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80s4life · 3 years

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You Take Good Care Of Her Pt.2

Word Count: 1,440

Status: Requested!

Fandom: The Expendables {1-3}

A/N: This was just a little extra spice to add to the first part. A fluffy, happy ending for all the Lee lovers!

Relationship: Lee Christmas x Reader

Summary: When the mission goes south and leaves the reader injured, feelings arise to the surface in a swarm of feelings at the thought of losing each other, especially when the only things worth while is the other in their lives.

Warnings: mentions of blood, fluff OVERLOAD, language (We’re dealing with grown-men-children okay?)

Masterlist The Expendables Masterlist Part One

{not my gif}

Despite his attempts, he knew he wouldn't ever be able to resist her, and for that, he didn't care what he had to go through, he was going to have her. Because she was his, and he was hers, no matter who knew.

And now we continue...

With his newfound set of mind, Lee made it his priority to say hi to Y/N every morning, smile, wave, and even engage he in conversation. "You really are desperate aren't ya?" he thought, trying to be as gushy and nice as possible. He was trying to be so different he wanted to gag. Sometimes he wondered if this new act was something that Y/N would get used to and he would have to keep up this act for the rest of his life.

Y/N knew Lee was being weird. The first thought she had was that he was sick, but now, as he openly made eye contact with her, spoke to her, even sometimes winked, she found herself thinking of the knives expert more than she thought she ever would. He was sweet yes, but she's lying to herself if she didn't like the true Lee she knew. Back when he was very avoidant of her, she saw who Lee truly was, but at afar. He was snarky, mysterious, funny, British to the bone, and strong mentally and physically.

Barney saw this shit from the very beginning. But, even as he didn't want his baby sister falling in love and being left brokenhearted, he knew the two good enough to know that they needed each other. At one point, once he saw Lee start acting like a lovesick puppy, he started to secretly root for them, joining the ship Yin Yang and Toll had built months ago. This didn't mean he was going to make it easy for the man either though. They still all had a job to do and love is going to get in their way if they don't focus.

Dropping down in the forests below, the Expendables, clad in black suits, weapons to attack 5 states, and high tech gear to guide them through the thick forest. Barney, splitting the team off to get to the best views of the town under attack, tells the group where to go while giving them all ear pieces to keep up with communication. Gunnar, going along the outskirts where the forest meets the open town lands, squats, getting a visual on the sniper at the top tower, utterly excited to finally use his new toy: a big ass bazooka. Toll and Yin Yang sticking together to find shelters near one another but still separated. Barney, not wanting to leave his sister alone on a mission, appoints Lee to her, knowing the two have each other's backs while still not getting into Barney's dangerous line of sight.

As the group splits, its only natural for the foreign enemies to spot them. With the first cry, most likely to alert the opposing team's members, made Y/N's stomach tie up in knots, always an unsettling noise to be paired with the impending war ahead. Times like these make her go into a dangerous trance, back to the war and military she was a part of for 10 years. Even as the images flash through her mind, she tries hard to yank them away, focusing her for the time being.

As the war raged on, the pairs of teams the Expendables once had have broken up accidentally, communication soon being cut off during the blasts and explosions, leaving Y/N alone. She had dropped it as she was taking cover from the harsh blows. With her ear piece gone, she had missed Yin Yang as he had pinpointed the next blast of a missile, not their own, but the rivals as they aimed in her direction. The team screaming her name through the earpieces, not knowing if she could quite hear them. By the time Y/N saw her attacker, she only had minimal time to run away. Getting a great distance away, her lungs burned as he leg caught a rock. The missile falling seconds later, far away, but not far enough to stop her from the debris crashing and colliding with her small form.

Lee had turned a corner just in time to watch the horrific event play out in his eyes. Sprinting, he rushes to Y/N, seeing her bloodstained clothes, cuts, and bruises. Upon his arrival, she looked at him with such fear and pain, almost as much to make her cry as the adrenaline started to run out, the sheer intensity of the pain finally settling in. Lee held her tight, moving themselves to the closest form of shelter, plopping down, and cradling her body into his own. She was sitting in his lap, arms weak, and head leaning on his shoulder. She had made it out fairly lucky now that Lee had gotten a closer look, but not lucky enough for a piece of shrapnel to lodge itself within her torso.

"Your gonna be fine, I swear! You have to be okay! I should've never left you behind," Lee almost choked out, as tears threatened to fall.

"Lee, I'm fine. See? It's just this piece, if you don't touch it, it doesn't hurt, so can ya' please stop shaking me?" Y/N responded jokingly, trying to lighten the mood as she didn't want Lee to spike her anxiety even higher. "Do you have an earpiece on you? Please, get Barney," she asked, wanting her brother more than ever.

"Yeah...Yeah I can do that," he said as he contacted Barney, holding Y/N in an iron grip. "I was so worried you were dead...I didn't know what I would do with myself if you had. I- I-" Lee stuttered, getting lost in her Y/E/C eyes as they peered up at him.

"You what Lee?" she asked, starting to feel a little lighter with the amount of blood dripping.

"I love you Y/N," he admitted, now fearing for her life more now that he had admitted what he's wanted to say for forever.

