#i need to go eat an apple or stand in a river for a little while | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yufloria · 1 year

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Old Roots Pt.1

TASKFORCE141 x Fem!Reader

Summary: Los vaqueros and you were childhood friends and they left without a trace before you entered adulthood.

Sorry if this took a while, testing weeks are a bitch and almost considered dropping and scraping the idea on multiple occasions :/

Also: I tried adding more story/ background and working on my descriptions and details skills!!! Tell me if this is better and feedback is greatly appreciated <3

Word count:6.4k!!! (Get comfy :3)

TW: Blood, gore, violence, CoD type of violence, injured reader

WARNING!!!!! IT MAYBE GRAPHIC TO SOME OF THE READERS

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“Alejandro bajate de allí” you told Alejandro as he was playing on top of a stone hedge. “¡Por favor Ale!” screamed a very panicked Rodolfo while clutching to your arm tightly. “No worries I got this! I just need a little more!” He shouted back. This all happened after pointed out how delicious the red apples look hanging from tree. Alejandro being Alejandro and knowing how much you love red apples he is currently trying to reach from on top of the wall. But the problem was that all 3 of you were (at the time) really short. So, in the mind of a kid, he did the best thing he could ever think of which consisted of jumping off and hopefully getting the juicy treat for you. Growing up with him you knew what he was going to do with just a glint of his eyes. “Alejandro, no lo hagas, for everything I could ever ask of you please don’t do it.” Without a warning he just jumped off and landed on top of Rudy that you didn’t know when he moved but he tried to catch him. Both landed on their back on the rough patchy spot, the only spot without lush grass for some type of cushioning. You ran to reach them as fast as your stubby legs could go. Once you reached them you heard small sniffles, as you got closer Alejandro rolled off Rudy, he first looked at his scratched knee then at you with tear filled eyes and let all the tears loose. You were quick to pull him into a hug as your head rested on Alejandro’s shoulder you saw how Rudy also looked like he was about to burst into tears you knew he was because he was very scared of something bigger that could have happened to Alejandro. You just hold out your arm as in to invite him into a hug he quickly obliged. The three of you enjoyed each other’s presence until it was broken when Alejandro started giggling. The hug disbanded away from Alejandro just for him to turn around with a bright smile and holding out 3 red apples on a branch. “Ay, Alejandro...” You sighed out. Ruffling his hair, you quickly gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, he immediately turned red and shoved the branch in your arm and turned away and pouted. After pulling Alejandro to his feet, you guided them to a river and told Alejandro to wash the knee as well as he could while you washed the apples up stream. Rudy started to wrap a piece of fabric around Alejandro’s knee while you sat a little more behind them. “Gracias Rodolfo,” you praise as you give him a kiss on the check as a thank you. He also turned red and pulled his shoulders up to try and cover his blush. You distributed the apples to them and started eating them while staring out to the bustling town below. “Oye, when you grow up what do you want to do?” You ask out loud. Both Alejandro and Rodolfo hummed and tilted their heads as in thought. Alejandro was the first one to quickly stand up and shout, “¡Parar los tipos malos! And kick them out from here and make them never come back.” “That means joining the military, Alejandro! With the problem of the cartel, they are probably going to kill us just for joining!” countered Rodolfo. “We have to fight back some way or another. ¡Por nuestra familia!” You courage him with a warm smile. “¡Tienes razon! Juntos paráremos a todos ellos!” he shouted with a sudden boost of courage. You smiled fondly at both of them as you ruffled their hair and thought ‘Yes, together we shall stop all of them’!

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The strong relationship between all three of you were building throughout the years started crumbling the moment you started entering your adulthood. You no longer spent that much time together anymore because there was simply no time, your mom fell ill and has been bedridden ever since when you were a teenager, you took the part of taking care of her as your father went out most of the day and always came back after dark completely exhausted. It was a blessing and a curse that you were the only child, a blessing because your parents wouldn't use that much money on food and plain necessities but a curse because you always felt that you must help and work around the house for your parents and take all the load of work. As for Alejandro and Rodolfo? They left without a trace, one day you are catching up on your lives and finding a day where you can enjoy a day like the “good ‘ol times” and the next they were nowhere to be found, you asked around, but all the leads came into a dead end and soon you gave up on looking for them. It was harsh for you to adjust without them and the only thing you knew was they were probably dead but maybe they were alive! But if they were alive, why didn’t they tell you or a letter or the very least a goodbye. A few months passed and your mother unfortunately lost her fight against her illness. Her passing was harsh and taxing on both your father and you.

On your father because he started picking up drinking again after he stopped in order to buy the few medications that your mother needed. But for you, after losing your friends that felt like almost younger brothers to you and now your mother. You felt like you had no one, especially now with an emotionally distant father. His drinking problem slowly started to get the best of him, and he started wasting so much that you could no longer help with your job. After he realized he didn’t have enough to continue feeding his addiction he started asking for loans from the cartel as he knew he had no way of paying them back.

He soon started to take his frustrations out on you which caused you to say out of the house most of the time, sometimes even sleeping in the old hideout all of you built away from the town to hide whenever the 3 of you would do mischief. It was a small house under a huge oak tree the leaves and branches hanging down low enough to hide the scraps and wood you collected to build and resemble a house. It was a paradise, at least when you were younger, it had a small play kitchen with a window that had curtains made if sewn together random fabrics that you found in the garbage. On the windowsill there was a small tin can that you always replace each day when you were play pretend that you had a bakery or sometimes a restaurant, that supposedly that Alejandro and Rodolfo were going to help you build so you could fulfil your dream on opening your own restaurant and so people could enjoy your cooking. You always think about that promise every time you enter the small house.

For that reason, that “playhouse” you built together, was the sole reason you were still alive to this day because one day you were sleeping under the old tree. You were awoken by the smell of smoke and fire you immediately shot up from the makeshift bed and ran outside thinking that the town or the tree must have caught on fire but much to your despair it was your house. Of into the distance on a lonely hill where the house you grew up, played around, and made memories with your loved ones was ablaze with fire that looked like they could reach the sky and smoke that started making it seem like a twilight zone. You immediately started running towards your house. Your legs and lungs slowly started to burn and hurt as you made it on top. The flames produced so much heat that your eyes started to water. The townspeople were already trying their best to quell the fire. There was a human chain system that had water bucket from the nearby river. Your heart rate spiked once you noticed that you hadn't seen your father yet. You frantically started searching for him calling out his name and checking the face any man that seem to be the same age of your dad. Soon ice felt that was coursing through your veins, that the only possible way to find your dad was that he was in the house fire. As you turned to look back at your house, the roof collapsed like your lungs. You once again broke into a sprint to your house once you reached it you tried going in but an older woman no older that your mother caught your wrist. “¡No lo hagas mija!”. In desperation you shook her hand off from your arm and tried to run in but this time you were stopped by two ranchers, the same ones you would buy milk from every Sunday morning for your mom since she never liked her coffee black. This time they managed to hold you back as you tried to claw your way out from their clutches. “¡Suélteme! ¡Mi papá está allí adentro! ¡Por Favor salven a mi papa!” You watched as they slowly pulled you way from the burning house as tears rained down your face and your memories went up in flames.

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You were startled from your dreamless and restless sleep by a knock on the bedroom door. You were taking in your surroundings when the door opened to reveal the same women from yesterday.

Oh Yesterday... Oh yesterday...

The sweet lady was an old friend of your mom's. She always tried to help you with any small thing she could but as the years came; she just couldn’t go up the hill anymore. She must have sensed your sudden change of heart as your face contorted into a frown and grimace as you remembered the events the night prior. “Buenos dias hija. ¿Como Sigues?" she asked with a soft smile present on her face. Her soft hand covered your fidgety hands as your eyes began to get glossy with tears rimming your eyes. “Ay, mija...” she sighed and pulled you into a deep embrace it was probably your emotional distress of your resent events or the fact you haven't felt that type of hug your mother gave you every time you felt bad but this time the embrace had a beating heart. It was like a dam crumbling down and tears burst out has you grabbed fistful of fabric on her back as you let everything out and the sweet lady just stayed put, rubbed your back, and shushed as your tears reduced into small hiccups and sniffles.

The older lady grabbed you hand and gently pulled you up to your feet and with a soft voice she spoke, “Vamos, mija, there is breakfast downstairs.” Both of you sat down at the table and a breakfast plate was already prepared in front of you, it consisted of scrambled eggs with sausage, refried beans, and some freshly made tortillas the same one she used to make when she was well. You stared at the plate for a few minutes before forcing yourself to start eating. The sad tension was broken when a man which face was worn down by the years came in and took off his hat as he entered. “Buenos dias, ¿Como sigue la niña?” He asked his wife before pulling her way into the kitchen and soon it was filled with hushed, rapid whispers.

They emerged from the kitchen once again and stared at you with worry very present to their faces as they didn’t want to tell you something. Shaking his head, the older gentleman sat in front of you and placed his hat on the table. You stared in silence back at him urging him just to spill on what he had talked to his wife. “Mija...” he started but stopped once his voice cracked but continued “We found your father-” right before you could get your hopes up on seeing if your father was okay, he cut you off before you could even ask where he is “-but he isn’t with us anymore.” You deflated as you slumped into the chair and the food long forgotten. “Can you at least take me to him or tell me where he is?” You ask hopelessly.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because your father wasn’t there when the fire started, he wasn’t even near when it happened”

“Then what happened?” With that question a tension quickly formed in the room which caused you to panic and tilt your head as in question “What happened” you pressed again. You saw that the couple glanced at each other talking with their eyes as they hesitated to tell you the truth. “TELL ME!” you shouted you couldn’t take it anymore the silence was killing you. At your sudden burst the older man seemed to react he simply stood up take his hat off the table before heading to the door. “Sígueme, por favor.” You walked a few paces behind him, and you took note that his house was barely on the outskirts of the town and the direction you were going was to the heart of the town. You people stop and look at you, men taking of their hat, and the townspeople just walked in a somber silence as you walked by.

You felt the hair behind your neck start to rise the more you walked deeper downtown. A hand was placed abruptly on your chest right before a corner to the church. The man just looked at you with so much sadness and sympathy. He simply pulled you into a quick hug and stated “Lo siento mucho mija.” ‘He is sorry? Sorry about what?’ You thought before you could voice your concerns, he pushed you back and squeezed your shoulders to let you go to see for yourself. To go where your father was. As you rounded the corner your eyes widened in shock, the image before you caused a visceral reaction that made your stomach churn and your skin crawl. You feel frozen, overwhelmed by the disturbing emotions that race through your mind.

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Your father or whatever remained of your father was displayed in the front of the church. He was crucified but it seems that all his limbs were ripped off from the torso they were held up by huge metal stakes. Oh Gosh! His head! His head was staked on the top of the cross. The tip of the cross went up where the neck was supposed to go but worst of all you could see the tip of the stake looked like it was about to come out from his right temple. But it seemed that the eyes were already gauged out before the decapitation and the tongue ripped out and thrown carelessly to the ground. It was a gruesome sight to see. You weren’t squimish on the sight of blood or death, most of the time you always took care of the chickens since that was the only meat that your mom only enjoyed eating so this shouldn’t be new to you. But this time it was your father, your dad, that took care of you, cherished you and raised you nondifferent no matter how much he wished to have a son.

You fell to your knees as you coughed and choked up with your own vomit. It hurt, it felt like your whole skull burn under skin, now the lovely breakfast was now spilled on the side of the street. Your heart felt like it was being crushed as your entire world seemed to shatter into a million pieces. You gasped for air, but the tightness of your chest made it hard to breathe. Your hands shook as the weight of the situation began to sink in as you tried to hold yourself together.

From that moment on, you vowed to eradicate every cartel and ensure they never threaten you or your home again.

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You left your hometown there wasn’t anything for you to stay, you lost everything and everyone you cared about. That’s how you find yourself in this situation trapped in this old, abandoned house, not because the cartel managed to get their hands on you. No, you are better than that just you were in the wrong place at the wrong time you were helping a small group of drunk ladies after a night out and being the only sobber one around you decide to help them reach the nearby inn but taking care of one drunken person was hard you had to deal with three one of them.

You were so preoccupied taking care that they wouldn’t hurt themselves that you didn’t notice men all in black approaching the group until a gruff voice broke out, “Buenas noches, señoritas, how are you in this fine evening tonight.” You head snapped back to the man that spoke and notice that he brought 2 more other men that you could see. You set the girl that was the most wasted down had their arm around your shoulder on a rock. “Buenas noches, gentlemen, is there something I could help you with sir?” You asked innocently you were new in this town, but you been long enough to know that they are not from here and up to no good. “No, but I could ask you the same thing do you need help young lady? Seems that taking care of three drunks proves to be a hassle for you, no?” he noted by closing the healthy distance with his men too. Upon saying that all the alarms of danger came in blaring in your skull as even the ladies who were a little tipsy, holded hands and hid behind.

You could take them on, but they were close enough for you to notice that they were armed, and you just could not let them have their way with the women. You stood your ground has you can now feel his horrid smell of alcohol and terrible oral hygiene fanning over your face. His hand slowly came to reach and hold your cheek caressing it lightly. That kind gesture would be welcomed if it weren’t for the predatory gaze, he had present in his eyes as he tried to grind his knee on you between your legs. Before you could fight back the girls behind you squealed which cause you to turn and see that more men came out of nowhere. The hand being so gentle on your face shocked you as if it turned into a cobra, struck your chin, and forced you to turn back at him. This time you refused his advances by biting his thumb until you felt blood burst inside your mouth then you saw a flash of white and your whole side of the face seemed to burn and throb. You looked up at him on the ground as you felt blood start to seep from your busted lip. “¡Pinche perra!,” he shouted and landed a hard kick in your stomach.

You now know that you couldn’t get out of here without violence. You used your low stance on the ground you advantage. You acted fast lifting your body with your left hand and swung your right leg at the side of his knees as your body twisted right. You felt your leg connect with a satisfying pain that coursed up through your leg but seeing land on his enough for the pain to subside just a little. You launched yourself at him, your right fist connected to his jaw you were about through more before a man behind you wrapped his arm around your throat and squeezed. Your hands immediately flew to scratch him, but he didn’t budge, just squeezed more. You panicked when you started seeing black spots on your vision. You started kicking much harder and slamming the underside of your fists on his thighs. You were about to black out until your left-hand graced what you presume is a knife on his hip; enclosed your hand on the handle ripped it off from its socket and swung back on his thigh and buried it deep enough to his bone. He released you and caused you to fall forward with the knife still in hand. You gently barely hold your throat as you take in huge gulps of air, coughing during the process. The tears barely began to subside then another kick on your back was enough to make you snap back to the situation at hand. You rolled over onto your back, forcing your feet together and kick them out with do much force to send them back a few feet back giving you the opportunity to get back of your feet. You hear a shout coming behind you and head whipped to dodge the knife gracing your cheek, the knife in your hand quickly made home to the stomach. The man just grunted and froze into place as you hold him and pulled the knife back out once then twice and then once more but at the end you twisted the knife and drag it to the side and let the man fall with an ungraceful thud to the ground.

The amount of blood that covered you was frightening but nothing new. The guy that you stabbed on the leg started to crawl away as the first man that started all this also had a knife of his own but unlike the man that it currently bleeding out on the side of the road, he was swinging and failing the knife around with so much speed that nicked you multiple times before you noticed his attack pattern. Swing left, Swing right, then a double step forward. Swing, swing, double step. Again swing, swing and block with the left and push forward and go behind him, grabbed his chin with the same force he had with you and tilted to the side and drive the blade stained with his partner’s blood home on the neck, you struggled to get the blade out once he hit the ground felt the blade slowly come out some audible spirts of blood as you push and pull the blade, you felt yourself getting weaker as the adrenaline slowly subsided within you. As you felt your blade about to get released, then a major force hit your temple, it was strong enough for you to leave the knife embedded in his neck. You landed in your back lightheaded touching the side of your head feeling your blood running down your face and down to the grounds.

There was a loud ringing on your ears as you stare up to the night sky, in your peripheral vision you saw the man that you let live, the on you stabbed in the leg, throw a medium size rock, that’s now covered in small splatters of your blood, to the side. He slowly bend down to get a much bigger rock, heavy enough for him to use both hands and lift it high above his head. You told your body to move, to react or something as he came closer to you with a staggering leg behind. Your vision became black in and out. One side of your brain was screaming at you to force your body to move while the other, stronger, and much louder side just told you to just stay don’t move. Your injuries were just too taxing on your body. Right before he could smash your brain in, multiple shots rang out, his body fell to the ground, but he was already dead before he hit the ground. You heard steps all around you then other male face came in close to yours and smiled with a grin with crooked teeth and a horrible breath, excitedly said to his men as you barely heard, “¡Estás una chulada! Let's take her to EL Sin Nombre, he’ll give us a big prize for this girl that can cause this much damage,” then everything faded to black.

