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writingthrones · 5 years

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the northern dragon- part 6.

PART 6: REVELATION.

TAGS: @psychosupernatural , @xleviiiix , @ashtronomyyyy , @starkbelova,@5aftermidnight , @makapaka11 , @mxxkscreate-write , @scorpiosmalfoy,@harrison-shot-first , @art-flirt , @jessyballet , @vaexvictis ,@callmeconceited , @cassiopeia-barrow , @the-three-eyed-ravenclaw (feel free to shoot me a message if you’d also like to be tagged!)

DESCRIPTION: the world thought that just 2 dragons survived, that house targaryen was missing its third head. but there was another– the youngest, the final child of the mad king and queen rhaella. of course, she was almost part of the near extermination of her house. but the honorable ned stark, unable to watch a babe be murdered for crimes she did not commit, rescued her from an awful fate. instead, she grew up amongst wolves within the walls of winterfell.

NOTES: what you’ve all been waiting for!

WARNINGS: lots of violence and, of course, angst.

After the attack, it was made clear that a weapon must be carried at all times. You decided on a nicely sized dagger that you wore strapped to your calf under your dress. It was easily concealed and fairly easy to pull out quickly. It’s probably something that you should’ve always had but it was “unladylike,” but you’ve proven yourself to be no lady. From then on out, you were wary. You couldn’t look upon the faces of the men in the same way. It made you more jumpy. You told yourself, though, that it made you more vigilant. It’s just unfortunate that it had to come out of this.

When Robb returned, he made a point to visit that night. You were just about to lay down to sleep when he walked in. “Y/N...” his voice was low. You met his eyes, still sitting down on your bed and offered him a smirk. “Didn’t worry too much, did you?” He sighed, though he smirked as well as he sauntered towards you. The young wolf then crouched in front of you, gently taking your injured hands, “Stop.. tell me, how are you feeling? Really?” The seriousness in his voice caught you off guard, though it did make sense. This wasn’t nothing. That man could’ve killed your or did unspeakable things.. or both. Every ounce of your being wanted to lean forward and close the gap between you two. It was a feeling you’d had many, many times over the years but especially now. In fact, it took all the self control in your little body not to do so. “I’m fine,” you insisted.

Robb sighed and stood up then sat down next to you. “I didn’t think any of my men would do something like that...” he said. It felt like the two of you were kids again and so, acting on that feeling, you leaned your head on his shoulder for comfort. Luckily, he didn’t move yet it still made you nervous. “I’ll see to it that someone gets punished. I--” You stopped him there. Lifting your head, you looked over at him. “Please don’t. I’m fine, I promise. I’ll be more careful, I know how to defend myself. There’s too much going on for you to punish anyone because one man crossed a line.” He looked to you, looking as if he wanted to say something more but instead settled on, “Fine. Just...” Another sigh. “Talisa will be around tomorrow with supplies to properly clean these up, okay?” With that, he headed out.

Of course she was. Sure, you were grateful that someone who was clearly talented in their craft had the supplies necessary to keep the army in the best condition. All you could think about, though, was the time the two of them got to spend alone. Why else would he have brought her along to such an important meeting? Catelyn was right, he fancied her. You wished desperately not to care but you did-- by the Gods, you did. Throwing yourself onto the bed, you eventually dozed off. It wasn’t a restful slumber though, no, you couldn’t stop imagining the things that must’ve happened on that little trip. The images haunted your dreams.

Shortly after you awoke, Talisa walked in, just as Robb promised. The immediate reaction was that of anger and you hated it. She was a kind woman, someone who was helping you greatly and yet you couldn’t help but to feel anger, hate, jealousy. That familiar Targaryen fire burned within your chest. “Here, this should really help,” the dark-haired woman said with a warm, genuine smile. It made you hate yourself for the contempt you felt towards her. She was good and yet you were filled with pitiful jealousy. “Thank you, really.” The words were forced but you did your best to sound truly thankful. It’s not that you weren’t but... still. “I would say they should be fairly healed within a fortnight, just try not to be too rough on your hands until then.” Did this mean Robb would try to keep you out of whatever conflicts that would come about between now and then? You hoped not but deep down you knew these two were.. close and she would surely tell him. Indigo eyes fell upon the fresh wound dressings on your hands before looking back up at her with a smile. “I take it you’re with us for the long haul, then?” She seemed caught off by your tone, as were you. You hadn’t meant for it to come off the way it did you just couldn’t help yourself. “I just mean... you’ve decided to stay with us? We could use someone with real skills,” you quickly added, chuckling to make the air less tense. “Oh.. yes! This war is getting ugly and... I just want to help those getting caught in the middle while the high lords sit in their castles plotting away not giving a second thought to the men who will die for them.” As she went on, she sounded more and more passionate. She truly did care for the people.. it made you feel even worse about disliking her. “You’re doing good work,” you said softly before standing. “Sorry, I have some things I need to tend to. Thank you again,” you added, hurrying out of the tent to find something else to keep you busy.

Later, you ended up sitting with Catelyn, who seemed even more troubled than usual as of late. “Lady Catelyn, is there something--” She took hold of your arm, “I must speak to you. But not here, somewhere private.” So the two of you ventured into her tent where no one would dare to disturb you. You sat while she paced, not saying a word. “He’s gone mad, Y/N! He loves this woman and you know I want nothing more than for my children to be happy but..” The shock was written all over your face. Sure, you suspected it but you absolutely dreaded being right. “I fear what this will bring. He wishes to marry her. I reminded him that he made an oath to Lord Frey but he insisted that he’d understand and respect his rule, so long as he offered him another deal. But I don’t trust it. He never truly respected Ned, I don’t believe he would respect Robb just because they call him a king now.” She was right. If this went through, this could change everything. This could spell disaster for their cause.

“Do you think he’ll truly go through with this?” you questioned softly. “Yes, he intends to do so as soon as possible and tell him only after the fact. I believe he plans to offer my brother in his place but I just...” You can see that her thoughts are racing. “I guess all we can do is hope that Lord Frey will accept his offer, then. We both know just how stubborn Robb is. If he loves this woman...” You have to swallow the lump in your throat and pray that Catelyn cannot see the devastation written on your face. “Then I hope she is a good queen and that she is worth all of this.” The older woman sat down next to you, letting out a defeated sigh. “I suppose so.”

The next thing you knew, it was revealed that Robb has made a queen of a Volantian woman named Talisa. In his place, Edmure Tully would marry a daughter of Lord Frey’s. He was a lord of a great house, yes, but he was no king. Walder had agreed to the new deal but Catelyn still felt uneasy and confided in you with her feelings.

That night, though, you buried yourself in the furs and used them to muffle your cries. You always knew that he’d marry some beautiful lady one day but it broke your heart nonetheless. When you cried the very last of your tears, you rolled over to reveal red, puffy eyes, feeling totally exhausted. The encampment was making another move tomorrow, and a risky one at that, so you quickly went to sleep. It was important to stay on alert. You weren’t really supposed to be involved in any conflict with your injuries but when did you let anything stop you?

Another memory replayed itself in your dream that night. It wasn’t long after your fourteenth name day. “I can see it, you know,” Jon spoke up from behind you and you jumped. Turning quickly, your brow furrowed. “And just what are you talking about?” you questioned. “I’ve always been able to read you like a book,” he chuckled, walking up to stand beside you. “Are you going to tell me what you’re on about, Snow?” you sighed. His voice suddenly became more serious, “You love him.” He looked out at Robb training in the courtyard just as you had been. Your face felt hot-- even more so than usual-- and your face went red.

“Wh--What are you talking about?!” The stutter certainly didn’t help your case. “I’ve known it for years. And maybe you’ve fooled them but you can’t fool me,” his tone was lighthearted again. “He could love you, too.” You scoffed, there was not a chance. Robb Stark loving a plain and honestly unappealing no name girl? Wasn’t that a laugh. “Have you gone mad?” You tore your eyes away from the courtyard to face him. “I’m serious. The way you look at him, that’s how he used to look at you when we were younger.” There is no way that was true. Even if it was, it didn’t matter. “Shut up,” you huffed, shoving him lightly.

Early that morning, just as the sun was peaking out from behind the mountains, you rode next to Catelyn as the northern forces advanced. Half-listening to her, your eyes never left Robb as you watched him ride alongside his queen. They radiated happiness and it made your heart ache. It would make sense to just be happy that he was so happy but you couldn’t force it. All you wanted was to pour your heart out and hope that it would change things. “Y/N?” Then Catelyn snapped you out of your thoughts. “Oh! My apologies, I’m just.. tired,” you said while laughing nervously. “I understand.” The older woman offered you a kind smile, giving you some relief. You had to remind yourself that without her kindness, you would’ve been slain in the arms of your mother and that making yourself heart sick over a man who was now called king was foolish.

Once everyone was settled in, you somehow convinced yourself to go and find Robb. You caught him just before he retired to his tent. “Your Grace,” you said, playfully curtseying. He rolled his eyes and you honestly couldn’t tell if it was a joke or if he was genuinely bothered. “I just wanted to let you know I’m happy for you. Your queen.. she’s beautiful and kind.. and much better than a Frey girl, I suppose,” you chuckled. “She is, isn’t she?” There was this look of wonder in his eyes. He really loved her. And you really loved him. How tragic. You can tell he wanted to return to her but you couldn’t let him go just yet. “So what is going to happen with that, then? I imagine Lord Frey isn’t very happy.” It felt like it was the most you’ve spoken in ages. “We sent a raven as soon as everything was official explaining everything. I proposed my uncle Edmure stand in my place. We were nervous but he sent one back saying he agreed. That’s where we’re headed, didn’t you know? We should reach the twins in a week, I’d expect. Less if we pick up the pace.” It was surprising, learning that Walder Frey had actually agreed to give up the betrothal to a king and settled for someone of, frankly, much lower status. “No, uh, I didn’t,” you replied. “Well find your best dress for the wedding,” he said with a grin that made you melt. “Sleep well,” he added, brushing softly past you and into his quarters.

All the news still had your head spinning and the racing thoughts kept you awake for most of the night. You hardly got any sleep before you were forced to keep moving. That day you couldn’t help but to notice the happy couple being extra smiley. It made you wonder what that was all about, but you couldn’t let this consume your thoughts. It was always possible that Lannister forces could stage a surprise attack, much like they had on them. There were much bigger things to worry about.

Just before the week was up, you all managed to arrive at your destination. The northern forces set up camp outside of the Frey stronghold. Just as Robb had said, you were searching your trunk for your best dress and head wrap. You’d forgotten that you had thrown in one of the ones that Sansa had sewn for you: a grey color with white detailing-- Stark colors. It made your eyes tear up, wondering where she was and how she was now. You would wear it tomorrow, you’d decide, knowing that she would like that. It’d go fine with a plain, light dress that was navy blue in color.

Finally, the occasion was here. You sat there, next to Catelyn, watching the ceremony. Everyone in the northern army seemed shocked to find that the Frey girl was actually quite beautiful but no one more than Edmure himself. His nervous expression quickly transitioned into a smile, causing you to smirk to yourself. She was still a Frey, though, so it’s not like everything was suddenly all better. But everything went to plan, a cheerful feast starting up just after. The hall was bustling with conversation and music but there was still just that bit of tension in the air. You just couldn’t shake the slightly uneasy feeling in your stomach.

The happy couple were rushed off to the “bedding ceremony,” something you found ridiculous, though not surprising that this family seemed so excited for it. Catelyn placed her hand on yours as if she somehow knew that you wanted nothing more than to stand up and leave. You looked up and met her eyes, head tilting with confusion. “I don’t like that look on his face,” she whispered to you, looking directly as Walder. “I think that’s just what he looks like, my lady,” you replied with a chuckle. She sighed as she looked back at you, “I suppose.”

It was then that he spoke up and the both of you quickly turned your attention to the old man. When you looked closer, you didn’t feel very good about the look on his face either. It was then that you noticed the change in the music to something that sounded quite odd for an occasion like this. He addressed Robb and his queen, saying that he hadn’t given a gift as a congratulations for their marriage. Furrowing your brow, you looked to Catelyn who had lifted the sleeve of Lord Bolton, who was seated next to her, revealing chainmail beneath. Something was terribly wrong and things escalated when she stood and slapped him, the sound nearly echoing throughout the room. Rising to your feet, you looked around and noticed that the doors to the hall had been shut and that’s when all hell broke loose.

It started with a Frey boy relentlessly stabbing the queen in her torso. You sucked in a breath with pure shock, then a crossbow bolt ended up in Robb’s shoulder and you shrieked, as did Catelyn. Startled by the noise, you looked back at her then back to him. Everything was moving so fast, it felt impossible to even move. Another bolt was shot into his shoulder, just missing his neck. Finally, you managed to step back from the table and look around. This was a slaughter. They had rounded everyone up, made sure they were vulnerable and killed every Northman they saw. But that’s when you spotted Lord Bolton take out a dagger and while you expected he would march to the head table to defend his king, you saw him clearly ready himself to attack him instead.

There was only seconds to act and even in your panicked state, you remembered the dagger you kept strapped to your leg. Weapons obviously weren’t welcome at a wedding but putting it on had become such a routine, you didn’t even think of it and thank the Gods you didn’t. Hurriedly grabbing it out from under your dress, you took off running. It was all a blur as your legs carried you along without any thinking involved. When you finally brought yourself back into the moment, your dagger was buried in Roose Bolton’s chest.

You gasped as you stared into his wide eyes, then quickly pulled back only to bump into something. Turning quickly, you were met with the sight of a badly injured but very much alive Robb Stark. Y/N had saved the King in the North-- a no name peasant had saved a king. The loud cry of Catelyn pulled your attention away only for you to see that a Frey held a knife to her neck from behind. “Please, Y/N! GO!” she yelled just before the man finished the deed. Without a second thought, you looped your arm around Robb’s and began running. He seemed to move only out of reflex and you briefly turned your gaze to him. “What are you doing?! We need to move!” you screamed over all the noise but he said nothing, not even looking into your eyes. There was no time to argue, though, so you conjured up every bit of strength in your body and made your way to the door, busting it open but not without getting an arrow through your shoulder-- a lucky shot. The adrenaline made it nearly impossible to feel, though. Of course, there was more men and more chaos outside but you somehow managed to fight your way through. All the bloodshed and craziness was a good distraction-- it seemed that no one really noticed that the Young Wolf had escaped.

It was a miracle. Despite the ongoing massacre, you somehow managed to free Robb’s direwolf and get the two of you up onto a horse to ride away from the insanity. You rode until all of you were exhausted, going deep into the nearest wood and collapsed against a tree. It seemed to be not long before noon the next day. He still never said a word and Grey Wind whimpered as he nudged at him. His eyes were completely empty, it was almost as if he had been killed. But your number one focus was tending to his injuries. Speaking of which, you had left the arrows lodged into him, not wanting to rip them out and cause more bleeding when you had no time to patch it up.

“Are you ready? This is going to hurt..” you said as you gripped the first bolt. His eyes met yours but still he said nothing. Taking a deep breath, you pulled it quickly as to not prolong the pain. He grunted but never said a word. Wait, you didn’t have any kind of plan. This is why you were a shit medic. Panicking, you pulled at the bottom of your dress and ripped away a piece of the cloth, wrapping it around the injury. Moving onto the next time, this time prepared with the cloth. Still, he didn’t say a single word. “Robb?” you whispered, getting close to try to get some kind of response. There was nothing, though. He was broken, seemingly beyond repair. Sighing, you leaned back against the tree and did the same to your own wound-- receiving no support from him-- before passing out from exhaustion.

When you awoke, it seemed to be the middle of the night. Grey Wind laid at your feet but woke up as soon as you stirred. He immediately growled, though calmed once he realized it was just you. Looking over, there laid the defeated king. It killed you to see him this way, feeling the defeat as well. But it was important to keep moving, it was the only hope of survival, so you shook him until he finally woke. “We need to go. If I’m correct, we keep heading this way and we should be able to reach Seagard.” Robb seemed to look right through you. The frustration was beginning to boil over. “I won’t just watch you lay down and die. Now let’s go.” Still nothing as you pulled him up onto the horse, calling for Grey Wind to follow.

It continued like this for the next few days. He never said a word. You rode to the point of exhaustion and survived off nothing but water and whatever you could find that was edible. It wasn’t possible to find an inn to stay in or a shop to buy from. You didn’t know who could and couldn’t be trusted-- even seeking refuge at Seagard was a risk, maybe they had chosen to betray him as well. Hope was beginning to dwindle, as was your strength, when you finally spotted a castle in the distance. You had found it. It was a shot in the dark but you made it. You chuckled, though tears spilled down your cheeks when you saw it. Gods, please let them remain loyal. After a deep breath, you rode up to the gates where men barked out orders for you to identify yourself.

“I am Y/N and I have with me the King in the North!” There was a lot out of shouting followed by the gates opening and you took the opportunity to ride in, Grey Wind following close behind. The both of you were quickly surrounded. “My king,” they declared in unison, each one falling onto one knee. Releasing the breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding, you broke into a weak smile. All of this wasn’t for nothing. You had made it.

The Mallisters saw to it that you two were properly cared for. Each of you was given a bath, fresh clothes, a meal and a warm bed. Even after everything, you found yourself unable to sleep that night. It was late and the castle was quiet as you snuck down the hall and into Robb’s room after knocking and not hearing any protest.

“Can you speak to me already?” Your tone was harsh, finally fed up with the silent treatment especially considering that he’d managed to work up the strength to speak to everyone else. He turned around slowly to look at you, “What do you want?” His voice was raspy and he sounded as tired as he looked. “I want you to say something! We made it somewhere safe because of me! I fought our way through everything to get here and you’ve barely even looked at me!” Frustrated tears spilled down your cheeks. “Do you want a thank you?” The anger in his tone never wavered as he came closer to you. “Did you ever stop to think why I never said anything? I didn’t care to make it out of there, Y/N! My wife is dead, my child is dead.” A child? You had no idea. “And my mother. What else do I have?!” His gradual raise in tone caused you to jump back, head tilted with confusion as the tears continued to flow. “You have people who are counting on you. What happened was... terrible but these people named you their king and you promised their freedom. You promised to bring your sisters home! All of that is hopeless without you. I did what I did for your mother!” And because I love you. “So you can’t just lay down and die. I won’t let you. You have me, Robb.” He seemed surprised to see you fight back so hard. There was a long silence. “Get out,” he practically growled. “Robb--” you went to protest. “I said get out,” he raised his volume slightly. Giving him one last look, you turned and walked out.