With this, a lazy smile appeared on Y/N's face, chuckling lightly with delight, "I love you too Lee." He could only muster a look of utter disbelief before the rest of the gang showed up, the rest of the mission finishing out in a blur. At some point, whilst making their way to the hangar of the plane, Y/N had dozed in and out of consciousness, seeing Lee running her away from the mission's town, seeing the plane, the shrapnel being removed by Barney's concentrated and light hands, and later, waking up in a bed, in the hospital with Lee in the chair beside her. Both of his hands wrapped around her tiny one.

He wakes up once he felt the bed move slightly, Y/N stretching her long worn out body. Lee bounces out of the chair immediately, asking her if she needs anything, "The only thing I need is this British guy to sit next to me and play with my hair," Y/N responds playfully, Lee smirking as he takes off his boots, keeping his socks, and laying beside Y/N on the hospital bed, both dozing off together.

Click

A quick, almost blinding light flashes once as snickers and mumbling was heard in the direction of the hospital room door. With the pair now fully awake, and possibly more afraid than they were when Y/N was attacked, they both make eye contact with the res of the Expendables watching the pair, Barney front and center.

"Look, I-" Lee had started, trying to come up with an excuse for how they ended up like this, but ultimately coming up empty and out of excuses.

"No, ya' gonna listen to me. You take good care of her, ya' hear me? I'm gonna bust ya' balls if ya' don't, alright?" Barney answered defensively. "You have my blessing, but ya' better not fuck it up. I'm warning ya'," he continues, motioning for the team to give them privacy, Toll wiggling his eyebrows before he walks out.

Y/N, falling into a fit of laughter, moves to lay on her back, unable to flip on the right from where the stitches from the shrapnel were placed. She looks up at Lee, him blocking her from the edge of the right side, her falling in the blissful feeling of love.

"I'm gonna be walking on eggshells for awhile I guess..." he glances at Y/N before continuing, "but I know it's worth it."

With this, Y/N cups Lee's right cheek, pulling him down lightly to capture his lips with her own, sealing the bond they've spent forever building. Knowing that wherever, whenever, they are always a team, and are always going to be better as long as they are together.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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You Have to Let Go

For @whumptober2021′s Day One prompt, “You Have to Let Go” / Betrayal

CW: Forced vampirism, blood drinking, vampire whumpee, whumpee takes revenge, referenced drug addiction

1908, somewhere outside of New York City

“You can’t keep this up forever.” William, one of the oldest members of the pack at just over a century, lays on his back on a chaise, his head hanging off, looking upside-down at the newest vampire in the pack.

Blood does not pool in his head or redden his cheeks, although he’s been like that for an hour or more. He stays pale, his hair and skin and even his eyes all nearly the same shade. It gives him the appearance of a ghost, although he’s solid enough.

Cold, and solid.

More marble statue than man, now. And yet still more man than animal, though that depends a little on the viewer’s perspective.

“Watch, watch me try,” Tristan hisses back at him from where he sits, curled up in the corner of the room, arms around his bent legs. He stares at a mostly-healed scar on his left knee, from a time he tripped and fell in the dark of the basement downstairs. It’ll be there forever now, he’s told, a reminder for eternity of the wounds he wore when he died.

He pushes on it. There’s no pain.

Of course there isn’t. Pain is your body trying to warn you not to die, and he’s already dead. What is there to warn him of now? All the worst things have already happened.

There’s a soft cry from an adjacent room, woozy and almost sultry. An answering murmur in Malorie’s low voice. There’s a flirty laugh, and then the next sound is less cry than moan. He’d blush if he still could. Instead, he ignores the sound. Someone paying money for the oblivion the venom offers them, or paying in skin and blood.

Vampires aren’t picky, and blood renews much faster than coins, anyway.

“We gave you a gift. Wrapped it all up in a bow for you, didn’t we? ” William has an odd accent, like he’s a mix of Brit and something else that Tristan doesn’t recognize. There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that Tristan knows from his own childhood, the landowner’s children teasing him for his oddities and for the way they felt all the families working their land were more or less the same. Tris hadn’t been the favorite of the other farmers’ kids - there’d been whispers behind hands about all the bits of him that weren’t like other children - but they’d banded together against the landowner’s children still. He remembered with fuzzy affection the others picking up rocks more than once to throw in his defense.

There were still parts of home where there were rumors of changeling children, and his mother had angrily shouted down an accusation more than once, when he was young and caught lining up river rocks in perfect circles. But for all that there might be whispers from the old, the other village children had always stuck together when someone from outside came mocking.

He’d been so happy to get away from the town, going on the ship with his parents to America. Tears threaten at the memory of his mother holding him at the edge of the ship, the salt-spray in his face as they set off and away from home and toward what she promised would be a grand new one.

Her sister had gone ahead first, years before, and had written glowing letters about America as a land of chances that Ireland didn’t offer.

He wondered, bitterly, if his aunt had already been hooked on the venom by then. If she’d been writing those letters from vampire dens, with a pair of fangs buried in her other arm while she signed Your loving sister, Joanne.

Had she known she would try to sell him before she ever saw his face? Had she sold his parents’ lives, too, somehow?