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You woke up with a throbbing around your head it felt like rubber band squeezing eternally. Groaning out as you painfully slowly got up into a sitting position. You raised one of your hands to feel all the dried-up blood caked up on your face and immediately began scratching it off the best you could. You repeatedly open and close your eyes trying to get rid of the dizziness, once settled you took in off your surroundings. It was an abandoned rural house, the windows were caved in but covered in wooden planks, there wasn’t a door, a suspiciously stained deep brown cloth nailed onto the frame. The cloth didn’t do an excellent job of muting the sounds coming from the room next door.

Voices started to arise and slowly made their way towards your direction until finally a man reveal behind the cloth you squint your eyes at until his imagine of the night before appeared in your memory. You are proud to admit that you haven't held hostage too many times before, but you are ashamed to admit that acting like a defenseless and dumb civilian has gotten you out in multiple situations before, so you take your chances and play with that card. You got into character and just stared at him with alarmed doe eyes as he got closer to the makeshift “bed” of you can even call it like that. Before you can play your part, he beat you to it “Cut the crap,” he mocks “I- I mean- We know that you don’t just kill people like that even if it was part of “self-defense”, I saw it in your eyes you have done this more times than you can count,” He grinned out with the same teeth damaged by tobacco and his horrid putrid smell of his breath. “That is why I have you here, alive, so you,” he points at your chest and continues “can work for me, us, for a good pay... for what you do”. “What do you think it is that I do?” You seethe between your teeth. “Simple...” he stats “kill for us. For the cartel.” Acting stupid be damn! You knew that your face gave your true intensions away because before you could even react or voice your opinion. His hand enclosed around your throat squeezing with so much force that it seemed too much from his lanky built. He was smart enough to push himself over you, caging you with a leg on each side of your body and start squeezing with both hands. Your throat must have bruises from the night before because you felt paralyzed by the immense pain for a few seconds before your instincts to survive kicked in, you tried again scratching him on the hands, but nothing seems to work. He squeezed harder and pushed you deeper into the mattress as you tried pushing him away from you or at least scratch his face to know at least you did some damage to this poor bastard.

The weight suddenly vanished, and you felt something wet splattered on your face. The body onto of you slump down to the side with a hole straight through his skull. A sniper. Your blood ran cold as the people on the other side of the room burst out in a commotion when a load of rounds started ringing out by multiple people. Chaos was induced as the paper-thin walls didn’t do anything to stop the bullets and your heart felt like it was about to explode within your chest. Run, run, run! Was the only thing your brain was screaming at you. You stumbled around protecting your head; running and searching for an exit as bits and pieces of debris exploded all around you. Out the back door you heard the person inside had a radio that yelled in English! “Soap, get hold of her she’s the only one who might help us find El Sin Nombre! I’ll keep a look out up here.” They were looking for you in this case, hunting you! That being said you took off as fast as your legs could. A different voice broke through the radio and alerted the man inside once more, “Soap, she running to the blue two-story house southwest from your location!” “Shit!” you cursed out loud as more shots came... above? You look up there was helicopter orbiting the whole neighborhood that you woke up in. You already had a gun that was on the body of a dead man and ran the opposite direction where you first heard the shots and killing two men that had pointed guns in your path clean through the chest. You couldn’t even pat yourself in the back for killing a moving target while you were also in the move that is a first time for you today!

The ground started spewing upwards as bullets crashed into the ground near your feet. A sharp pain in your right calf causes you to stumble forward and crash to the floor with the momentum you had. You look down at your leg and inspect the wound, luckily it grazed your leg not before getting a quarter of a centimeter of your flesh away. You wince at the sight that started to burn and turned to look at the man named “Soap” a silly name if it wasn’t the fact that that he was currently hunting you and closing meter after meter to get you. You swiftly scrambled to get on your feet and limp to the house that had two floors. Some cartel members burst out of the house and paid no attention to you instead to Soap, you were internally grateful they managed to distract him and buy you some time. You bashed the door open with your shoulder and shot where you saw movement you swept the first floor and tried the best you could to run the second which thankfully was empty.

There was empty bookshelf next to the door you quickly rushed in pushing it if front of the door and lodging it with wooden floor lamp stand and tie it around the bookshelf happy with your work you look out the window to find a dense forest out in the outskirts of the town. If you can make it a few yards into the forest, you'll be free. Stomping up the stairs made you snap out of the daydream and raise your gun at the door, he tried the door only to discover it was locked. “Open the door! I don’t want to hurt you!” A thick Scottish accent rang out thought the silence other than your beating heart in your chest. 'Don’t hurt you, my ass!’ you thought as you pulled the trigger without hesitation until it clicks without a bullet. Jesus fucking Christ just your fucking luck! You wasted the last of the bullets on the bastards the floor beneath you and now some crazy ass psychos are after you! Groaning out silence you start looking for another escape route until the was a huge bang at the door behind the bookshelf.

Bastard was launching himself to the door trying to pry it open, not choosing to shoot because he might accidentally hurt you. You only started panicking when you heard splinters come apart at the door, that’s giving in to the repeated force. Out the window it is! Thrusting the butt of the gun to the window it shattered upon impact and chipped off the glass on the windowsill, the noise seems to agitate Soap more because he panically shouted “I know she’s escaping but I’m stuck behind this fecken stupid door! But I’m almost in, the door is about to give up!” True to his word the door did seem like it was 3 hits away of giving in. Bang! You turn to the door, and you saw his gloved hand slip in and take ahold on the side of the door near the doorknob refusing to let the door shut again. The second bang was heard when you were sitting on the windowsill, a leg on each side, and half of his body head included his head could now fit through the crack. His eyes widened as he knew your plan of escape when he saw your position. You knew he was going for the last blow as he retracted his body but this time instead of waiting for the bang when his body slammed to the door, you threw yourself out the window. You couldn’t cushion the fall and crashed to the ground it hurt like a motherfucker, but you couldn’t stop yourself from moving you started crawling and then you go to yourself up and running, limping miserably but running just a few more yards and you be free, you could taste it, tears started forming at the excitement. But then a huge force brought you to the ground once more but this time you couldn’t fight him off you couldn’t even move an inch, the force on top never budged and it was heavy enough to have your lungs struggle to function correctly. The man turned you onto your back and you were met with a horrific picture of a human skull that had deep dark blue eyes staring back at you with an emotion that you couldn’t quite decipher. He proved to be strong enough to hold both of your hands in one of his. The free hand was set the radio on left shoulder and spoke with a British accent “I have secured the running fugitive and we are a few clicks away from the forest Northwest from the location of Soap.” “We have actual visual on you, Ghost, preparing landing to proceed the exfil.” Hearing that Soap was apart a team all hunting you down made your head spin.

Panic once again arose from you as you desperately tried to get of the clutches to this terrifying man, but he didn’t move an inch the frustration got up to you once and just started crying silently as you stared longing at the forest next to you. You were so close and yet so far. Soap meets up with this “Ghost” man on top of you. “What did you do now Ghost? You made another beautiful lady cry again. It was probably because of that ugly mask again,” he teased once he saw your position under Ghost. “Probably if you didn’t do a shit job at capturing her, I wouldn’t be so rough with her but considering she slipped from you two times was the hardest thing to watch through the scope. She was also going to escape from us that third time and I had to take matters into my own hands and here we are, waiting on that helicopter to land and take our asses home with the only person that can help us find answers from El Sin Nombre.” Soap stays quiet but through the silence there was an audible smirk present on Ghost face behind the mask. The helicopter finally landed and Ghost grabbed the front of your shirt to pull you up to your feet and before you could start running, a black plastic zip tie was placed around your wrists by Soap, you could only glare at him as a firm hand was placed behind the base of your neck as a warning to not do any funny business, at least when Ghost was near.

The trio got on the helicopter you were met with two new more faces. An older man that seems to have the warmest smile with crinkled eyes that had a fishing hat that looked impossible to move considering the hat didn’t flinch at the huge gusts of wind the helicopter produced. His name was Price. The other man that seem the youngest of the whole group had darker chocolate skin and had the fullest lips ever on a man with a cap that told the same story as the hat of his older teammate. He introduced himself as Gaz and with the introductions out the way the aircraft lifted itself off the ground and into the sunset sky above.

Almost reaching the 25-minute mark and you have arrived on a small military base. Everyone got off the helicopter and in front of you there were already black SUVs formatted in a line. Everyone started walking towards the car, but you were limping, and Soap was the only one to notice and took your right arm and took off pressure on your wounded leg. Ghost turned around and raised an eyebrow at both of you. Soap simply shrugged and said with a smirk clearly present “What? It’s the least I could do after damaging some fine lady’s leg.” Once you were settled in between Ghost and Soap, even Price as the driver and Gaz the passenger. The car began to move with the help of the rear-view mirror Price made eye contact with you and said “Get yourself comfortable it going to be hours before reaching the location we need you in.” Get comfortable you did! After the stressful two days you had to experience and the amount of adrenaline you had to use took a toll on you because you fell asleep on Soap’s shoulder snoring lightly before the 30-minute mark.

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A/N: Idk why is so graphic but I feel like it fits the story especially if its about the cartel yk yk?

And Pt.2 is in the making :3

191 notes · View notes

s-milesart · 11 months

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Ashes to ashes. Memories, to dust. | Heartsink.

An old etching, charred but cherished.

Sanctified memories of easier days - of decidedly droll monastic toil and blessed children who deserved smothering love.

She would bear the worlds cruelty ten-fold to return to those days - but alas, days like those are gone.

Not forgotten.

--xXx--

"It is days like these, when my mind starts to wander. The quiet days, Agnes. Where no raiders threaten the poor souls of the fields, or where unholy abominations shake the land to it's core."

My mind yet wanders -- to days of quiet. Where most of my worries were whether or not I should hold myself more to the teachings of Her good book, or what should be made for dinner that night.

Did we get another shipment of carrots?

Ach, did the children have enough to eat that day? Especially with little Mary -- her sensitivity to the textures of what she eats vexes her so. She just cannot stand any fresh fruits we receive. She likes her things... Mushy. Makes quite a mess!

A donation that day? Oh! A noble from the Upper Blocks was here to drop off some sweets. I know that wonderful smell... Yes! Apple and Blackberry Jam Twists! The kids will love these so. I just hope She, Above doesn't mind if I sneak one or two...

More prayers today. Mother Superior believes we need as many blessings as we can get these days. I always pray for the children.

Andrea's eyesight grows poorer every day, and I fear we not have enough to get her a pair of glasses. And little Marcel, his education grows by leaps and bounds -- but we must find a scholar willing to take on an apprentice! A sharp mind like his needs a whetstone, after all.

The twins got into another fight today. Hellions, the both of them. I understand they both cannot ride the swing at once, but to have such a scuffle over it? I will talk to both of them tomorrow, when they've both cooled off. I might even surprise them with a slice or two of pie. But...

Something is... Wrong. I don't know, but even the children are starting to notice it. The well-water is starting to turn. I haven't heard the songs of the birds in the mornings. The Watch is telling citizens to avoid blocks in-case of... disappearances. Vivienne is even telling the kids to stay off the streets. Troublemaker she is, she's even cutting her courier services short to help around The Orphanage.

Even my dreams are starting to turn.

I hear it. Below us. An abhorrent thudding that keeps beat with itself. A siren call of evil. The pumping of blood to something that should not live. A cacophony of vile beasts, assembling themselves to make us all suffer. To make us all bleed.

And a vision, clear as day. The city, cracked open, rivers of blood pouring into its caved in ribs.

Screaming, endless screaming. A choir of suffering that never seems to quiet.

A sinkhole in our center, a pit of absolute hell spewing ash into the air. The sun, blotted out, day choked dark to signal the end.

An earthshattering beating, every pulse sinking more and more of the city into it's cavernous maw. And deep below... In the true center beats...

A Heart.

Goddess above, what is going o--

A cry. Looks like little Lucy is awake again. In the here and now. She's growing up awful fast. I keep her in my room, just in case. I glance at the photo on my dresser. A window into a past I still yearn for. But, alas.

I cannot have it. But Goddess above, I will fight for something like it. For the children.

#heartsink #oc #bunny #Sister Lucille #rabbit #bun #furry #nun

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streaminn · 1 year

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First date!

"Find the crows, find the crows, find. The. Crows..." Enid's been wondering around for 3 days, trying to think of something to do for a date. She said that to summon her, Enid would need to find a crow and request her. She almost wishes Lady Death just killed her then and there- she'd deserve it after that line.

'"I'll consensually kiss you'? Who the fuck says that to Lady Death? Who says that at all? Why didn't she just stab me? She's cruel...'

It took a day and a half to think of a date idea (Yoko just responded "eat 'er out?" Which wasn't at all helpful.) Then, it took another full day to earn up the money needed for her supplies.

(Turns out when you're 6'10 people will pay you to pick apples. She even got to eat a couple!)

"A crow! Finally!" She spots the dark bird in the tree above her, picnic basket on her arm. "Hey! Hey! Can you summon Lady Death? We have a date!" The crow blinks at her with an empty head, then squawks. Turning it's head to the sky. It again squawks.

Enid hears a burst of magic behind her and turns around.

She sees a fuckton of crows and ravens flying around Lady Death, she faces Enid.

"Did you just use fucking birds to teleport?"

"Maybe." Smug. "Now, what's this? I half-expected this to be an ambush on me. Going to slit my throat?" Her wings give an amused little twitch.

"Oh!" She turns and digs into the basket, pulling out the blanket she brought. "No; a picnic!" She takes the ends of the blanket and unfolds it, spreading it out on the forest floor, careful to not drop it into the running river next to them.

Lady Death stares at her.

"This... isn't an attempt on my life? You... truly just wish to date?"

"Well," she sets the basket on the blanket, open it up so she can bring out their dishes. "I'm still technically doing this for our deal, but I'll let you in on a secret." She gets close even to whisper in Lady Death's ear, putting a hand behind it to hide her words from the crow perched on a branch behind them. "I think you're cute."

"Oh." Lady Death turns her head town to their food. "You brought beef and fish."

"Is that bad? I can get something else if you like?" She can't but she wants to leave a good impression, damn it.

"No, it's quite alright. I am just. Uh."

"Oh my stars- you're embarrassed!" Lady Death swipes a grilled fish and eats half of it in one bite.

"Am not."

"Are so!"

Lady Death sets her jaw, almost pouting.

Enid grabs a chunk of beef, tearing it with her teeth.

"So, did the crows give you any problems?" She's changing the topic.

"Awww, you worried about lil' ol' me?" She places her hands under her chin, fake preening.

"I'd watch the teasing; I am still Death."

"You won't kill me, not until I've fulfilled our dates. You couldn't live knowing you never got to smooch this face!"

"Hm." Lady Death dips her into the bowl of figs, taking one out and crushing it under her teeth. The juice spills down her chin.

"Damn." She takes a rag from the basket and dips it in the running stream next to them. Before she can think, she pushes a thumb under her chin with one hand and brushes the damp cloth against Lady Death's chin, cleaning it of the sticky fig juice.

It's only once she's done, dipping the rag back into the river to clean it and wringing it out, placing it into the basket, does it hit her. The sheer affection in the action that she just did.

Lady Death's mouth is open just barely in shock. Her eyes are huge, unblinking.

"Oh, fuck that wasn't- I." Enid goes just as silent as the woman across from her. She stares at the basket. Most of the food is gone.

There's a fig left.

She doesn't take it.

"Well, I have business to attend to, so if you don't mind, I shall take my leave." Lady Death stands up, barely tall than Enid now, and does a curtsy.

"Farewell, Enid."

Lady Death calls for a "Hel" before a crow perches on her shoulder. What has to be a hundred crows and ravens each encircle her.

When they disperse, Lady Death is gone.

The fig is still in the basket.

-Writer Anon.

Not a bad date Enid, not a bad date at all!

Pulled some rizz with that wipe and even flustered death for a moment, that's great!

Now eat the fig.

(bet it's cursed or smth, like hades pomegranate)

Eat it Enid.. Eat it.