Doing your best to remain quiet as the continuous stream of tears spilled down your cheeks, you hurried to your room. This was it. The final straw. You did everything you possibly could, brought him somewhere safe. Now it was up to him now to do what was right. It was becoming quite clear what your next move should be.

CUT TO THIRD PERSON.

Sleep continued to evade him as the sky began to light up. Robb felt sick, his mind replaying all that had happened and racing with all the ways he should’ve been able to stop it. Then he felt an intense guilt. She saved him. She fought like a true warrior to save him. All the times she could’ve given up along the way, she didn’t. All of this effort and he repaid her by screaming in her face telling her that he didn’t want any of it. His grief was no excuse to treat a woman who had been there for him his whole life like that. A woman who threw her own safety to the wayside just to save him. He knew that he needed to apologize and that it couldn’t wait.

He made his way down the hall, thinking of what he could possibly say to make things better. “I’m sorry” would be first, obviously, but that certainly wasn’t enough. After hearing no protest and assuming she must’ve been asleep or in the same position he had been, he pushed the door open. As his eyes scanned the room, there was no sign of her. Her trunk still sat at the foot of the bed but she was no where to be found. Confused, he walked to a desk in the corner of the room where a candle was still burning. There sat a letter, addressed to him with ink that was still wet.

Robb,

First, I must tell you why I need to leave. I should have long before this and I suspect you will agree. My name, my true name, is Visenya II Targaryen and I am the youngest child of the Mad King.

Those first lines made him fall down into the chair, feeling weak from the shock.

...

Continued.

#game of thrones imagine #robb stark imagine #robb stark x reader #catelyn stark imagine #targaryen!reader

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suicidalcatz · 5 years

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DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 16

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; chap 1 ; chap 2 ; chap 3 ; chap 4 ; chap 5 ; chap 6 ; chap 7 ; chap 8 ; chap 9 ; chap 10 ; chap 11 ; chap 12 ; chap 13 ; chap 14 ; chap 15

Masterlist : here

AN : Hi! Sorry I’m a bit late! Is this... the last chapter ? Oh my God. There will be an epilogue, too ! So in this chapter, there’s a misunderstanding and- I can’t tell eheh. Please feel free to tell me what you think about it because I sure had trouble writing this one. Thank you all for the love and support !

Chapter 16 : I do

Sooner than we thought, a consequent amount of work fell on all of us, preventing us from seeing each other. And like that, days went by... and then weeks. January had been a harsh month for everybody. A few teachers were late on their program so we had to learn more, write faster. Meanwhile others just enjoyed watching us suffer and kept giving more homework, letting us witness with horror how it piled up in a corner of our room like an insatiable monster that kept growing and growing. Those were the dark times. It became impossible for us to even have lunch together. Tensions began to rise. Josh was irritable because his singing teacher was a jerk to him. Mandy kept skipping more and more classes, running everywhere in town to find clothes. Jake, completely depressed, looked like a character from Corpse Bride, and not a pretty one. As for me, I was a mix of all of them. Living with Mandy has for the first time proven to have its downsides, as her stress was rubbing off on me, while my annoyance to some of my failed assignments got to her nerves too. The boys were no exception, and we had a perfect example of it during a lecture, when Josh snapped at the teacher after she made a snark comment about his last grade. All heads turned to him, even ours, and with a mix of shame and anger, he took his bag and slammed the door behind himself without a word. In retrospect, it had been so fucking cool, although a bit rude considering he didn't have to talk to her like that even with her sly remark... But the way he just told her off, took his belongings and proudly yet bitterly exited the amphitheater was one of the highlights of this year, goddamn the boy had balls.

One of the things that really helped me get through this horrible period was Greta Van Fleet's album on shuffle on my earphones accompanying me during my days in the workshop. And then one day around 2pm we all received a text from Josh.

« If we don't go drinking tonight I swear I will explode, I'm already having nervous breakdowns every week, I need to get out of this school, let's meet at 8 »

Well, the message couldn't be clearer than that, could it ? And my phone vibrated multiple times when the others replied, showing some « Thank God » and « Please let's » on the screen before I discreetly put it back inside my pocket. It had been the first time we went to the bar as a group, with Sam and Danny. And somehow, because we spent a pleasant night together without coming home too late or too drunk, we simultaneously thought it'd be a good idea to reiterate the experience. At least once a week, sometimes every day, we met at the café, occasionally bringing work with us and helping each other. It was close to our school thus convenient, but still far enough to allow us to take a breath of fresh air and think of something else for a while. Most of the time, it was deserted, the only few patrons that came to drink their coffee being regulars, and we enjoyed the calm, even if we were noisy ourselves. Sometimes, Mandy was too busy to come, sometimes it was Sam, so it happened that Danny and I were the only ones being here, or just the twins, but it didn't really matter, there was always one of us here and the others could always come to meet. Josh's idea had help us clear our minds and we were all thankful for that. What I wasn't thankful for, on the other hand, was the way his loud mouth spoke freely about things that didn't concern him at all, least of all Sam and Danny. Of course, he talked about the Jake situation. At first I was outraged and even slapped him on the arm, to which he just shrugged, explaining his brother was always late anyway, so we could talk about it. As if that was the issue here ! But as time went by, I calmed down. Sam and Danny already knew, having noticed but not wanting to adress the elephant in the room. Now that the subject had been thrown on the table though, it was different, and if at first Sam's awful comments about how we were both taking our sweet time pissed me off, now we discussed it quietly, confessing my thoughts and feelings in exchange for some advices.

Today was one of those days. The gang was reunited, sitting across a small round table after a tiring day, clinking glasses and chatting loudly, everybody cutting each other off during spicy topics that constantly created heated arguments. Mandy and Sam's bickering never failed to amuse us, with me falling back againt the couch laughing, Josh having climbed on a chair to yell over them in a dramatic manner, and Danny commenting their arguments with a sportscaster voice while they just pointed angrily at each other. It happened once or twice (make it thrice or fourth) now that the bartender had to come to our table to make us cool down, threatening to kick us out if we didn't, because he couldn't even hear the damn radio. Today, like any other day, the only one missing was Jake, fashionably late as always.

- You guys never agree on anything, that's frankly amazing, I said while wipping a tear from the corner of my eye.

Two murderous glare were instantly directed at me, dead serious, like their constant quarelling wasn't something you could take lightly. Of course, they never was any sort of resentment between them, it was more like a game that was entirely theirs. Mandy knew Sam liked to tease her to no end, and the boy never took the words she threw his way to heart. They were never hurtful anyway, they would always make sure of that.

- You know what they say..., announced Josh while taking a sip of his beer, love always starts with hatred.

- Nobody says that..., muttered a perplexed Danny.

However his confusion got rapidly interupted by Sam and Mandy's shouting, barking at Josh telling him how wrong he was about them while the curly boy smiled through his glass.

- I'd rather die, said my roommie.

- That should be my line, replied Sam.

Josh and I exchanged a mischevious and knowing glance that unfortunately didn't go unnoticed by his little brother. The long haired boy made a show of putting both elbows on the table before a devilish smile spread on his lips. Uh-oh.

- Speaking of which, how's Jakey ?

Admiring the way my cheeks grew red at the mention of the object of my affection, he patiently waited for my stuttering to stop while Mandy took side with him, adopting the same posture. Sitting between them, Danny comically raised his eyebrows, knowing damn well they'll torture me to no end, like they took the habit to do when Jake wasn't around. Of course Josh ignored my pleading eyes, enjoying where the conversation was going.

- You should know, you're his brother.

My reply was weak and didn't hide how bashful the subject made me, more reasons for him to pursue it.

- Come on, Mandy told me about the kiss of the century, there's no way nothing happened after that !

- For someone who claims Sam's a pain in the ass you guys are awfully close !, I exclaimed while watching her with an expression of fake betrayal.

- Hey, don't try to change the topic.

A long and loud sigh made its way out of my throat and my eyes were suddenly too absorbed by the bubbles of my soda spiralling to the surface to meet their expectant gazes. God why was it such a big thing to them ? Their fascination for my love life was starting to upset me, especially since it was a lost cause. There was really no reason to dwell upon it. Would they ever drop it ?

- Nothing happened between Jake and I. What do you want me to tell you ? It was just a kiss between friends, it doesn't mean anything.

At that, I felt my chest constrict. It didn't mean anything... for Jake, that is. For me, however... All of them suddenly went awfully quiet, in a very uncharacteristic manner. My head raised in surprise at their abrupt silence, only to be greeted by Jake's gaze on me, standing in front of our table. He must've been waiting for his chance to say hello all the while stepping on a conversation he wasn't meant to hear. My face must've lost all of its colors, and a glance around me confirmed what I feared ; judging by their awkward behaviours, Jake had heard. The boy cleared his throat, showing a toothy smile to the lot of us.

- Hi guys, whatcha talking about ?

During the few seconds he stayed with his back facing us to get a chair, we were all exchanging shocked and confused glances, mouthing hurried words to each other. Was he pretending he didn't hear anything I said ? Did he genuinely not hear our conversation ? However much I pondered about it, and tried relentlessly to think of all the possibilities that could've happened just now, I was at a loss, it was no use. The only thing to do was to go along and play his game, pretending he hadn't just walked on us gossiping about him. It was so awkward. Danny and Josh were the first to bring a new and funny topic, throwing jokes his way, studying his reaction. They immediately put him at ease, inviting Sam and Mandy to the masquerade, effectively hiding their uneasiness for his and my sake. It wasn't working on me, though. I sank into the couch, feeling incredibly shameful. And the few times I tried to react to the conversation at hands, I saw Jake avoid my eyes. Fuck.

I would lie if I said what happened at the bar wasn't playing on loop on my mind. It had been impossible for me to read Jake's brown eyes when he interrupted us, but there was absolutely no doubt that the boy heard us. Maybe it was for the best. I was the one pretending we were just friends anyway, so it wouldn't change anything... except now that he was single a part of me couldn't help but hope I had a chance with him... until now. Because if I was sure of one thing at the moment, it's that Jake was certain I only saw him as a friend. Why was I so unlucky anyway ? Did I offend God in a previous life ?! Man, it was harsh... Just when I had a feeling things could evolve between us, everything got in the way. Work, misunderstandings, my stupidity... On the bright side, I was so thankful I didn't say anything shameful. Because I could've told an awful lot of those. And for nothing in the world I wanted him to walk in when I was making a speech about the soft gleaming of his scar under the sun, or the roundness of his ass. I would forever thank my ability to always find a way to relativise, even during a crisis like this one.

Another person with the same quality was Josh, on top of being a really observant boy, and a good friend. So it was no surprise to me when he nudged my arm during a lecture and leaned into my ear to ask if he could come over after school.

- You know you're always welcome, I whispered back.

Josh smiled a me, and the exchange between us should've ended right here, but I saw his eyes gaze at something behind me, his smile changing into a smirk. He must've caught me notice it because he turned to his notebook again, playing innocent. My head jerked into Jake's direction, studying his stiff figure and furrowed brows. What the hell were they playing at ?

During the few days that followed that incident at the bar, I didn't get any answers to that question. The twins kept exchanging glances whenever I was near one or the other, and the more days passed the more moody Jake looked. I had tried to text him several times during the week, making small talk, asking what he was up to, and sharing silly anecdotes, only to be faced with cold answers. It was like talking to a wall. Something was upsetting him, but I had no way to know if it was school related, because of Josh's behaviour, or if I was the cause of it.

It was friday night when Danny slammed open the café door, causing the bartender to scowl, before completely ignoring him to look for us through the small crowd, hurriedly coming to our table. The drummer threw himself on the couch next to Mandy, looking out of breath but over-excited. And while his happy yet sweaty face made me question him, it only took a simple look for his bandmates to know what was going on. Sam was the first to exclaim and jump on his feet, almost toppling the table with his thighs, making the glasses clink dangerously.

- Are you serious?!

Still out of breath, Danny nodded, interrupting his heavy panting to gulp down the beer Jake was offering him. Josh and him were the next to understand.

- Really ?!

- Okay what is going on, should we be excited to ?, asked Mandy who was sheltering her drink in case anyone else wanted to try and knock over their table.

The drummer raised a finger our direction, indicating he needed some more time to recover from his sprint, removing his scarf in the process. His face was beet red, and although he looked like he was the most athletic of the group, I got slightly concerned he was about to die. He must've ran a long distance real fast, and judging by our friends' hysteria and high-fives, the news were good.

- Greta Van Fleet is playing tomorrow night at O'Malley's.

He let it all out in one go but the words were cristal clear, and now it was Mandy and I's turn to cheer and applaud loudly, congratulating the boys and clinking our glasses together, already chatting about the event before a threatening « Shut up ! » came from another table.

- It's so great you guys ! But are you ready ? Tomorrow night is a bit...

Josh shrugged away my concerns, placing an arm around my shoulder, speaking with his hands.

- Not at all, doll, we're more than ready. In fact we wanted to play there for a while, but the place's always packed.

- Someone cancelled their show at the last minute, so Danny got to negociate, interrupted Jake to sum things up.

Despite the general enthusiasm around the table, I didn't miss the look Jake gave to Josh's hand resting on my shoulder. The boys all nodded, Sam ruffling Danny's hair while congratulating him for his hard work and perseverance. Everyone agreed to buy him drinks to thank him, ignoring his shy protests and rosy cheeks at all the praise. Without even being a member of their band, Mandy and I shared their excitement, already asking what the setlist would be and bargaining with Josh when he insisted that it was a secret. The O'Malley was an Irish pub, like you could guess by their name, located by the docks. Which only meant one thing : it was crazy popular among students. Not only from our campus, but another art school rivaling ours. To be honest the teachers were the ones competing, as us students from both universities often met and hung out together. A lot of them came to our festivals and events, thus becoming friends with us. We let them come to our parties, and they never forgot to invite us over for theirs. Greta Van Fleet playing at the O'Malley on a Saturday night would no doubt be a huge step forward for the boys' band. I could sense the doors of success were already waiting for them to push them open.

The boys rehearsed all day long Saturday, waking up before dawn and arriving early to set everything up and properly meet the owner of the bar. Pictures were sent to our groupchat, Sam explaining that the staff had thanked them for their availability, relieved that they quickly found another band to replace the one who couldn't attend. Mandy and I chose to come early too, arriving one hour before the show and already having trouble finding a seat through the sea of students occupying every inch of space available. Whereas it was because they were taking shelter from the cold, or because their feet ached from standing in the cold didn't matter to the boys, who were delighted to welcome with open arms the newcomers and introduce them to their music. It helped that the word had spread super fast on campus too, with Jake's post on the school's Facebook page. Nursing my beer next to Mandy at the far end of the bar, I recognized the girls from the other time, the night we had our Christmas party, chatting to their girl friends, standing in front of the stage. When the boys got in to set up their instruments, I saw them salute the band, shaking hands and exchanging friendly words with Josh while Jake didn't bother giving them more than a glance and a nod before turning back to his guitar, causing me to snort behind my glass. Mandy was quick to notice that.

- Well aren't you a sneaky little one.

- I don't know what you're talking about.

Paying for her cocktail and putting her change back in her purse, she adopted my posture, back resting against the bar, drink in hand, eyes to the stage. Wearing a black and gold fringe jacket, Jake was focusing on his guitar, tuning it with great care, pick stuck between his lips, the ring I offered him gleaming under the spotlights. Onstage, he looked out of this world, unattainable.

- You know they stand no chance, said Mandy.

It caught me off-guard. But did they ? I looked their way, observing their pretty faces, skin glowing with light makeup, batting their eyelashes, bracelets clinking against one another, long fingers playing with silk strands of hair. A part of me knew Mandy was right and that they couldn't replace me. But then again, incertitude argued that it was my ego talking, and that my confidence was misplaced. With Jake giving me the cold shoulder, I wasn't able to look at the situation with a fair point of view, and Mandy's opinion was made unrelevant by the simple fact that she was my friend. And one thing I knew for sure was that friends were biased, because they loved you. I chose to change the topic.

- What about you and Sam ?

- I don't know what you're talking about, she mimicked.

To make sure my stern look was effective, I turned to her completely, resting an elbow on the bar, while she comically took a long sip of her cocktail, avoiding my eyes, making me smile before I turned to face the stage once more. All barstools and chairs were taken, much to our inconvenience, and shifting from one foot to the other was the only thing I found to release some of the soreness.

- I saw you holding hands under the table.

She gasped audibly before giving me a death stare that just fueled my laughter. There was no way I didn't notice their act, and I was quite certain the others did too, but chose to ignore it. Which by the way was unfair since the lot of them commented my love life like it was a soap opera. However Mandy didn't have the time to give me a proper answer, cut off by Josh's words into the mic, greeting the crowd and announcing the show was about to start.

If anything, their second time playing was even better than the first one. The boys were on fire. Each member had their time to shine in the form of a solo, Josh being his charming self in the meantime, playing with the crowd and blowing kisses our way. They played some covers, encouraging everybody to sing along, but also songs we never heard before, that weren't on the album. One of them in particular allowing Jake to show off the extent of his guitar skills. He blew me away. Expression serious, toned skin glistening with sweat under the blue lights, while Josh's tambourine and melancholic cries accompanied the torturous sounds of his guitar. There was something special about this one, that made my chest constrict due to several emotions contradicting themselves at the same time, causing a turmoil within me. Intrigued by their music or just in need of a drink, several people came into the bar that night, packing the place with new faces, all of them staying for the amazing show the boys were providing for us. By the time they finished, I had long forgotten about my aching feet, instead welcoming the boys in a tight hug, complimenting and congratulating them. Mandy and I already had their beers ready, before anyone else could cut the ground from under our feet. Not that there was anything wrong with people buying them drinks, it was always a very nice thing to do, we just wanted to be the first ones to do it, at least for tonight. They were our friends, so it only seemed fair.

- Here.

Handing Jake his beer, I took a good look at his content face, smile plastered on his lips and moist strands of brown hair sticking to his forehead. He looked gorgeous, at peace and proud of himself and his band. Some people offered them drinks, like we thought they'd do, students came talking to them, to make small chat or to congratulate them. The boys took their time before packing up, talking and laughing with us, their enthusiasm contagious. When closing, the bartender even invited us all to stay inside and have a chat, drinks on the house. It felt incredibly nice to be able to stay here while everybody else had to leave, even the few girls still talking with Jake. Now I'm not gonna lie I might have directed a smile or two their way when the bartender closed the door behind them...