He wishes, fierce and strong, that they had never left Ireland at all. That his mother had known not to trust Joanne as far as she could throw her. Too late, though. Too late.

Joanne the only one left standing, now. The rest of them are dead.

Even Tristan, who can be dead and still be separated from his parents by the gulf of their different kinds of death, who stares into damnation even if he were fully destroyed now. He remembers trying to confess his sins to a priest who chased him from the church with screams of demon, demon, begone. His soul has been handed over to evil, and all he’d ever done was try to be good.

Tristan wipes the pink tears from his cheeks before William can see them. “I, I, I didn’t want your, your gift.”

“Does that matter now?” William flips over onto his stomach and drops to the floor into a crouch, smiling. His fangs glimmer in the dimness, as the night stretches on and on towards dawn. Already the horizon is going lighter around the edges, a soft dove gray that will lead soon to pink and blue. Already, Tristan can feel an unnatural exhaustion weighing down his bones, the need to sleep while the sun is up.

“To, to me it does.” Tristan leans his head slowly against the wall, closing his eyes. The pulse of thirst is stronger than his heartbeat ever was.

“You’re not human any longer,” William says, and there’s a gentleness to his voice that Tristan is surprised by, turning to look at him. “You have to let go of all that. You’re not it any longer, and won’t be again. But isn’t this better?”

Tristan blinks once, twice. “No,” He whispers but fiercely. “I’ve, I’ve, been, um, I’ve been made a murderer, against my will. What of that is, is better?”

“All men kill, one way or another.” William shrugs, casual and unbothered. “We are only more honest about it and our reasons. But here, look, I’ve had one more thing done.”

He claps his hands. Tristan flinches at the sound, but the soft murmurings of the pack from other rooms goes silent. Then they drift into the parlor, one by one. Malorie is still wiping her latest partner’s blood from around the corners of her mouth, smiling.

There are seven in the pack, not counting Tristan himself. He tries not to count himself.

When he looks now he frowns, seeing only five. “William?”

“We’ve one more gift for you,” William says, and gestures to the open double-sized doorway.

Tristan stares as the last two members of the pack appear, with his aunt held between them, bound until she has to be dragged and cannot walk on her own.

Joanne’s eyes are wild, rimmed in bright white. She is gagged, cloth tied over her mouth until it bites viciously into the corners of her mouth. She sees him and begins to struggle anew, shouting as best she can. Nonsense sounds, muffled, pointless shouting.

He can’t tell if she is begging for her life or cursing him.

He wishes he could believe it’s the former.

“What, what, what what what is this?” His words are barely a whisper, as he unfolds himself, pushing up onto his feet. His gums begin to itch around where his fangs have grown, the venom ready.

“She’s behind in her payments again,” Alyssa says, laying her head on Joanne’s shoulder, her long brown hair falling half over her face. “In too deep. Chases the fang and doesn’t pay her rent, doesn’t pay us either.”

Tristan stands perfectly still, feeling nearly frozen. His aunt’s terror and panic are something he can smell, now, the sharp tang of adrenaline. It sours the blood, but there are vampires who prefer it that way. Who say the sour taste of pain and fear is a higher form of flavor.

William steps up to his side, running a hand down Tristan’s arm. He flinches away from the touch, but he knows better than to move away from the pack leader more than that. His chin tucks down in unconscious submission to William’s will. “You, you, you you you want me, to, to… kill her?”

“You miss your family,” William says, softly. “It ties you to your old life.” He smiles, something Tristan can see from the corner of his eyes, and leans his head slowly against Tristan’s, mingling white and red hair together. “She’s the reason they’re lost to you, right?”

“Yes,” He whispers in reply, turning slightly into the touch. William’s cool hands comes to cup his face, and he presses a soft kiss, light as air, against Tristan’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, finally presses their lips together.

It’s all sensation without temperature, and Tristan hums, opening his mouth for it, letting William take what he wants. His packleader’s tongue finds his fangs, presses against the venom glands just above and behind them.

A tingle of venom falls onto Tristan’s tongue.

William hums. “Good boy,” He whispers, making Tristan shudder, half-disgusted and half-grateful for the praise.

Joanne’s struggles kick up into a frenzy, but they do her no good. She’s bound so tightly that her wrists are rubbing raw to bleeding, and he can smell it. Saliva gathers in his mouth, his venom pulsing, sizzling on his tongue like a hot pepper eaten raw. He finds himself shaking, hands clinging now to William’s arms just to stay standing.

Joanne welcomed them when they got off the boat. But she’d snubbed Tristan’s father, had never liked him. She’d helped them find work, and all along she’d gone places at odd hours of the day and night.

All she’d said to him after his parents died and he moved in with her was that his mother was never meant to die. She’d been meant to be out of the apartment, but had decided not to go on the errand to the woman who took in piecework, and Joanne had told him, I didn’t know she’d be home, or I’d have changed the day, wouldn’t I?

Then she said he should stop mewling in his grief, and slapped him full in the face for it.

His lips pull back from his teeth, although he isn’t quite aware of it. Only of the taste of blood in the air on his tongue.

“Have your revenge,” William whispers, the devil tempting a boy who has never been a saint. Tristan wonders if his mother will hate him, in her eternal rest, that he isn’t strong enough to resist this chance.