Anyways ignoring that, its amazing work as always writer anon!! Can't wait for the next two dates :))

#Writer anon #Au thoughts

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goodluckclove · 9 days

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howdy hey

i don't know if the pep talk asks are still open but

im so sleepy and tired and i have too much work

and also my body is in pain like all the time (rip)

and i can't really find the energy to get out of bed and stuff but i do it regardless bc yk. the horrors persist and so do we /ref

Dude blanket statement, I am always open to give a pep talk. Always always. I spend pretty much all of my time writing and being stuck in my head, so actually being able to offer support to someone else though my word-shapes is incredibly validating and a great way to stop pissing myself for like ten minutes.

So yeah, chronic pain. Disabilities. i get it. I'm also disabled, although less physically and more mentally. Still, I have my days where I'm stuck in bed all day. Can't even bring myself to eat, which only makes me more upset.

Here's the thing, though - and let me put this in a way that's entirely too complex but feels right in my head and heart. Everyone is a body of water, and to make it through the day your inner self has to swim from one end of you to the other from the time you wake up till the time you go to sleep. For some healthy, neurotypical, able-bodied people, this isn't usually too hard. It's not always easy, but I believe their bodies of water are typically more still and shallow. Probably far more narrow, too - a river more than a pool.

Others have a wave pool. The kind children fill with urine and used Bandaids. Or maybe it's an ocean that doesn't have a start or end that you can see around you. You take someone treading water there and say just swim to the end, it's easy, and of course they'll be tired. Tired even at the thought of it.

What I mean to say is that people like us can't exist under the circumstances we imagine other people who have never dealt with severe medical/mental health issues have. They're playing Baulder's Gate 3 to cheer up after a stressful workday and we're out there dodging actual magic missiles from bullshit piss wizards while wondering what to eat for dinner. Neither option is better or worse or more important or less meaningful. It's just different shit.

That being said, it could help to stand. Just enjoy a little bit of movement, quietly, only for the sake of the inner you bobbing in the ocean. Basic stretches can be very soothing to get the blood moving. Maybe open a window and feel the air. Maybe get a nice drinky-drink. People say wash your face but sometimes that's hard, so what I like to do is wet a washcloth and just gently rub it over my cheeks and forehead. That's especially nice in warmer weather to cool off.

After you do all that things might feel different. You'll probably feel more awake, and suddenly the next small task won't seem as terrible. Or you'll know you still need rest, and you can just grab a nice snack since you're already up on your feet and keep on resting without pity or shame.

An apple in the fridge works. That's one of my personal favorites.

#personal #friend asks

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darkaviarymc · 2 months

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Level Life

A Y/N Chose Your Own Adventure Life Series Fanfiction

Part 2: The Chasm Choice

Week 1, Day 1

PREVIOUSLY:

You turn to see a small cave opening, and standing just inside is a skeleton. You draw your sword, but before you can take action, it fires a shot from its bow. You dodge just in time to avoid being struck by the arrow.

Attack the Skeleton: 100%

Run and take cover: 0%

You have chosen: Attack the skeleton.

You take a deep breath and rush towards the cave entrance. You jump down two blocks and swing your wooden sword midair. Your slash lands before your feet do, and it's a critical hit. The skeleton stagers back and fires once more, and this time the arrow lodges itself in your shoulder you feel the pain at the loss of three hearts, but you swing again, your strike landing true once more. There's nowhere for the skeleton to go, as now it's backed against a wall.

The skeleton fights back, but you manage to fell your first mob of the game with only half of your hearts left.

[READER has made the advancement Monster Hunter]

On the ground is all that's left of your kill: a bow and a single arrow. You pick them up and inspect your new weapon.

1 durability.

You'll have to make your one shot count, you think as you look down into the cave. It's completely dark, and you can't tell how deep it goes.

You decide that, while you're near stone, you might as well upgrade your equipment. You eat one of the three apples that you got from the tree earlier before mining enough stone for new tools, but you keep the wooden ones for backup just in case.

You leave the cave entrance and are about to chop down the nearest tree when you hear a ringing in your ears.

The Boogeyman will be chosen in...

...3...

...2...

...1...

You are...

The Boogeyman.

One one hand, being the boogyman in week one means that your potential targets will probably not have the gear to protect themselves. On the other hand, it means that they also may not have much in the way of experience to gain from killing them.

At any rate, you know you need to find your fellow players at some point, be it to find a victim or an early alliance. You head towards the river, which is the last place you saw anyone.

On your way there, you see Scar and BigB again, as well as Impulse and Pearl.

There's a deep chasm between them and the river, and all four of them are standing precariously close to it.

You crouch and approach carefully, and you can hear them before they can see you.

"Yeah, Pearl and I are shacking up with Etho on the mountain," Impulse says.

"Cool, cool," BigB says with a nod. "Scar and I want to find READER, you know? Get to know the new player a little."

"Hey, no fair!" Pearl protests. "I already called dibs on the newbie!"

So, Scar and BigB are an alliance, as well as Impulse, Pearl, and Etho. Both teams want you? You’re not sure why, but it seems you have your pick of allies...

And of victims.

You know BigB has levels; you saw him fishing earlier. But Impulse is holding a cooked porkchop in one hand and a torch in the other, which means he also has at least some experience from mob kills and coal mining.

With a well-placed shot from your bow, you could knock either of them off the ledge to their death. Whoever you kill would probably no longer want you as an ally, though, so in choosing your victim, you also chose your alliance.

But should you take the shot at all? Or should you bide your time and wait for a better target, one with more levels to steal and a more reliable chance of succeeding at killing?

#trafficblr #traffic fic #choose your own adventure #reader fic #life series #life series fanfic

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whitesinhistory · 13 days

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Itty bitty titty committee The world with me, your girl with me And I don't even really like pussy That's the homie Tony Island call Poseidon Cry me a river, you could cry me a metaphor A megaphone, screaming out Dream about revolution, air pollution Same solution, socialism They ain't really fucking with my niggas though

Off the grid, we just love the community garden Off the grid, you could be a martian 'round here Settle down here, we could love, love Drive up to the motherland and learn about what was And if the world don't budge, then eat me out, sweetie I wanna smile tonight, I only got one lap around the sun And he going down tonight, yeah, yeah So maybe I'm going down too Yeah, maybe I'm going down too

Yo, I never need no man I got a little bit of love and a couple of friends Picture me rolling up the bud in the south of Sudan Yo, I never need no, no, no

Noname, where she came? We could stand in the rain Maintain a good life, we could fry plantain Same day the airstrikes strike down Iran I ran into the house with a blunt in my hand, let's smoke I don't wanna see death no more, let's fight They got the devil hiding in plain sight That's you, that's me, the whole world is culpable Why complacency float the boat the most? I don't really get it, y'all ain't really with it

All that eat the rich, tax the rich, y'all ain't really about that shit Bitch, if you want some money, you can say that You deserve the payback 'cause niggas took everything Let's go get that and take it to the hood though Share it with community, we soldiers in plain clothes

Everybody got their role, don't be an opp Everybody got their roles, I'm a play mine Like Scooby-Doo in a haunted house I see the ghost that they talking 'bout, I see the signs Read in between the line at the crime scene I ain't fucking with the NFL or Jay-Z Propaganda for the military complex The same gun that shot Lil Terry Out west the same gun that shot some Samir in the West Bank We all think the Super Bowl's the best thing

Go, Rihanna, go Watch the fighter jet fly high War machine gets glamorized We play the game to pass the time Go, Beyoncé, go Watch the fighter jet fly high War machine gets glamorized We play the game to pass the time

Go, Kendrick, go Watch the fighter jet fly high War machine gets glamorized We play the game to pass the time Go, Noname, go Coachella stage got sanitized I said I wouldn't perform for them And somehow I still fell in line

Fuck, I never need no name I got a little bit of love and a memory lane Picture me rolling up the bud, I don't play them games Yo, I never need no, no, no Uh, I never need no name I got a little bit of love and a memory lane Picture me rolling up the bud, I don't play them games Yo, I never need no, no, no

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hopinggforbetter · 2 years

Text

I took these pictures on the 4th of July. My little sister and I were lying on top of the back of my car waiting for fireworks… or trying to watch them. I can’t remember. I remember talking to her about something very deep, and at the time I was really struggling in my relationship with God. I’m not sure exactly how I was feeling, but I know I wasn’t satisfied. To me, God was not the kind and great God that He was to everyone else. He was someone burdening me and trying to control my life.

The day after, on the 5th of July. I went to Yellow River Park with my little sister again, lol. And it was so peaceful. And God gave me Exodus 6:2-8. He reminded me that He’s a good God and that He’s not the One burdening me. He told me that He was the One Who set the Israelites free from the burden of the Egyptians. He is not the One Who brings burdens upon me.

Currently, I’ve not been doing so good with good. I’ve been lukewarm. I know what I need to do, but I don’t want to do it. Because I want to scroll through YouTube shorts, or go to the gym, or go eat, or something that than spend time with God. I have a history with running from God, but that’s a story for another day.

But He has not once left me. Never has once abandoned me. I feel like God is like me. So it’s difficult for me to accept that there is a God out there who loves me unconditionally. No matter what I do. He loves me. That He’ll never leave me or forsake me. That He’ll continue to draw me closer to Him. Despite me protesting not to. Despite my anger toward Him. Despite my sins. Despite myself. I can’t believe that type of love exists. It makes me want to run away. I am undeserving. I can’t believe that type of love exists. I can’t believe that type of love exists. And it’s not something you want to take advantage of. It makes you want to do better.

I know I need to repent and do better. Am I scared? Yes. But I still want to try. Because I know God will honor my efforts.

Apple has featured photos, and one of those photos were on there. And it just reminded me of how serious I was about God back during the summer. How I really cared, and how now, I’m just tired and I don’t want to try. I’m lukewarm and exhausted.

But He is never tired. He doesn’t give up on me. He doesn’t get lukewarm and exhausted. He keeps going. And as long as He won’t give up on me, I too will keep going.

“If You, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with You there is forgiveness, that You may be feared.” Psalm 130: 3-4 ESV

#personal #Jesus is God #Jesus

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workofheart · 3 years

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jean kirstein relationship hcs

sorry for the inactivity lately y’all school is whooping my ass </3 in the mean time, have some modern jean relationship hcs bc i miss him

protective boyfriend #1 ♡ ♡ ♡ will not hesitate to yell at ppl if they’re mean or rude to you, he doesn’t want anyone coming near you like that. thinks his partner deserves the absolute best and will not tolerate people disrespecting you or even thinking of disrespecting you. he will defend you til the day he dies, even if it embarrasses you

asks the waiter for a new dinner when yours is undercooked and you’re too nervous to say something. if you’re a person w social anxiety or just don’t feel like doing something, he would do things for you no problem, whether its fetching you something, paying for you, ordering for you, etc. he’s not gonna tease you or make fun of you, he’s just happy to help

he’s a sappy drunk :’) when he’s hammered, he gets all clingy and drags you onto the couch to cuddle w you/hangs off of you while you walk home and tells you all about how he feels about you and how he wants to spend his life with you and have dogs and a cute home forever. has the cutest little giggle while literally pouring out his feelings for you

and if you bring it up in the morning, you KNOW he’s gonna get so shy and red like “oh... i said that? haha...”

his biggest dream is just domesticity with you - like i mentioned, living somewhere beautiful in a nice house with a beautiful family or just you and him :( he really cherishes you and just dreams about spending his life with you. his “happy place” is very likely just the two of you sitting in a field by a river on a sunny day, maybe with some sandwiches and sparkling water, with all the time in the world watching ducks swim by

i imagine that you were previously friends before starting to date, but he’d been seriously pining for you since the beginning, just never wanted to make you uncomfortable and was too scared to say anything. he’d go home after hanging out w you and just sigh (probably yell into his pillow in frustration too but shh) bc he just felt like if it wasn’t you, then who else?

meanwhile you’re being so obvious that you like him back but he keeps reasoning that you’re just being nice and wouldn’t actually want him like that

was ready to settle for friendship and just lock away his feelings when you just pulled him aside and confessed directly. he was a strangely confused yet happy daze for the following weeks

is a sucker for romance movies - likes imagining him and you in those scenarios, romanticizes your own relationship shamelessly. i feel like he’d enjoy 500 days of summer and... wait for it... clueless. I KNOW. it’s his guilty pleasure. also consider: he bawled his eyes out at the end of la la land.

loves beach dates! loves the beach, loves the boardwalk, loves everything about that summer atmosphere. waits in line to get you funnel cake and then you sit and eat, people watching and making up stories for everyone that passes by and just laughing while you enjoy the fresh summer air. in the arcades, totally the type to win himself a cute plushie but when ur like “omg!! is that for me?” he goes oh yeah haha.. but don’t think he doesn’t notice when you’ve been eyeing up a specific toy at the ring toss stand. he will not hesitate to play game after game until he gets it for you.

lover of back hugs. he is so generous, literally towers over you no matter ur height, just wraps his arms around u and holds u <3 it makes you feel so safe and loved and that’s all he wants for you

carries you wherever possible. up the stairs, down the stairs, from the kitchen to the living room and back. he always boasts about how easy it is to pick you up bc he’s strong and it boosts his confidence lol

constantly tells you how pretty he thinks you are. jean always thinks you look beautiful so he always compliments your outfits and your hair and your makeup, leans into ur ear to whisper it to u and make u giggle even when it’s just the two of you at home

on that note: always gets caught staring at you and he blushes so easily when you call him out for it. can’t stop looking at you over the top of his newspaper when you’re having breakfast in the morning, can’t stop looking at you while you’re making dinner for him, can’t stop looking at you while you work or study

for valentines/your birthday/holidays he always makes you cute handmade cards out of colored construction paper. he finds a new design every single time and spends so long on it, and finishes by writing out how he feels on the inside. can u just imagine him sitting at his desk, tongue poking out of his mouth with a glue stick in hand as he lays down different colored paper hearts :(

teases you nonstop. always poking fun at you, probably make jokes about how “irresistible” he is and how you can’t keep away lol, thinks you look adorable when you’re flustered

u give him haircuts when it’s getting long, he sits on a stool in ur bathroom and u just give him a trim every once in a while. trusts you not to fuck it up (not that you ever would) and it always comes out so nice and it makes his heart swell just to have you there to do such intimate, sort of domestic things for him.

pet names! i know so many people have talked about this but it’s just so true. has tried everything in the book to see what you like, watches carefully to see how you respond so he knows, occasionally calls you something silly like “pookie” just to get a reaction out of you

needs verbal communication. jean always has so much on his plate and has a lot of insecurities, so he really needs that reassurance that you need him and love him every day until he can accept it for himself

favorite position to sleep in is him on his back with your head on that area between his neck and shoulder, holds you really close during the night. loves loves loves when you nestle into him and cling to him for warmth when you’re asleep. has trouble sleeping if you aren’t there

dotes on you so much seriously he is so sweet and caring, just so whipped for you. he is literally so weak and always gives into you just bc it makes you happy. you want to drive out for mcdonald’s at two in the morning for an apple pie and a shake? he’s getting his keys rn

nsfw below the cut (18+)

i think mostly everyone is in agreement that jean is a total pleasure dom - he spends all night getting you to cum again and again, always asking if you can give him one more

as mentioned earlier, teases. avoids giving you what you want at first, makes you use your words, and when when you do get it, you’re getting it. aka, overstim galore. he’s not stopping until you’re spent

so much dirty talk, asks so many questions to get you to talk. “louder for me, princess” type of guy. wants to reduce you to babbling with how good he makes you feel - the sounds you make get him so incredibly hard

he is also vocal bc he knows you like it. groans his name into your ear just to feel you clench, then laughs.

never forgets to mark you up, leaves hickeys all over your neck and chest and thighs. loves to look at them later on when you’re changing, and especially loves your reaction to seeing them for yourself

size kink!! this man is almost 6’3 so chances are he’s gonna be bigger than you regardless. likes being close to you, likes being in positions where he can see you, probably has an arm slung around your waist or back whenever the position allows for it so he can hold you close

pins your arms down, holds your hips to the bed so you just have to sink into the mattress and take it

every time he aims to fuck your brains out and make sure the only thing you’re thinking about is him and how good he makes you feel

his fingers are fucking magical, dear lord, he gets you so worked up and knows just how to touch you to make you squirm, loves seeing you go hazy and unravel on his fingers. his fingers are so long and gentle and stretch you out so nice + he knows exactly what to do, where to touch you, when to change his motions to get you there in minutes

needs to be kissing you when he makes you cum. swallows your moans, adores how you struggle to kiss him back with the pleasure he’s giving you

mirror sex is top tier for him, probably has one of those siding door closets w mirrors next to his bed so he can make you look at yourself and watch just what he’s doing to you

eye contact, will 100% grab your jaw to make you look at him, loves seeing you stare up at him through glassy eyes

literal KING of aftercare. takes such good care of you, gets you anything and everything you need, cleans up so well, gives you the world and more

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein fluff #jean kirstein fanfic #jean x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein hcs #jean kirstein headcanons #aot hcs #aot headcanons #aot x reader #aot fluff #jean kirstein smut

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comfortwriting · 3 years

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A Summer Secret Part 1 - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Part 1 of my mini-series 'A Summer Secret' want to be tagged? Let me know!

