself when you held your hand up.

You were the first to break, as you collapsed yourself onto Eugene’s chest as he stood up. Eugene’s tears were long gone, but yours were only starting. You sobbed silently as you clutched his uniform. You grabbed at him fervently, hoping to find leverage.

With your hands running intensely around his body— just wanting to touch any part of him. Any.

It’s been far too long and you just wanted to hug him so tight you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Two weeks may not seem like much, but in war two weeks felt like an eternity. A lot occurred in those two weeks—Eugene Roe broke and snapped and you almost succumbed to Mother Nature. But it was good now— no Germans, no missing lovers, and no more fucking snow. It was almost unbelievable, like a dream.

The absence in your heart has been filled, but you wanted to stay whole for as long as you can— so you held onto him like your life depended on it. With trembling fingers and quavering breath, you feverishly embraced him, and he too returned your hold with as much fervor. You missed him, you missed him too much.

“Welcome back, mon ange...”

“Well,” you gestured to the old building and walls enclosing you both, “This certainly doesn’t look like heaven.”

Gene only lightly smiled, his eyes focusing on your face. He took it in, desperate to keep your figure in his head. He’ll never forgive himself if he doesn’t remember the exact planes in your face for even a moment. You stood there too, dazed. You had only just woken up and yet you were already straining yourself, but for Gene it was worth it.

The comedic and light moment left as quickly as it came, getting washed away by the somber atmosphere like a powerful tidal wave. Eugene was the one who went out to hold you this time, but it was none at all like yours.

His hold was secure and controlled, although you could tell he was practically yearning to hold you intensely like you did with him.

While not the passionate hold you gave him, it held as much love and adoration. Eugene didn’t need words to express his happiness, relief, and sorrow for he was quite literally the human embodiment of ‘actions speak louder than words’.

Everything was so ephemeral, with the blink of an eye it could all vanish. But the love that you held for Eugene said otherwise. Oh you pleaded internally that someone will let this be the lifetime where you spend an eternity with him. That finally this will be the time where you won’t have to worry about no longer having Eugene by your side.

Tears sprang up from your eyes again, tumbling down slowly on your cheeks, “I thought— I thought I was never going to see you again. I… I thought I was going to die Gene, I r-really did, I was so close…”

“I thought so too, but we’re here now.” he wiped your tears away with a swipe, his cold lips pressing kisses on your forehead.

“Wha-what if I didn’t see you, or if I took a wrong turn? And the last thing I would see would just be snow and not you—”

With a soft but firm look on his features, he shook his head as if to say ‘no more’, “(Y/N)... I would walk around for miles to find you if I could.”

You clamped your mouth shut and nodded with each word from his mouth, and you buried your head deeper into his hold. The dank room seemed much brighter with you in his embrace, the whole town seemed to light up in fact.

Everyone has such expectant and hopeful faces and they were immensely glad that you were back with them. Cold as you were then, you still managed to be brighter than the sun. Eugene could honestly go on for hours listing all the beautiful adjectives he could use to describe you.

Eugene held you as if he had no intentions of ever letting you slip from his secure grasp. If there was no tomorrow, he should at least enjoy this sacred moment while it lasts— to forever savor it and reminisce about it when his time comes.

You begged anything to let this fleeting moment last, to forever be one with the one you loved most.

“Never let me go, Genie.”

“I won’t…”

“Please?”

“I love you too much to lose you again...”

With a word or with a sentence, Eugene could make you feel anything. And with that uttered statement, he made you feel at peace. A compassionate look that held a million unspoken words was bestowed upon you, for a fraction of a second you could feel him pressing the faintest of kisses on your lips.

And for the first time in this chaotic unfolding of events, you felt happy.