He tips his head back and lets William mouth along the line of his neck.

“Let death come upon them, and let them go down alive into hell.” The verses come easily, without stammering. He was always better at reciting what he’d been taught to memorize, the words his mother read and reread to him, than at speaking for himself. “For there is wickedness in their dwellings, in, in the midst of them. But I have cried to God: and the Lord will save me.” His lips twist, and the tears burn so hot it feels like they are boiling over his eyes and down his cold skin. “But, but, but I cried, Aunt Jo, and-... and and and no one saved, um, saved me.”

He turns away from William and meets his aunt’s eyes.

She stares back at him, still struggling, still fighting. The blood from her torn-open arms runs down her hands behind her back, dripping to the floor. He can hear each droplet hit one by one. He can smell the fear in her, and he can smell what she’s spent her day doing. That she slept late, and ate at a place down the block from their tenement where the old woman sells sandwiches, the big blocks of meat carved to order.

He can smell that she never thought of him at all, as she prepared to come here, to the den, for venom she can pour into a cocktail. He can smell even the way she was surprised when they told her there would be no more credit for her, she must pay now or perish.

She can’t pay. There is nothing left. She’s long since spent every bit of scratch that she gained from the deaths of her sister and brother-by-marriage, the extra cash that came from selling her nephew into… this.

He’s been moving across the floor and barely noticed. He’s only a foot or so away from her now, and the smell of her sweat is as strong as her blood. His pack members can see the fight in him fading, he’s sure, because their eyes are overbright and glittering with excitement.

He holds her gaze.

It’s easier, since he died, to look people in the eyes. He’s not sure why.

“You,” He says, in a low voice that no longer trembles. “You made it so, so, so so I won’t ever be seeing them again. As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up. If, if you had, if I had died with them, if I…”

His throat feels like it’s closing, his voice dries up.

“But, but, but, but you made me be damned,” Tristan manages, finally, his voice thready and barely-there. “Even if… even if I, if someone, if I am… I’ll still never, um, never see them again. We are, are, are, are both damned, now.”

William, just behind him, a cool presence the same temperature as the air around them, hums, interested. His hands rub up and down Tristan’s arms. “Will you kill her, Tristan? Have your vengeance? We’ll clean what’s left up for you.”

“No.”

Everyone inhales, although they don’t need to, in surprise.

Tristan stares one last time into his aunt’s frightened eyes. “I, I, I won’t, won’t kill her. But, um, but but but… but… I want… want you, your gift to be something else, William.”

“Name it, little brother.”

I’m not your brother.

He doesn’t bother with the protest. Not anymore.

“Turn her,” He says, softly. “And then, um, then then then wall her up in, in the cellar, and and and leave her, to, to starve.”

“A new vampire who doesn’t feed faces the true death anyway, in a month or two,” Malorie points out. When Joanne turns her head away, Malorie grabs her by the hair, forcing her to look back at Tristan with a cry of pain.

“I don’t care. I, I, I just want her to, um, to suffer.”

He walks away, moving around the little group, and out into the growing new light of the early dawn. His bones already feel weighed down by the promise of sunlight.

There is a workshop, a rickety wooden shed, in the yard. Tristan moves into it, closing the door to give himself a nearly-total darkness, and burrows down into the dirt, curling into a ball, closing his eyes. His hand grasps, instinctively, at a rosary he can no longer wear. Finding nothing, he finally goes still.

He hears one long wailing scream from his aunt from within the house, and then no more sound at all.

He wonders how long it will take her to have her first death.

He wonders how long it will take for her to feel her second death, the true death, as she is starved of the blood her body needs to fully become the monster she had Tristan himself made into.

His mother would care.

Tristan doesn’t.

He falls asleep as the sun comes up, at the same time his aunt’s body shuts down bit by bit. Her heartbeat is the last thing to still.

Tristan’s heart stopped beating nearly four years ago.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @pretty-face-breaker @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

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quokkacore · 3 years

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garden song | y.ji

summary: you and jeongin get a happy ending, but not without weathering the storm first. (part one of the punisher anthology series)

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, childhood friends to lovers

warnings: implications of racism (mentions of hate symbols, nothing from the main characters), domestic violence, child neglect, trespassing???, underage weed consumption, driving while high, running away from home, making out, both jeongin and reader come from broken homes and struggle with the emotional aftermath of it

word count: 5k

listen to the song here or here

a/n: WOW i finally managed to finish something can yall believe it :')

someday i'm gonna live

in your house up on the hill

Jeongin had always been your dream. You just never fully realized it. Growing up, you noticed how his house was bigger. His parents were nicer. He had enough toys to share.

"I want a house like this, when I'm grown up," You told him one day, at age 7. The two of you were sitting on the deck of his backyard. "Lots of sunlight, a garden like your mom's and a big backyard where I can raise a ton of dogs."

"That sounds fun," He answered with a smile on his face. "Why not live in a place like your house?"

You shook your head, scrunching your nose. "It's so loud there. It's really small."

It reminded you too much of the random men your mom would bring home at the end of her shift, you really wanted to say. You didn't want to feel trapped within a two room apartment ever again.