Part 2

Requested/About: After bursting a water pipe and flooding his house, Fred needs a place to stay - whilst the family is on a vacation he temporarily stays at George's house. Y/N tries to get out of an arranged marriage her parents have planned with the Malfoy Family. Failing to do so, she flees to George's house - the father of her best friends who promised she could stay there to escape. Fred and Y/N meet unexpectedly, and something sparks between them - something that Fred vows to be nothing more than a summer fling, a summer secret... but is it?

Warnings: Age gap relationship (y/n is 18), swearing, mention of arranged marriage, mention of food and eating.

Staring out of the train window, bidding farewell to the mountains, the river, and to Hogwarts, you felt tears prick at your eyes. You weren't ready to go home for summer, you never did - you were always at the Twin's house, living under George and Angelina's roof to escape the arguments your parents caused when you said no to them controlling every aspect of your life.

Unfortunately, Gideon and Fabian were going away for the summer with their parents to visit Charlie and you were unable to join them, you understood and was fine with it, but you were absolutely terrified to step foot into your home, with your parents trying to force you into a marriage you didn't want.

"Cheer up, Y/N." Fabian frowned "I hate seeing you upset."

You broke your stare from the scenery and looked over at your best friends, taking some puking pastilles from their bags.

"Just in case" you muttered, "If they're sick they'll leave me alone."

Fabian smirked and shook his head, tutting "Did they say anything else in the letter?"

You shook your head back "No, they just told me I didn't have a choice. I've graduated, I'm eighteen yet I can't decide what I want for myself."

"I can't imagine getting married at this age to someone I've probably never met."

You stared at Fabian, a little sore and taken aback by his sudden burn.

"Thanks, Fabian, I can't either." You squirmed in your seat and pulled out some jelly snakes from the bag of sweets you were sharing, biting and pulling at the tail, stretching the snake, bursts of green apple and lime flooded your mouth.

"I'm sorry Y/N," he apologised starting to panic.

You shrugged it off and tried to stay calm, throwing him a jelly snake"It's okay."

Gideon rummaged through his large bag and pulled out a large bronze key, handing it to you. "If things get really bad, stay at our house anyway."

You smiled slightly and took the key from him, examining it before stuffing it in your pocket "Thanks, lads."

Fabian nodded his head, flicking through job applications he had filled out before sighing and plonking them back in his bag. "Thank Merlin we've got dads shop"

"Tell me about it" Gideon replied "Uncle Fred will be chuffed when we roll up begging for a job."

The two of them laughed, waiting for you to join in, but you were too busy staring out of the window getting lost in what could unfold in a few hours time.

Dear Y/N,

We are so proud of you for working so hard, we are very eager to find out your N.E.W.T results in the next few months to come.

Your mother and I have been looking for jobs you can apply to once you're home, if you've got the grades, working for The Ministry seems rather promising. Your friend's uncle worked as an Auror for a little while, the one who now picks up spare shifts at that joke shop every now and then.

Anyway, we have got some news we need to share it with, unfortunately, we are unable to tell you in person as the wait is too long, but I don't doubt our owl is rather fast at delivering letters; a lot faster than yours it seems.

We have decided that you will be getting an arranged marriage, your status needs to be high if you want to go for and do well in life, you will marry into a very successful family, one that will open doors for you which your N.E.W.Ts cannot.

If you have anything going on with anyone right now, you need to end it before you arrive home. This matter is not up for discussion, neither is the family we have chosen for you.

Arrive home on time, well dressed, and we will go through the meeting. Don't you dare show us up in front of them, you will regret it.

Please write back, I'm not sending another owl to check on you and you are old enough to realise that Howlers are for kids.

Grow up and act like an adult.

See you soon.

Safe Travels,

- Y/D/N

Grumbling down the path to your house, your stomach started to do flips as you inched closer and closer to the front door. Seeing yourself in the reflection of the glass diamond shape in the middle of the door, you quickly fixed your hair that got ruffled in the wind, unrolling your skirt and straightening out the creases in your blouse.

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and pushed the front door open, carrying your trunk inside, your owl flying inside eagerly for scraps of food. Your heart thumped in your chest and you could hear each thump in your ears.

"Mum!" you called out "Dad!"

"We're in the living room, Y/N," Y/D/N replied.

Setting down your trunk beside the stairs in case you needed to make a quick escape, you walked into the living room, staring at your shoes, afraid your parents had already pulled out a wedding dress and pamphlets of various venues waiting to be hired.

"How lovely to see you," your mother smiled, getting out of her seat to pull you into a hug before your dad cleared his throat.

Yeah, go on, scare her away from me like you always do.

Your mum quickly sat back down beside your father who didn't hug you or welcome you home. Instead, he pulled two moving photographs from the pocket in his waistcoat, setting them face down on the table in front of you.

This must be the family he's chosen for me.

"Well dressed like I asked, thank you." He smiled "You'll be happy to know that the family we have picked out for you are rather eager to... get the ball rolling. They've been kind enough to offer to cover the costs of the wedding, and helping you move into their home once you have married their son."

A wedding... I won't get to choose...

Moving into their home... where I cannot escape...

Fred cursed under his breath standing in his kitchen, the bottom of his trousers heavy and drenched because of the water rising up to his ankles. He dragged himself around the kitchen, searching for some parchment and a quill, but with no luck, he grabbed the muggle telephone, trying to remember how to ring his brother.

"Hello, George Weasley speaking-"

"Alright, Mr Fancy arse" Fred replied, swearing as his shoes started to squelch with each step "Look, I need some help."

Angelina could be heard in the background, telling George to meet her at the airport after she lands with the boys.

"What's up, Freddie?"

Fred sighed "I'm up to my ankles in water, a bloody pipe burst and these muggles take ages to get here. The whole house will be flooded by the time you get here, can I crash at your place? I don't want to bother mum, she's got enough going on with Ron and Hermione's newborn."

George smirked through the phone, amused at his brother's bad luck with something as simple as a water pipe, magic not being able to fix it after a prank going wrong with Fred's wand.

"Of course, me, Angelina, and the boys will be gone for a few weeks though, there's enough food and that - all I ask is that you look after the owls for us."

Fred walked up the steps, his lower legs now getting wet "Thank you, George, I owe you one!"

"It's okay Freddie, just don't get up to any trouble."

"I won't. Say hi to Charlie for me!"

If Gideon and Fabian knew Uncle Fred was staying at the house too, they would have texted you, sent an owl if they didn't have any signal, but they didn't know - and their father didn't think to tell them.

If Fred knew a younger girl would be staying in the house, he would have rented a room somewhere else, hell, he would've stayed in the office above the shop, but he didn't know.

And you of all people would've forced yourself to stay under your parent's roof for a little longer, or jump on a plane and bump into Gideon and Fabian just by chance, but they didn't tell you.

Fred always felt amazed when he was in George's house - it was large and cosy, a proper family home, a master bedroom with an ensuite, two guestrooms where you had slept during previous summer - where the twins often slept instead of their own room from time to time, and a large bathroom that could fit in the whole Weasley family.

You swallowed hard, shifting in the stiff chair, you shook your head, your voice wobbly as you tried to speak.

"Dad, I appreciate all of this, I really do - but I'm an adult, it isn't your choice or right to make decisions for me, I don't want to get married, I don't want to live with another-"

You wanted to continue, but Y/D/N glared at you, he spoke through gritted teeth, flipping over the photographs of the family trying to buy you for their son.

"How dare you disrespect me. After everything I have done for you, for this family, you are not an adult, you still act like a child!"

"I'm eighteen!" you snapped, feeling brave, finding your voice.

"You are still living under my roof! You will do as I say!"

Your mother did nothing but stare into the fireplace, perhaps deep in thought or imagining you in a white lace dress, walking down the aisle with a face smile plastered on your face.

"No, I will not!"

"You will!" your dad bellowed, rising out of his chair "because they are coming to meet you in an hour and you better comply, girl!"

Tears pricked at your eyes, your chest tightened and the familiar lump formed in your throat. Staring down at the picture made you sick to your stomach, you recognised the young lad in the photograph, for he was no other than Scorpius Malfoy.

"The Malfoys!" you also stood up "I will never, ever marry into that family! Not after what they did!"

Y/D/N grunted "What are you going to do? Marry a Weasley? Work in a joke shop and be a laughing stock for a living?"

You stormed out of the living room, grabbing your trunk, your mother continued to stare into the flames, blocking out everything around her, smiling about what could have been.

Your dad followed you, grabbing the other handle on your trunk, pulling you to him.

"You aren't going anywhere!"

"I'm going anywhere but here!" you snarled back, your trunk opened and your clothes dropped onto the floor, letting go, you stormed up the stairs and sprinted to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Frantically, you pulled out your phone, messaging the twins.

Y/N: They want me to marry into the Malfoy family! I can't fucking do it.

Fabian: Wait. Scorpius?

Gideon: You've got to be joking.

Y/N: No! I'm not! His family are coming to meet me in the next hour, what the fuck am I going to do?

Gideon: Puking Pastilles?

Y/N: No, I'm not risking leaving this bedroom if I'm not going outside.

Fabian: You've got our house key, use it genius.

Y/N: I will tonight, I just need to fake this shit, hopefully, I won't be married by morning, I'll run away to yours in the night.

Gideon: Be careful.

Fabian: Don't do anything we wouldn't do.

Y/N: Why do you think I'm running away? The Malfoys are the worst match!

Fred got used to being alone in the house after a week, blasting loud music, dancing like no one was watching, walking around in nothing but his boxers as the summer heat became unbearable. He felt on top of the world, he was alone, enjoying himself, in a huge house all to himself.

Managing to escape through the night as you had planned, you were taken by surprise when you arrived at George's manor to find the lights on and music blaring through the walls.

Maybe the twins came home early to surprise me.

Knocking on the door was pointless, even if you yelled the music was too loud to compete with. Pulling out your key, you unlocked the door and walked inside, setting your bags down on the table on the porch, hanging your coat up on the peg. Following the music you stopped in your tracks, in front of you was Fred, dancing in his boxers, sliding across the wooden floor in his socks, playing the air guitar. Your cheeks started to go red. If this was a prank, it was definitely well thought out - but deep down, you knew that Fabian and Gideon hadn't come home.

You had met Fred before, you always visited the joke shop with your friends and he had been at George's many times over Christmas, and Summer when he wasn't working. Each time you had seen him, he had always been on his own, no girlfriend, no ring on his finger.

Fred spins around with his eyes closed and opens them as he faces you, he jumps out of his skin and instantly covers his private parts with his hands as his eyes met yours, you grabbed the remote and rapidly paused the blaring music.

"W-What are you doing here?!" he asked, breathless and red.

You picked up one of his T-Shirts and threw it at him, leaning against the table, staring at your shoes as he got dressed "I could ask you the same thing." you replied shyly.

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makoodlesarchive · 3 years

Text

when i was young i fell into a river

pairing: kirishima x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: none, really! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff i guess?

notes: hello, it's me, back again with some writing! it's been a long time and i'm very sorry about that, but i've finally gotten around to writing and posting my spirited away au! i'm v stressed with college so this turned out more vent-y than i had originally intended, but hopefully it's enjoyable anyway! thank you all for being so patient with me, i am endlessly grateful for you

The dream is the same as always, comforting in its familiarity.

A salt-scented breeze cools your sweat-soaked brow as you pause behind one of the sliding screen doors, the rice paper windows doing nothing to block out the chatter of the other workers. The bubbling noise of the bathhouse is constant, and the quiet little moments you steal away for yourself in the middle of the working day is the only solitude you’ve gotten since you came here. The work is physically back-breaking, but you know that you’re working towards a goal. It’s just a shame that you can’t remember exactly what that goal is.

One of the other girls calls your name, and you sigh as your unofficial break comes to an end. You slip back into the room, ignoring the way the frog spirits snicker and hold their noses as you pass. They like to complain a lot about your human stench, but it doesn’t stop them from threatening to eat you every time you make a mistake. Fear, you’ve found, is an uncomfortably successful motivator.

The days bleed into one another, full of scrubbing dark wooden floors and the rich earthy scents of the herbal mixes they use in the baths. The spirits that frequent the bathhouse, that once inspired so much awe and fear in your heart, become so commonplace that you hardly spare them a glance anymore. From the cackling masked spirits that always travel in threes to the grinning cat spirits to the sombre, unspeaking river spirits, you only go as far as to offer them a polite bow before scurrying out of their way. They never spare you any attention, anyway -- most of the time, the spirits’ eyes seem to look right through you.

All but one, that is.

He looks to be a boy around your age, but appearances can be deceiving around here. His red eyes are often dull and blank, but even so they have a certain ageless quality about them that no human twelve-year-old could ever possess. His scarlet hair sticks up in gravity-defying spikes, and his skin is as smooth and clear as running water. His face is often stuck in a carefully cultivated blank expression; the only thing about him that doesn’t seem intimidatingly otherworldly are the deep purple shadows under his eyes.

He helped you once, when you first came here. The rare act of kindness had stuck in your head, made even more remarkable in the face of the following weeks and months of harsh work and cruel co-workers. You wonder if he remembers; he doesn’t often look at you, but sometimes when he does you swear you can see a flicker of something in his eyes.

Two of the girls start yelling at each other, arguing heatedly over the way the work is being divided. A foreman appears to break up the fight, but then they both start shouting at him instead. You take the moment of distraction to relax, wincing at the pull of your tired muscles in the back of your neck. All the other girls working at the bath house are older and bigger than you, which means you need to work twice as hard to keep up with them and prove that you’re worth keeping around.

In the brief moment of rest, your eyes are drawn slowly to the corridor, where guests and workers alike bustle past as they travel to the treatment rooms and bathtubs deeper into the bathhouse. As if you’ve conjured him just by thinking about him, the boy stands in the doorway.

You straighten up on instinct, suddenly self-conscious of your sweat-soaked body and dishevelled uniform. He’s not even looking your way, preoccupied with the two girls who are still yelling at the frog foreman. Slowly though, his eyes began to travel the room, and you take a deep breath and hold it as his dull ruby gaze lands on you like a physical weight. You crack a nervous smile, feeling the muscles in your cheeks that have gone unused for weeks ache at the strain, and raise a hand to give him a tiny wave.

For just a moment, that blankness in his face seems to quiver and fall away. He smiles back.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily and coated in a light sheen of sweat. You’ve had the same dream, or some variation of it, regularly ever since you were twelve years old and while it’s become familiar to you, you still find yourself feeling vaguely panicked when you wake up after it, as though you’ve forgotten something very important.

Once your heartbeat has calmed down a little, you pull yourself out of bed and trudge into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. The weak, milky light of dawn filters in through the windows, lighting your apartment up just enough so that you don’t have to turn on a light to make your way around. You take your tea out to the balcony and sit, gazing out at the purplish early morning sky.

Most of the time when you wake up from those dreams you feel blessedly lucky to be living alone with no one to question or bother you, but sometimes you can’t help but be overcome by overwhelming loneliness. The dreams are silly and most of the time they don’t even make any sense, but in the aftermath of them you’re always left with a vague sense of unfulfillment, though you can’t put your finger exactly on what it is you’re missing. You always end up exactly like this; sitting outside on your balcony in the early morning light, drinking tea alone and desperately wishing for something more.

You sigh, and go back inside.

The dream is the same, but different.

The garden is in full bloom, greenery overlaid with bursts of beautiful bright colours. Camellias, rhododendrons, and oleanders wave and shiver gently in the warm breeze, and apple blossoms hang heavily from a nearby tree. The flowering garden is enormous and maze-like, and you have yet to see it in any state other than fully flourishing.

It’s a beautiful place, especially after the hot, cramped working quarters of the bathhouse. You inhale the sweetly fragranced air and feel the knot of tension in your spine unfurl; it feels like the first time that you’ve been able to breathe all week, but that’s not the only reason that you’ve found yourself outside.