Going back to the dorms was... not an easy task to say the least. We had to call a cab, but as we couldn't all fit in it, we split teams, the most important thing being their music instruments. But even before that... Danny's drumkit was heavy as hell, the boys were tipsy enough to be clumsy and numerous times their instruments threatened to slip and drop on the hard conrete. And even if he was the only one who didn't need to carry anything at all, Josh was completely wasted, singing loud gibberish nonsense, waking up the dogs and barking back at them, removing his shoes and throwing them to trees... Man he was so out of control when drunk even the 5 of us couldn't properly babysit him. It made me realize it was the first time I was sober when he wasn't. And I didn't dare imagine how we must've wreaked havoc the night we brought back the couch to our dorm. Of all of us, Jake once more proved that he was the most serious and reasonable. It wasn't much of a surprise, actually. From what I knew, in situations that required seriousness, the brunette had always been this composed, level-headed boy. I loved that about him, his ability to remain remarkably quiet, then go crazy all of a sudden, before returning to his peaceful self. Josh's shoes in hand, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips when I saw Jake giving his brother a piggy back ride, moved by the fond scene in front of my eyes.

When the cab finally reached our school, Danny and Sam were waiting for us sitting on cases, explaining Josh had forgotten to hand them the key to their door. Since he was the one who didn't need to transport anything, it was only fair he at least took care of the keys in case they'd got lost in a guitar case or whatnot. I couldn't help but think we looked like a bunch of burglars, when everybody started muttering at the same time and hushing each other in the dark of the night. Mandy yawned, waiting to kiss them goodnight to go to sleep, and Jake sighed, defeated.

- Okay Josh, give me the keys.

Once again carrying his twin on his back, the long haired boy nudged his sleepy cheek with his shoulder to wake him up, not minding the drool on his jacket. Mandy couldn't contain a cute noise when Josh turned his head to get more comfortable in his brother's back, making Jake snort in the process.

- Just drop him, suggested Sam right before Danny elbowed him.

He really could've, to wake him up, but it seemed like Jake didn't have the heart to shake him out of his peaceful drowse. More abruptly, he shook his shoulder, causing Josh to whine.

- What, he groaned.

- We're in front of the dorms, give me the keys.

There was a silence during which Josh sighed, taking his time to process what his brother was asking, unfazed by Sam's complaints. The boy rubbed his eyes, sliding an arm in Jake's back to comfortably put his head against it. I could tell he was beginning to feel heavy, because Jake's hold on him slipped more and more frequently and he had to give him a small but strong push to get him back into place.

- What keys, he finally said.

Mandy and I exchanged a glance, one of those that said « Shit's about to go down », and Danny's face lit up with concern. You could see he already had the worst case scenario figured in his mind and was imagining them sleeping in the school's park.

- What do you mean you-

- Sam, Jake warned him. Josh, remember, we told you to take the keys to our rooms so we don't put them by mistake in one of the cases.

- No you didn't.

He was now perfectly awake, shaken by the confusing accusations, and got off of Jake's back, stumbling a bit, probably because his legs must felt numb after being carried around for a long period of time. Sam got up too, not amused by the situation. He was cold, he was tired, and he still had a lot of shit to lift on the stairs and if possible he wanted to be done with it before dawn.

- Yes we did !, the bassist said with his arms raised in the air.

- Yeah, we did, Danny assured him when Josh's gaze found his face for some sort of confirmation.

Silence again. Somehow, Mandy and I didn't dare to watch them. It remembered me of those situations when parents are having a fight and then turn to you... and start finding every excuse they can to yell at you even though you've done nothing. Well... Let's say we tried to summon our inner chameleons while they all started to get pissed at Josh. It was kind of awkward and we couldn't find a good time to leave. Besides, we couldn't let them sleep under the stars.

- Why don't you sleep at ours for tonight ? You'll return to the O'Malley tomorrow and ask them about the keys.

It was the most Mandy thing I ever said since we met the guys, but it was the only solution right now. It took us another hour to climb the stairs with all those heavy and big instruments cases, probably waking up half of the dorm in the process, but it felt so good to be home. The room was warm, and the bed was calling me. The first thing Josh did was to dive head first onto the couch without even taking the time to remove his coat, and fell asleep almost immediately, pulling the blanket on him (more like letting it fall on his body). Sitting around the kitchen table, we all had a hot cup of tea/coffee to warm us up and get some of the alcohol out of our system. Danny was the first one to word his concern about the bedding.

- It's really nice you girls allow us to sleep here for the night, he shyly said, but...

His big hands were entirely covering his mug, enjoying its warmth, thumb caressing the edge of it, thinking of a good way to phrase it. An embarrassed look was adorning his features, which I couldn't help but find endearing.

- There's no room for six... is it ?

- You're right, Jake said. Maybe I should stay awake ?

I didn't know if it was a rhetorical question or if he was being serious but there was no way anybody stayed awake while the others were asleep. First of all, it was creepy. But above all, it wasn't fair. Thinking hard, I let a hand run through my hair, ruffling the locks in its passage.

- Oh, Mandy I think there's an airmat under your bed ! There, two down, four more to go. Let's see...

- We just have to share beds, suddenly said Sam.

All heads turned to him, and the boy put his cup on the table, shrugging.

- What ? It's the easy solution. There are two big beds in the room, don't tell me nobody thought about it. What do you think, Jake ?

His cough was so loud he spilled his drink everywhere on his hands, color leaving then regaining his face alternaly. Standing up to lay his empty cup in the sink, Sam patted his back, wicked smile on his face.

- Then it's settled. Let's go, Mandy.

Oh you sneaky son of a...

I should've seen this coming. I should've known better. Of course Sam would do something like that, it was so him, I couldn't believe I let my guard down like that. And his little act with Mandy, pretending they didn't like each other and then snuggling in bed, ah, I hated my friends. The sadistic bastard even got Danny to play along in his three years plan to make my life miserable.

It was uncomfortably silent for a room filled with six young adults, our breathing being the only noise audible. With the halfway closed curtains, the dim light was dark enough for us to distinguish forms and silhouettes painted in different shades of blue and grey. Sometimes, the sound of a cover brushing against the mattress will get me out of my thoughts, other times it will be Josh's sleep talking or Danny's serene snoring. Sam had lied. The bed wasn't big at all. It was cramped, at best, and I couldn't calm down at all. Jake's warmth was suffocating, my thumping heart wouldn't slow down, and I was over conscious of every little thing he was doing. My throat instinctively tried to swallow the lump residing there when I felt the covers ruffling on my skin, Jake's hot breath now brushing my neck.

- Can't sleep ?

His husky voice whispering in my ear caused an uncontrollable shiver to run down my spine. Each of his breathes awoke goosebumps on my skin, covering their path like grass would grow after the rain. It always amazed me, the power he had over me, without even realizing it. Just two words murmured in the crook of my neck and my body was almost trembling already. As my voice was caught in my throat, my body reacted on its own and I shook my head slightly, enough for him to notice. Jake sighed. I could hear him rustling and moving behind me, careful not to touch me and not knowing what to do with his long arms.

- Did you mean it ?, he said after a while.

Furrowing my brows in confusion wasn't going to work, so I turned to face him, both lying on our side to look at each other in the dark. I could only see the shadows of his face, but by now my eyes were accustomed enough to distinguish his expressions more clearly. Jake swallowed hard, gaze focusing on anything but my eyes, looking... confused and rather saddened, discouraged.

- What you said at the bar.

At the bar... My brain had trouble seeing where he was going, but my body must've sensed it on instinct because my heart started pounding madly, as if wanting to warn me of what was coming. Suddenly brave enough to face me, Jake's eyes stared into mine, intense yet unsure.

- Do you only see me as a friend... ?

Unable to run away, I had to face him, and answer him. My voice was still caught in my throat, and my palms were getting sweaty. Jake was dead serious. So much that I thought for a second I was dreaming. His eyes weren't leaving mine, I had to answer. But what was the good thing to say ? What would I do if I told him the truth and he only saw me as a friend ? From my perspective he led me into thinking there might be more but... My feelings for him were blurring everything. And if I lied... and he wanted to be more than friends... Then I'd lose him.

- Jake...

- Because I really want to kiss you right now.

His hand hovered above my head, fingers carefully rustling my hair, pushing some strands behind my ear and brushing my cheek. His eyes, half-lidded and gaze burning, were following every inch his digits traced on my skin. Carefully, Jake's thumb came caressing my lower lip, slowly, painfully so, admiring how soft it felt against his finger, parting it slightly from its twin. A ragged breath escaped from them, and his eyes found mine again, dying to get permission. Shyly, my shaky hand gripped his shirt, pulling it close. It was the only thing he needed to lose all control, and he swiftly straddled my hips, framing my head with his arms, before ghosting his lips over mine. My mind was foggy, and my brain couldn't understand anything anymore, all I knew was that I had waited for this for so long, I didn't want to waste any more time now. Arms snaking around Jake's neck, I closed the distance separating us, the soft and awaited contact causing us to sigh in unison. It felt so good, both inside and out. His plump lips captured mine with a mixture of longing and hunger, while my heart was about to burst from happinness. With confidence, I embraced him more, pulling him closer to me, biting his lip and admiring the way it made him gasp, feeling his shaky fingers hesitating to touch me, like he was under some kind of delirium tremens and I was the fantasy haunting his nights. It only made me want him more. Never once did he try to touch me in a way that I wasn't ready for yet, keeping it chaste, and I'll forever be thankful for that. It seemed like we both had silently agreed to take our time, but I couldn't concentrate on that right now. Not when Jake's tongue was licking my lips, taking my lower one between his teeth to playfully chew on it, making me pant, fingers lost in his long brown hair. There was a sense of urgence to this kiss, of need even, like he had been waiting for it for so long he couldn't refrain himself anymore. The mere thought of it made me hot. Eventually, we cooled down, and Jake stayed on top of me, leaning on his arms, covering my face with soft kisses, the sound of them resonating in the room. We looked at each other for a while, and I couldn't stop a bubbly giggle, making him chuckle too.

- Fuck... I had thought about this moment for so long, his raspy voice murmured.

- Me too.

- I always thought you liked Josh better.

So that was what it was about, all those past days... Josh upsetting Jake on purpose because he was jealous. What a brat, I couldn’t believe them, so silly.

- Dummy. I think I like you.

My voice was almost inaudible, barely a whisper. It made me blush, but now it was out, and it felt so good to get rid of this weight. Jake nuzzled my neck, taking in my scent, tickling me.

- You think ?

I could tell he was as embarrassed as me, and probably not as confident as he looked, because his cheeks were burning hot, and he wouldn't face me. Against my chest, the accelerated beating of his heart was so loud it seemed like it was communicating with mine.

- No, I said. I'm sure.

Slouching against me in a relieved manner, the boy let out a sigh that burned my skin, before shifting to comfortably rest his chin on my chest, facing me with a smile on his face.

- Good. Because I do too.

Even in the dark, I could see the way his cheeks were a darker shade of gray than the rest of his features. Jake liked me. A huge wave of joy went through my body, overcoming me with both delight and relief. There was no words I could put on this sensation. Suddenly, it was like every other problem in the world had faded away, and I finally understood Edith Piaf's La Vie En Rose. Being in his arms, lying against one another, skin against skin, everything finally made sense.

- Come here, I whispered.

We kissed again, playful and teasing, barely containing our excited giggles.

- Shut up !!

Sam's pillow came flying our way, quickly followed by Josh, Mandy, and Danny's.

- Fucking date already !

- So annoying, people are trying to sleep !

More cushions came crashing down on our bed, making us laugh for real this time, as Jake took them in his hands to fight back. Soon, shouting, laughter and feathers filled the room, as the sun was beginning to appear in the clear sky of February. And as we were all screaming and throwing pillows at each other, I couldn't help but smile, and exchange warm glances with Jake.

Yeah, with him by my side, everything's going to be just fine.

#gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #gvf fic #gvf x reader #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka fic #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fic

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kayann9 · 4 years

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Walking Away Damien X F!MC

So.... This is definitely one I was never going to post. I never actually finished Perfect Match because I genuinely did not want it to end. I wrote this after about Chapter 6 of book 1. It’s third person so not my usual!

Damien X F!MC (Romance/ angst)

Words - 1678

Rating - T (a little bit of swearing)

He’d finished the case last month. Two women, worried about some odd pictures they were receiving, had strolled into his marginally bleak office with the hope that he would be the answer they were looking for seen as the police had done nothing. As he had thought at the time, it had been a stalker – an overzealous fan – declaring his love for Nadia in the most unromantic and warped ways he could have mustered. And that should have been the end of it all.

Should have.

As Damien straightened the folders on his desk he thought about texting an excuse; it wouldn’t be hard. He could tell Nadia he had a case. He could tell Nadia that. Giving an excuse to Izzy, he had found over the course of this investigation, had proven a little harder.

What else would I be doing? His brain argued. Drinking tequila and replaying the last year of my life perhaps? He wasn’t sure if his mind was trying to make a case for or against him going but mulling over his discharge from his last post was neither appealing nor fun.

His phone lit up as he turned off the light to his office.

At Shenanigans. Nads is late and there is a man in a top hat talking to me. Hurry it up Sherlock.

Damien snorted. Only her, he thought as he picked up the pace down the street.

Shenanigans, as anyone would assume for a Friday, was busy but there was Izzy, at the bar, wearing a tight smile as an obviously drunken man in a comedy top hat chattered at her. “Damien!” She jumped off the stool, the moment he walked through the day and gave an apologetic glance back to the man as she bounded away. “Thank god.”

“He seems like a catch.” Damien chuckled noting how the man kept looking her way even though she’d abruptly run off. He couldn’t blame the guy he guessed. He knew too well, way too well for a month and a half, that Izzy seemed to have that effect on people – men – without her really knowing it.

“You could say he has a certain lure,” she laughed at her own joke and even though Damien tried to roll his eyes, he couldn’t help the smirk that followed. “See, I can make you laugh! I caught that.”

This time Damien did roll his eyes.

“Whatever D, that moody mask isn’t fooling me.” She handed a beer to him and leaned on the bar. He didn’t know when she had started calling him D; it made a change from the fictional detectives she often referred to him as. He should have known at that point the line was getting blurred but part of him had relished in her saying it; it had aggravated him, annoyed him and it had caused his face to scowl, twist and frown. But she hadn’t been scared off. It hadn’t stopped her. She wasn’t taking the hint and part of him so desperately needed someone who wouldn’t take the hint.

They sipped their beer in comfortable silence.

Damien had noticed it happened when they were alone. Like the first time he’d been to their apartment and Nadia wasn’t home; Izzy had made him pizza while they waited and they’d made idle chatter about who they’d invite to dinner, living or dead, if they’d had the chance. He’d chosen Babe Ruth as one and that had led to a discussion about baseball and so on. But from there, he’d found her easy to be near – talking or not. She made no demands of him. She asked no heavy questions. Izzy only told bad jokes, discussed unimportant topics and was, much to his frustration, oddly difficult to read. The utter opposite of her cousin.

Damien got the bar tender’s attention and ordered the special.

He passed her the tequila. They clinked the little glass and threw the liquid down their throats.

“Ah, tequila. It won’t fix your life, but it’s worth a shot.” Izzy winked whilst Damien groaned.

“Are you having a competition with yourself to see how many awful puns you can fit into one social interaction?”

Tucking a loose, brown curl behind her ear, Izzy pulled her mouth into a smirk. “Actually, I’m having a competition with you and you are losing massively Poirot.”

Green eyes sparkled at him, the odd shade of green that he’d noticed when they’d first met only that time the emotion in them had been mired in worry and fear. Even then, they’d been noticeable and beautiful. He’d always found her attractive, even when he should have been concentrating on the job, but he couldn’t help it; chestnut hair sat just below her shoulders in waves, olive skin, only marked by a little scar above her left eye where she’d been pecked by a rooster as a child. Of course, he would find her attractive and despite his best efforts to ignore it, he still did. Only now, he’d decided he quite liked her company too. The problem was, every other man in this building probably felt the same way; just so the universe could taunt him a little more.

This is the last time I’m coming out, he promised himself as he drank her in. I can’t do this.

“So, you’ve started without me. What a surprise!” Nadia flicked a strand of hair over a delicate shoulder and muscled in between them.

Izzy rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip. “Consider it compensation for your lateness. I had to talk to that guy.” Her head nodded in the direction of the comedy hat guy who was now shirtless and singing ‘Mull of Kintyre’ as loud as he could. All three of them winced. “I needed that tequila.”

Nadia shook her head. “And what’s your excuse?” She looked at Damien.

“I was the bringer of tequila. And, I had to endure a hug. We all know how I feel about bodily contact.” He raised his eyebrows at his own lie before drinking his beer. He didn’t like hugs – apart from Izzy. The first time she’d hugged him, after they’d gotten drunk when the creeper had been caught, he’d panicked, maybe even tried to squirm out of it, but the second her head had rested on his chest his body had betrayed him. It had made his heart race. His arms had involuntarily clamped around her. His fingers had stroked the ends of her hair. And he had hated himself afterwards. Yet, every time she said farewell to him, she did so with a quick hug and he had not yet refused it.

“Yeah, D. I’m sure it was agony.” Nadia raised an eyebrow at him, thankfully, Izzy was distracted by the louts on the other side of the bar. Still, he froze. She knows. How does she know? He knew from the way her mouth lifted into a smirk, just on one side and how her arms folded over her chest. It told him: I’m onto you.

“What’s the plan? I am getting bad vibes in here. Like, any second Lord of the Dance is coming on and it’s all going to Hell.” Izzy’s questions shattered the unspoken conversation between them both. She noticed the look they shared and for a split second wondered what was going on.

Nadia swirled the wine around the glass. “There’s a dive bar over the road.” Her shoulders shrugged. They both looked at Damien.

He knew that bar. It had been one that he’d frequented when he’d gotten back. The one where he’d drunk until he’d almost passed out and where he’d taken home two of the barmaids (on separate occasions) and then he’d worn out his welcome. No. I can’t go in there. He breathed in deeply. This is the last time I come out. It has to be.

“I suppose this is where I leave you both.” He smiled. This time it was warm and even though Nadia heard his words, Izzy heard much more than that when she looked at his face.

“Oh, Damien, we can just go somewhere else.” Nadia started but Izzy knew better.

“I should go, seriously, I have a meeting early.”

“On a Saturday?” Nadia started.

“Nads, to be fair, you do owe me a girl’s night.” Izzy spoke, a light smile on her face and a grateful one on Damien’s. She gave him a silent welcome. Nadia’s gaze dropped back to Izzy and just like that she agreed.