Jeongin nodded. "I think it looks pretty cool, it's closer to the stuff in town. But I guess I can see why you'd wanna move."

"Yeah, no dogs allowed," You sighed. "What's your house gonna look like, Innie?"

"Oh. I don't know. I don't really pay attention to that kind of stuff."

and when your skinhead neighbor goes missing

i'll plant a garden in the yard

As you aged, you started paying more attention to things about your best friend's life. And he started to notice things about yours.

At age 12, you started taking notice of the man who lived next to Jeongin, and all of the hate symbols you were learning about in school he had tattooed on his body, that you would see whenever he was smoking on his porch. He never bothered you, but you could feel his eyes watching with disdain whenever you and Jeongin walked past his house.

You wanted to spit in his face.

Honestly, at age 13, you wanted to spit in everyone's face. Your teachers were condescending and addicted to power trips, and enjoyed taking it out on children. The kids in your school whispered about you, your money—or lack of it, rather—and laughed at your ratty sneakers. Your mom had no trouble admitting she resented you now, and you had no trouble admitting you resented her.

Everyone except Jeongin. By now, he'd picked up on the turbulence of your home life, but didn't know what he could do about it.

You only picked up on what was going on in his house at age 14. You'd just gotten a phone, and a few nights later, Jeongin rang you in the middle of the night, crying. Your mom was god knows where, so you didn't have to worry about her yelling at you about how late it was.

"Jeongin? What's wrong?"

Vaguely, you could hear the sound muffled of shouting and things being thrown. A chill ran down your spine.

"I'm so fucking tired of it," He sobbed quietly, "They always do this. I just want it to stop, Y/N."

they're gluing roses on a flatbed

you should see it, i mean thousands

Suddenly, when you realized that Jeongin's parents played nice with each other when you were over for appearance's sake, you started spending a lot more time at his house. You liked it better over there, anyway.

During summer, you'd both swim in his pool. During fall, you'd stay on the deck, going over school notes and just talking. In the winter, you'd stay holed up in his room, watching movies and studying for exams together. Now, at 15, his parents decided that the door needed to stay open at all times.

And in springtime, you would both sit and bask in the sun in his mom's rose garden, watching the honeybees fly around you both.

i grew up here till it all went up in flames

except the notches in the doorframe

You tried to spend every waking moment away from your pathetic excuse of a "home". Now, at 16, you had a job, working as a cashier at the mall. All you wanted was to save up enough to move out at 18. When you weren't there, or at Jeongin's house (because truthfully, you couldn't be there every single day), you were at the library studying. Finals were coming up, and you needed as many good grades as you could get.

But you couldn't avoid home forever.

"Hello…?" You asked as you entered through the front door, shoulders tensing up. The light in the living room was on, and your heart sank.

The woman on the couch, sitting in front of the TV, didn't answer. She simply craned her neck to watch you with contempt. You swallowed anxiously. She'd said she was working late tonight, which was why you waited until 11 to get home.

"Mom—"

"And where exactly were you?"

You tightened your grip on your bookbag. "I was studying with J—"

"Studying, with Jeongin, of course."

Sarcasm dripped from her every word. You sighed, not wanting to do this tonight. You had a headache from how much time you'd spent poring over your math notes. "Do you realize how dirty the house is? You’re out all damn day screwing that boy—"

"I am not—!"

"—I'm not stupid, Y/N! I see the way he looks at you when he drops you off. You're never here, look at the state of this place, it's filthy."

"Mom, I promise I'll clean it up tomorrow, can I please just—"

A sting across your cheek. Your head turned to the side, and your eyes brimmed with tears.

"You'll do it now," She snapped, "I don't care if it takes all night."

i don't know when you got taller

see our reflection in the water

Summertime meant escape. Your mom always worked longer hours during the summer. It meant driving around the city at night with him and your friends, smoking pot and giggling until you couldn't breathe.

Jeongin had grown. So had you. He was so much taller now, and going to the gym with Chan made his arms turn muscular. He even got had his braces taken out—they'd made him look rather boyish, but not anymore. Regardless, you knee he was still just your dorky best friend.

Was he? Just your best friend?

"Where are we going tonight?" You asked, rolling down the passenger seat window. He smiled, before shaking his head.

"It's a surprise," He answered, mischievous laughter rattling his words.

You made a face at him, before giving up on asking him any further questions. Seeing you seemingly content to just enjoy the warm wind coming in from the window, he sped up down the avenue.

You alternated between watching the street, and his face. The streetlights flying past you both cast shadows at a fast pace.

When the car stopped, you looked ahead and frowned. "Innie, we're gonna get our asses beat if we get caught here."

Jeongin shrugged. "Okay… then, we don't get caught."

off the bridge at the huntington

i hopped the fence when i was seventeen

The Huntington Country Club was a place you'd only ever dreamt of seeing. Jeongin hated most of it, since his parents dragged him there on the weekends to pretend they were a perfect upper class family (even though they'd only gotten worse in the past few years—they barely acknowledged their son at all). Except for one place: the koi pond. There was a pavilion in the middle of it, a wooden bridge connecting it to the rest of the land.