At the bottom of the garden, the grass drops off into a sheer drop. The cliff face overlooks a seemingly endless ocean, and you perch a safe distance from the drop before leaning back in the grass. The sky is an almost surreally deep blue and you watch as enormous fluffy clouds float by, looking as though they’ve been painted on a jewel-blue canvas.

It’s not the first time you’ve had this dream, and you know what you’ll see if you keep patiently watching.

It doesn’t take long — it never does. You time your lunch breaks precisely, all so you get to see this sight.

The clear blue sky makes it so much easier to spot the shiny white scales, flashing jewel-bright in the sunlight. The dragon writhes in the sky, streaking through the air like a great serpent caught in the wind. Even from this distance, you can see the knife-like teeth, the great sharp claws that gleam like pyrite, and the twisting horns that erupt from his head like daggers made from calcified bone. He looks deadly, a living weapon that swims through the air like a salmon in open water, but the sight of him makes something settle in your stomach.

You wonder what it would feel like to fall through the air with nothing but the wind to break your fall. You imagine it must feel like freedom.

The dragon flutters through the air, buoyed by the gentle sea breeze. If you didn’t know better, you might almost think that he was showing off — his movements are hypnotic, dreamlike, more like a dance than anything. His scales glow pearlescent in the midday sun, otherworldly and earthly all at once.

You could happily stay and watch him skim through the sky forever, but already the bell is being rung to call all workers back into the bathhouse. You heave a sigh so deep it feels as though your chest is about to crack with the force of it, before hauling yourself to your feet.

Your break is over, and now it’s back to work.

Sometimes you find it difficult to tell when you’re dreaming and when you’re awake. It feels as though everything is always happening all at once, in the present tense, forever. You don’t get to rest when you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, because the dreams just keep coming and coming. Sometimes you don’t feel like your life is real when you’re awake.

Riding on the train has always been therapeutic, especially at this time of the early morning. The sun rising lazily over the horizon sends milky threads of purple and pink across the cloudy sky, and you cradle your chin in your hand as you gaze out across the moving landscape. You love these little trips, feeling more at home in the creaky, overfull train carriage than you do in your own bedroom sometimes, though you can’t quite work out where that particular feeling comes from.

You know sometimes that stories end with “And then I woke up — it was only a dream”, but in your experience the story simply doesn’t end. You cannot fully wake up without the tail-ends of your dreams clinging to you for the rest of the day, and you never fully sleep. You just dream, dream, dream.

Sighing, you lean your head back against the seat that you’re slumped in. The train carriage is too full, and you were lucky to get a seat in the first place — from your vantage point, you watch as people sway in tandem with the motion of the train. It’s almost hypnotic, how they undulate back and forth with every turn, brushing against each other only to be pulled apart again by the lurching train.

Through the sea of bodies, you catch a man’s eye. It breaks the monotony of the morning commute and your own spiralling thoughts, and your spine straightens unconsciously. He quirks an eyebrow briefly, slightly, in such a way that no one would be able to safely accuse him of having done it.

You look away, startled for no good reason. Do you know him? He feels familiar in a way that you can’t quite put your finger on. The train rattles on, and it takes several long minutes before you work up the nerve to glance the man’s way again. He’s still watching you, but you’re ready for it this time. His attention isn’t such a shock, and you allow your eyes to wander over his face properly.

You must know him, you think. Your eyes track over his features as though they’re winding over a well-worn path, admiring the curve of his nose and the fullness of his lips and the arch of his eyebrows over his intense, watchful eyes.

He smiles at you, and it feels as though you’re sharing a secret from across the crowded train carriage. You smile back — it’s just a small tug of the corners of your mouth, but it’s the most you’ve smiled in months. Longer, maybe.

In the middle of the carriage a woman laughs at something her friend has said and sways backward, blocking your view of the stranger. It feels like a loss.

The train trundles onwards, and the carriage gradually empties out. You watch people step off the train with friends, with their heads ducked low, lost in thought, arguing over the phone, distracted with their book bags. By the time it comes to your stop, the man is gone.

You try not to feel disappointed as you step off the train — it’s silly, after all. You don’t know the man, and whatever you thought you felt as you looked at each other was surely all in your own head. Your head has been awfully full, recently.

As you step off the train you grapple with your bag, side-stepping a businessman who is busy shouting down the phone at some unfortunate coworker. You’re distracted, which is the only reasonable explanation for how long it takes you to realise that the man from the train is standing in front of you.

“Oh.” You blurt, startled. You had already begun to resign yourself to never seeing him again, so you can’t help but feel distinctly caught off guard at the sight of him standing before you. “Hi.”

“Hello.” The man says. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you have no idea what he’s waiting for — as it is, you get completely distracted by his eyes. You hadn’t noticed on the train, but now that he’s up close you see that they’re a truly unusual deep burgundy. He tilts his head when you remain silent, and bites his lip. Now that you’re really looking, you notice how sharp his teeth are. “You’ve barely changed at all.”

You blink at him. “Er…” You trail off nervously. You don’t recognise him, but you feel like you know him. Clearly, he thinks that he knows you.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? Meeting again on a train?” He smiles, and it’s an impossibly knowing expression. You don’t think you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a look that intimate in your life, though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Someone collides hard with your shoulder and you stagger for balance. You only look away from the man for a mere second, but it’s enough; when you look again, he’s gone.

You take to walking. There’s a wooded area behind the town, and you enjoy traipsing idly through the trees. Ancient roots erupt out of the dirt and fan over the ground like hairs, and the moss that covers the trunks of the trees is such a deep green that it almost seems like paint pigment. It’s soothing, being surrounded by nature like this. It reminds you of childhood — the simplicity of being able to jump over tree roots under a canopy of pale green leaves, of being able to leave all your thoughts and stress at the boundary of the forest.

It’s where you come after waking sweat-soaked and disoriented from a dream that clings to you like a burr, where you walk among the ferns and the needle-leaved weeds until you manage to shake the last vestiges of memory from your mind. You need it, especially in the mornings where you wake up with the acrid scent of herbal cleanser stinging in your nose or the bite of hard calluses on your palms from non-existent rough cloths. On mornings like that, you walk and walk until you no longer feel as though you’re more alive in your dreams than you are in reality.

Deep in the forest is a great red facade, painted a flaking, faded red. You wander by it frequently, admiring the overgrown greenery that crawls up the walls like reaching fingers, the mossy stone guardian that stands sentinel amongst the cracked flagstones that lead into the tunnelled entrance. You’ve asked around in the town, curious about what exactly this building was for, but most of the locals either don’t know what building you’re talking about or admit that they’re not sure. One man told you that the facade was built for a theme park in the 90s that had ended up going bust in the recession, and that the building only looked old.

You remain unconvinced on that front. The building has the kind of presence that only very old things have; it feels like it’s watching you.

For the most part, your walks in the forest are peaceful. Recently though, you’ve found yourself plagued by an insistent, irritating sense of deja vu. You don’t know where it’s coming from, and it hits you at the strangest of times — when you’re making tea, or in the bath, or cleaning your apartment, or on the train, or admiring the sky on a cloudless day.

The man from the train is the boy in your dreams. It takes you weeks to come to that realisation. You just wake up in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday, with wide eyes and clammy skin and his name slipping from the forefront of your mind.

It shouldn’t be possible, but once it dawns on you, you’re certain of it.

Even stranger is that once you realise it, it feels as though you see him everywhere. You see flashes of red hair when you’re walking down the street, when you’re grocery shopping, when you’re walking home late at night. It’s only ever the barest glance out of the corner of your eye, just overt enough for you to know it’s him, but subtle enough for you to question yourself immediately after.

One night, you travel to a local city to meet some old school friends. At night, the city seems to pulse. The music from seedy clubs spills out into the neon-lit streets, muffled shouted arguments echoes from alleyways and apartments alike, and the streets are peppered with people either scurrying or stumbling home, with very little variation. Though the perpetually overcast sky hides any trace of the moon or stars, the streetlamps reflect in the ever-present stagnant puddles littering the street, lighting them up in varying shades of sickly yellow.

At night, the city seems alive. Chronically ill and struggling to breathe, maybe, but clinging to life all the same.

The way the neon lights flicker in the gloomy darkness, just barely illuminating the shadows of people hurrying through the streets to get in out of the rain, reminds you of something you can’t quite remember. It sits in the back of your mind like a sour taste, but no matter how much you reach for the memory it remains just out of reach.

You spend most of the night staring out of the steamed up window of the pub, entranced by the sight of the night streets and frustrated by the memories that seem to dangle just out of reach. You know that it doesn’t make for good company, and you feel guilty for that. Your friends don’t seem overly surprised at your detachment. You’ve been drifting away for years, and though tonight was supposed to be all about reconnecting it seems clear that it’s not going to work.

When you eventually stand up to leave, with forced smiles and awkward goodbyes, you can’t help but feel melancholy settle over you like a second skin. As you slip out of the pub and onto the dark streets, the thought crosses your mind that you’re not used to being alone like this. It’s a silly thought, really; you’ve been alone for years. But sometimes, in those liminal moments between waking and sleeping, you swear you can hear the gentle drowsy breaths of dozens of people sleeping all around you, as though you’re surrounded on all sides. On those nights you wake up hot and claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but never feeling lonely.

It is probably your own fault, you reflect as you drift down the sidewalk like a ghost. It’s difficult to make an effort to know people when you feel as though you don’t know yourself. You don’t know how to bridge the distance between yourself and other people. You think sometimes that you’re missing chunks of yourself.

You pass an open shopfront that’s serving street food, and glance briefly in at the kitchen. The cook is illuminated only dimly in the smoky room, standing out as a shadow figure more than anything, and for a split second you could swear that he has six arms. You look away quickly and carry on walking — you don’t want to look again only to be proven wrong. You want to preserve that little second of magic strangeness for as long as you can.

The puddles on the street seem like they’re glowing with the light reflected from the neon streetlamps, and you weave your way carefully around them to avoid getting your feet wet. The night has a strange quality about it, almost as though it’s holding its breath.

Considering the combination of your pensive mood and the expectant air of the evening, you don’t feel surprised at all when you look up from the wet cobblestones to find the man standing only a few feet ahead of you.

He smiles like he’s nervous, his gaze tracking carefully over your face. In his hands, he’s holding flowers. Camellias, you think. It’s the first time since you first saw him on the train that hasn’t been a fleeting glance out of the corner of your eye— he’s here in front of you and he’s real and solid and sturdy. He seems more substantial than the streets around you, than your friends back at the pub had been.

“Do you remember me?” He asks, voice soft as though he’s afraid of the answer.

“Remember you?” You croak. It feels as though the words are catching inside your throat. “No. But I’ve seen you every night in my dreams for years.”

If that’s the answer he’s expecting, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking at you, your face, your body. You wonder exactly it is that he’s seeing. “These are for you.” He says eventually, holding out the flowers. “I didn’t- I wanted to bring you something, when I saw you again. And I know that you always liked the garden.”

He’s talking as if the places that you’ve dreamed about are real. It doesn’t come as the earth-shattering surprise you might have expected — rather, it feels like a key turning in an old lock. A click, and then a sense of yes, that’s right.

You take the flowers, and clutch them to your chest. They’re a fleshy pink, with a vibrant yellow centre. The petals are as soft as velvet. Holding them feels like holding a safety blanket. “Thank you.” It’s the only thing that you can manage to say right now. Your thoughts are too full, and nothing else makes it out of your mouth.

It’s rather startling, the feelings that bubble up in your chest. It feels like something has just been unlocked, as though you had stored away all this emotion somewhere deep in your ribcage and then forgotten about it only for it to resurface at this precise moment, for this precise person.

“Eijirou.” You croak. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

His whole face brightens, and his eyes sparkle. “Yes. That’s me. You do remember!”

They’re not quite memories, you don’t think. They come in dreamlike flashes — the garden, an ocean, train tracks, the feral snarling of a dragon with sharp teeth, hard work and hot food, friends.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Kirishima is saying, his face open and earnest. “But I told you that I’d come and find you again, remember?”

You do remember, sort of. A flash of a warm hand holding yours, pushing you forward over a boundary between one world and another, and a goodbye whispered behind you that sounds like a promise.

“You saved me.”

Kirishima laughs, though his eyes look a little shiny. “It was the other way around, actually. I would have stayed trapped in that bathhouse forever, if it weren’t for you.”

“The bathhouse.” You murmur, wide-eyed. It was real, real, real.

“Things are different now.” He edges closer to you. He’s large and imposing and taller than you, but he’s hunched slightly in an attempt to make himself unthreatening. “That’s why it took so long for me to come for you. Things were changing. Me and Katsuki run the bathhouse now.”

Katsuki. In your mind's eye you see a boy with wild blond hair and a dangerous look in his eyes, a boy who gives you extra rice when he can manage and takes over parts of your chores when you get so tired that you’re fit to pass out.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait.” He says quietly, and the tide of emotion that you had just barely been holding at bay comes crashing over you. Before the first tear has welled over the edge of your eyelids, Kirishima has stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. The flowers are crushed between your chests as you cry.

“I didn’t even know what I was waiting for.” You cry into his silk suikan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m not going to leave again.”

You don’t release your grip on him. You’re not willing to take the chance.

After a moment, Kirishima speaks again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” You echo, finally pulling away. “Go where?”

“Home.” He says, and he means the bathhouse. He means the spirit world.

“You want me to work for you?”

“I want you to help us run it.” He corrects. The distinction is important for both of you — though the memories are distant, you both know what it feels like to have your names and voices erased so cleanly that it makes you wonder if you ever existed fully at all.

“I don’t know anything about running a bathhouse. Especially not one for spirits.” You say, but Kirishima just laughs.

“You were always a hard worker. You’ll learn as you go. That’s what we’ve all been doing.”

You want to say yes. The word beats in your head like a drum, and you can’t think of a good reason to say no. The bathhouse. Home. The chance to feel real and awake at the same time.

“Okay.” You say on a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. “Stay with me, this time.”

When Kirishima’s face lights up in a smile, it’s the first time that you think you can accurately describe someone as incandescently happy. “Good luck getting rid of me again.”

You laugh, feeling nearly delirious with relief and joy. It’s real. He’s real. He’s come back for you, and now you’re going back with him. You think you should probably feel nervous or hesitant, but this brief encounter has felt more solid and right than the rest of the night spent with distant school-friends made uncomfortable by your silences.

“So, how do we get there?” You ask, but Kirishima just grins at you like you should already know the answer.

The train station is tucked away down an alley just off a busy main shopping district.

“It’s easy to miss if you don’t know exactly where you're going.” Kirishima tells you with a sharp smile, and it’s easy to believe. The red brick building that housed the train station is unmarked, and the trains couldn’t be seen from the main street. The alley itself is home to many curious sights -- paper lanterns bob overhead (though they don’t seem to be suspended by anything in particular), a yellowed flyer from the 1950s advertising Marlboro cigarettes drifts along on what seems to be a breeze despite the noticeable lack of wind, and three magpies sit on a wall wearing little golden timepieces on chains around their necks and caw in time with the ticking.

“Ready to go home?” Kirishima asks quietly. In his hand, two train tickets flutter in a non-existent breeze.

A family of mice scamper past your feet, pulling a miniature suitcase between them. A tall, thin woman wearing a blank white mask assists them onto the train.

You laugh at the whimsy of it all — it feels as though you’ve stepped into a fairytale, into a dream, into your childhood. “Yes,” You grin, “I’m ready.”

Kirishima beams back at you, and holds out a hand to help you onto the train. Finding a seat was easy — despite all the passengers you had seen boarding, the carriage was oddly empty. As soon as you’re seated, you sigh. It feels as though you’re sinking into an old overstuffed armchair, comfortable and familiar. When the whistle blows and the train starts moving, you turn eagerly to watch as the train begins to pick up speed. Within moments, you find that you can barely recognise the landscape blurring past the window — It seems that you’re zooming passed a beautiful sea-view, despite the fact that the city the train station was located in was conspicuously land-locked. You sigh happily and lean against your seat.

You still don’t remember everything about your experience in the spirit world all those years ago, but you think you remember hearing someone telling you “Once you meet someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return."

You make eye contact with Eijirou, who smiles back at you so fondly that it nearly hurts to look at. He’s changed so much from the boy in your dreams, in your memories. His eyes are no longer glassy and distant — now they’re shiny and expressive and so bright. His hair is longer too; still spiked and wild, but longer and curling softly over the curve of his neck and shoulders. He’s the boy your remember from all those years ago, but he’s also a man now. Grown, like you have, but smiling at you gently just like you’re ten years old again.

Through the window behind his head, the sunrise begins to bathe the water in delicate pinks and yellows. You’ll wait for as long as you need to for the memories to return, but even if they don’t that’s alright. You can just make new ones.