----------

Author’s Note: Well here it is, my last fic before I go. But thank you for making it all the way to the end of this long fic, I love y’all so much. I hope y’all will have a good day and I’ll be sendin’ some good vibes 😩💕

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #hbo war #hbo war x reader #band of brothers fanfiction

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writeroutoftime · 4 years

Text

lost in love and time - chapter 1

CATCH UP - PROLOGUE PART 1, PROLOGUE PART 2

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: haunted mansion au - flash forward to present time and natasha and sam can’t seem to drag you away from work. when they finally do, what is it about a call that pulls you to this house?

warnings: none

words: 2092

a/n: first of all, I am so so sorry for the long wait in between the prologue and this chapter! life kinda got in the way, but I am back on track now! also, bucky is not in this chapter, but don’t you worry he is coming soon and this is really important to set up the rest of the story! so, please enjoy, stay safe, and have a lovely day!

oOoOo

Present Day

The soft and steady tune of a waltz pulls your mind away from the paperwork in front of you and transports you to another world. It is a world you’ve traveled to many times, but one you can never place your finger on. There was the familiar presence of someone near you, but as always, it was impossible to identify who they were. All you could make out was the protective and comforting feeling they provide you with. The waltz grows in volume in your mind, but keeps the same, steady tempo as you and the haze of the presence with you glided across a blurry room. The dance continues, and you feel yourself grow lighter and lighter, the room starting to come into focus. You could now make out a faint outline of the man you were dancing with, and the rest of the room follows with it, until –

“y/n!” Natasha shouted, pulling you out of your daydream.

Her voice snapped your eyes open and you all but gasp at sound of it, jumping slightly in your chair. Papers that were on your desk flew to the floor from your sudden movement, and you hurried to pick them up. “Did it happen, again?” you asked.

Natasha nodded with a small smirk. “And just as I was getting that song out of my head.”

“Try having it stuck in your mind all the time.” you groaned in frustration. “I’ll never be able to place it.”

For as long as you could remember, you had this tune stuck in your head that you could never identify. It was some kind of waltz that had the power to distract you. Each time that happened, it was as though you were pulled into some kind of memory, but nothing ever became clear or made sense to you. No matter how many songs you listened to or how many hours you spent pouring over classical compositions to find something similar to what you heard, you always came up empty.

“Well, I’m just here to collect those files on that house you just completed. There’s a potential client who wants to see the new design.” she said, but you caught her apologetic look at your frustration.

Immediately, you began to look for said files among the mess that was on your desk. You worked at a firm that specialized in designing, decorating, and selling high-scale houses, and you were one of their top interior decorators. Many clients asked for you specifically because of the way you were able to pull inspiration from vintage decoration, yet still give buildings a fresh and modern feel.

As you looked for the files, Natasha glanced around the office, noticing how cluttered everything was. There were unused mugs and containers from past meals scattered throughout. “When was the last time you went home, girl?” she asked. “Or went on a date, for that matter.” she mumbled, but you caught her quip at your lack of a love life.

“Very funny.” you deadpanned as you handed the files over. “And for your information, I went on a date about two weeks ago.”

“And?” Natasha asked, now seated in the chair across from your desk, an excited smile on her face.

There was a moment of hesitation before you responded, not meeting her eyes. “I didn’t call him back.”

“y/n!” she groaned and threw her arms up in frustration.

“What?” you defended. “He just wasn’t the right guy, I could tell.”

Your friend rolled her eyes at the answer she had heard a million times before. “They never are. How can you know after just one date?”

“I just do, okay?” you grumbled, not wanting to have this conversation again. “I know the right guy is out there, and I’ll know when I find him.” you added as you waked to the window that looked out over the city.

Since you were young, you had believed that there was one perfect person out there for everybody – you just had to find them. As you grew older, those around you began to reject that notion, but you held onto it even tighter. Why shouldn’t you wait for the one you were meant to be with? And maybe it was taking longer, than you (or Natasha) would like, but that didn’t matter to you. When it happened, you would know.

Recently, though, you did have to admit that you had been spending more time at work and less time socializing off the clock. It just didn’t feel right to you. For some reason, you never really felt connected to this day and age and how people wanted to ‘hang out’ by clubbing and going on Tinder dates. Some called you old fashioned, but you just knew what you liked. So, while others were out doing that, you threw yourself into your job.

Luckily, before Natasha could suggest yet another blind date to set you up with, the two of you were interrupted.

“How’s my favorite interior designer and realtor doing?” you heard and turned to find Sam in the doorway to your office.

A smile stretched across your face as you greeted Sam and motioned for him to come in and join you and Natasha. When you started working at Stark Realtors, Sam and Natasha had been the first two people you met, and the three of you had remained friends since. Despite you being an interior designer, Natasha being a relator, and Sam being an architect, you all, surprisingly, found yourselves spending time together both in and out of work.