It was secluded, and not a lot of people hung around it. The pond meant mosquitoes, especially in the summertime. Because of how little foot traffic it got, security rarely patrolled there—there wasn't even a security camera there. It was at the very back of the property, hidden by a dense line of ridiculously tall, strictly trimmed, gaudy hedges. Not far from the pavilion was a brick wall covered halfway in ivy.

That was how you got in. Jeongin helped you over the fence, then hopped over himself with his backpack slung over his back.

"Whoa," You murmured at the sight. The night sky, plus the low light of the country club, made for an impressive sight. You truly felt alone here, save for Jeongin.

"Yeah," He said with a smile. He walked over to the middle of the bridge, and sat down on the edge, letting his feet dangle above the water. It was a sheer shade of green, not dark because of how dirty it was, but rather because of the darkness surrounding it. The bridge wasn't too high up, and the water didn’t look that deep. But you couldn't actually see any fish.

Jeongin pulled off his backpack, and pulled out a little baggie full of weed. You grinned, sitting down next to him.

Twenty minutes and a whole joint later, the two of you were giggling like maniacs, having turned around to let your heads dangle off the edge instead of your feet. You could feel the dull throb of your head as the blood rushed there, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"It's like—like, dude, imagine if the ocean were the sky and space were on the ground," Jeongin said, and you gasped in astonishment.

"That would be so scary, holy shit."

"Why scary?"

"Dude, what if it rains and fish fall out of the sky?"

"Dude." He turned his head to look at you from upside down, and you met his eyes. Even in the dark, you could see how red they looked, and there was a vein in the middle of his forehead popping out.

You made a sound like a motorcycle starting up before you started laughing again. He joined in, pointing at you as he did.

It occurred to you, in your doped up mind, that this was happiness for you. Not the drugs, or the location, or the fact that you were away from your house. No, it was Jeongin, your best friend, your Innie.

then i knew what i wanted

And when the laughter stopped, he didn’t push you away when you scooted over to kiss him. It didn't even occur to you to actually sit up. You just wanted to kiss him, to see what he would say.

It was fun. His mouth tasted like pot and cherry cola. Your hands fisted themselves into his shirt. Running your tongue against his teeth felt a bit off, but you did it again anyway. His hands cradled your cheeks, trying to pull you even closer. That was his mistake, because while you made the attempt, your shoulders slipped off of the edge, and before you could regain your balance, you were falling into the pond, tugging Jeongin in with you.

You sputtered as water filled your nose, your back hitting the icky bottom with a splash. A hand pulled you out of the water, and you rubbed the water out of your eyes to see Jeongin, who was just as wet as you. When he stood, you noticed the back of his jeans were muddy. You sneezed, your body trying to rid itself of the awful feeling of fish water having gone up your nose.

When you stood, the water came up to your knees. You stumbled, Jeongin catching you.

"That was insane," You whispered hoarsely.

"The fall or the kiss?" He asked, almost as if he were afraid of the answer.

"Both." You shrugged, but leaned forward again. "But I know which one I wanna do again…"

He would have kissed you again, but muffled shouting from behind the hedge snapped you out of it. Your body went numb.

"Johnson here, calling for support over at the koi pond!"

Jeongin grabbed you by the wrist, and pulled his backpack up off the bridge, which was no higher than his chest. You made a beeline for the wall, water sloshing around your legs as you did.

He pushed you over the wall, and you landed on your ass with a groan. Just as he jumped over, you heard a deep voice shout, "HEY!"

"Shit, shit, shit, run, run, run!" Jeongin said, pulling you up. The two of you jumped into the car, and before you knew it, you were speeding down the street.

You didn't speak until you were far away, and the adrenaline had subsided. Suddenly, you felt a lot more sober.

"So…" You mumbled.

"...So."

The car stopped at a red light, and you turned your head to look at Jeongin. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest was still heaving, and he was soaking wet, mud staining his back as well as the carseat.

You pursed your lips as he looked you up and down. You probably looked no different from him. His gaze was serious, but when he saw your smeared mascara, his lips turned tight.

Not in anger, or anything. He was quite obviously trying not to laugh out of fear that you would scold him. But no matter how much the scare had sobered you, neither of you could hold back the cackles that burst from your lips. You laughed until someone from behind you honked their horn. The light had turned green and neither of you had noticed.

Yes, you realized as he started down the street again, still laughing, this is what I want.

and when i grow up, i'm gonna look up

from my phone and see my life

From there, everything changed. Not exactly for the better. Not completely, at least. You and Jeongin were cautious to still call each other best friends, and you were. You were just best friends who tended to make out with each other when they got high… or when they were sober and bored.

Never anything further, though. As if he were afraid to push the limits. Or as if that were all he wanted to go.

You wanted him to. But you weren't sure if that was what he wanted, so you never pushed either.

Senior year was starting, and all that studying you did was finally paying off—you had your fair pick of universities to go to now, as long as you kept up your grades.

You were stuck between two: one, twenty minutes from your house. Highly prestigious, offering you a complete scholarship for you to go.

The second one, less prestigious, and while their scholarship offer was high, it wasn't paying the entire tuition. But the cherry on top was that it was on the other side of the country.

"It's my ticket out of this place," You told Jeongin one night in his room. Your knees were curled up to your chest, on his bedroom floor. "Away from her."