As they were about to leave, Nadia left for the restroom apparently not trusting the ones at a place called the Lord Drake.

“So,” Izzy started and shoved her hands in her pockets.

Damien took in a deep breath knowing that he wouldn’t see her again. Or he’d be trying not to.

“I’ll see you around, Inspector Gadget.” Izzy chuckled and despite his best effort so did he. Just when he was about to speak, Izzy stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around his torso. His breath hitched. Even though his brain was screaming at him to stay rational, logical and sent reminders to the forefront of his brain about the last time work and professionalism became mingled, it didn’t stop him from resting his chin on her head and breathing in the scent of flowers that came from her hair. He stayed there a minute, maybe a little more. “I thought you didn’t like bodily contact.”

“Hardy Har.” He broke the hold but her hand stayed on his forearm.

“I’m giving you a pass this time. But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me Nazario. I’m persistent.” She whispered just as Nadia walked back towards them.

“I thought you didn’t do bo-”

“She already beat you to the joke Nadia.” Damien smirked when she huffed and crossed her arms.

“Fine. We’ll see you later D. Enjoy brooding.” She laughed before skipping off.

Izzy followed before turning on her heel. “Remember, one ‘get out of jail free’ card. And you just used it.”

Shit. His brain hummed. Shit, indeed.

#damien nazario #perfect match #playchoices #pixelberry #pixelberry choices #damien elvis nazario #perfectmatch #pm choices

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snowrobin-133 · 5 years

Text

Fairies in Cradle Chpt. 2

Hewo!! Chapter 2 is here~! Hope you guys like it! Word Count: 2095 Characters: Zero x Alice (Echo) Warnings: Near Death, angst

what? I’m the angst hell leader on cradlesona discord you guys. I gotta add in some angst obviously xD

~~~~~~~~~~~

Zero started to come to the forest regularly as her wing healed. Echo even started to open up and relax around him. Every time they met, a warmth would blossom in her heart and he occupied her thoughts every second of the day. How strange. Just what does one call this feeling?

Even though Echo was less guarded, she could still see the omen of war clinging onto him. Oh how she wanted to get rid of it.

Zero came at the same time he always did and Echo went to greet him. They spent their day like they usually did, but Echo noticed something was off. The omen of war was overwhelming, but she waited.

When their time came to an end and Zero was about to walk away, Echo spoke up, "Is something wrong?" Echo asked as she watched his expression.

He hesitated, "...War has been declared."

Echo froze up, "...War?"

He nodded, avoiding her gaze.

"...You will be fighting in it, won't you?"

"...Yes."

Echo stayed silent in shock for a few seconds. Before she knew it, she had hugged him from behind.

He froze up, but slowly relaxed, putting a hand over hers.

"...Be safe." She murmured as she tightened the hug. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks but ignored it.

"...Right." he replied in a low whisper.

After another minute or so of hugging him, Echo reluctantly stepped back letting him go. She already started to miss the warmth of his body.

He turned to look at her, a small sad smile plastered on his face. With a nod, he walked away.

A few days later. As Echo woke up, she immediately gagged. The omen of war and tragedy was everywhere and it was strong. *It appears that war has started…*

She glanced at her wing. It was fully healed by now. She fluttered it a few times, trying to readjust to being able to fly again.

She flew outside, noting that multiple fairies under her care was outside, frowning.

Landing next to Kandis, she glanced at where she was staring at, "So war has started, huh?"

Kandis tore her eyes from in front of her to Echo, "Y-yes…"

Echo glanced back, "...I will be back." She didn't give Kandis a chance to reply as she flew straight up and to the edge of the forest.

Hiding up in the trees, she watched as two armies, one clad in red and white and the other in black and purple, stand next to each other.

*Huh…? I thought this was a war between the two armies…?*

She could see all the leaders of both armies discussing with each other.

Echo's eyes narrowed, *...What are they planning…?*

They were facing the forest and Echo's suspicion grew. Did Zero betray her trust? Are they planning to destroy the fairies? She clenched her fists, drawing blood. If these men are here to destroy her realm, then they will face the consequences.

They then started to march into the forest and Echo followed them, noting that they weren't headed to the fairies.

The men marched out into a clearing in front of a large tower, one that she has watched carefully ever since it was built. The men that were in the tower wore robes and babbled in magic, something she looked down upon.

She watched calmly as the leaders rode on their horses and started to yell out orders.

*What are they planning…?*

With a mutter, Echo made her decision and jumped down from the tree branch she stood on. Landing gracefully on the ground, she made her way to the leaders. Several soldiers turned to gawk at her and quickly moved out of the way, afraid of her wrath. Murmurs exploded between the soldiers and the leaders noticed, turning around to see Echo standing before them.

They jolted in surprise. A fairy. A fairy hasn’t been seen ever since the war from 500 years ago came to an end. They had closed themselves off from the humans, hiding and moving any traces of where they could be or lived. Some even started to believe that fairies no longer exist. Yet, those theories were proven false as one stood before them.

Zero spoke up first, "Echo?"

“Echo? Is that your name?” a tall male with blond hair spoke up.

“...You do not need to know. Although, I must ask who you all are, after all, this is my forest.”

“Ah...then you must be the guardian…” another one spoke up, except this leader belonged to the opposite army. With black hair and emerald eyes.

Echo didn’t reply, staring intently at the blond man with cold eyes. She didn’t trust any of these humans, and she wasn’t sure if she could trust Zero either. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she noted that he was simply watching the scene unfold before him with a surprised expression. Echo tore her gaze back to the blond man who seemed to be thinking.

After another few minutes of silence from him, he spoke up, “I am the King of Hearts; Lancelot Kingsley."

Echo glanced to the army clad in red and white, "Your army was the one that decided to torture my kind, correct?" She murmured loud enough for him to hear as her eyes narrowed.

He seemed to flinch as his gaze hardened, "...My predecessors made mistakes but I will not do the same."

Echo's gaze returned to him, eyes cold as ever, "...We shall see, King of Hearts."

A tall man from the opposing army with brown hair spoke up, "Will you be joining us?"

"...It depends. What are you doing here anyways?"

The same man from before with his black hair being thrown about from the wind, "We are here to siege the Magic Tower and end their atrocities."

Echo crossed her arms, "And just what atrocities did they commit?"

"...You will see if you come with us."

Her eyes narrowed, *Why not just out right say it? This is something I have never once understood…"

"Well, we do not have time to discuss this further. If you wish to come, then you may." Lancelot spoke as he shifted in his spot, turning the horse to face the tower.

"...Very well." Echo nodded, walking to the side. She exchanged concerned glances with Zero, *I do pray that everything goes well…* she thought to herself.

The men charged into the clearing to find robed men standing in front of them holding magic crystals.

She watched as the two sides clashed, doing nothing to help either side. She merely monitored the situation. But, her eyes kept going to Zero. She was worried. Why? Echo didn't know. She looked away, trying to distract herself.

A warmth in her heart always ignited whenever she saw Zero. Was this what Humans called love? It couldn't be. A fairy like her, falling in love with a human? It sounded bizarre. Yet deep in her heart, she knew the truth.

She was then snapped back to reality as she noticed orange and red colors swirl around from the corner of her eye.

With a sharp turn of her head, she noticed flames. Flames of red, orange, and yellow, whirling around the clearing. Yells, screams, panic and chaos ensued. Men were running away from the bright flames with terrified faces.

Echo stood glued to her spot, eyes wide and mouth agape. What had caused this fire? She had been distracted so she hadn't noticed. But now she was afraid.

How amusing, a fairy guardian *afraid* of something as simple as a fire. Yet, this wasn't simple. The raging fire was spreading. Quickly.

She watched as men tried to put it out, yet was unsuccessful. Echo knew she had to do something as guardian of the forest, but she was afraid. Fires rarely happened. And when it did, they were small and could easily be put out.

This fire on the other hand, was large and quick. Plants and anything it touched died by its flaming hands. It was growing closer, so close that she could feel the fiery heat.

She finally snapped out of it when she heard Zero call out her name. She quickly realized that the fire was close enough to burn her and she immediately jumped to the ground. Hurrying over to Zero, she watched as the branch she had stood on be engulfed by flames. How could she had gotten so distracted? How stupid of her.

With a shaky breath, Echo glanced at Zero, "...I'll get the fairies that can help."

Zero nodded but stopped her as she was about to leave.

She looked at him in confusion, "Is something wrong Zero?"

He hesitated before shaking his head, "No, nevermind."

"...Alright…" she was slightly disappointed but she didn't let that bother her. With a nod, she quickly went off to gather help.

Echo hurried back to the clearing. A small group of fairies that could control water, hurrying behind her. About ten minutes had passed, and hopefully they weren't too late.

They barged into the clearing and immediately the fairies went to work. Gathering water from the small containers they held and from the river, they started to extinguish the fire.

The soldiers watched in awe. This was their first time seeing fairies, especially ones in action.

As the fire slowly died down, Echo looked around for Zero. A pit was forming in her stomach.

The stench of death was strong and she was scared. Scared that Zero had died.

*No, don't think like that. He's strong, isn't he?* she thought to herself.

Suddenly, Echo's attention was brought to quick footsteps coming towards her. Turning around, she saw a soldier clad in red and white panting as he caught his breath.

He sharply looked up and Echo was taken aback by his desperate eyes. "Please...please help the Ace of Hearts." He pleaded quietly.

"What happened to him?!"

"...He was burnt really badly when he saved me and a few other soldiers."

"...! Take me to him."

The soldier led her to the site and she could see Zero laying on the ground. His shirt and jacket was removed and she could see the horrendous burn on his chest. His chest heaved heavily and Zero's eyes were screwed shut in pain.

Echo's eyes widened. Before she knew it, she was kneeling by him putting her hands over the burn. She felt a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. Fear that Zero would die before her eyes. But she would not let that happen, even if it required all of her power.

Healing magic radiated from her hands, slowly healing the burn. If only she was an expert in healing magic. Yet she wasn't. Tears started to spill from her eyes and decided to accept the feeling of warmth she had always felt with him.

"...I love you, Zero, don't die under my hands now…" she whispered under her sobs. Echo poured all of her energy into healing him. She knew what would happen if she used up all her energy, but right now she didn't care.

Echo could tell as time passed that she was about to lose her energy. But the burn was just about healed. *Just a little more…* she thought to herself.

Finally, the burn was healed. Zero's eyes slowly opened and all the soldiers who held their breath cheered in relief.

Slowly he sat up and looked around in puzzlement. His eyes landed on Echo, she was smiling with tears falling from her eyes.

Time seemed to slow down as she then collapsed into his chest.

"E-Echo??! Are you ok?!"

She smiled softly at him. Her body started to glow a soft light and Zero's eyes widened.

"...I'll be fine, Zero."

"But…"

Tears flowed down her cheeks at a faster rate, "I...I just need to sleep…"

Zero held Echo closer to him, hoping that he could stop whatever what was happening. Deep in his heart, he knew that he didn't have the power and he started to cry.

The glow grew brighter until she was enveloped in the bright glow.

Slowly, the glow died down. But, Echo was no longer in Zero's arms. Instead, a flower stood in her place. The flower had large black petals and had a soft glow. Magic could be felt radiating from the flower.

Zero's sobs grew in volume. He never got a chance to even tell her he loved her. Nor did he hear her tell him she loved him.

#cradlesona event #cradlesona mythology #ikerev zero #ikerev #ikemen revolution

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the-gay-trashmouth · 5 years

Text

Can’t you see i’m a little busy right now? (A-Z Prompt #3)

Rating: Teen

warnings: Period-typical homophobia, internalized homophobia

Era: Canon

Ship(s): Sprace, background Javid

Note: I would have had this done a lot sooner but my file corrupted the first time and i lost everything. But here it is and i hope you enjoy it even though it’s late!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Race loved to tangle his hands in Spot's messy brown hair. Whether they were kissing, cuddling, or just playing cards he always had his hands in his tangled mess of hair.

He did just that as Spot pressed his back against the wall of his private room in the Brooklyn lodging house. There were defiantly perks of being the so-called King, and the privacy was the one Race enjoyed the most. There's only so many times you can make-out in some dirty old alleyway without being caught.

Spot gripped his hips with a strange combination of aggressiveness and softness that Race absolutely adored. Race grinned into the Brooklyn leader's lips and pulled back, pure mischief in his eyes "ya' miss me or somethin'?"

Spot jerked him closer and muttered a "Shaddup will ya" before capturing his lips again. He happily complied, wrapping his arms around his neck almost and kissing him without another comment. This was a better way to spend his time anyways.

Spot bit his lower lip gently and he gasped just as the door opened.

"Hey, Conlon, Copper's been lookin' for ya'" Spot's second in command Spades froze in the doorway, only looking mildly surprised to see Spot pining the taller boy against a wall and Race's arms still around his neck.

"Can't ya see I's in the middle a' somethin' at the moment?" Spot pulled back just far enough that he could turn to look at her, hands still on race's hip and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever ya queer, just find 'im when you's done" she waved dismissively, shutting the door on her way out.

"Oh, to hell wit' ya'!" he called out after her before turning back to Race, who hadn't moved an inch during that whole interaction, "you's okay Racer?"

He finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and pushed Spot away "How can you's be so calm about this? We's got caught, we's never got caught before!" he whisper hissed, glancing towards the door as if she would burst in at any second with an army of Brooklyn boys ready to soak him for somehow tempting their leader or whatever.

Spot gave him a confused look "Spades ain't gonna rat us out-"

"How d'ya know that?" he dug his nails into his arms and Spot took a concerned step towards him.

"Hey," he reached out to grab Race's hands and pried them off his arms "Trust me, I knows Spades, she ain't gonna rat us out"

It physically hurt Race to jerk his arms away, because Spot was using that soft tone of voice he reserved especially for Race. Just for when they were alone together, blocked away from the rest of the world and it was just them, and it hurt to pull away from that.

But he had too "I- I's sorry Spot, I gotta go" he clambered out the window and bolted down the fire-escape.

The only thing going through his mind as he made his way across the bridge was the muted crack he heard from the window as he left spot behind.

~~~~~

"A'ight, what's up wit you?"

Race turned lazily to look at Jack who was leaning on the bedpost of Race and Romeo's shared bunk. It was after selling hours but most of the boys had gone to Jacobi's. Race stayed behind.

"Nothin'" he grumbled, twirling his unlit cigar.

Jack rolled his eyes and shoved Race's feet off the bed to sit in their place "bullshit, you's been mopin' around all week"

Race sighed, falling back on his bunk and putting his lanky legs in Jack's lap obnoxiously. "I ain't mopin', I just can't go back ta Brooklyn no more," he said as nonchalantly as he could.

"What? Spot kick ya out or somethin'" Jack raised an eyebrow at him.

"Or somethin'..." he trailed off, lolling his head to the side and sighing.

Jack rolled his eyes again "so you's just gonna lay there an' mope cause Spot didn't kick ya' out?"

"Me an' Spotty just ain't pals no more, can't sell on his turf"'

"So you's can't sell on his turf afta he didn't kick ya out and ya haven't seen him all week, even though you's been sellin' there for years even before you twos met?" Jack sounded unconvinced "Race you's a walking contradiction"

"Oo, big word Jack, Kath teach ya' that?" Race sat up, pulling his gangly legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

He swore he saw Jack go pink before scratching the back of his neck and saying "Naw, Davey did"

Oh... OH!

Race grinned, leaning in to get in Jack's face, "So you an' Davey, eh? Ya gotta tell me, d' they call him Mouth for a good reason?"

Jack went scarlet and shoved his cackling face away "don't try an' distract me from the issue here! You's still mopin' over Colon an' when I saw 'im today he looked like he ain't had a wink a' sleep"

Race went quiet for a moment. "He looks that bad?" he asked softly.

"He looks like you, Racetrack. You look like shit too" Jack flashed him a cheeky smile before going sober again, "Look, me an' Spot's been pals since before he was king, an' he ain't eva invited me to weekly poker nights, an' he ain't ever let me call 'im Spotty."

Race went uncharacteristically quiet. "Ya really think he'd wanna see me?" He asked, anxiety seeping into his every word.

"Look, I don't know what you's done, but I know he looked pretty torn up, an Spades is pretty pissed you ain't bringin' Romeo along anymore" Jack punched him in the arm playfully and Race finally grinned.

"Swear, she acts like she's his mom or somethin'" he paused for a moment before standing up and grinning confidentially "aight. I's gotta go, got a fella ta see"

Jack grinned. "Ya betta hurry, don't want him ta realize how awful you's is"

He went solemn for a moment "look, Jack, Brooklyn's a dangerous place. If I don't make it back, tell Davey he can do betta"

Jack hit him with a pillow "alright get outta here!"