“Fine. Just thinking that y/n here needs to take a little break from work.” Natasha said with a teasing grin.

Before you could make your case, Sam made himself comfortable in and chair and grinned. “Hell yeah! I’m down for a weekend away. How ‘bout this weekend?” he asked, casually.

“Perfect.” Natasha said and her head snapped towards you, curiously.

“Guys, as much as I’d love to spend the weekend with you, I can’t.” you said and rushed to look busy by putting some papers away in your file cabinet.

Groans of protests came from Sam and Natasha at your statement. “Come on, y/n!” Sam pleaded.

“I’ve seen your schedule for this weekend.” Natasha said. “You’re completely free.”

Your mouth opened at her words, trying to think of a counterargument. After a moment, you closed your mouth and placed your hand on your hip and glared at her, hoping she would cave. It was a lost cause, and one you shouldn’t have engaged in. Natasha was the master of the stare down, and you knew that within a minute she would have you agreeing to go on the trip.

Her gaze intensified, and somehow gave off an authoritarian, yet innocent look, and you were the first look away. “Damn it!” you mumbled. A sigh left your lips, but after a moment you turned to your friends with a slight smile. “Alright, I guess we’re going away this weekend.”

They cheered at your words and promised to take care of everything. All you had to do was pack, and pick them up tomorrow, after work. Not long after, Natasha left with the papers she had originally come in for, and Sam offered you a hug before he left.

Once your office was empty once more, you fell back into your desk chair and exhaled loudly through your mouth. Silence once more washed over you, and you willed the tune that had been stuck in your head earlier, not to come back. For a small amount of time, you focused on the paperwork you needed to complete and file, shuffling papers around every few minutes. It wasn’t until the phone rang that you were pulled out of your bubble.

“y/n y/l/n, interior designer for Stark Relators. How may I help you?” you answered, eyes still focused on your paperwork.

“y/n, y/l/n?” the voice confirmed, slightly nervous.

You forced a sigh back at the repetitiveness of the caller so far. “Yes, sir. How can I help you today?” you asked, again.

“Well, I was wondering if maybe you had time to stop by the house I work at for a consultation? My employer is looking for a change, and you come highly recommended.” the man on the phone spoke.

The tone surprised you, but you quickly balanced the phone between your ear and shoulder and grabbed your calendar. “Of course, sir. When would be most convenient for you and your employer?”

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow would most likely work best.” he spoke hurriedly.

As you were about to confirm the appointment, you remembered that tomorrow afternoon you were leaving with Sam and Natasha, and you were booked with meetings and other appointments all morning. “I’m so sorry, sir, but tomorrow doesn’t work for me. I could do first thing on Mon- “

“No!” he all but shouted, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but I must ask, is there any way it could be tomorrow?” he almost pleaded. “I promise it will be worth your while. It is quite a big project.” he added trying to entice you.

Right as you were about to decline, something inside of you told you to accept. “Alright, sir.” you agreed and settled on a time for early evening, and he gave you the address.

At the end of the call, you thanked him for his time, and hung up, a smile on your face. Sam and Natasha were going to kill you, but it would be – at most – a thirty-minute delay before you could start your weekend away together. What could go wrong?

oOoOo

When Friday came around, you had everything packed and got in your car to go pick up Sam, and then you picked up Natasha. As soon as she stepped out of her apartment, she took one look at your outfit and gave you a pointed glare. “Really, y/n?” she asked, arms crossed over her chest.

Sam, who had been messing with the music, looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t notice y/n’s outfit? Don’t you think it’s a little strange to be wearing something so professional for a weekend away?” she asked Sam, though she kept her gaze on you the whole time.

Her stare made you squeamish and you couldn’t help the guilt that was rising within you. Instead, you just waited for her to get in the car and drove away. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t refuse this consultation.” you finally said, your voice at least had the decency to sound shameful.

“A consultation, really?” Sam asked, sighing in frustration.

Natasha threw her arms in the air. “The whole point of this weekend is to get away from work, and now you’re driving straight towards it.”