"How much money do you have saved up?" Jeongin asked, putting his phone down. You thought for a moment, did the mental math.

"Maybe a little more than six thousand dollars."

His eyes widened. You shrugged. "I'm not a big spender."

"That’s a lot," He said, "But is it enough?"

"Probably not. To cover just my tuition, it could probably get me through the first two years at best. But to cover the move, and my personal expenses, and what's left of tution… regardless, I'm gonna have to take out loans eventually."

He looked at you, before walking over to where you were and sitting down next to you. He said nothing, only studying your face.

"Honestly, if it's a way out of this hellhole, then take it and run," He urged, nodding his head.

You smiled, before frowning at the prospect of student debt. "I just need to keep thinking about it. Plus, if I leave, we're not gonna…"

You didn't finish. Jeongin looked down, as if he was trying to think of what to say. He had that look on his face when you know what it is you want to say, but know that you shouldn't. Frustration, doubt, hesitation, restraint. Still, a few moments later, he smiled at you.

"You're smart. You'll figure something out."

and it's gonna be just like my recurring dream

The tipping point came, conveniently, a few weeks before you needed to make the decision on where to go, a little bit after you'd turned 18. You'd had nightmares of this moment for years, but they paled in comparison to this.

Your mother's latest conquest had, for some reason, set his sights on you. He seemed to think that because he'd been seeing your mom for a few months, it gave him the right to try and assert his dominance over you.

"I don't see why you can't respect me in this damn house," He growled, "Isn't that the least I deserve?"

"Pete, I literally just got home and I'm super tired. Can't you serve yourself?" You pulled your shoes off and started off down the hall.

"I'm the man of this house," He declared, even as you got further away, "You'll do as you're told."

You rolled your eyes, sighing. It was getting late, and you had to get some rest for school the next day. Entering your room, you set your backpack down. The door closed behind you, but before you could sit down on your bed, the door swung open. Your heart rate picked up when you turned and saw your mom in the doorway. You'd gotten used to always seeing that look of resentment in her eyes, but it seemed to burn brighter tonight.

"I'm tired of your attitude," She said. You took a deep breath, trying to keep calm.

"All I said was that I'm not going to serve him, mom. That's it—"

"No, that's not it! You’re an ungrateful little bitch, always have been. I should have just tossed you out—"

"Maybe you should have!" You snapped, finally done with it all. "Maybe then I wouldn't have had to be your stupid punching bag all these years, I wouldn't have to watch you put all of your time and focus into all of these men instead of your own fucking kid! Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you? You gave birth to me!"

Your mother sneered at you. "Get out."

Mouth tumbling open, your eyes widened. "I—What?"

"Did you not hear me? I said, get out, and don't think about coming back! Now!"

"At least let me get my stuff—"

"No. Now."

You looked at this woman, met her gaze, and something inside you snapped. Something about 18 years being treated like a stain on someone's shoe sole caused everything to bubble to the service. You couldn't bring yourself to be afraid anymore. This was a woman who never grew out of being a high school bully, and decided to take out her frustrations on a damn child.

"Fuck no," You snapped, pushing her out the door and locking it, "I'll leave when I get my shit."

i'm at the movies

i don't remember what i'm seeing

the screen turns into a tidal wave

You'd always kept a bag for this specific reason, but only with the basics. A few changes of clothes, and some other basic things. But now, despite your mom and Pete pounding on the door and yelling from the other side, you'd managed to buy yourself at least a few minutes.

You grabbed your emergency bag, and grabbed your school backpack, before grabbing your phone charger and a manila envelope hidden in the back of your underwear drawer.

You took a deep breath, opening the window and stepping onto the fire escape. On your way down, you pulled out your phone, knowing exactly who to call.

"Y/N?" Jeongin asked after picking up on the second ring, "What's wrong?"

"My mom kicked me out," You admitted, "Can you pick me up, Innie?"

then it's a dorm room, like a hedge maze

and when i find you

A trip down the fire escape and half an hour later, you were in Jeongin's car. Now, the two of you were in a supermarket parking lot, him trying to calm you down because the reality was starting to sink in—you were basically homeless for now, or at least until the fall.

"Y/N, it's all gonna work out, I swear."

"Where am I gonna stay until then, Innie?" You sniffled, breath shaky.

He looked to the sides, before gently grabbing you by the shoulders. "I… Y/N, you can go to New York, now. You can find a place to stay there, work during the summer, I-I don't know…"

You pursed your lips, closing your eyes. "You're right," You murmured, "I can go, there's nothing that's… holding me back."

When you opened your eyes, Jeongin wasn't looking at you. Your heart clenched. He nodded, moving back into his original position. "You're right," He agreed, "You're free now. You can… you can go wherever you want."

You nodded, and a silence overtook the two of you. He gently started to remove his hands from your shoulders, but something compelled you to grip his wrists, locking them in place.

"Innie," You whispered, voice wobbly. "...What about you?"

He shook his head, smiling sadly. His eyes were glossy. "Don't worry about me," He said, in the same tone as you, "I can take care of myself just fine."

"I just… We've always taken care of each other, Innie. What's—What am I gonna do w-when I can't take care of you anymore?"