#this is so cheesy lol but whatever i've been staring at this doc for too long and i want it out of my sight #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #kirishima eijirou #ghibli au #kirishima eijiro fluff #kirishima x y/n #mha x reader

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nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

Spy Games

Elriel Month - Day 3

Spying

Spying Lessons

Elain, the pretty, polite, courteous sister, who spoke well and moved gracefully, was also one who was never considered with any seriousness by anybody. Not her mother, not their weak, gentle father, not the imperious, sharp-tongued Nesta, or the self-assured, determined Feyre. However, she was a merchant’s daughter, and she was as sharp-eyed, as Nesta was sharp-tongued.

She inherited the trait from their father--he was always able to spot a deal, or a weakness, a loophole and he used it to his full advantage when making deals. She watched him, and learned how to use her words, how to compliment and smile, how to appear innocent and helpless, while seeking favors and looking to get what she wanted. It worked. It worked with everyone--it worked with Nesta, worked with their servants (when they had them), and when they didn’t, and had nothing, Elain always managed to charm someone at the market for an extra apple, a couple of bread rolls, or a swath of cloth. Even Lord Nolan was not immune to her charms, and even though there were better offers from others, he encouraged Greyson to court Elain, despite her family's ‘reputation’. Elain loved Greyson, but she also watched and noticed. She saw groves of ash trees, the number of sentries patrolling the walled estate, and how many guard dogs there were. She didn’t even try, but she noticed...and counted...and remembered.

Nuala was good. Smooth and discrete, she’d never be suspected of keeping tabs on Amren. Though Amren was a vengeful Angel of a young god in her previous life, and she probably knew what Nuala was doing. Yet, Nuala was not so good as to suspect Elain. Because Elain knew as well. It came as a surprise, but it was apparent to Elain that Nuala closely monitored Amren, as well as Varian, when they were around.

They were making lemon cakes in the kitchen--Elain and the twins. Baking and cooking--many assumed that that’s what Elain was good for--the kind, tidy, domestic Elain. What no one, except for one person, was privy to was that these chores quieted the roaring in Elain’s head. They silenced the visions, cleared the pounding in her skull, gave her a sense of normalcy, even if for only a little while.

“What do you think Varian reports to his High Lord?” the question startled the twins and they exchanged quick looks.

Elain’s face remained placid, as she busied herself with grating lemon zest. “Do you think they laugh?” she chuckled. “Our court is dramatic, to be sure.”

The twins were silent.

“Is it wise though,” she continued, uninterrupted, “to have a representative of another Court so closely entwined with the affairs of the Night Court?”

“The High Lord trusts Prince Varian,” said Cerridwen, her voice neutral.

“Perhaps.”

Elain stirred the zest into the custard and there was silence, the twins assuming that the conversation was over.

“Does Azriel?” she suddenly asked.

They stared.

“Does Azriel trust Varian?” she pressed.

“The lord,” began Nuala, but Elain interrupted. “Not High Lord,”

“Lord Azriel,” corrected Nuala, “does what he must to keep the Night Court safe.”

That explained everything.

“Could Azriel use another pair of eyes and ears?” Elain didn’t even know where the offer came from. Perhaps, it stemmed from the desire to be useful, to offer something of herself that so few knew that she even possessed. She turned to the twins and stared them down, her gaze unflinching.

“Teach me,” she pleaded. “Teach me what you know. What and how you do it. Please.”

“Lord Azriel may not approve,” countered Cerridwen softly.

“Let’s not tell him,” whispered Elain,

“Lord Azriel will know.”

“Eventually. I am not asking you to lie to him,” she added quickly, sensing that this was the reason for their hesitation. “Just don’t tell him. Not yet. Teach me, a little something, and then I’ll decide if it’s for me. Please. I,”

“Fine,” said Nuala. Cerridwen gave her a silent look of admonishment and surprise, but did not argue. Perhaps that would come later. “We’ll teach you the way he taught us.”

“Yes!” Elain’s brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Goodness, she hadn’t felt this excited in….well, forever.

The lessons were not what she expected, but she did not question them.

There were no weapons, or peeking through peepholes, or breaking locks.

At first, it was a little bit boring even. Odd requests, such as making conversations with random faeries--in the park, on the street, at the markets. The twins would point out a fae and order Elain to go and start a conversation. It lasted for weeks, and she even grew frustrated, thinking that they were just humoring her and these ‘lessons’ were nothing but a game. Until one day, Nuala told her to obtain specific information. She pointed at an elderly male Fae and requested, “Approach. Come back with the following information--did he serve in the first War, what rank, does he have children, how many, and what is his favourite breakfast?”

“What?” Elain stared in confusion, but Nuala’s face remained inscrutable.

“Is there a problem?” asked Nuala. Her tone of voice...well, the tone was very much Azriel’s.

Elain shook her head and said, “no”, before crossing the street and approaching the male fae.

The realization that she could do this was thrilling. At once, she understood why she spent all those weeks approaching and making conversations with all those fae. She found ways, ways to ingratiate herself to them, to mark something small, but unique to each one, and then weave a connection around that tiny tidbit. It worked every time.

The elderly male fae had a small, but noticeable limp. This was Elain’s opening. He was hauling a basket of groceries, and she approached gently, offering help. Oh, he couldn’t possibly trouble such a pretty lady. And she was a High Fae to boot. No, no, thank you, he could manage. Not a problem at all, she was walking that way anyway. What was he making for dinner with all those vegetables? Oh, soup? Did the wife send him to the market? Oh, a widower? So sorry. Were there children to assist? Three? That’s good that they helped out…

“He was a Captain in the Third Legion during the first War. He is a widower, with three children--two male, and one female. Three grandchildren as well. He usually eats leftovers for breakfast, because he is too lazy to cook, but his favorite breakfast are almond croissants from the Brea Bakery,” reported Elain.

A small, satisfied smile touched Nuala’s lips.

So the lessons continued. She was ordered to obtain more detailed information, and in places which were harder to access. She did. Sometimes, she failed, but rarely.

In addition, Cerridwen began training her on walking.

Walking?

Walking.

“Make your presence unknown,” she explained and Elain only nodded. Sure, she would learn to walk, if that’s what was required. She learned how to roll her feet in such a manner that they were completely silent with every step that she took. Learned how to notice her own body, its presence, and the space that it occupied. And learned how to make it unknown. How to melt into shadows, stand near someone and have them be unaware of her, sneak quietly into rooms and spaces. It took a month, maybe longer. Meanwhile, she learned other tricks. How to swap papers, how to pull documents with a flick of her wrist, how to read upside down (very difficult).

“Could you take this to Lord Azriel please,” Cerridwen handed Elain a folder.

“Um...yes, of course,” Elain took the folder, a bit surprised that Cerridwen couldn’t deliver it herself, but by the time she was going to ask, Cerridwen had disappeared.

First things first--Elain didn’t know where Azriel was.

The River House was enormous, so she started with Rhysand’s office, but it was empty. She peeked out into the garden, but only saw baby Nyx and his nanny, who was attempting to contain Nyx on a picnic blanket, and failing. Elain smiled. Nyx crawled like a fiend and made an aggressive beeline towards the fluffy peonies. No doubt, they’d be trampled and pulled soon enough. Especially, if the nanny wouldn’t take her eyes off the handsome delivery male who was standing by the gate and flirting with her.

Elain closed her eyes. Smell. Sense. They haven’t gotten that far in their training yet, but Azriel’s scent--oh, she knew it well. The most delicious scent to ever hit her nostrils. The one scent that she craved and hungered for above all others. Even in this huge house, she could isolate Azriel’s scent, as it rose above all others, at least for her. The strongest trail led to Azriel’s bedroom, which was unsurprising, even if he did not spend much time here anymore. He and Rhysand met to discuss matters of state, and then there were the mandatory ‘family dinners’ that Azriel attended. They used to be obligatory, but after the last Solstice, they became mandatory, by order of the High Lord.

No, Azriel wasn’t in his bedroom. She followed the scent down the hallway, past the drawing room, then up the side stairs. Ah. She should’ve guessed. There was a terrace that overlooked the garden that Azriel favored. Sometimes, she thought that he observed her from there, when she tangled with weeds and seeds. But that couldn’t be. Not after the fiasco during the last Solstice and him pulling away from her with no explanation. A momentary lapse of reason on his part.

She spotted the spread of his wings. A smile touched her lips. How things were different before, when he was so comfortable around her. When he’d come and sit with her in the garden, sunning his wings, doing his work, both of them enjoying each other’s company without the need to talk. All of that somehow crashed and burned, and she didn’t know why and how to bring that intimacy back.

“Azriel,” she said, “Cerr,”

Azriel flinched and whipped his head to her. His eyes blew wide at the sight of her, standing in the doorway.

“Elain...Phhh, you startled me….” he muttered hoarsely.

And the Spymaster of the Night Court shifted with discomfort.

She had surprised him.

“Sorry,” she murmured and handed him the folder. “I apologize. Cerridwen asked me to give this to you.”

He was still staring at her, as if processing what had occurred. His hazel eyes raked over her body, settling on her feet for a few moments. It was like he was trying to discern how she managed to approach him so silently.

“Umm, thank you,” he said and opened the folder. It was empty.

Neither one said anything to each other, and Elain turned and stepped back into the house, her cheeks flushed.

As she hurried down the hall, Cerridwen and Nuala both appeared in front of her, grins plastered on their lovely angular faces.

“What?!” she snapped.

The grins widened.

“There was nothing in the folder!” she exclaimed, irritated.

“No,” agreed Cerrdiwen. “But you passed the first phase of your training.”

“You surprised Lord Azriel.”

#elriel #elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #azriel #azriel and elain #elain archeron #spymaster #elain x azriel #elain x nuala x cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen #elriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction

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redgillan · 4 years

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Under Pastel Skies - 2

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,024

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m just going to remind you that this sugar daddy fic isn’t about smut. I love smut but it’s not what I’m focusing on here.

Bucky stood under the glass awning in front of the hotel, the neon green light illuminating the path to the automatic doors. He forced his eyes closed and listened to the sound of rain hitting the glass shelter.

It was just after 6:30 in the morning and he had been standing there for over ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to enter the building. He was sweating, trembling, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. Every sound around him seemed amplified; cars honking, people talking or listening to music. It was hell.

He desperately wanted to take a cab ride back to Brooklyn and hide in his apartment. Bucky had a strict routine -get up at six, eat, shave, shower, go for a walk, etc- and he needed it to keep his mind focused and his body healthy. Though lately, his therapist had encouraged him to stray from his routine if he felt like it. And he wanted to, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

Instead he just stood here, stuck between two choices that terrified him. He could go back home and hate himself for taking the ‘easy way out’, or he could take the plunge and enter the building. He had come here on a whim, but now that he was here he felt as if he really needed to see you. He didn’t even know if you were working.

He looked over his shoulder, he could almost see the metaphorical pack of wolves waiting for him. It would be easy to give in and let them take him. He could go back to his old life, his old habits, or he could jump off that metaphorical cliff and hope for the best.

Your chances are infinite. Anything can happen.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Bucky greeted the receptionist with a smile. He asked if he could have breakfast at the hotel restaurant and she agreed before leading him to the Bar Lounge.

The room was large, with row after row of square tables perfectly aligned. There were a few more private seats close to the bar and an oval buffet in the middle of the room. A woman in a dark grey suit scooped a small portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate next to two slices of toasted white bread. She raised her gaze to his and nodded in greeting.

The swing door that led to the kitchen burst open and Bucky turned his attention to the sound. You were carrying a large tank of orange juice to the buffet table, a pen tucked behind your ear and a piece of paper between your lips. There was a slight furrow between your brows as you set the tank on the table.

Your scuffed boots were gone, replaced by black ballet flats. Your pencil skirt rose up as you stretched to reach the highest part of the buffet. Bucky hastily looked away from your bare legs, not wanting to look like a total creep. Once you were done, you smoothed down your skirt and tucked your white shirt into your skirt.

Your hair was brushed away from your face and your lips were painted red, something dark and empowering, and it contrasted beautifully with your strict, uninspiring uniform, which only intended to erase any sense of individuality.

“Hi, how can I h- Hey, I know you,” you said, approaching him. “You’re Bucky.”

He bashfully looked at his shoes. “Yeah, hi.” He cleared his throat and raised his gaze to yours. “I was hoping to run into you. I, uh, I can’t stop thinking about our talk.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was rude and brusque, and you were incredibly nice. I really feel like an ass.”

You chuckled. “It’s fine. Honestly, I was nervous, too. You should have seen me –I was a complete mess.”

“Could have fooled me,” he replied with a grin. “Though you did say that meeting me was like choosing between a pack of wolves or jumping off a cliff.”

“Gosh!” You facepalmed. “See? A complete mess!” You gestured to the table behind you. “Have you eaten yet? Sit down, it’s on me.” He opened his mouth to protest but you cut him off. “You paid for the taxi. It’s only fair.”

Amused, he shook his head and followed you to the buffet table. Everything looked and smelled delicious. He spotted several glass cereal dispensers filled with frosted flakes, Cap'n Crunch, Lucky Charms and good old Fruit Loops.

“We also have French toasts, pancakes, croissants, turnovers, omelettes, eggs, four different types of bread with margarine, butter, jam, Nutella, or marmalade,” you said without pausing for a breath, “freshly sliced fruits, a variety of yogurts, granola, oatmeal, orange juice, apple juice, Danish pastries, muffins and a great selection of teas.”

“And that’s it?” Bucky asked, his face breaking into a teasing smile. You liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners right before he smiled.

You pouted your lips while you thought. “Actually no, we also have scrambled eggs –which, frankly, I don’t recommend. They come in a plastic bag and we have to heat them up in the microwave. It’s a little gross. You can try the sausage and bacon though, unless you don’t eat meat.”

“And coffee?” He found your flustered reaction to his teasing absolutely adorable.

“Yes, of course,” you said, biting your bottom lip. “Sorry, I get a little excited sometimes.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “That’s a pretty great buffet, though I’ll stay clear of the scrambled eggs.”

You took a few steps toward the kitchen and turned back to him, a little apologetic cringe on your face. “Um, how do you take your coffee? Expresso, Americano, latte, cappuccino, macchiato, mocha, ristretto-” you paused to take a breath “-or iced coffee?”

A laugh bubbled out of him. He couldn’t help it, you were just too endearing. “Black,” he said, grinning. “I know I’m boring.”

“Oh, no! You’re not boring,” you rushed to say, then realized what he was doing. “Ugh, you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“A little.” His nose scrunched up as he said it.

You went to the kitchen to make his cup of coffee and Bucky began to browse the length of the buffet table. Scooping food onto his plate with only one hand proved more challenging than he expected, and he was glad that the lounge was mostly empty.

He could feel the lady in the grey suit’s eyes on him as he moved around. He set his plate on the bar, removed the glass lid, scooped up two hefty pancakes and stacked them on his plate. They looked pretty fluffy, it wouldn’t be hard to cut them with the edge of a fork. Then he replaced the lid and moved his plate closer to the maple syrup bottle.

He glanced at the woman who hastily looked away as if she hadn’t been staring at him the whole time. Annoyed, he kept looking at her while he poured maple syrup over his pancakes. He hated when people stared at him as if he were a freak. He narrowed his eyes menacingly and grinned to himself when she started fidgeting in her seat.

“You must really love maple syrup.”

Bucky paused at the sound of your voice, his features immediately softened. He looked down at his plate and realised he had drowned his pancakes in a gooey river of maple syrup. He must have spaced out during his staring contest with the business woman.

He had a strange look in his eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and anguish. Finally his eyes found yours and you smiled warmly at him, making him fight back a blink. You pried the bottle out of his rigid hand, and he let you take it.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice weak.

You weren’t sure what he was apologizing for but it wasn’t something you were going to analyse right now. “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. Best cup in Manhattan.”

He laughed, the crinkles were back. “You’re an angel.”

Bucky returned to his table and loaded his coffee with three teaspoons of sugar before he took a sip. He had always preferred sweet to savoury, and coffee was way too bitter for him.

There wasn’t much to do in the lounge. The television was behind him, the sound kept to a minimum. The lady in the grey suit left soon after and Bucky watched you clean her table.

You moved back and forth between the main room and the kitchen, going about your work and occasionally shooting him a smile. The food was good, not spectacular, but still better than his usual breakfast –two slices of toasted white bread with butter and a cup of coffee.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked, standing next to his table.

“Company?” he said with a hopeful look. “Please.”