Race did, and he knew just where to find the short Brooklyn leader.

~~~~~

The sun was just starting to set when he made it to the docks and a chill settled into his bones. Most if the newsies had already settled into the lodging house for the night, but if Spot looked as bad as Jack said he did then Race knew he'd be here.

Just as he had suspected, there on one of the crates sat Spot. He knew he was grinning like some lovestruck idiot but spot just looked so beautiful illuminated by the setting sun.

He clambered onto the crate with much less grace then he thought he'd have. The other didn't acknowledge him until he was sat down and settled.

"Didn't think you's comin' back" he sounded disinterested and unaffected, but when you've known him as long as Race, loved him as long as Race has, you'd know how to see past that. You'd see the way he furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms a little too tightly over his middle.

Race smiled softly "guess I missed ya too much," he said, bumping spot with his shoulder.

Spot scooted away and Race tried not to feel hurt. He didn't say anything so Race took the time to examine his face. Jack was right, he looked exhausted.

"Have ya slept at all since I left?" He asked softly, inching closer. Spot didn't move away.

"What's it to ya?" He sneered and Race flinched.

"I care bout ya, spotty, and I's worried," he said softly.

"If ya cared ya wouldn'ta left" for once he let some emotion slip into his voice and Race wished he would stay disinterested. He sounded tired and betrayed, and it tugged something awful at the taller boy's heartstrings.

"I left cause I care" he insisted, grabbing the shorter boy's hand "I's- I's scared, Spotty. I's scared theys gonna hurt ya. I's scared they's gonna drag ya off to tha refuge an it'll be all cause I couldn't keep myself in check cause Jesus spotty, ya make me feel things that are fucking scary"

Spot watched him intently as he rambled and Race knew he was squeezing the life out of his hand with anxiety. The so-called king just shook his head and smiled softly, interlacing their hands.

"They ain't getting no king to no refuge, Racer," he said, bumping Race with his shoulder "gimme some credit"

Race just laid his head on Spot's shoulder and turned into his neck. "I just don't wanna lose ya"

Spot scoffed, but laid his head on top of his, kissing the top of his head "Ya ain't gonna lose me, Racer, I promise"

Race kissed the underside of his jaw "I love you, Sean"

"I love you too, Tony."

After of beat of silence Race still had a question. "Hey, how come Spades never ratted on us? Ya' said she wouldn't from the beginning even though you's the most important boy in Brooklyn," he finally pulled his head up and looked Spot in the eye, tilting his head in confusion.

Spot snorted "cause I's seen her bring home more girls then any a' my boys" Race went red and muttered an "oh" cause, of course, he freaked out and ran for no good reason, but Spot just kissed the side of his head and continued, "But she's real pissed at us, says she lost a bet cause we's didn't wait long enough" he said, amusement dancing in his brown eyes.

"They's makin' bets on us?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and only a little bit of fear.

"Guess we ain't as subtle as we's thought" he shrugged.

Race just smiled and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek "course we's is, I love ya so much they's could just feel it"

Spot snorted again and shoved his face away, scrubbing at his now wet cheek "gross, you's getting sappy on me"

Race held a hand to his heart "I can't believe the love a' my life won't even let me kiss him! It's a crime! Pure crime!"

The sun had set long ago so they sat laughing under a sea of stars. Spot rolled his eyes "That's cause that ain't a real kiss"

Race grinned and waggled his eyebrows "Then show me a real kiss"

And he did, under the cover of darkness, he dragged Race into a bruising kiss that softened once he had proven his point.

As Race tangled his hands in Spot's messy brown hair, he wondered how he could ever give this up.

#newsies #newsies fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #sprace #stari writes #sprace fanfic #a z prompts #prompt

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jacksonroseroth · 6 years

Text

Is Thicker Than The Water Of The Womb Chapter 3

Warnings: Little bit of angst, some voilence, tiny bit of fluff

Words: 2,516

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Early the next morning, Tora slipped out of Ivar’s room, but not before he pulled her back in to kiss her again, taking in every second, knowing he wouldn’t be able to again until that night. Tora pushed him back into his room and snuck down to her own, getting herself ready for the day. She didn't want to wait for Keld to prove himself; she would go to Aslaug now so she could make her decision on their marriage. But she was disappointed to find Keld and Rolf already in the hall for their morning meal, sitting with Aslaug and talking. Reluctantly, Tora joined them, seating herself next to Aslaug.

“How did you sleep, child?” Aslaug asked, touching her hand gently. Tora gave her a soft smile.

“Not well.” She chuckled. Keld smiled and chuckled.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He said. Aslaug and Tora looked at him, Aslaug practically spitting venom at him. “You never did sleep through the night. Even as a child.”

“When exactly did you leave England, Keld?” Aslaug asked.

“It was just after her third year. I realized, with Rolf at nearly 7 years, we needed to come back.” Keld said, understanding her line of questioning and not taking any form of offense. “Once she was past her year, we knew most children slept through the night. But our Tora never did. Always up in the middle of the night. Once she learned to walk, we would always find her at the window, staring at the moon.”

Tora’s heart twisted in her chest hearing Keld speak. She vividly remembered her mother waking every night and putting her back to bed after peeling her from the window and shutting it. She loved to be beneath the moonlight and even when she was taken, she often found one way or another to see it or be beneath it, if only for a few minutes. Aslaug stayed silent as Keld spoke, knowing this was true, having, herself, stopped Tora from escaping to the water in the dead of night. These things that Keld knew, Tora knew in her heart there was no possible way he could have heard them from someone else. He knew these things because she had done them before, at home in England.

“I do not wish to cause tension...Forgive me.” Keld said, looking between the two women, who had looked away, lost in their own thoughts. Aslaug looked at him and smiled.

“No need. This is part of your proof.” Aslaug said. Keld bowed his head in respect to Aslaug and looked at Tora, whose eyes were fixed on the table in front of her. Rolf glanced at her, then at Keld. He cleared his throat and said, “I remember the day we left.”

Tora looked at him as he ate. Rolf stared at his bowl and didn't look up.

“Mother held you and begged Father to take you with us,” Rolf said. “But you wouldn’t have survived, so he told her no. He said he would send someone to bring you back once you were older and he had made the money to send someone to collect you both. Before we left, I gave you my necklace. It was made of silver on black leather.”

Rolf looked at Tora, seeing her eyes fill with tears at the vague memory.

“Were you able to keep it?” Rolf asked. A small smile pricked his lips. “You promised you would keep it until you were home.”

She couldn’t see his face in her memory, but she remembered the small voice that made her promise and remembered playing with the silver pendant until the day she lost it, dropped in the grass the day of the raid.

“I lost it.” Tora managed, though her voice was so thick with sadness, tears, and emotion, it barely came out as a whisper. “The day of the raid. I dropped it.”

Rolf nodded and watched her a moment longer before taking another bite of food. Keld sat back and sighed.

“Rolf. Tend to the horses, my son.” Keld said, giving his foot a soft kick. Rolf glanced up at him and nodded as he stood. He bowed his head to Aslaug before giving Tora another look, then left. “I’m sorry about him. He’s never truly forgiven me for abandoning you and your mother. When he realized we had been lied to and Ragnar had indeed taken you...He hated everything. I fear he still holds resentment.”

“He will let go of it all one day,” Aslaug said to comfort him.

Pushing through her emotions, she spoke up, “Aslaug. I wished to speak to you...In private…”

Aslaug looked at her and smiled. “Of course, child.” She said. Aslaug excused herself and led Tora to her rooms.

“What is it you wish to speak about?” Aslaug asked, taking a seat and giving her a soft smile. Tora sat in the chair opposite her and picked at her dress.

“It-It’s about...Ivar and myself.” She said. Aslaug’s smile grew and she chuckled.

“He has asked you to marry him?” Aslaug guessed. Tora fought the smirk on her face but couldn’t control the blush that came to her cheeks. Aslaug smiled and stood, going to her. Tora looked up and stood, as Aslaug held out her hands for her. Tora took them and stood. “I happily give my blessing to you and my son, Tora.”

Tora smiled and let out a soft giggle. Aslaug touched her cheek and said, “Do you believe this man to be your father?”

Tora chewed her lip. “Part of me wants to. Of the few things he has said, they are true. That no one could possibly know but my father.” She said. Aslaug nodded.

“The mark?” She asked. Tora nodded. “May I see?”

Tora nodded and lifted the side of her dress. Under the knife strapped to her thigh, Aslaug saw the dark mark that ran from her hip down to just before her knee. Aslaug moved Tora’s hands letting the dress fall back down.

“If you believe you have the proof you need, you may accept this man as your kin,” Aslaug said softly. “Once you do, I will offer him Ivar for you.”

“If he refuses?” Tora asked. Aslaug shook her head and sighed.

“Then it is his will. He is your father.” Aslaug said. “Ragnar gave you choice because he had no right to refuse on your behalf. Keld does.”

“I am 18,” Tora said, her voice strong. “If he refuses Ivar, I shall refuse Keld and stay here. He cannot force me to leave with him. You are my family. You have raised me and kept me as your own.”

Aslaug smiled, happy to hear this. “You may not be of our blood, Tora, but you are family.” She said. “I am truly sorry and deeply regret not accepting you fully as a child. Perhaps if I had, we wouldn’t be in this situation now.”

“There is no blame on you, Aslaug. You saw me as a Christian child that Ragnar brought back. I understand. I am simply thankful you have raised me as your own.” Tora said. Aslaug touched one cheek then kissed the other.

Rolf muttered to himself in the stables as he made sure all the horses were being well fed and taken care of, checking their hooves and double checking the saddles, not trusting these fools in Kattegat. As he went through everything, Ivar made his way in, going to his horse. Rolf looked up as Ivar entered the stall next to him.

“You’re the Boneless, yes?” Rolf asked. Ivar looked up and chuckled.

“That is what they call me, yes,” Ivar said. Rolf left his stall and leaned against the entrance to Ivar’s.

“I’ve seen you with my sister,” Rolf said, the hatred seeping through his voice. Ivar stopped and chuckled, turning to look at him.

“ Your sister?” Ivar mused. He turned to him and said, “Unless Tora has claimed you and not told the rest of us, she is not your sister...Until proven otherwise.”

“She is my sister and we will take her home where she belongs; With her family,” Rolf said. Ivar chuckled and went back to his horse. Rolf’s skin heated in anger as he continued. “I have seen you with her.”

“So you have said, young...Rolf? Was it?” Ivar asked, leading his horse out of its stall.

“I have seen you. Last night, for instance.” Rolf said, making Ivar stop in his tracks, gripping the reins in his hand. Rolf’s lips twisted into a smirk as he moved to stand in front of Ivar. “You touched her. You kissed her. Without the permission of her father and brother.”

“And you’ve told your father about these imaginings?” Ivar asked. Rolf smirked.

“No. And they are no imaginings. Like my sister, I find it hard to sleep in the night, especially with heavy thoughts weighing on my mind. I, myself, was on my way to stand by the water and gaze at the moon. As I approached, I saw you with her.” Rolf hissed.

“And what exactly do you plan to do about it?” Ivar asked, crossing his hands in front of him. Rolf smirked.

“They said you were a cripple,” Rolf said. “You are standing, walking; You are no cripple. If you were, a cripple could not fight.”

“You challenge me?” Ivar asked, amused, raising an eyebrow. Rolf smirked.

“I challenge you in my sister’s honor,” Rolf said. Ivar waved over a stableboy who took the reins as Ivar stepped forward.

“Your sister loves me and wants to marry me. There is no need to defend her.” Ivar said.

“You Lothbroks have turned her against her true family. Of course, she would want to marry one of you!” Rolf shouted. Ivar smirked.

“Watch what you say, young Voll. You are speaking to the Prince of Kattegat.” Ivar said.

“I speak to the Prince of Nothing!” Rolf said, spitting in his face. Ivar stilled as the spittle hit his cheek, closing his eyes to keep it out. Ivar sighed heavily as he wiped it away.

“You’ve made your own death sentence.” Ivar cried out and pushed Rolf out of the stables, drawing his sword as he advanced. Rolf stumbled back and quickly righted himself, pulling his own sword. Their swords clashed together, in the middle of the crowd, and blow after blow was dealt, shouting with each one. Keld rushed out followed by the brothers, Tora and Aslaug.

“Rolf! That’s enough!” Keld shouted, advancing on his son. Rolf shoved his father away as Ivar advanced again, a battle cry ripping from his mouth. Rolf gave his own cry and shoved against Ivar, trying to force him to topple over. Ubbe and Bjorn tried to hold him back, but with the violence his sword dealt, they were cut before they could get a good enough grip to pry him away. They both stumbled back, holding their sides and arms as Hvitserk and Aslaug hurried to them to drag them away from the fight and being even more injured.

Tora watched in horror as they fought, tears staining her cheeks. She was frozen in terror. Finally, Rolf got the upper hand as Ivar tripped over himself and slammed to the ground. Rolf cried out and raised his sword, ready to bring it down. Tora cried out and rushed in front of Rolf’s sword. Keld sprang up and grabbed his son’s arm.

“Rolf! That’s enough!” Keld shouted, wrestling the sword away from his grasp.

“He touched her, Father! The no good cripple touched her!” Rolf shouted as his father called over his men to try and hold him back. Tora helped Ivar up and stayed close to him. Keld turned and watched them. Tora spoke softly to Ivar, trying to calm him down, but Ivar wasn’t having it.

“You have not yet claimed them as kin and he thinks to challenge me to defend your honor!” Ivar shouted, first at Tora, then looked to Rolf, pointing his sword at him.

“She is my sister! We have proof enough! You will simply not let her go!” Rolf shouted, fighting against the men that had him pinned to a wall.

“I said, that is enough, Rolf! Take him!” Keld shouted to his men. Rolf screamed out at them as they dragged him off. Hvitserk shooed everyone away as Aslaug and Keld helped an injured Bjorn and Ubbe into the hall. Tora stuck by Ivar and led him in. Once she was sure Bjorn and Ubbe were being well tended to, Aslaug stormed over to Ivar, ripping the sword from his hand and slapped him.

“What in the Nine Realms were you thinking?!” She screeched at him. Ivar’s face stung from the slap and kept his head turned. Tora chewed her lip and pressed a hand to his chest. “They are guests here. And until they prove their kinship and even after, they shall be treated as such!”

“He provoked me, Mother!” Ivar said, his head shooting up to glare at her. “Did you expect me to sit there quietly like a child and allow him to claim Tora when she has not claimed them herself?”

“I expect you to act like the prince that you are and not fight in public as you have done.” Aslaug hissed before throwing the sword at his feet and storming off to tend to her injured son. Ivar sighed, angrily, his blood still boiling.

“Ivar,” Tora spoke gently, touching the cheek Aslaug had slapped. Ivar looked up and not at her. Tora sighed and nuzzled his other cheek gently. “Ivar, please. I know you love me and would defend me till your death...But I truly believe this man is my father and Rolf my brother.”

“He threatened me,” Ivar said through clenched teeth. Tora looked up at him. “He said he saw us on the dock and threatened to tell his father. It implied a fight, then he challenged me, spat in my face. What would you have me do?”

“Walk away,” Tora said, plainly. Ivar blinked in surprise and his anger began to bubble to the surface again.

“Walk away,” Ivar repeated. “After he spit in my face and said I was a prince of nothing?”

“Walking away and showing his words don’t affect you in the surest way to win the battle. It shows control, Ivar.” Tora said, lifting up to kiss his cheek softly. Ivar sighed and shook his head, her kiss quickly squashing his anger and raising his amusement.

“Always my voice of reason, aren’t you, Tora?” Ivar asked, a small smile coming to his face. Tora smiled and brushed her fingers along his cheek.

“I just don’t want you to do anything stupid and get yourself killed,” Tora said, softly. “Then who would I love?”

“Hivtserk.” Ivar teased. Both Tora and Ivar laughed as Ivar slipped an arm around her and held her close. Keld watched his daughter with the prince and a small smile crossed his face, seeing her so happy.

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ladyninjaa · 7 years

Text

The Story of Us

Imagine: Being the Queen of the North and your children wanting a bed-time story about how their father Jon Snow saved you. (This is completely made up since I obviously don’t know how the Great War turns out.)

Sorry if it’s a bit choppy and shitty.

It had been many years since the Great War.

The destruction that the battles left was still fresh and so were the horrors. Your beloved had vanquished the darkness and brought an era of peace along with it. Jon Snow was a hero cheered and loved by all. Queen Daenerys reigned in the South and Jon in the north—an everlasting peace between the two kingdoms.

It was late and your children were being handfuls. They were induced with sugars given to them by their Aunt Arya and Uncle Gendry. You would chastise them later for bringing such trouble. You are rounding the two toddlers up when Jon enters.

“Shouldn’t they be in bed?” Jon questions as he looks at his two children with humor.

You huff, “Your children are being beasts!”

The youngest whines, “Mommy, I am not a beast!” The five year old clutches onto your hand.

“Well, you both are acting like beasts. Do you know what we do with beasts?” You question sternly trying to hide your smile of amusement.

The younger girl and older boy glance at each before shrugging.

“Honey?” You look to your husband.

Jon nods, “We keep them in the kennels.”

“We don’t want to sleep in the kennels!” The boy cries looking terrified, “Sansa says that the ghost of Ramsay Bolton lives down there!” You fight your smile. Sansa was more mature and considerate of your rowdy children.

“Then listen to your mother.” Jon tells them gently, “Go to bed and we will tell you a bed-time story, how does that sound?”

The two children light up with excitement and hurry into their shared bed. It was more for the benefit of your baby girl since she feared sleeping alone and would rather sleep with her brother. “We’re sorry mommy!” Your baby boy chimed as your daughter snuggled against him with a stuffed wolf that Bran made her.

You smile down at your children and kiss their foreheads, “It’s quite alright, my dears.” You reassured as you sit on the edge of their bed and Jon sits in a chair beside you, “Now, what story would you like to hear tonight?”

“I wanna hear how daddy met mommy!” Squealed your daughter with her flushed, chubby cheeks.

Your son nodded along, “I wanna know!”

You exchanged amused expressions with Jon. He sighs knowing this tale all too well—he would never live it down. “You wanna know how mommy and daddy met, hmm? Alright, I’ll tell you,” You can’t help but to grin and giggle while Jon scowls at you, “It was during the Great War. My former house used to be the furthest hold to the North in the wooded area of Blackwood. It was there that the first battle with the dead took place along with the Knight King and his dragon.”

Your children listened with awe and excitement—your baby boy resembling your husband so much but yet both children had your lovely eyes. “I remember my father telling me that our King and Queen Daenerys were headed to aid us. I was told to pack some belongings and lead our family away from the blood-shed,”

Those were dark days but in that darkness, you met the light or to be exact saved the light.

You smiled faintly, “I managed to take my people to the safety of another town before I made my way back home. You see, mommy was a warrior who wanted to fight. She didn’t want her home to be destroyed or her people to be killed so, she joined them in battle,”

“I’ve seen mommy fight!” Your son blurted out and looked up at you with pride, “You and Arya fight all the time!”

You chuckle and Jon laughs, “Yes, we do.” Although Arya always landed you flat on your ass.

“The battle was long and we lost many good men including your grandfather,” There is sadness in your voice because you had witnessed your father being cut down by the Knight King. It was an image that would always haunt you in your day dreams, “I remember fighting with my brothers when I came across the undead dragon pinning a man down and about to burn him with ice fire,” Your children gasp and you try not to giggle.

Jon mumbles, “I wasn’t pinned down.”

You give him a firm stare full of amusement before he begrudgingly looks away like a sullen child, “I don’t know what came over me but seeing that man pinned down by the dragon stirred something in me…my heart screamed at me to help this man, so I did. I did fear for my life because this was a dragon about to devour this man and there wasn’t much I could do…or so I thought…”

“The sword in my hands that you see me carry at my side everyday is the sword that every generation of Y/L/N/House has fought it. When my father, your grandfather, was struck down by the Knight King and as he lay in my arms dying he passed the family sword onto me,” You would never understand why your father passed the cherished family sword to his youngest daughter but you were ever thankful. Your older brothers never held any grudge or bitterness against you—which you were thankful for.