In your defense, this was an offer you couldn’t pass up, and, again, you had felt some pull to accept it. “Like I said, this is a big deal, and not just for me. Maybe their looking to sell this house, which could mean big bucks for you Natasha. And Sam, maybe as the designer, I could suggest that some architectural changes be made.” you tried to persuade your friends.

After a moment of silence, Sam spoke up. “How long is this going to take?”

“Thirty minutes at most.” you guaranteed.

The silence that followed that time, you took as reluctant acceptance. The drive continued, until you turned down a dirt road that was long and somewhat narrow. It felt like it wouldn’t end, and the further down the path you drove, the further from the outside world you got. Whoever lived here, did not want to be disturbed. Finally, you could see some property ahead of you that most likely belonged to the employer of the man you had spoken to on the phone.

Your pressure on the gas began to slow as you saw gates ahead of you, and eventually you stopped, and all three of you let out a gasp. Bent over the steering wheel to get a better look, you gazed upon the glorious mansion that was in front of you. It was a grand, white structure that had pillars down the front and iron gates placed around the house. It gave off a late Victorian feel and you thought it looked absolutely beautiful. Of course, the grounds surrounding it needed a bit of love, and it truly looked like no one lived there, but you still loved it.

“Just look at it.” you whispered, more so to yourself.

“Now how do we get through the gates?” Sam asked.

oOoOo

tags: @readermia @mgk-rooklover1997 @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @dabooks23 @loser-alert @themeanestlittlewitch @peaches-roses-sins @tiffanynguyen03

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #lost in love and time #haunted mansion au

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Someone Left to Save (6)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: Sorry if I haven’t been uploading as quick as I used to. I’m not in a good place right now mentally. I’ve had random crying episodes that rooted from last night’s breakdown, I’m stuck dealing with overbearing parents who don’t understand and can’t be bothered to take in the time to listen to their kid. I had to look for that from my friends who really know and understand me. It’s really hard. Because what do you do when your boomer, overly-traditional parents misinterpret your artworks and then drag you down for it? But I’m trying my best to fight it off and be better, so I can still give you guys good stories. I’ll get through it, I’ll be better eventually. So, if my posting frequency seems slow, I hope you understand. Thank you for your continuous support! You guys are the greatest. Love, Veron.

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

In the span of three weeks, you and the Second Brother were in constant observation by the medical droids—encoding and then relaying their findings to the doctors who occasionally visited you every other day. A medical droid reports that you might open your eyes perhaps at the end of the week. The same goes for the Second Brother, despite his severe injuries and that tedious surgical operation that he underwent.

When the third and a last week came, you did open your eyes. The Bacta-infused water stung your eyes and you realize you’re submerged—by instinct, you held your breath, unaware that you have a medical breather on until you bit on its silicon mouthpiece, you felt the rather uncomfortable armbands on your pruning skin. Through the glass of the vat you’re encased in, a medical droid hovers in front of you.

In confusion, your heart rate spiked—reflecting on the heart monitor just right next to the tank—but the droid wasn’t alarmed. It deduced it as a natural, conscious bodily response. The medical droid tapped hurriedly on its dapatad; shortly after, a doctor comes rushing into the ward, he approaches the vat to look at you.

Peering again through the glass, you can see through your squinting—and already stinging—eyes that the doctor’s mouth is moving, but the bubbling of the substances shrouded your hearing from any outside noise.

“Prepare to drain the patient’s Bacta vat,”

A loud rumble echoed in the back of your ears, your head jerked up to the source of the sound and saw the water level lowering. As the substance fell to the level of your breasts, you mentally prepare yourself to plant your feet on the floor and your palms to the walls of the tank once you needed to balance and support yourself.

Finally, the tank has been emptied—the remaining liquid gurgled under your feet as it disappeared into the drain. The glass whirred as it retracted into its round, metal frame and then the nurses helped your balance yourself. Their faint whispers of encouragement rang indistinctly in your ears.

“Hello there, can you hear me well?” asked the doctor.

“I… I suppose,” you groaned, hooking your grip on the nurse’s arm. You looked at your surroundings. “Where am I?”

“You’re in a medical facility, in Mons Golotha,”

“Mons Golotha? Where is that?”

“In the Outer Rim. Don’t worry, you’re safe here. We’ve been helping you recover,”

“It looks like you had quite a dangerous brush with death there,” the nurse added.