You offered him a pained grimace when he gestured at the seat across from him. “I’m not allowed to sit. Sorry.”

It was hard to resist his puppy dog eyes but you needed to keep your job if you wanted to be able to afford your own place.

“Do you like working here?”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. “I’m glad I have a job.”

“Sam mentioned you’re an artist.”

You shyly looked around you, you were the only two people in the room now. “I haven’t painted since I got this job,” you revealed. “I’m pretty sure my artist membership card has been cancelled.”

“Nope, those are for life.”

You laughed. “I hope so.”

You looked at each other before he asked, “Do you have any pictures of your work?”

You were genuinely surprised that someone wanted to see your work. Usually people offered a half-hearted ‘oh, that nice. I paint, too, occasionally” and changed the subject. You patted your pockets, searching for your phone, and groaned when you remembered that it was in your locker.

“I don’t have my phone with me but wait-” You took a napkin from the table and started writing. “This is my Instagram. I do a bit of everything, mostly landscapes and portraits.”

Bucky took the piece of paper and, before he could comment, a family of four walked into the lounge area. You apologized to him and walked over to the family, greeting them with a smile and asking them if they had a good night’s sleep.

The children looked like walking zombies until they spotted the cereal bar, and then chaos ensued. More people went down to breakfast and you didn’t have time to chat with him anymore.

He stayed a little longer, watching you help the kids pour cereal and milk into their bowls. A man who didn’t speak English very well asked you a question and you froze, trying to make him understand since you didn’t speak his language. Bucky smiled when you mimed the answer. The man laughed and gave you a thumb’s up.

There was something about you, something soft and caring, that made people at ease. Even when people started complaining that the platter of scrambled eggs was empty, you defused the situation so smoothly that they left with a smile on their face. It was the kind of person you were, kind-hearted and willing to help.

An angel.

When you looked in his direction again, Bucky was gone. You felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t said goodbye, but you had been so busy that even if he had been trying to get your attention, chances are you wouldn’t have noticed him.

Pouting exaggeratedly to yourself, you went to his table with your tray and a clean rag to collect the dirty dishes. You moved the unfolded napkin and what you saw underneath made you stop. You blinked, once, twice, three times, certain that you were hallucinating. You scooped up the bills and counted them.

$300

Your eyes were the size of saucers as you ran back to the lobby. You checked outside for Bucky but he was gone. You stood there, under the glass awning, with a bewildered look on your face, still clutching the bills.

Part 3

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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oldmanatom · 3 years

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A Locked Tomb Fanmix But It’s All Classic Country

this exists entirely because one night the thought “but what if i made a Locked Tomb fanmix with only classic country songs” popped into my head, unprompted, and i thought it was too hilarious to not do.

the art on the cover is done by @starfleetofficial, who this mix is also dedicated to. thank you for recommending me these books, continuously “yes, and”ing my semi-coherent TLT messages sent at 5 in the morning, and being so supportive about this idea. (also check out her version, A HtN fanmix but it’s all Fiona Apple!) the cover design is referencing the famous Marty Robbins album, Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs.

my one listening note: this will probably be more enjoyable if it’s approached with an open mind and an expectation that it’s taking itself about as seriously as the official fanmixes do.

see below the cut for a song list and some lyric excerpts.

this mix has implicit spoilers for both Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth.

Gideon the Ninth mix: youtube / spotify / full res cover Harrow the Ninth mix: youtube / spotify / full res cover full mix: youtube / spotify / full res cover

Gideon the Ninth:

1. Johnny Paycheck, “Take This Job And Shove It”

You better not try to stand in my way 'Cause I'm walkin' out the door Take this job and shove it I ain't working here no more

2. Dolly Parton, “When Someone Wants To Leave”

It's a sad situation I must say When someone wants to leave as bad as you want them to stay

3. Loretta Lynn, “I’m A Gettin’ Ready To Go”

I'm gonna praise my savior's name everyday that I'm livin' Glory hallelujah I'm not ashamed to let my salvation show This old world's just my dressin' room and I'm a gettin' ready to go

4. Waylon Jennings, “I Ain’t Living Long Like This”

I tried to run but I don't think I can You make one move and you're a dead man friend Ain't living long like this Can't live at all like this, can I baby?

5. Loretta Lynn, “This Haunted House”

This haunted house I'm livin' in is killing me And the ghost of your love won't set me free Each morning finds me crying and alone In this haunted house we used to call our home

6. Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty, “After The Fire Is Gone”

We know it's wrong for us to meet But the fire's gone out at home And there's nothin' cold as ashes After the fire is gone

7. Loretta Lynn, “How Long Will It Take”

(How long will it take?) How long will it take to make you want me How much longer has this old heart gotta break (How long will it take?) How long will it take to make you need me I keep a waitin' and a wonderin' how long will it take

8. Stonewall Jackson, “Don’t Be Angry”

Maybe someday you're gonna hurt me I've been hurt in love before Only God can know And time alone will tell

9. Dick Curless, “A Tombstone Every Mile”

It's a stretch of road up north in Maine That's never ever ever seen a smile If they'd buried all them truckers lost in them woods There'd be a tombstone every mile

10. Johnny Paycheck, “(It Won’t Be Long) And I’ll Be Hating You”

Lately life with you has been unbearable All my faith in you has gone and I know it won't return I did everything to make you happy I could do Now you've gotten me hatin' things I used to love to do And it won't be long and I'll be hatin' you

11. Norma Jean, “Let’s Go All The Way”

All the way means happiness living side by side Halfway means a heartbreak if one of us should lie Just give me a clue that you love me too Hold me in your arms and say “Oh, let’s go all the way”

12. Loretta Lynn, “Everybody Wants To Go To Heaven”

Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die Lord, I wanna go to heaven but I don't wanna die Though I long for the day when I'll have new birth Still I love the livin' here on earth Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die

13. Homer & Jethro, “She Made Toothpicks Of The Timber Of My Heart”

She was seasoned, I was green Yes my darling lumber queen Wound me ‘round her finger like a clinging vine

14. Patsy Cline, “The Heart You Break May Be Your Own”

You'll look around and when you've found That you are all alone Then you'll get wise and realize The heart you break may be your own

15. Buck Owens, “I’ve Got A Tiger By The Tail”

Well every night you drag me where the bright lights are found There ain't no way to slow you down I’m as 'bout as helpless as a leaf in a gale And it looks like I've got a tiger by the tail

16. Charley Pride, “All I Have To Offer You (Is Me)”

Before you take another step, there's something you should know About the years ahead and how they'll be You'll be living in a world where roses hardly ever grow 'Cause all I have to offer you is me

17. Faron Young, “Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young”

I wanna leave a lot of happy women A-thinkin’ pretty thoughts of me I wanna live fast, love hard, die young And leave a beautiful memory

18. Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner, “The Last Thing On My Mind”

I've got reason a plenty for goin' This I know, this I know The weeds have been steadily growin' Please don't go, please don't go

Are you going away with no word of farewell Will there be not a trace left behind I could've loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind You know that was the last thing on my mind

19. Marty Robbins, “The Master’s Call”

I felt the end was near, that death would be the price When a mighty bolt of lightning showed the face of Jesus Christ And I cried “oh Lord forgive me, don't let it happen now I want to live for you alone, oh God these words I vow”

Bridge: Lefty Frizzell, “Long Black Veil”

She walks these hills in a long black veil She visits my grave when the night winds wail Nobody knows, nobody sees Nobody knows but me

Harrow the Ninth:

1. Hank Williams, “I’ll Never Get Out Of This World Alive”

Every thing's against me and it's got me down If I jumped in the river I would probably drown No matter how I struggle and strive I'll never get out of this world alive

2. Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris, “Those Memories Of You”

In dreams of you, my body trembles I wake up and call your name But you're not there, and I'm so lonesome Without your love, I'd go insane

3. Hank Snow, “I Don’t Hurt Anymore”

I don't hurt anymore, all my teardrops are dried No more walking the floor with that burning inside Just to think it could be time has opened the door And at last I am free I don't hurt anymore

4. Patsy Cline, “Stop The World And Let Me Off”

Oh, stop the world and let me off I'm tired of goin' round ‘n' round I played the game of love and lost So stop the world and let me off

5. Charley Pride, “Lie To Me”

Oh, lie to me, say you love me Tell me I mean the world to you It would mean so much, I'd be so happy And it's the least you can do

6. Hank Snow, “Ninety Miles An Hour (Down A Dead End Street)”

Warnin' signs are flashin' by us but we pay no heed Instead of slowin' down the pace we keep picking up the speed Disaster's gettin' closer every time we meet Doin' ninety miles an hour down a dead end street

7. Patsy Cline and the Anita Kerr Singers, “I Can’t Forget”

Where are you, darlin'? Are you with someone new I can't forget you I'll always be loving you

8. Lynn Anderson, “If I Kiss You (Will You Go Away)”

You're so much hurt I wish you wouldn't stay If I kiss you will you go away?

9. Connie Smith, “Once A Day”

Once a day all day long And once a night from dusk till dawn The only time I wish you weren't gone Is once a day, every day, all day long

10. Charley Pride, “Just Between You And Me”

But just between you and me I've got my doubts about it 'Cause just between you and me You're too much to forget

11. Buck Owens, “Hello Trouble”

A comin' up my sidewalk Just as plain as day A well a here come trouble that I never thought I'd see When you went away

12. Loretta Lynn, “Fist City”

You'll bite off more than you can chew If you get too cute or witty You better move your feet if you don't wanna eat A meal that's called Fist City

13. The Davis Sisters, “I Forgot More Than You’ll Ever Know”

You think you know the smile on his lips The thrill at the touch of his fingertips But I've forgotten more Than you'll ever know about him

14. Kitty Wells, “Pick Me Up On Your Way Down” (Charlie Walker’s version is on the Spotify playlist)

When you learn these things are true I'll be waiting here for you As you tumble to the ground Pick me up on your way down

15. Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty, “You’re The Reason Our Kids Are Ugly”

And that's the reason that my good looks and my figure is gone And that's the reason I ain't got no hair to comb And you're the reason our kids are ugly, little darling

16. Loretta Lynn, “Who Says God Is Dead”

If I were you I'd kneel and pray 'Cause we're not promised one more day Remember blood was shed Who says God is dead?

17. Patsy Cline and The Jordanaires, “Imagine That”

Can you believe I'd swallow my pride (Well yes, yes, I guess you can) 'Cause you know you've always had my foolish heart Right in the palm of your hand, oh

18. Jody Miller and Johnny Paycheck, “Let’s All Go Down To The River”

Jesus is the man at the river And he's washing people's sins away He can save your soul if you give him control Oh be ready for that judgement day

19. Bobby Bare, “Dropkick Me, Jesus”

Make me, oh, make me, Lord, more than I am Make me a piece in Your master game plan Free from the earthly temptation below I've got the will, Lord, if You got the toe

20. Lynn Anderson, “Heaven’s Just A Sin Away”

Devil's got me now Oh, gone and got me now I can't fight him anyhow I think he's gonna win

Heaven’s just a sin away Oh, just a sin away Heaven help me when I say I think I’m givin’ in

21. Loretta Lynn, “Out Of My Head And Back In My Bed”

I'm gonna search everywhere that you might be When I find you I'm a bringin’ you home with me I want you out of my head And back in my bed Before the morning comes

22. Johnny Cash, “Big River”

Now, won't you batter down by Baton Rouge, River Queen, roll it on Take that woman on down to New Orleans, New Orleans Go on, I've had enough, dump my blues down in the gulf She loves you, Big River, more than me

Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry, cry, cry And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky And the tears that I cried for that woman are gonna flood you, Big River And I'm gonna sit right here until I die

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon nav #tlt #i am 100% expecting for this to entertain maybe five people (two of which have seen it already) and to otherwise go unnoticed #but that's okay because it's a labor of love and every time i either listen to the playlist or look at the damn cover i just start laughing #anyways if anyone has questions about anything on here my ask is open. it's large and somewhat...imaginative in what songs are on here + why #one flesh one end #listen to this

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blindbatalex · 3 years

Text

Proud to present a carraville ficlet by the one and only raisin anon, re that boat scene.

The centuries-old wood that somehow still held the boat together creaked as it rocked slightly up and down with the gentle waves down the river. Jamie could smell the musk and wet timber from where he was laying on his bedroll at the bow of the small barge. He wasn’t particularly good with waves or anything that made the floor underneath him move. How could he be, growing up in a landlocked kingdom with little to no access to the outside world. When this was over he’d properly appreciate solid land like he never had before.

The barge wasn’t big, but it didn’t need to be. It only needed to take them down the river and across the Red Lake, a full sun circle of travel at most, usually not even that. The skipper had been scarce on the details, only said it wouldn't be several days and that was all they needed.

A boot suddenly stopped by his head, heavy and dusty and sending a pebble flying straight into his forehead. For being someone that supposedly shepherded plenty rebels across these waters, rebels that had no more experience with the ocean than Jamie and probably were equally horrible with it, he had a horrible bedside manner for his passengers.

“Up you get, lad. You can see your future ahead of you now.” He had a heavy accent, this gruff stranger that was tasked with taking them over the lake. Jamie wondered where he was really from.

“What d’you mean future?” he groaned out, and managed to lean up on his elbows without feeling like throwing up.

“Stand up properly and you’ll see”

The boot and the man standing in them moved away again, leaving Jamie alone to curse him out in silence. He used the wooden chest behind him to stagger himself up on his feet, and finally turned to look at what laid in front of them for the first time since he laid down hours ago.

The gentle breeze that met him once he stepped a little further up on the side chased away the remaining smell of wet timber, and it felt like he could finally breathe. The river's estuary was just behind them, and in front, open water on all sides. He could just about make out the strips of land at the horizon, and between them, the strait that was the end goal of their journey. Stevie had said he’d wait for them in the harbour there.

It hit him suddenly, that they would make it. The journey across the moor and through the woods, wading through the marshes, it was all worth it. There, so close he could finally see it, was their opening to a safer world, undiscovered and new and perfect.

“James?” came Gary’s voice behind him.

He turned to look at him, as dusty and dishevelled as he guessed he was himself, fringe flopping down over his forehead, a streak of dirt across his cheek. Somehow less green with nausea than Jamie. It was the most beautiful he had ever seen him. Alive, breathing, safe, and here, here together at both the end and beginning of the world.

“We made it, Gaz,” he said, almost in disbelief, and suddenly found himself clutching at fistfuls of the back of Gary’s shirt as he hugged him to his chest.

“We made it.”

He pulled back from where he had buried his face in Gary’s neck to give him a kiss and for once didn’t care that somewhere they had an audience in the form of a gruff-looking skipper. They were more than likely not going to see him again after this journey anyway.

“Thank you,” Gary said as they pulled apart. He was about to ask whatever for, but his lover had turned to the permanently bored-looking man with the grey beard and heavy accent. He hadn’t volunteered any information about himself other than that helping people out of the country under the nose of their ruthless king was something of a routine to him. Jamie couldn’t blame him for that. The less information rebels revealed about themselves to others the better. It had taken a whole year until he had learned Gary’s real name after all.

“’S me job, lad” the skipper replied, almost unimpressed by the gratitude and continued making himself busy with the tiller.

Gary walked over to talk to him nonetheless, but Jamie didn’t particularly feel like making nice. Not now. Not when they were so close.

They had gotten too loud and too critical of the king to stay any longer. To begin with, their plan had always been to stay and work from the inside, but then they had singled Gary out as the new leader of the resistance after Becks had died and Jamie, with his need to protect what he loved, had tried to pull the attention to himself instead. The end result was that a fortnight ago Gary’s sister, with all her inside intel and informants, had thrown a satchel in his face and a blanket at Gary’s and said they needed to go into hiding that night, and be completely gone by the next full moon. They had made it with four days to spare.

Gary suddenly popped up beside him, with a smile and a gentle touch at the nape of his neck, and Jamie took a half step back and to the side so he could put his arms around him. He leaned forward a bit and pecked Gary’s cheek, the one without the streak of dirt, and hung his chin over his shoulder. Gary leaned his head against his own and together they look towards the horizon.

Out there, beyond it, laid their future. It was uncertain and scary and nothing at all something they could ever plan for. But he wasn’t afraid. How could he be, when he had the warm body of the person he trusted and loved the most in his arms and several ideas of how to take a crown of a king’s head in his mind. They’d continue their work from the outside. Stevie had contacts, their skipper had contacts, Tracy would never get caught.

“We’ll figure something out” Gary said, as if he could read his mind. Maybe he actually could at this point.