“So I held onto my blade with all of my might, with a racing heart, and a frightened mind and charged towards this mighty beast to save this one man,”

You smile faintly remembering the memory quite fondly, “The dragon was too focused onto this man to notice me charging at it. I knew my blade would not pierce its skin but I just had to divert its attention long enough for that foolish man to escape. I struck my blade against the side of its neck and to my complete and utter shock…my blade pierced its skin.”

Your children gasped with excitement.

“The terrible beast gave a cry so loud that my ears almost bleed. I could not hear anything for almost a minute and during that minute; the dragon whipped its head and threw me several feet away. My sword was still stuck in its neck and the dragon desperately tried to get my sword out of its neck. I was shocked, I was dazed, and I couldn’t believe what had happened. The man who had been pinned was smart enough to escape while the beast was occupied,”

“The man was just as shocked as I was by these turn of events. The longer the blade stayed imbedded into the dragon’s neck, its white scales began to darken to black and its eyes began to lose its pale blue hue. It was dying and everyone around could only stand in shock and as the Knight King watched his monster dying, someone managed to pierce the deadly King in the chest with a spear made of Dragon-glass.”

“Did it kill the Knight King, mommy?” Your son blurted out.

You shook your head, “No, my dear, it wasn’t enough to kill him but it was enough to injury him greatly.”

“What about the dragon and the man, mama?” Your daughter demanded with a pout.

“The dragon was unable to get the blade unstuck from its neck and whatever magical powers within the sword were able to spread through its body rather quickly and kill it. The man ran up towards with wielding a sword with a wolf head pommel and struck his sword down the dying dragon’s neck and shattering the tyrant dragon into thousands of black pieces.”

“A sword with a wolf head…” Your son mumbled thoughtfully before gasping, “That’s papa’s sword!”

Your daughter gasped, “Mommy saved daddy!”

Jon chuckled, “Aye, your mother saved me after I made a foolish mistake. I thought I could take on this great beast on my own but was proven wrong instantly. I would have not lived had it not been your mother risking her life to save some idiot man.” Jon’s dark, brooding eyes met your kind and warm ones with tender love, “What do they call mommy now?” He asks his children.

Your daughter squealed happily, “Queen Y/N the Dragon-slayer of the North!”

“And then what happened?” Your son demanded.

You looked at your husband and urged him to finish the story, “After the defeat of the ice dragon, your mother called me a very bad name and ran off to fight,” Jon gave you an amused look and you chuckled. You had called him a fucking dumb cunt not knowing you had been speaking to the King of the North but even then, you still would’ve called him a fucking dumb cunt either way.

“The fight wasn’t over and eventually the Knight King pulled back not long after the dragon was killed. He had lost his biggest asset and with Queen’s Daenerys and her dragons still burning down his men, he knew if he stayed he would lose. I spent that night wondering about the woman who saved me and wondered who she was and where she can from…I knew of the sword she wielded was made of Valyrian Steel so, it wouldn’t be hard to find her. Which she left behind, embedded into the dragon’s neck.”

“I found her…not long after the Knight King retreated…we rested and gathered our forces and went after the Knight King. It was at Castle Black where the last battle took place. That night before the battle…I heard of a woman being revered as the Dragon-slayer and although I desperately tried to look for her, she evaded me.”

You smirked.

“The morning of the battle, I found her.” Jon looked at you again with a smile, “She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen…clothed in armor like some Angel of Death. I had never seen such a woman with such fire in her eyes…not even the Dragon Queen had such fury in her eyes.”

You looked at your husband with surprise. You had seen the Queen when she was angry…you seriously doubted you were worse then the Mother of Dragons.

“And then what happened?” Your children were impatient.

Jon and you exchanged looks of love, “We fell in love.” You murmured gently.

Jon smiles, the same way he always done, and it never fails to make your heart stutter wildly.

Also, guys, I will ask that you guys please stop asking to be tagged into certain imagines. I have been receiving a large amount of requests to be tagged into my imagines. I love that you all feel so strongly of my imagines but please, keep in mind I have other imagines to write, other original stories to update on other sites, and among other things that I cannot possibly remember to tag every single one of you into whatever imagine you desire. So, I ask that you please stop just to make my life a bit easier, lol.

ANYWAY,

This was requested by an anon. There will be no other parts.

P.S Thank you all for your support! It just makes me so crazy happy! <3

#game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #jon snow imagine #jon snow #got imagine #queen of the north #the great war #knight king #love #children

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theatricalwriter · 7 years

Text

To Make You Proud: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Daughter Reader (ft. Hamilcast)

Title: To Make You Proud: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Daughter Reader (ft. Hamilcast)

Prompt: Your high school graduation ceremony is something you wanted your family to attend since you were receiving an important award, but you don’t see your father anywhere in the crowd.

Word Count: 2,343

Warnings: Angst, in a way.

Author’s Note: This is based off of the song “To Make You Proud” by Teresa Jennings which is what I sang for my graduation in middle school.

You sat among the dozens of other seniors who were excited to be leaving the stage of high school and move onto college. You, however, were twisting a piece of string about your finger nervously, gazing around at you family and only seeing Vanessa, Sebastian, and your grandparents, your father nowhere in sight, causing you to get more and more upset. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a tear that was trying so hard to slip down your cheek.

You knew your father was a busy man, but he had promised you that he would come to this for you. You see, you were always fearful that your father had a hidden hatred for you since you were a mistake made after a drunk night in high school with your mother, someone who never showed her face. After she had you, she handed you off to your father without a word and went off the face of the Earth. And no matter how often your dad tried to reassure you that he loved you, you still felt a twinge of doubt inside you.

“And now,” You heard the English department supervisor announce. “The senior accepting the writing award for outstanding dedication and phenomenal creativity in every sense of the word is Y/N Miranda!”

You heard the claps and cheers from around you, and that put a little smile on your face as you walked up to the podium to accept your award. You shook the supervisor’s hand and she gave you the certificate. She said something to you, but you were too enthralled in your own thoughts that you didn’t really even catch what she had said to you. You simply nodded and smiled in response to whatever it was she had told you. You took your seat once more as the rest of the high school academic awards were given out.

Just after the valedictorian spoke and the diplomas were given out, the choir members-yourself included- were brought to the stage to sing your final song of high school. It was a simple one, but your choir director thought it had a lot of soul and sentiment to it, and it was called “To Make You Proud.”

You stared off at the gray sky of New York City. It wasn’t the typical gray city skyline, but it was one that told people there was a rainstorm coming very soon. Which, ironically, had happened not even a second after you had this thought.

A rushed movement caught your eye. You saw your father, dressed semi-formally as if he had been scrambling just to get something good together. You noticed his heavy breathing and sad face when he noticed you and the other members standing tall, your voices blending together. Just seeing your father with that look of regret put you over the edge.

Your eyes became teary when you realized that your idiot of a father only just showed up to one of the biggest nights of your life. But, not wanting to give people the chance to see you cry, you turned your sadness into anger, and the way you sang showed you that. You gazed straight ahead once more, not looking anywhere else in fear that your tears would come barreling out for all the school and everyone's families to see.

When the caps were thrown and everything was done and done, you had to go and face your family. But in a way you didn’t.

You wiped away your tears and put on a fake smile when you walked towards your grandparents, your stepmother, and little brother, completely ignoring your father's presence.

“Hey!” You smiled, giving your grandmother a hug before moving onto your grandfather. “Gosh, it’s so nice to see you.”

“Y/N, listen-”

“Oh, Vanessa, you look so beautiful in that dress!” You cut him off.

“Y/N, I mean it-”

“Aw and look at little Sebastian in his fancy little clothes!” You spoke, googling over your little brother who giggled in response to you. “You have fun?”

“Yeah!” He nodded vigorously.

You turned back to our grandparents, gave them another hug, and told them, “Gosh, it’s so good to see you guys! Thank you so much for coming!”

“Oh my-”

“And you know I just wanted to say that this really means a lot to me. I mean like so-”

“Y/N Miranda will you just stop talking and listen to me?!” Your father shouted over you, finally having enough of you ignoring him.

You turned slowly and face him. You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow accusingly. “Listen to you? Listen to you? I don’t need to listen to you! You weren’t here when I asked you to be. End of story.”

“Y/N, you have to understand. There was a problem that needed my attention at today's’ matinee show! They couldn’t-”

“Oh, so this is what this is about? Missing my high school graduation, the only one I’ll ever have, for that show? Guess what, dad?! Look at this, dad! I got an award for writing and you weren’t freaking there to see it because of that show! There’s understudies and-and standbys for Alexander Hamilton! He could be played by anyone in that stupid musical! But there’s no standby by for my dad!” You shouted in his face. Tears started to roll down your cheeks. “God, I wish that it never existed!”

At the time, you hadn’t realized just how harsh the words were and how deeply they affected him. You simply left your father and the rest of your family behind you as you walked off, sobbing and wiping away your tears as a sad melody echoed in your head.

You sat at the piano in your room a few hours after the incident, your fingers gently pressing down on the keys to create a nonsensical tune. It didn’t make you forget about what just happened, but it at least calmed you down a little bit. You continued doing this until you heard a knock on the door.

“If you’re Dad, piss off. If you’re anyone else, please come in.” You mumbled just loud enough for the person behind the door to hear you.

“First of all,” Vanessa’s voice came to your ears after the door creaked open. “Watch your language. It could’ve been Sebastian for all you know.”

“I’m pretty sure Sebastian can’t knock as well as that.” You sorrowfully laughed.

“And second of all, you really hurt your father.”

You semi-glared at Vanessa when she told you this. A range of emotions and thoughts flowed through you, but you didn’t have enough words in your dictionary or enough time to voice them all then and there. So instead, you just snapped, “Yeah, well he hurt me.”

“I understand that, Y/N, but you told him that you wished Hamilton never existed. And-and you know how hard he worked on that and just how much it means to him. Hearing you say that to him… he really hurts, you know? You should probably apologize to him when you’re ready.”

“Apologize?” You scoffed. “Why should I even consider doing that when he couldn’t even put it off for one day for his only daughter’s high school graduation? This isn’t like some dumb middle school concert or something that’s like, every year or something. This is something he can’t see again. And this has happened before, and you know that. My final Broadway night for choir? Poetry night? Sure, they were all recorded but what’s the point?”

Vanessa sat on your bed, examining you as you looked down at your frail fingers touching the piano keys.

“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” Vanessa questioned.

You didn’t look up at her. Your fingers stop moving and you just stared down at the keys, a solemn look on your face.

“You know, I… I wonder if I really matter to him. Like… am I just a burden to him?” You wondered. You scrunched your eyebrows together in thought pondering these questions that always haunted you for years. “I mean, my mother just left me in his hands and ran. Does he actually see me as his daughter… or just a disturbance that he had to deal with for eighteen years? A-All I want to do is make him proud, but it’s like there are bigger priorities.”

“No, no, no!” Vanessa exclaimed, rushing to her feet. “Now that’s not true. Y/N, you know he loves you! And you know he’s proud of you!”

“Yeah? Well, it’s proven eight times a week that he’s a really good actor.”

Behind your door was a distraught father, one who couldn’t handle the information that had just come out of your mouth. You, a gentle, precious ray of light, believed that you were nothing to him and that he wasn’t proud of you and everything you did. Well, he’d just have to find a way to fix that.

Vanessa had told you that she had to drop something off at the Richard Rodgers Theatre for your dad. She didn’t say what it was, just that it was important to get it there before the show ended. You honestly just wanted to stay in the car, but she dragged you along anyway, telling you she wasn’t going to let you stay in a car alone in New York City.

“Here,” Vanessa handed you a small, light box. “Give this to your dad when he comes off stage Go over and wait for him. I have to go put this in the dressing room.”

“What?” You turned to look back at her and refute, but she was already hurrying for the other hallway backstage. “Fine…”

You stood backstage, the crew members giving you kind smiles. You knew most of them after a coming to the theatre a few different times. They didn’t say anything to you with the show going on, but they simply greeted you with their eyes and a nod to which you returned with a small wave and a small of your own.

You stood a few feet away from the stage with just enough view of it to see Phillipa center stage with your father walking around her as everyone sang the final notes of “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story.” You felt a knot form in your stomach when you heard Phillipa let out a strained gasp when her character saw the audience watching the tale before her. When the lights faded out, and everyone went out for bows, you couldn’t stand to be there anymore.

“Could you give this to my father when he comes off please?” You asked, handing the box to a crew member.

They nodded and took the box from your grip. You spun around on your heels to head back out to the car, but your father’s voice caught you off guard and kept you from moving forward.

“And one more thing before we all go! I have a something special for my very own Theodosia. My daughter, Y/N.”

You were frozen in your spot. You didn’t know what to do at that time. You could only listen as your father continued to speak to the audience with such cheerfulness, such… love… as he spoke about you. You slowly and hesitantly turned to look back at the stage.

“She just graduated college with honors in the English department. She got accepted into her dream college with a full scholarship… and I just couldn’t be more proud of her. So, to honor that, we will be singing one final song of the night, dedicated to her.” He announced.

You stepped forward, wanting to hear what would happen next. To say the least, you shocked when you heard the piano keys playing your graduation song from just a few nights ago. You gasped slightly, leaving you open-jawed. You watched Renée sing the solo out into the audience before everyone else joined in, your heart swelling with merriment.

“I’ll hear your words, Here in my heart, Wherever I go! To make you proud…”

You felt your knees become weak as you heard the cast sing so beautifully and in such perfect harmony in that one single moment. You put your hand over your mouth to keep the heartfelt sigh at bay. Soon enough you felt more tears falling down your cheeks.

“What should I say? What should I do? Lessons I’ve learned help me get through, I can be strong, I can be brave, Just thinking of you… To make you proud!”

Your father noticed you and your sobbing self in the wings, smiled, and extended an arm to you. You staggered over, your legs seeming to become jelly as you walked out on stage. You noticed the cast members smiling as they sang when they noticed your form walk over with faltering steps towards your dad. Even the audience audibly gushed at the sight of you when you crashed into your father, going completely limp in his arms as you cried into his shoulder. You felt your dad pet your head soothingly as the song ended, and the audience and cast applauded in joviality.

“I’m sorry…” Your voice came out muffled as you cried into your father’s costume. “I’m so, so sorry. I-I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean… God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” He told you softly. He looked back at the audience and bid them a good night before he and the other cast members returned backstage. He looked back at you when you were all away from the stage. “Y/N, I’m so, so, so sorry. I should’ve been there for you…”

“I’m sorry I got so mad… And that I told you I hated the show.”

“It’s alright. You were just upset… But listen to me,” He took your face in his hands so you would look at him. “I love you with all my heart. You will never be a burden to me, and you will always be my precious little girl. No matter what your mother did, you are still my daughter, and you always will be. Don’t ever doubt that.” He kissed your forehead gently.

You shook your head, “I never will again.”

#lin manuel x reader #lin manuel imagine #lin manuel miranda #hamilton #hamilton imagine #hamilton x reader #reader insert #hamilcast #hamilcast x reader #hamilcast imagine

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themenof--riverdale · 7 years

Text

You Deserve Better

Pairing: Archie x Reader

Request: @that-one-greaser - Could I request an Imagine where you’ve liked Archie for a while but have been dating other guys to try to get over him but you don’t know that he actually likes you too? (Could he maybe spill his feelings after you go to him after a fight with your boyfriend?) thanks hun<3

Warnings: slight cussing

—- In this town, when you’ve dated one member of the football team, you’ve dated all. All this time, I’ve been waiting for one football player in particular to recognize me, but I’ve had no such luck. Archie Andrews has been my one true crush for so many years, yet we’ve only remained friends. I always figured he’d go for a good, cute girl like Betty anyway, so i never dared to embarrass myself and confess my feelings to him.

After I decided to keep my feelings to myself, I made another decision: get over that glorious ginger-haired boy. And as everyone says, the best way to get over a guy? Date someone else. In my case, I dated several.

Currently, I was going out with Reggie Mantle. Recently appointed to captain of the football team, Reggie was perfect in distracting me from my still-lingering feelings for Archie.

Reggie agreed to come over to my house at 6 so I could help him with his Chemistry assignment, and even give him some personal entertainment. However, when 7 rolled around, and he hadn’t returned any of my calls or messages, I gave up. Instead, I decided to head to Pop’s for a milkshake.

Boy, was that a mistake.

As soon as I entered, I heard his laugh. I turned to see Reggie, sitting with his back to me, with his arm around one of the River Vixens. I watched silently as she tilted her head up to kiss him sweetly. Outraged, I stormed up to their booth and the second Reggie saw my face, he pulled away from the Vixen and rushed to explain himself. Before he could stand and grab my hands, I slapped him swiftly across the face. Satisfied with his pained expression, I rushed out of the diner, desperate to get away.

I know that Reggie was just another piece of arm-candy, but no one deserves to be cheated on, no one.

I needed to be away from Reggie, but I also didn’t trust myself to be on my own with such anger. As if on instinct, my body headed in the direction of Archie’s house. I wanted his warmth, his comforting words, and his voice whispering in my ear that everything will turn out fine. I wanted him.

The second I knocked on his front door, he opened it, as though he sensed that I was going to be there. When he saw my troubled expression, he hurried me inside.

He led me to his bedroom and sat down next to me on his bed. He draped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to his side. Just being near to him, in this room, reminded me of how deep in love I fell for him.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked concerned.

“That son of a bitch, Mantle stood me up to suck face with a freaking River Vixen!” I was angry and I refused to cry.

“What the hell? That’s ridiculous. Why would he cheat on YOU?” he asked, rubbing my shoulder in circles.

I scoffed. “Clearly he thinks that I’m not important enough for his attention. Maybe he wanted a cheerleader’s body instead of a regular girl like me.”

“Don’t say that! You’re perfect! There’s no guy that wouldn’t feel lucky to call himself your boyfriend.”

I scoffed again and said, “well clearly one guy doesn’t think so.”

Thinking that I meant Reggie instead of him, he replied, “Don’t worry, Y/N, you’re gonna find someone way better than Reggie. Literally anyone would be better than him.” He shifted so that he was facing me. Automatically, I moved to face him as well.

Seeing his eyes alone made my anger subside. I just wanted him to pull me towards him and wrap his arms around me.

“I don’t mean to be rude, especially at this time, but I gotta ask. Why did you date so many of those awful guys?” He offers me a smile to prove he means no offense.

I shrug and say, “I needed the distraction. Rather than wait for someone who I wasn’t even sure felt the same way about me, I placed my focus on other guys.” I waited before asking, “what about you, Arch? Why haven’t you made a move with Betty yet?”