Still confused, you surveyed the room further—there were more droids manning the computers and the machines. It appears that you’re the only patient in this room. You blinked several times until your eyes adjusted to the light pooling in the dull, gray ward. Something didn’t sit right with you, but your waking up gave you a bit of a hangover that you can’t pinpoint it. Little did you know that the Second Brother is still submerged in his own tank in his own room and that you are in Inquisitor—rather, Imperial—territory.

The Inquisitors were informed in the comfort of their temporary lodges that you’ve finally awakened. The Seventh Sister smirked with satisfaction, as if her work given by Grand Inquisitor is close to its completion. At her mercy, she allowed you until tomorrow to rest, after that you will be sedated and transported to the main fortress; when she finished hearing the report, she resumed her meditation in peace.

You stayed in bed, fed with three square meals, regularly checked for your vitals, temperature, blood pressure and the like—this was your entire routine for a day and half.

The Seventh Sister’s given timetable is due. As a way to not startle you, the doctor was very subtle on your sedation in the guise of a treatment.

“Alright, [Y/N], the vapor that’ll flow out of this mask when you wear it will dissolve the smoke and particles that may have polluted your lungs when you inhaled the smoke from your accident,”

You nodded, “Okay.”

You lied down flat on your back first, then the doctor gingerly placed the transparent mask, then the medical droid switched on the machine at the doctor’s command. It growled and the vapor hissed through the tube up to your nose and mouth; the sound sort of lulled you to boredom, you thought that it was a hypnotizing sound that you slowly let your eyelids drop and lean your head further into the pillow.

“Just a few more milliliters until she’s fully sedated,” the doctor mouthed to himself, watching you lie perfectly still in your bed.

Ten minutes later, the medical droid’s readings indicate that you’re now asleep.

“Vitals are still at a normal and optimum level, she is amenable for transfer,” the medical droid added.

Through his own comlink, the doctor contacted the Seventh Sister.

“Is she really unconscious now?”

“Yes, she won’t be able to recall a single thing before the sedation,”

“Good. Oversee the preparations for the transfer,”

The doctor nodded in compliance and the Seventh Sister switched off the transmission on her end. He immediately did as he was told and then you were transferred from your ward bed to the hovering gurney. It was a warden who escorted you to the main fortress, the apparatus used to administer the sedative is still attached to you as they wheeled you through the corridors.

—–

Eventually, you’ve arrived to the prison block. At the end of it is the torture chamber especially designated for you. The Seventh Sister and the Fifth Brother were waiting inside the chamber, they turned to the door when they heard it whir and found you still as a rock in that gurney.

“Put here in,” the Mirialan ordered.

The warden pulled the gurney closer to the torture chair—with its restraints wide open, like an animal’s maw waiting to snap shut once its prey has fallen in—and put you to the machine. The restraints clamped shut when the warden stepped back, the metal clanged so loud that it startled him, making his shoulders jump. The warden was dismissed immediately and left the chamber.

The sedative wore off by the minute, the intensity of the light shone differently than what you recalled, and now you find yourself unable to move—you flinch your wrists and ankles to find polished, silver handcuffs that are three inches thick banding around them. Leaning in front of you is the mechanical limb of the torture chair with panels running with electrical current; you attempt to sink yourself farther into the bed, and the cold metal stung through your bleach-white tunic that the nurses dressed on you. Your heartbeat spiked again, the Inquisitors can sense the fear oozing out of you.

The Seventh Sister stepped out of the shadows, hands tucked behind her back.

“Oh don’t bother fighting it off, it’s not like you have the strength to break out of that,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, struggling to recognize her.

“You’re an Inquisitor, but I… I’ve never seen you before,”

“Who I am to you is not important. You, on the other hand, know something we don’t—and we’d like you to let us in on that,”

“Oh I bet you do,” you spat.

The Seventh Sister liked your snark, she’ll give you that, but she didn’t like other people outclassing her. One flick of her finger and the Stormtrooper operating the machine flipped a switch; the limb with the electrical panels lowered closer to you until only an inch hangs between you and the bright, violet cracks.

In the next second, a jolt courses throughout your entire body. The metal cuffs on your wrists and ankles amplified the voltage and doubled the pain of the shock. You didn’t even get to take a deep breath, you were simply taken by surprise. The limb then retracted, returning to its original distance from you.