“I know. We’ll make it” he replied, and for once didn’t mean out, but back in, back home. One day.

“I love you”

Jamie smiled. It was something he knew Gary felt, although it was so rarely expressed. He squeezed himself closer to him.

“I love you too”

They stayed quiet for a bit after that, only a gull far up above them breaking the silence with its screeches. Jamie could tell Gary’s brain was working overtime thinking about something just by his breathing, and soon enough he spoke.

“James?”

“Hm?”

“D’you reckon they make good pastries wherever we end up?”

Jamie thought about the gruel they had been eating for weeks on end lately, and on Stevie that had waxed poetic about the food in a letter that had been smuggled in months ago.

“The very best, Gaz”

Pies, rolls, sugar cakes and maybe even apple sweets.

“The very best”

#carraville #football rpf #raisin anon #fic rec #i love this to bits!

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silvermalkin · 3 years

Text

Obey Me! Shall We Date?

Simeon x Reader

Sick Fic - Simeon caught a Devildom virus, but he’s been quarantined. Who is going to take care of him?

Rated: E

Word Count: ~3300

Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Cuddles, Fluff, Solomon’s Cooking Mention

School had ended, but you were taking a moment to study in the RAD courtyard. Something your professor had said confused you, so you were pouring over your “Contracts, Loopholes, and the Stupid Mortals who Make Them” textbook.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, can I talk to you for a minute?”

You stopped flipping pages to look up at Solomon. “Sure. You look solemn, is everything okay?”

“It isn’t.” He hung his head. “I’m sure you noticed Simeon’s absence today.”

“I did. Is he sick?” When he nodded, you closed your textbook. “What can I do to help?”

“This isn’t a mere cold, there isn’t much that you could—” he stopped and regarded you thoughtfully, resting a finger against his lips. “No, I suppose if it’s you it should be fine. Would you like to come see him?”

You were already standing. “Let’s go.”

While you walked to Purgatory Hall, Solomon told you about Simeon’s condition. “Unfortunately, Simeon thought it would be nice to take a late-night walk along the River Doom in the rain and he ran into a Devildom virus. It wouldn’t be too serious for a demon or a human, however, for an angel it is quite dangerous.”

“Additionally,” he continued, “The Devildom air is quite aggressive. Normally our angel friends can handle it perfectly well but in Simeon’s condition it could be fatal. So for now we’ve set a seal around his room to limit his exposure.”

“How can we help him recover? Is there any medicine?”

Solomon shook his head. “Only the usual, to ease some of the discomfort. But Simeon will just have to fight the virus until it has run its course.”

“And moving him back to the Celestial Realm?”

“It would be too dangerous.”

“Poor Simeon. And I bet Luke is out of his mind with worry.”

Solomon sighed. “Luke, well, see for yourself.” You’d arrived at Purgatory Hall, and as soon as you went inside you heard a huge clatter from the kitchen. You rushed in to find Luke sprawled on the floor, his head in a bowl of butterscream frosting.

“Oh, Luke,” you said as you helped him up and removed the bowl. “Are you alright?”

He blinked away frosting to look at you with tears in his eyes and drips from his nose. You made a mental note to throw the frosting away later.

“What am I going to do,” wailed Luke, “nothing I make is turning out right. I can’t give these to Simeon!” He gestured to the counter behind him where a small mountain of sloppy pastries and burnt cookies lay ominously. “I can’t do anything else to help him feel better, what if he doesn’t ever get—”

You almost patted his head, but switched to a frosting-free shoulder. “Try not to worry, Luke. He’s a strong angel. I’m sure he will recover in time.”

Luke wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded. “You’re right. Simeon wouldn’t let something like the Devildom bring him down for good!” Still, he couldn’t quite smile and tears still ran down his cheeks.

“Since you get it,” said Solomon, “why don’t you ease up on the baking? It’s not like a sick person could eat this anyway.” He nudged a melting Petrifying Parfait. “You’ve taken up so much of the kitchen I haven’t been able to make any real food for Simeon.”

You pressed your lips together. “Mmhmmmm. Well, maybe if you can get Luke and uh, the rest of this cleaned up, I can make something light for him.”

Solomon grabbed a towel and vigorously rubbed Luke’s whole head and face to get off the icing, which made Luke mad, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. While they focused on cleaning up the desserts, you set about making a simple soup. Something warm and light that would give Simeon a bit of energy but wouldn’t tax him to eat.

After the food was ready, Solomon took you up to Simeon’s room, but stopped you before you stepped inside. “The seal,” he stated. “It’s rather delicate. I can maintain it as you go in, but too many crossings would break it.”

“So, you’re saying that if I go in I shouldn’t come back out.”

He nodded. “If you’re willing to take the responsibility and look after him until his fever breaks, I’ll begin.” He looked at you.

You looked at him. “What are you waiting for? The soup’s getting cold.”

He chuckled. “Of course.” He touched the doorway and concentrated a moment. “Alright, go on.”

Without hesitation you strode inside and set your tray down on the small table before turning to the bed and the angel who lay there.

Simeon indeed looked very unwell. He was breathing erratically and sleeping fitfully, the covers twisted around him as he fidgeted. He was sweating, too. He had gotten dressed, sans cape, but his clothes were damp. His bedside table had some medicine on it, but the packet laying by a glass of water was unopened. It was an antipyretic; looking at the box, he would have needed food to take this, anyway.

Thankfully Simeon had his own bathroom, so you wet some cloths down with cool water. First thing was to help wipe the sweat from his skin. You gently dabbed his forehead, and worked your way down to his neck and shoulders.

He stirred a bit, eyes unopen. “Luke?”

“Sorry, it’s me.”

He didn’t react for a moment. “The dream again,” he muttered. Then his eyes cracked open, although they remained unfocused. “Wait. Wh- I’m- you don’t need- they shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t get worked up. I wanted to come. Luke is too distraught to help you, and do you really want Solomon to make you something to eat?”

He smiled a bit, which relieved you. “No.” His eyes started to drift closed again.

“Hey, now. You can’t go back to sleep just yet. You need your medicine but for that you’ll have to eat something first. Do you feel hungry?”

He didn’t answer.

“Simeon.” You pulled him upright, hoping that would wake him up some more.

“I don’t feel hungry but I can probably keep something down.”

You handed him the thermometer and he stuck it into his mouth as you fetched the tray you’d brought. When the thermometer beeped you looked at the reading. “Too high, obviously, but you should be fine after medicine and some rest. Now, try some soup first. If your fever breaks and you want something a little firmer later, I brought up a shadow apple for you.”

“Are these rabbits?” He reached over to the plate and gently touched one of the apple-peel ears. “Cute.”

He was cute, with his flushed face and sleepy mannerisms. You were glad you went to the effort of cutting them nicely. “Here,” you said, holding up a spoonful of soup, cupping your hand underneath to catch drips.

Simeon stared at you.

You flushed. “Hurry,” you urged, bringing the spoon to his mouth.

Obediently he opened up and took let you tip the soup in, but he watched you the whole time, face flushed from fever. Probably.

“The taste?” you asked awkwardly.

He snapped out of it. “I… can’t taste anything.”

“Oh,” you said. Feeling a little disappointed you stirred the soup slowly. Then a small snort made you look up.

Simeon was laughing at you. “Sorry, sorry! It tastes delicious, of course.”

“Simeon! That’s so mean. And after I went to all the trouble.”

He gazed at you with soft, slightly teary eyes. “Well, if you’re going to see me so helpless like this, I wanted a little payback.” He laughed at your pout, but then winced and clutched at his temple.

“See what your playing around has brought you?” you tried to scold, but your worried face gave you away. You handed him the bowl. “Eat at least a little more and I’ll find you something to change into; your clothes are soaked.”

After you located some pajamas you returned to take the bowl from Simeon.

“Sorry, I could only finish half,” he said.

“Even a little will help. Here,” you gave him the medicine and the water, “time for this.” After he’d taken it, you said, “Okay, turn around.”

He looked so confused. “What?”

You raised the pajamas. “We need to get you changed. I’ll unbutton your collar.”

Uncertainly, he looked away and you carefully unfastened his shirt. His skin was too hot so you laid your hands on the back of his neck, hoping your fingers would feel cool and soothing.

He jumped and turned back, his own hand coming up to hold his neck where yours had been. “I think I can handle the rest myself,” he said hurriedly. He snatched the pajamas but hesitated. “Sorry, but could you help me into the bathroom?”

“Of course!” You moved out of the way so he could stand and held onto his elbow to steady him. Together you shuffled to the doorway.

“I’ll handle it from here.”

You were worried. “You’re swaying a lot, are you sure? I promise not to look.”

“Please,” said Simeon with a sad smile. “I’d like to hold onto a little dignity.”

“Okay, but call for me the instant you need me.”

While Simeon was busy, you took the opportunity to straighten out his sheets. They weren’t as sweat-soaked as his clothes had been, so you deemed them fine for now.

After that task was done, you sat restlessly. Simeon seemed to be taking a long—

A clatter from the bathroom and a thud made you instantly sprint over, yanking the door open without a thought. Simeon was slumped down next to the counter. You stepped over the toothbrush and cup he had knocked over on his way down and knelt next to him. He was breathing heavily and didn’t seem to notice you.

“Simeon, are you alright? Uh, aside from the obvious.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he turned glazed eyes towards you. He didn’t say anything, but he brought a hand up to cup your face.

You pressed your palm against his forehead. This was bad. “Simeon, we have to get you back to bed.” Again, he didn’t really respond, but when you started to stand, he made the effort to come up with you. Leaning on you heavily this time, you started back across the room.

It was then that you noticed. Simeon had managed to change into his pajama pants but hadn’t gotten to the shirt yet. He was clammy, but you couldn’t help but notice the fragrance of lavender and bergamot lingering on his skin. You started to feel hot, too, but it probably wasn’t due to a virus. He’s ill, you reminded yourself, this is not the time for any weird thoughts.

Once he was safely situated in bed you took his temperature again. It had spiked, but hopefully the medicine would kick in soon. There were cooling pads in his bathroom. You brushed the hair over his forehead aside gently so you could apply one. It looked so painful for him that your heart ached.

He seemed to already be asleep, but he brought his hand up to catch yours. He opened his mouth, but had to swallow hard before he could find his voice. “Thank you for taking, the-the time. To come.”

“Of course,” you said quickly. “I couldn’t be easy until I had seen your condition myself.”

He cracked an eye to look at you. “But Solomon said. Said no one could… the spell… come in…”

“He managed it somehow. I couldn’t just leave you alone!” You busied yourself with placing the cooling sheet on his forehead so you wouldn’t tear up. If you hadn’t come, would they really have just left him to handle this by himself? You started to get angry at Solomon and Luke.

“Don’t frown,” whispered Simeon. “I like your smile. It gives me, uh, strong. Ha. Strength.”

Tears really did start to well up. “Simeon, I’m so sorry you have to feel like this.” You stroked his hair softly. “I wish I could just kiss your pain away.”

“You could try?” He puckered up, but then relaxed into a pained smile. “No, I know you—didn’t mean it like that.”

You clenched your fist. He’s a sick person. You can’t take advantage of a sick person, but he was just… you leaned in quickly, planting a kiss on top of his head. “I wish I could do more.”

“You’ve already done… Just having you here…” He was drifting off again. “Which one is the angel?” he whispered, almost to himself. Then he stirred a little more. “Actually—”

“Name it,” you said.

“Could you sing? Is there a song, of—of healing…”

You bit your lip, trying to think. “Maybe like a lullaby? I’m not sure I could…”

“Please? You’re so lovely. So lovely… please, your song would be lovely. It doesn’t have, doesn’t have to be a real song. Just your voice. I just could listen to your voice for eternity. Eternity with you… would be nice.”

You nearly shrieked with how adorable he was being. Face burning, you started with a few hesitant notes. Simeon instantly smiled so serenely that your voice broke. You cleared your throat and started again more confidently.

It didn’t take long before he was sleeping peacefully; you let your voice taper off. You gently touched his cheek. His skin seemed a bit cooler, but you were still worried.

“How is he?” asked Solomon from behind you. Luke was next to him, vibrating with anxiety. Had they heard you signing?

You went to the door so you could whisper. “He’s sleeping alright now, and I think the medicine is working but he should still be monitored."

“Do you need to be relieved? We could probably take over if you’d like to go back to the House of Lamentation.” Luke nodded vigorously, but didn’t seem to trust himself to speak.

You balked. “Didn’t you say the spell shouldn’t be crossed that often?”

Solomon smirked at you. “Perhaps.”

“Solom—" began Luke at a yell, before he caught himself. All of you turned to look at Simeon, but he didn’t stir. Luke continued in a stage whisper, “This isn’t the time for pranks.”

You snorted softly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m clearly the one most capable of looking after a sick person. I’m staying.”

Solomon chuckled, and Luke, instead of being offended, hung his head. “I agree that would be best,” said Solomon. Well, then, we’ll leave you to it.”

Once they’d gone, you went back to check Simeon’s cooling pad and touch his cheek again. No change in either. Well, it wouldn’t do to worry too much. At first you tried to borrow a book and read by the fire, but every time Simeon shifted your head shot up anxiously.

Finally, you decided it would be easier just to remain next to him. You knelt on the floor next to him. You were feeling a bit tired, yourself, so you rested your head on the bed. But what if something changed and he needed you? Then you grasped the solution and his hand in one. Now you’d be able to feel if he woke up or was too hot. With that security, you allowed yourself to drift to sleep.

There was a soft touch against your head and you jolted upright. Was Simeon—he was awake and smiling at you. He’d been patting your hair with one hand while the other still grasped yours. You pouted at your faulty alarm system, but didn’t let go.

“How do you feel?” you asked, rubbing a hand over your face before you reached to feel his. He had removed the now-warm cooling pad, so you were able to feel that his temperature was much lower than it had been before. The edges of his curtains were dark, so it must still be the middle of the night, only a few hours.

“I don’t have a lot of energy, but my mind feels clearer.”

You handed him the thermometer. “That’s good!” Once it beeped, you took it from him and handed him the plate of apples. “It’s still a little high, but your fever has gone down.”

Simeon had already eaten three shadow-apple rabbits. “It’s because I have such an excellent and comforting nurse,” he said, squeezing your hand. You’d forgotten he was still holding it.

“I didn’t really do anything,” you demurred.

“Nonsense. An angel doesn’t get sick easily. Don’t mention this to Luke, but I was really quite worried about it. It was a great relief to have someone so capable with me. I could rest easily knowing you were here. It doesn’t hurt that the nurse is cute, as well.”

“Simeon,” you protested lightly. “Stop, or I’ll die, from embarrassment.”

“I’d never allow that,” he said, but yawned.

You collected yourself. “You still need some sleep. I’ll get you some more water, but then you should lie down again.”

“Only if you’ll lie down with me.”

You nearly tripped on your way to the sink. “Excuse me?”

He just smiled innocently. “You can’t have gotten enough rest kneeling like that.”

Was he doing it on purpose or did he really not hear himself sometimes? You cleared your throat and ignored him, wordlessly filling his glass. When you handed it off, you said, “I’ll just get some rest on the couch, and you can call if you need me.”

His hand caught yours again. “I’m doing a little better, but you really do comfort me. Are you sure you won’t stay here?” His light blue eyes shimmered as he gazed at you expectantly. What were you going to do, say no?

“Fine, just for a bit,” you said halfheartedly. He scooted over and you climbed in. He had arranged for an arm to be around your shoulders and he pulled you in close. “Are you sure this will be restful for you?”

He nuzzled into your hair and breathed deeply. “Mm, yes,” he whispered. “If I can get rewarded like this, maybe I should think about getting sick more often.”

You jerked back to look him in the eye. “Don’t even joke about it,” you scolded.

“Ah, I apologize.” He still smiled, though.

“Seriously, Simeon, you have to take care of yourself.” You were tired and your eyes felt hot. “I was so worried.”

He instantly softened. “I’m sorry,” he said, pressing a kiss to your brow. “I’m sorry,” he said as he kissed an escaping tear away. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, meaning something else as he kissed you on each corner of your mouth. Then he kissed you fully. He was still warm, too warm, but soft and sweet, only the firmness of his hand betraying how deeply he felt about you.

All too soon he pulled back to plant one last one on your forehead. “Get some rest,” he said, tucking you under his chin and against his chest.

You didn’t know how he thought you could.

#Obey me shall we date #Obey Me Simeon #Obey Me fanfiction #OMSWD #Obey me swd #OM simeon #This is mainly an exercise in how to write again #so please forgive any mistakes

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