He smirked. “I’m waiting for someone else. I never liked Betty in that way, anyways.”

“Oh yeah? Who are you waiting for?” I teased.

“Someone who doesn’t know how valuable she is. Someone who aimlessly dates around too much. Someone who’s never gone a day without being single since the 9th grade.”

Realizing he was describing me, I started, “Archie, what-”

“Y/N, you’ve always deserved better than those meatheads you always date. I can’t stand it when they have their arms around you like you’re some possession of theirs. Even tonight, Reggie has proven that he doesn’t value you.”

“Archie, that’s all well and good, but with my track record, who’s going to even want me?”

“I can think of one guy,” he mutters, smirking.

“Oh yeah? Point me in his direction and I’ll-”. I’m cut off as Archie lurches forward and covers my mouth with his. His lips feel so soft and sincere, I drink in every milliseconds that passes by.

Slowly he pulls away and looks at me with a sheepish grin.

“Well,” I say. “That was unexpected. ”

He chuckles lightly and says, “yeah, I’ve actually wanted to do that for a long time. I’ve had a crush on you since we were kids, Y/N/N, and I don’t want to see you go around with another idiotic guy. I want you to consider me as your future.”

I let out a loud laugh that takes him by surprise. “Are you kidding me, Andrews? I’ve liked you forever. I was convinced you’d never like me in that way , so I looked at other guys.”

“Wait, seriously?” The grin that spread across his face was priceless.

“Yes!”

“So, what happens now?”

I shrug and say, “I guess we just see where this goes. But, we both agree that this is actually happening, right? We’re really going to be…more than friends?”

He nodded and said, “yes, I would love that.” He continues to smile and says, “shouldn’t we tell the others?”

“They can wait till tomorrow. Now, I just want you all to myself.” I pull his neck towards me and he kisses me immediately. I’ve kissed guys before, but this feels different; this feels monumental.

Finally, my fears since the 9th grade have proven to be pointless. Knowing that Archie has felt the same way since then means the world to me. He’s seen me and I’ve seen him. Now, his lips will be the only lips I kiss for a very long time to come.

#riverdale #riverdale imagines #riverdale fanfiction #archie andrews x reader #archie andrews #archie x reader

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laschatzi · 7 years

Text

What This Family Does

My own fix-it fic - written before 6x17, but I didn’t publish it before. Slightly canon divergent, but not much... Killian comes back from Neverland, and Snowing are awake already. I felt Killian deserved a little more than just being forgiven.

title: What This Family Does

summary: Killian comes back from Neverland, and some things should not be swept under the rug.

rating: a very tame T - and F for lots and lots of forgiveness... because that’s what this family does, after all.

also on ff.net and ao3

When he's finally back in their home, weariness settles into his bones as he sinks on the couch.

Staring into the fire that's crackling against the crispy cold outside, his mind starts to drift, and he thinks back to the moment he was about to burn the dreamcatcher with his awful memories. Without even noticing, Killian runs his hand over his face and sighs.

David didn't murder him, not even punch him in the face, on the contrary – he showed what looked like genuine relief, maybe even joy when he finally managed to return to Storybrooke, the bloody Crocodile's offspring's curse broken. But he knows there will come the moment – sooner than later, probably – when they'll have to have a serious talk about the disastrous events that took place all those years ago, in that night he ran his vicious blade through a completely innocent man and destroyed yet another family. In fact, destroying families and orphaning guiltless children seems to be his specialty.

But... he reminds himself that this is in the past, and he has finally made his peace with the fact that his past doesn't define him. What does define him are his actions and his choices, the man he is now: the man who managed to defy the darkness of Excalibur, the man who stands up for his loved ones, the man who helps justice to be done, curses to be broken and families and lovers to find each other again. The man he is now – he knows and accepts it, that man deserves love, he deserves trust and he deserves a happy ending. And if he has to work a little harder for that, then he'll do it. He'll do whatever it takes to set things right with David, his best friend aside from Emma, and he'll do what he must to prove himself to her, show her that he does have trust in her and their love. He can only hope that it is enough to make her believe in him again and trust in their relationship enough to make her want to be his wife.

Emma is no less tired; fighting murderous creatures that looked like a hybrid of Aragog and the monster from Stephen King's It takes its toll, even on the Savior, and that was just the beginning of yet another exhausting quest. At its end, she got her pirate back, of course, and that made it all worthwhile, but still – right now, she craves nothing more than to drape him on their bed, under the heavy winter blankets, and curl up like a ball against his side, his comforting warmth and familiar scent lulling her into a much needed sleep.

When she finds him, she watches him quietly for a moment, sitting in front of the fire, lost in thought. The set of his shoulders is firm, and from behind she can't really tell if it's more determined or tense. She hopes for the first, even though she doesn't know what that determination would be aimed at. Anyway, remembering the last time she found him here, staring into the fire, she can clearly imagine what he's thinking about. Her heart clenches painfully, a wave of guilt washing over her, and she thinks back to that occasion.

She has replayed that scene a thousand times in her head since she lost him, and it always left her in tears. This is the man who never abandoned her, never left her side even during those times when she'd really made it hard for him to stay. This is the man who sacrificed his former life purpose, his ship and finally his very life for her, the man who always encouraged her to believe in herself, in who she is and who she can be. The man who has always said and done the right thing since he'd made the deliberate decision to turn around – literally and figuratively. And then he faltered, once. And what did she do? Told him to sort out his issues by himself, turned her back on him and walked away. The moment he needed her the most to be there for him, she... well, she did abandon him in some way.

And it didn't stop there, oh no. She gave up on him, trusted one grumpy dwarf more than her own heart. Sure, she had no reason to doubt Leroy's tale – yet, she had every reason to. But unexpectedly, the long-dormant fears she'd thought long buried kicked in, and voilà, there she was again: the lost little girl who didn't matter and never thought she would, even though Killian Jones had proven her the opposite over and over again.

She shakes her head to clear it from those cobwebs of guilt – not exactly a pleasant metaphor, especially not after recent events – but they still cling to her heart like sticky, venomous jellyfish tentacles.

She draws a deep breath. “Killian?”

Almost abruptly he turns around, “Aye, love?” The concern is clearly written all over his face.

She wants nothing more than to brace the distance between them and hug him, feel him, crawl under his skin, but she just can't move, her guilt paralyzing her. “Killian,” she repeats in a cracked voice, “I... I'm so sorry.”

He draws his eyebrows together in a frown. “What?” Almost in rush, he gets up and hurries over to her, taking her tightly clasped hands in his and smooths out her hair with his hook, in that old familiar gesture. “Please don't,” he pleads. “There's no reason for you to–“

But Emma interrupts him by shaking her head. “I'm so sorry,” she repeats, “that I thought even for one second that you... just took off.”

Killian scrutinizes her closely and sighs when he realizes the depth of her shame and guilt. This is eating away at her consciousness, at her self-worth, and even if that's something that hurt him for a moment, he has to admit it, of course he can't have that. Emma Swan has always encouraged him in his goodness, treated him as a hero long before he believed in himself – she doesn't deserve to drown herself in guilt now, just because she was weak and faltered once in her belief. He leads her to the couch and they sit down, facing each other. She is looking down at their joined hands, as if she can't even bear to look into his eyes.

“Don't be so hard on yourself, Emma,” he tells her calmly, in an attempt to soothe her. “You had all the reasons to believe that I left.” If he feels the slightest reluctance about that statement, he does his best not to show it.

She snorts a bitter little laugh. “Yeah, except for one: you would never do that,” she replies. “You would never have abandoned me, and I should have known that.”

Killian doesn't reply, can't find the right words and just drops his gaze to their joined hands instead; what's he to say, after all? She's right – she should have known. Yet, how can he blame her?

“I promised to see the best in you,” she continues, “and yet, when you needed me to, I didn't. I thought the worst.” She looks directly at him now, and the pain and self-deprecation in her eyes cuts him straight to the marrow. “I failed you!”

He shakes his head and squeezes her hands. “Emma–”

“No, I did,” she insists. “Yes, you should have told me the truth, should have known that I would have been there to help you get through it, the guilt you felt, the self-doubt... like you've always been there for me.” He averts his eyes for a moment, trying to think of what he could say to her to make her believe that he understands, that he doesn't blame her. “But we all make mistakes,” she goes on, “I mean, I kept secrets from you, too, and not even long ago, and I... I should have believed in you.” She draws a deep breath. “I shouldn't have needed to hear your voice as a proof to believe you didn't abandon me.”

He doesn't dare to look up now, because he's not sure what she's aiming at... granted, these things should be talked about and not simply swept under the rug, but she seems all too adamant to point out how they both have failed each other lately. He's starting to worry that she might be about to say that under those circumstances, there's no chance for them. Now that thought has never once crossed his mind, but this is Emma Swan, after all, and the latest events have proven that she obviously hasn't completely vanquished her issues. Killian braces himself for that possibility, perfectly aware that it wouldn't change anything for him – he's still determined to give her back her trust in him, in them – and if it takes years or the entire rest of his life. He is not going to give up on her or on their love, no matter what she thinks.

“So what are we going to do with that?” he asks tentatively and finally fixes his eyes on hers again, hoping to convey exactly that – that he isn't inclined to give up, ever.

And then she surprises him. “What we have is True Love.” It's a simple statement, and his heart takes a jump at the determination he sees in her eyes when she speaks. “It's not easy,” she continues, “in fact, it never was. But it's worth it. It's worth every second and every tear and every effort.” Her fingers squeeze his tightly now, and her voice cracks a little, but she pulls herself together and firmly goes on, “So what we're gonna do is, we fight. We fight for it. Every – fucking – day.” A single tear rolls down her cheek and she takes a deep breath and looks at him, the tiniest insecurity in her eyes. “If you can forgive me, that is, and if... if you still want it?”

Killian lets go of her hands and cups her face, a tiny smile finally crinkling the fine skin around his eyes. “Oh, Emma. Of course I forgive you. I've wanted nothing else since a long time ago.” He wipes away the tear with the pad of his thumb, and she almost sobs with relief. It feels similar to when she heard his voice again through that shell phone: Like she can finally breathe again, and her heart has resumed beating.

She closes her eyes for a moment and leans her cheek into his palm before she looks at him again and draws a deep breath. “Look, I can't promise that it won't happen again,” she tells him with disarming honesty, “that my fears won't get the better of me... but I can promise you one thing: I'm gonna fight back.” She confirms that with a nod and adds, “And I'll be there for you when you need me.”

He leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. “And I for you,” he returns the promise. “And there will be no more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” she agrees.

He sighs. “I'll talk to your father tomorrow.”

Emma nods and offers, true to the promise she just made, “I can come with you?”

He shakes his head once. “I do appreciate it, love, but that's something I have to do all by myself.”

“Okay.” Slowly, she rises from the couch and tentatively reaches out for him. “Are you coming to bed? I'm exhausted, but if you want to stay down here for another bit...”

“No.” He smiles and takes her hand. “I think we could both use some rest.”

Emma tries not to show how relieved she is; she does want to give him all the time she needs, but truth be told, she can't stand the thought of having to go to bed without him again, and even if it's only for one more time.

When they are in their bedroom, they undress quietly, but the silence isn't awkward at all. Killian is faster, as usual, and he's already in a pair of sweatpants and a henley he normally wears to bed when it's chilly outside while Emma is still fumbling with her turtleneck. When she's finally rid of it, he notices something that has him catch his breath in his throat: she's wearing the shell necklace around her neck, the pendant resting between her breasts.

She notices his gaze and blushes slightly. Cradling the shell in her hand, she explains in an almost apologetic voice, “This... it kept me sane, to hear your voice.” She's rocking slightly back and forth on the balls of her feet, a sure sign for her uneasiness, and Killian knows she feels hat pang of guilt again.

Carefully, he takes the shell from her hand and removes the leather band from her neck, setting it on top of the dresser, then turns to look at her again with so much love in his eyes that it makes her heart clench. “You don't need it anymore,” he tells her softly, “You have me now.”

When they slip under the blankets, Emma literally wraps herself around him, so closely that it's hot and almost uncomfortable, but he lets her, perfectly aware that it's not only her attempt to feel safe again and her relief to have him back, but also her way to tell him without words that she'll never let him go again.

In spite of what transpired earlier between them, despite her exhaustion, there's still tension in her body, and Killian tries to caress soothing circles into the skin of her back and turns his head to press a kiss into her hair. Only very slowly she seems to relax a bit in his arms, and when he's just about to drift off to sleep, he feels her lips against the side of his neck, whispering his name against his skin like a prayer.

Soon he realizes that this is what they both need now – slowly, carefully get reacquainted with their bodies and souls, and so they make love gently and soothingly and with barely a sound, trying to express what their mouths have left unsaid, to heal each other's wounded hearts. What they don't leave unsaid are their softly, passionately whispered I love yous, because sometimes words do matter, and some things you just need to hear.

The next morning, after Henry has left for school and Emma makes sure one last time that Killian really doesn't want her to accompany him for support, he leaves the house and heads for the loft to talk to David. There's a heaviness in his heart, because not only is the man his True Love's closest family, but he's also his own best friend, and to have hurt him like that is nothing Killian Jones is able to brush off that easily.

Nevertheless, it has to be done, and so he draws a deep, weary breath and knocks at the door of the loft with the curve of his hook. The door is opened by Emma's mother, and as the first surprise of the day, the princess bandit smiles at him.

“Killian,” she greets him warmly and waves him in invitingly, “so good to see you back. Come in.” She has obviously just packed the baby in his stroller and is about to head out. “Killian is here,” she throws over her shoulder and gives him an encouraging smile. “I'll leave you two for a bit,” she then announces and nods her head towards the kitchen table where David is sitting in front of a steaming mug of coffee. Seeing Killian enter his home, he gets up slowly – hopefully not to throw him out, Killian thinks, at least not before he has the chance to say what he came here for.

But the next surprise follows: as soon as Snow has closed the door behind her and they are alone, David pours a second cup of coffee and sets it on the table, wordlessly gesturing for Killian to sit. He scratches behind his ear a little awkwardly and then follows the beckoning just as wordlessly.

David sits down opposite him again and opens the conversation. “So, you've really been to Agrabah?” he asks unexpectedly. “With Ariel? Must have been quite the experience.”

Killian is a little taken aback and nods, not really knowing what to say to that. David looks down into his coffee and adds, “But you didn't come here to talk about that.”

Killian swallows hard. “No.”

Firmly, David fixes his pale blue eyes on his and replies curtly, “Good.” With an almost brusque move of his hand, he prompts, “So say what you have to say, and then I'll say what I have to say.”

Only a moment of silence falls between them before Killian nods and musters all his willpower to return David's gaze. “I can't change what I did, as much as I wish I could,” he starts, as it seems perfectly clear that both men know exactly what he's here to talk about. Sugarcoating anything – especially his sins – has never been his tactics, so he aims right where it hurts and continues, “I murdered a good man who wanted nothing more than to get home, I ripped a family apart – your family – and caused a little boy to grow up thinking his father abandoned him.”

David doesn't flinch the slightest at his words, but a tiny blink of his eyes betrays that he is indeed affected by Killian's painful words.

Killian refuses to look away. “I did that,” he clarifies once more, pointing out his determination to face the consequences for his misdeeds. “I'm responsible for your pain. Nothing I could say or do can erase that.” He runs his hand through his hair and tilts his head. “I know you will never again believe a word I'm saying, but I swear I didn't know that when you sought my help in finding out the truth.” Almost pleadingly, he looks at David, desperately wanting him to acknowledge at least that much of honor in him, but the Prince's expression doesn't give away what he thinks. “I should have come to you immediately when I found out, but...” For the first time, his voice cracks a little, and he looks away from his mate. “... I couldn't. I couldn't look you in the eyes.”

“And now you can?” David snarls.

“I have to,” Killian replies without hesitation. “I'm not that vile excuse for a man anymore, and I know now that my past does not define who I am today. I've changed. Not to get Emma as a prize, but to be able to live with myself again.” David probably won't believe that either, but somehow that's a particularly important issue for Killian to point out. “Today I'm the man I truly want to be, a man of honor,” he continues firmly, bracing himself for David's cutting sarcasm, but no reply comes from him. So he finishes, “But I cannot be that man if I pretend I can erase who I was, I have to own up to it and face the consequences.”

David seems almost detached when he asks in a flat voice, “Which are?”

Killian's head drops down, his eyes resting on his own, untouched mug now, somehow it's like he's lost all energy. “Losing your respect and your friendship,” he answers in a tinny voice, because yes, that is going to hurt, “and the privilege of being welcome to your family.”

David nods. “But you're still planning to marry my daughter?”

Without moving his head, Killian raises his eyes to David's; the man deserves as much. “If she can find it in her heart to trust me again, aye.”

There's a long pause, David seems to weigh his words, ponder over his response. “Are you done now?” he finally asks with a stony face, and Killian averts his eyes again, swallows and nods once, part of him surprised that David even deems him worthy of an answer other than his fist finally breaking the pirate's jaw. “Then let me tell you something,” David starts. “The man who murdered my father is no one I'd want anywhere near my family.”

Nothing else could he have expected, Killian knows that, yes the words sting. “I understand,” he replies soberly.

“But the man I've come to respect and appreciate,” David continues, “as a friend... you're still that man.” He pauses again, maybe to allow Killian to process his words.

Slowly, Killian raises his head again, his incredulous eyes searching David's, convinced that his ears must have deceived him. The other man's face is earnest, but not hateful or even angry. It can't be possible. And yet... Emma's words ring in his ears, They will forgive you. It's what this family does.

“As far as I'm concerned,” David finally adds, “an evil king is responsible for my father's death, because he put him in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wanted him dead, and that's what happened.” For a moment, his jaw clenches as if he's fighting some secret fight with himself, but then the moment is gone, and he tells Killian firmly, “It doesn't matter how it happened. The man who wielded the blade... he's gone. You're still here.” He leans forward, as to put emphasis on his next words. “And, frankly, I'm glad about that.”

For a moment, Killian is overwhelmed and has to avert his eyes. Then he smiles to himself and shakes his head in disbelief before turning back to Emma's father. “Thank you, David,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “That means... it means a lot.”

David draws a deep breath and nods. “Your honesty means a lot.”

For a little while, silence falls between them, but somehow it's not uncomfortable: the important things have been said, the atmosphere is cleared, and the balance between them is set right again. Killian takes a sip of his coffee, not because he really wants to, but because he feels it somehow seals the renewed bond between them. But then he has one final question, one that might be silly to even consider asking, but he just has to.