“She’s got a kick to it, doesn’t she? You’re gonna have more than just a kick if you don’t tell us what we want to hear,”

“I’ve had worse beatings!” you winced.

“I’ll bet you have, [Y/N],”

It didn’t matter how the Mirialan knew your name. She proceeded with your questions that you retorted with the perfect opposite of it—sarcasm.

“Tell us where the rebels are hiding, and we’ll let you go scot-free. We’ll even give you a headstart so you can warn your friends,”

“The last time someone gave me a bargain like that…” you panted, recovering from the shock. “They found my lightsaber sticking through their ribs.”

The Seventh Sister sighed.

This is gonna be a long day… but I don’t mind. She thought.

Hours dragged on as you kept yourself mum, filling in the blanks of their questions with sarcasm or straight-up refusals. But for every time you decided to keep your mouth shut about the location of the rebels who staged the bombing of their outpost in Ulfin, you were returned with a shock of the torture chair—the voltage became more powerful and lethal than the last.

“Impressive,” the Fifth Brother commented. “Not many can withstand this many hours, let alone that high of a voltage, in the chair.”

“Perhaps, there’s a better way of persuading you,” the Mirialan chided.

From her pocket, she fished out her holodisk. She thumbs the button and out comes a figurine-sized projection of Cal. The faintest, sharpest inhale from you wasn’t spared from the Inquisitor’s keen sense of hearing. She smirked and glanced at you.

“Oh, you know him, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer, but it already feels like the Seventh Sister has seen through your tough-faced façade.

“The longer you stay in this chair, the more likely my troops are capable of finding him. Who knows? I could bag a complete package if he was siding with the rebels the whole time. Definitely likely.”

The rage rooting from the pain and the Seventh Sister’s taunting flared in your body. The Mirialan could almost feel the blaze of that anger pouring out of you. She catches a whiff of it and was intrigued.

Your body impulsively leaned away from the backrest and strained yourself to get at least an inch closer to the Seventh Sister, but you’re nowhere even near six inches in front of her.

“IF YOU DO SO MUCH AS PUT A FINGERNAIL ON HIS HEAD, I’LL MAKE SURE YOU GET TWENTY TIMES THE PAIN YOU’RE GIVING ME NOW!!”

“Oh, there we go. Yes, use that hate, that anger!” the sheer adrenaline rush caused the Seventh Sister to slam her fist against the wall of the operating computer. “TELL ME WHERE THEY ARE!!”

“I…” you hissed. “Will never… TELL YOU!!”

The Seventh Sister eased her shoulders.

“So be it,” she jerked her head to the operator. “Again! And don’t stop until I say so!!”

Your shallow, rapid breathing didn’t save your lungs to overcome the pain sent by a thousand to ten thousands volts coursing through your body. Your throat strained as you cry in agony, your fingers twisted and curled as the tendrils of electricity violently pricked the nerves, your body thrashed in all angles trying to alleviate the pain but it’s as though several daggers entered and left your body repeatedly.

Your head jerks back, unable to withstand any more of the gradual pain the longer it dragged on. The only thing that filled your eyes was the lamp that hung overhead and the cracks of compacted lightning from the electrical panels. You don’t know how much your heart can take. At the Seventh Sister’s mercy, she shot her hand up—signaling to stop—the Stormtrooper obeyed; it only was a ten-second breather, and she asked again.

“Where are they hiding?”

“In a Bantha’s arse,” you gasped.

Seventh Sister scoffed, she snapped her fingers and the torture resumed. Your mischievous snickering at your own joke was instantly replaced by a wail of pain. The longer you remained in that torture chair, the more the Inquisitors saw your rage and hate crawling out of you—and they relished each waking minute the darkness seeps out of you.

In the midst of your screams echoing across the entire chamber, the Seventh Sister stepped back into the shadows to join the Fifth Brother. She stood on the tips of her toes to reach his height, close enough for him to hear her, and she whispered.

“She will be a good Inquisitor.”

There was no worded response, but the Fifth Brother smiled in agreement. The violet light of the electrical current flashing and pooling over the surface of their faces as they watched you at the mercy of the torture chair.

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