“Does that mean I still have your blessing?” he wants to know. “To ask for Emma's hand again?”

David snorts. “Whom would I fool if I said no?” he returns the question without blinking an eye. “We both know you're already part of this family.”

Killian simply doesn't know how to reply to that, so he just nods and pushes back his chair to get up, now that everything has been said and done, feeling the overwhelming urge to be alone and process what just has been happening. David rises from his seat as well and wordlessly ushers him to the door, as if he understands what's going on in his mate's mind.

“Go home,” he says and slaps Killian's shoulder, “Don't waste any more time.”

Killian grins sheepishly and nods, scratching behind his ear without even noticing before he reaches out to open the door.

“Oh, and Hook?” David calls him back, and Killian stands rooted to the spot, throwing him a questioning glance. David smiles. “Just for the record: I always knew you'd never have abandoned Emma.”

And that's it, that last statement is the straw that finally breaks the camel's back – hearing that someone, anyone never stopped believing in him. Killian turns around and hugs David without waiting for confirmation that it's okay. If Emma's father is surprised – and he probably isn't – he doesn't show it but hugs him back without hesitating, back slaps and all.

Killian finally leaves with his head humming and his heart overfull, and there's only one place for him to go when he's in that state of mind, when he needs calming, a bit of time to himself. Down by the docks the air is clean and the ocean is calm today, the horizon as endless as ever.

So, he does nothing but just sit there on the mole, recalling everything that happened since he found his way back home, to that patch of dirt that has become the center of his world now, because his family and his heart are there. From sorting things out with Emma to the talk with David, everything seems to have fallen into place, and he's just amazed about that. It really looks like a happy ending is in the cards even for someone like him, and even though it took him hundreds of years, he finally managed to find people who care about him, believe in him and support him. Love him.

All that's left for him to do now to make it all complete is give Emma the ring back and ask her again to marry him – simple enough. Simple? Well, he doesn't have any doubts about it, and there are no secrets between them any more, so there really shouldn't be a problem. Killian's also convinced that Emma doesn't have any doubts or reservations, and he knows that deep in her heart she does trust him... but then, she's still Emma Swan. He just hopes that the recent crisis hasn't scared her too much... not about her faith in him, oh no – he hopes that she trusts herself enough. That heavy guilt in her voice when she told him that she failed him... oh, he knows it all too well, that paralyzing, depressing fear of maybe not being good enough for the person you love the most... maybe she needs a little time to regain her trust in herself, that she will not fail him again. Putting her under pressure by proposing to her again right away could maybe have the opposite effect and make her shy away. On the other hand, she seemed very determined when she told him she'd fight because their love was worth it...

Suddenly, his train of thought is interrupted by Emma's voice, as if his musings have somehow summoned her. “Here you are,” she addresses him tentatively, “I've been looking for you.”

Without intending to, he flinches a little at her words when he turns around to face her as she walks up to him, hands buried deep in the pockets of her red coat, the grey beanie pulled down over her ears. The expression on her face is slightly anxious, and he can't help but ask himself if it will be always like that now – that she immediately starts to worry when she doesn't know where he is, because something could have happened that might have driven him away. He feels bad for having these thoughts, because it's like he's blaming her, and he's not... but damn, even the possibility hurts.

As if she's sensing his feelings, Emma raises her hands in defense. “Oh, I mean... I didn't mean...” She stumbles over her own words and interrupts herself; it's not easy to handle the aftermath of their first big misunderstanding as a couple, but hey – she's doing her damn best. She draws a deep breath. “I just thought maybe you needed to talk.”

He seems to understand and smiles. “It's alright, Swan.”

She sits down beside him on the breakwater. “So, how did it go?” she wants to know.

Killian tilts his head and scratches behind his ear. “Your father always manages to surprise me,” he tells her a little vaguely.

“What did he say?” she wants to know.

He looks her directly in the eyes, the blue of his own reflecting the calmness of the ocean. “That the past doesn't change what we have become.”

She presses her lips into a tentative smile. It sounds like the talk between her father and her True Love hasn't indeed gone bad. “And what's that?” she inquires.

“Friends,” he replies and, after a pause, adds, “And family.”

Her smile blooms into a wider, happy one. “He's right.”

He tilts head again, and unreadable expression on his handsome face. “Not entirely, though,” he contradicts.

Emma frowns at that. “What–”

“Well... we're not family,” he explains, “Not yet.”

She swallows and just looks at him, not knowing what to reply. Instinctively, she knows what he means, but isn't sure where he's aiming at, why he's pointing it out like that. Of course, technically, they're not family before they're not married, but... Killian is scrutinizing her intensely for a moment, and despite her resolution to not always expect the worst from any situation, her heart sinks, heavily burdened. What if in spite of his forgiveness, he's afraid that she isn't ready yet, given how she reacted the first time things got a little rocky between them? And how could she even blame him? She can't. Centuries of self-loathing and deeming himself worthless, and then she goes and seemingly confirms what he has been fearing all along – that he isn't worth believing in. His wounds aren't any less deep than hers, and if she has difficulties in overcoming her trauma, why would that be any easier for him? Oh Killian, she thinks, if only I could make you see how precious of a person you are and how much you deserve that happy ending you're denying yourself...

He gets up to stand on his feet, and automatically, Emma follows, looking at him anxiously now, unable to tear her gaze from his face. Goddammit, say something! she wants to yell at him.

He holds up his hand, and she's shocked to see the ring between his thumb and forefinger, the diamond catching the pale sunlight, multiplying it. Her jaw drops, and she stops breathing for a moment.

“I do trust you, Emma,” he says, his intense gaze burning into her own, “And if you trust me, too, I need to ask you only one thing. Actually, two.”

Slowly, he sinks down on his left knee, and she's still too paralyzed to perform any of the clichéd moves like pressing her hand over her mouth or her heart; her arms are dangling uselessly at her sides, and her entire focus is on the earnest face of the man kneeling before her on the pier.

“Please, take this ring back,” he asks, “and let me be yours forever.”

Like the first time it happened, her legs grow heavy and wobbly, but the feeling is doubled by the awareness of everything they've been through since then, of the tests their love has had to overcome – again – and what it really means for them. Did she think she knew before, now she really does know it with a clarity so pure and sharp it almost hurts, but in a good way, absurd as that may be: she knows that this is it. It's True Love, and it's forever. The realization makes it impossible for Emma to hold herself upright on her feet any longer, and so she unceremoniously drops to her knees in front of Killian, face to face and heart to heart.

Her right hand reaches for his hook and she raises her left to show him she's accepting the ring.

“I do trust you, too,” she replies without hesitation, but in a slightly croaky voice betraying how emotional she is, “And I'm yours as much as you are mine.”

For a moment, they are just kneeling there and facing each other without either of them speaking a word or moving as much as a single muscle. Then Killian finally slips the ring on her finger where it belongs and curls his fingers around hers, both of them slightly trembling. Simultaneously, they look at each other with awestruck, teary smiles and lean their foreheads together. After a while, kneeling on the concrete of the per becomes mighty uncomfortable, and they scramble to their feet, supporting each other and giggling like teenagers.

When Killian lets go of her hand and reaches for the back of her head to pull her in for a kiss, Emma wraps her arms around his neck and sinks into him, the last remnants of all the tension finally falling away from her.

The kiss is languid and slow, and when they finally pull apart, Emma has a playful smile on her lips.

“So, we'll really be Captain and Mrs. Jones soon?” she asks, and Killian tilts his head, his expression surprisingly serious.

“Only if you want to,” he replies and, when she frowns, explains, “I've learned that in this realm a woman doesn't always take her husband's name.” She smiles in understanding – of course he'd be considerate about her wishes, as he always has been – and he hastily scratches behind his ear before adding, “Although I have to admit... it would be a pleasure to this old-fashioned pirate's heart if you did.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “What, no Swan anymore?” she teases, and he snorts a little laugh.

“Oh, you know you'll always be my Swan to me,” he tells her smoothly, “That's so much more than just a name. But if you...”

“Listen,” she interrupts and puts her hand to his chest in a delicious gesture of casual intimacy. “None of the families I've been with ever cared enough for me to offer me their name, so I had to pick my own.”

A profound melancholy washes over him, and his heart goes out to that unloved, lost little girl from a long time ago that still lives buried somewhere deep in the soul of Emma Swan. He makes a silent vow to himself to always take good care of her and make sure she won't ever feel like that again.

“Now that someone does,” Emma continues with a bright smile, “I will happily accept it.”

He doesn't even try to hide how happy he is about her choice. “Then Mrs. Jones it is,” he nods.

A cheeky spark lights up her eyes, and with a grin she adds, “Unless, of course, you'd prefer Captain and Mrs. Hook.”

“Ah well,” he crunches his nose and tilts his head sheepishly, “I'd rather people forgot about that, honestly.”

“Are you kidding me?” Emma shakes her head vigorously. “Not happening. How could I ever forget? Captain Hook is part of the man I fell in love with. Part of who you are now.” Killian averts his eyes and smiles that embarrassed smile, he just can't help it. Emma puts her hand to his scruffy cheek, making him look at her again, and he's blown away by the honesty and sheer, unveiled love he finds in her eyes.

“Here's the thing,” she says softly, “I'd wear it just as proudly.”

#cs ff #cs #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #my ff #what this family does

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worryinglyinnocent · 7 years

Text

Fic: Chance Encounter

I think my messages to the Rumbelle Showdown are being eaten and I really want to post my fics, so I’m going to reveal myself now: I was Purple Polka Dots.

This was my first round fic, for the prompts: Smuggling, Down by the sea, Interview

Summary: Belle meets a mysterious stranger whilst searching for the fabled hoard of famed smuggler Rumpelstiltskin, and a tentative friendship begins.

Rated: G

=====

Chance Encounter

The cold sea air whipped at Belle’s face as she struggled along the beach through the gale, the salt from the crashing waves stinging her skin. No-one in their right mind would come down to the sea in such a storm, but Belle was determined in her quest. The opportunity was just too good to pass up and she needed something extra-special to make her mark. According to the text she’d found, the cave was only accessible twice a year when the tides allowed, and she wouldn’t get another chance before the interview tomorrow. Storybrooke’s maritime history was a wonderfully rich one in all areas, but the legends surrounding Smugglers’ Cove were what really drew people to the town; either treasure seekers in search of the fabled stashes left by smugglers of yore, or cynics decrying the rumours as bunkum. A job as the chief archivist of the renowned Storybrooke Maritime Museum would be a dream come true for Belle – and all the other candidates for the position.

Hence her current expedition.

Studies of the coastline around Storybrooke had proven inconclusive as to the exact location of the smugglers’ loot, and every summer, crowds of tourists with metal detectors could be seen combing its many caves. Belle glanced down at the plastic wallet flapping about in her gloved hands; the key to it all, discovered in one of the old books in the Boston library where she used to work. An extract from the diary of Rumpelstiltskin himself, the most famed smuggler in the Storybrooke coves. If she could just find the particular cave he mentioned, then her success at the interview would be assured.

Just a few yards more. Belle switched on her flashlight and the beam bounced off the cliff face as she searched for the hidden rock seam that Rumpelstiltskin’s journal described as the entrance to his secret hideout. His real name had been, fittingly, Gold, but the nickname had sprung up from his cackling, trickster-like reputation, and his ship, the Spindle Imp, was feared by all who saw her.

Belle’s breath caught in her throat as her flashlight beam reflected oddly off the wet stone. Could this be it? This part of the cliff was usually covered by the rolling waves. She strode forward, almost slipping on the seaweed, and investigated the corner. It was an opening! Just as Rumpelstiltskin had described. A bit of a squeeze, especially with all her layers of fleece and waterproofs, but with a bit of wriggling, she was inside.

To say that Belle was disappointed would be an understatement. The cave was empty, no sign of any treasures as she swung her flashlight around its damp, dripping walls.

“It was all cleaned out long ago. Old Rumple was wily. Never kept his stash in the same place for too long.”

The voice behind her made her scream, and she jumped as a second flashlight beam came on beside her own, losing her footing on the slippery rocks underfoot. A firm arm caught her before she could land in an undignified heap on her backside, and the unseen man set her back on her feet.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Belle saw the man’s face in the dim torchlight; hair on the long side, rough shadow over his jawline and a flash of gold in his mouth. He looked like he could have been a smuggler of legend himself.

“That’s all right,” she said, realising that she was just staring at the man and hadn’t made any kind of reply to him. “No harm done.”

He smiled, but then he seemed to remember that he was still holding her tightly and jumped back as if he’d been stung.

“Ah, erm, sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. “So what brings you here?” he asked. “Other than the obvious search for mythical smuggled goods. I have to say that I’m impressed, not many people make it to the cave itself.”

“Research,” Belle replied. “That’s how I found the place, and what I’m doing here.”

The man nodded. “Well, that’s certainly dedication.”

“That’s a quality that archivists need.”

“You’re interviewing for the open position at the museum?” he asked with interest.

“Yes, I’ve just moved here from Boston.” Belle’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re here for the same reason that I am.” It would be a dreadful shame if this new acquaintance turned out to be a potential rival.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. I’m not after your job.”

“That’s good to hear. So how did you come to find this place?”

“I cheated,” the stranger admitted cheerfully. “My aunts already knew about it and told me where to find it. I suppose it’s something of a family secret. I come here whenever the cave is accessible to see whether anyone else has been clever enough to work out where it is.”

“And do you usually have company?” Belle asked.

“No, you’re actually the first in all the years I’ve been coming,” the man said. He held out a hand to Belle. “Come on. I want to show you something. I’d hate for your trip to be wasted since there’s no actual treasure here.”

Belle took the offered hand, firm and warm, and she couldn’t help but give an excited squeeze as he guided her through the dim cave. After a moment, he returned the pressure.

“There.” He shone his flashlight at the far corner of the cave, where a pile of soggy driftwood had been wedged into the crevices in the rock by the tidal waves. “There’s truth in the legends, I promise.”

The light glinted off tarnished brass letters: Spindle Imp.

“Rumpelstiltskin’s ship!” Belle breathed.

“Left it as a souvenir, in case anyone did find the cave. Flipping the bird to the navy who wanted to get their hands on his gains, I think.”

Belle stayed staring at the metal name in awe for several minutes, and it was only when she felt the stranger’s fingers twitch in hers that she realised she was still holding his hand. Glancing up at his face she saw he showed no signs of wanting her to let go, so she didn’t.

“It’s amazing,” she said eventually. “All those stories were true. I wonder what he was like.”

“Too clever by half, probably,” the man said with a chuckle. “Maybe that could be your next research project.”

Belle nodded enthusiastically. “If I get the job.”

“I’m sure you won’t have anything to worry about,” the stranger said. Belle thought that the confidence in his voice was touching, if slightly premature. She heard the rumble of thunder in the distance and turned back towards the sliver of dim light that marked the cave entrance.

“I’d best be getting back,” she said, reluctant to leave a place so steeped in mystery.

“Yes. The tide will come in and all this will be underwater soon.”

They made their way back outside and Belle got her first proper look at her new friend. He was a little older than she’d guessed, with grey streaking his hair and laughter lines around his eyes, but his face was nonetheless a handsome one. She caught herself staring and looked away with a cough, embarrassed.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr…” she said quickly.

“Just call me Rum,” he said. “And you are?”

“My name’s Belle.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Belle. I’ll see you around, no doubt.”

“I’d like that.”

As Belle hurried off down the beach again, she realised that neither of them had a clue how to contact the other, and didn’t know anything about each other aside from first names – and what kind of a name was Rum anyway?

Still, Storybrooke was a small enough town, and she could always find him at the cave…

Belle tapped her fingers nervously against the museum reception desk as she signed in, until a sight made her freeze and track a familiar face around the foyer. He was clean-shaven today, and wearing an exquisitely cut suit rather than hiking boots and a parka, but she still recognised Rum.

“That’s Mr Gold,” the receptionist said helpfully, following her gaze. “He’s the museum director, related to the great Rumpelstiltskin himself.”

There was a pause, and she added: “He’ll be interviewing you.”

Belle blinked as everything fell into place in her mind. Presently, Mr Gold turned, giving a smile and a nod of recognition.

Belle began to feel a lot more confident about her forthcoming interview.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle showdown #Purple Polka Dots

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rumbelleshowdown · 7 years

Text

Chance Encounter

by Purple Polka Dots

Prompts: Smuggling, Down by the sea, Interview

Summary: Belle meets a mysterious stranger whilst searching for the fabled hoard of famed smuggler Rumpelstiltskin, and a tentative friendship begins.

Hence her current expedition.

To say that Belle was disappointed would be an understatement. The cave was empty, no sign of any treasures as she swung her flashlight around its damp, dripping walls.

“It was all cleaned out long ago. Old Rumple was wily. Never kept his stash in the same place for too long.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“That’s all right,” she said, realising that she was just staring at the man and hadn’t made any kind of reply to him. “No harm done.”

He smiled, but then he seemed to remember that he was still holding her tightly and jumped back as if he’d been stung.

“Research,” Belle replied. “That’s how I found the place, and what I’m doing here.”

The man nodded. “Well, that’s certainly dedication.”

“That’s a quality that archivists need.”

“You’re interviewing for the open position at the museum?” he asked with interest.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. I’m not after your job.”

“That’s good to hear. So how did you come to find this place?”

“And do you usually have company?” Belle asked.

Belle took the offered hand, firm and warm, and she couldn’t help but give an excited squeeze as he guided her through the dim cave. After a moment, he returned the pressure.

The light glinted off tarnished brass letters: Spindle Imp.

“Rumpelstiltskin’s ship!” Belle breathed.

“Left it as a souvenir, in case anyone did find the cave. Flipping the bird to the navy who wanted to get their hands on his gains, I think.”

“It’s amazing,” she said eventually. “All those stories were true. I wonder what he was like.”

“Too clever by half, probably,” the man said with a chuckle. “Maybe that could be your next research project.”

Belle nodded enthusiastically. “If I get the job.”

“I’d best be getting back,” she said, reluctant to leave a place so steeped in mystery.

“Yes. The tide will come in and all this will be underwater soon.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr…” she said quickly.

“Just call me Rum,” he said. “And you are?”

“My name’s Belle.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Belle. I’ll see you around, no doubt.”

“I’d like that.”

Still, Storybrooke was a small enough town, and she could always find him at the cave…

“That’s Mr Gold,” the receptionist said helpfully, following her gaze. “He’s the museum director, related to the great Rumpelstiltskin himself.”

There was a pause, and she added: “He’ll be interviewing you.”

Belle blinked as everything fell into place in her mind. Presently, Mr Gold turned, giving a smile and a nod of recognition.

Belle began to feel a lot more confident about her forthcoming interview.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle showdown

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