You sniffled, and he wiped away the tear with his thumb.

"Shit, you can't just cry," He protested, voice breaking as a tear rolled down his cheek, "Then I cry, then you cry even harder…"

That caused a laugh to bubble past your lips, between your blubbering. He pulled you forward, the two of you crying freely now in each other's arms. Because yes, the future was welcome, but that didn’t mean it was any less terrifying.

When the tears subsided (enough to speak without gasping, at least), you pulled away. A request was caught on your tongue, but it seemed so unreasonable, so selfish.

"Jeongin—"

The kiss—or, the peck, really—took you a second to register. But when it did, your face began to burn and your words died in your throat.

"I'm always gonna… I love you. I'm always gonna root for you, no matter what you choose to do."

Your mouth gaped at his confession.

"You… love me."

Jeongin's ears turned a bright red, and pressed his lips into a straight line before nodding sheepishly. "...Yeah. I do. I think I always have. B-but I totally understand if you don't feel the same way! It's okay, I don't want you to feel pressured into—"

"Come with me to New York."

Now it was Jeongin's turn to gape at your words.

But that didn’t stop him from accepting a few minutes later.

you touch my leg, and i insist

but i wake up before we do it

Graduation came and went a few weeks later. Your mom didn't show up. You were grateful. A few days later, the two of you were off, in Jeongin's car. The move was not easy.

You and Jeongin both had money saved. Jeongin, a little less. He would be going to a community college and working the first two years. For some reason, his parents thought that he didn't need their support anymore now that he was 18 and "a man".

The apartment you both managed to get was small. You had no furniture since you kind of couldn't afford anything other than the basics: a few chairs, a dinner table, a mattress.

But it was more of a home than what either of you had had.

If the move was hard, college was like fighting a punch to the guy. You stumbled a bit, initially. But who doesn't?

You'd get up and dust yourself off. You'd done it before, and you would do it again.

i don't know how, but i'm taller

it must be something in the water

One morning, when you were 20, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You didn't see a little girl who was afraid of her mother anymore. You saw yourself, and it took your breath away. To see this person that you did know, a young woman hardened by what she'd been through, but not burdened by it.

It brought tears to your eyes.

"Babe, have you seen my—woah, are you okay?"

Jeongin froze in the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of you—still bedraggled, hair tousled, eyes rimmed red.

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine," You sighed, wiping your tears with a smile. He raised an eyebrow, confused. "Really, Innie. I'm fine. I'm—I'm great."

He walked forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, seeming to understand. He didn't ask for questions, at least—so that's what you assumed.

everything's growing in our garden

you don't have to know that it's haunted

The apartment grew over the years. Dumpster diving and Goodwill became your best friends. You picked up a ratty couch and a pretty decent recliner.

But your favorite part of the place came after you turned 21, and came across a street fair selling potted flowers and other plants in the summertime.

"Babe," You said, stopping dead in your tracks. Jeongin followed your gaze, seeing the plants.

"D'you think they'd look nice on the windowsill?" You asked, and he nodded after a few seconds.

"Those purple flowers are nice. We could also try growing things we can eat 'n stuff."

His eyes lowered when he spotted the bright red flowers on the table. "...No roses, though. Please."

Immediately, you understood and shook your head. "No roses," You promised, and he relaxed as you grabbed his hand. "Plus, I don't even think they'd have enough room to grow."

Later, back at the apartment with your new houseplants, you settled them into the planter you'd bought for the windowsill. You turned to Jeongin to speak to him.

"So, what d'you think?" You raised your eyebrows, and he looked at the flowers—cape primrose and february gold—and the rosemary as well as the basil, and smiled. A garden is a garden, but at least there weren’t any roses.

"I like it."

the doctor put her hands over my liver

she told me my resentment's getting smaller

When you graduated at 22, you felt like you were walking on stardust. Everything was just perfect. Through all of it, the egotistical professors, the study-sessions-turned-emotional-breakdowns, the ridiculously overpriced textbooks, you had your boyfriend (now going on four years) and a small but stable group of friends to help you get by.

Still, it took you a while to let go of the past. You had friends who called their moms their "best friend", and every time it caused embers of jealousy to glow to life in your chest.

Initially, you and Jeongin had to work through the trauma of your childhoods. It was hard for Jeongin to comfort you when you were upset about something, not having been nurtured when he was growing up. He retreated into himself in social situations or when he was upset.

In a similar vein, you had a short temper. All you'd known was rage as a child. It was hard to let it go. It resulted in arguments between the two of you. You tried hard not to raise your voice. Because if you did, then Jeongin did, and the whole thing terrified you.

Yes, you'd known that your Innie would never lay a hand on you. But you had lived your entire life believing that after the shouting came the hair pulling, the slapping, the hitting. The amount of time and tears it took for you to slowly let that go came up to years.

But once you eased into this new normal, things took a turn for the easier. Jeongin opened up more to your friends and did his best to comfort you (even if his best was holding you and letting you cry into his chest). You learned to communicate better, and worked on your patience.

Slowly, the puzzle pieces of your life fell into place. And with every piece, you became more and more at peace with yourself.

Truthfully, you could never fully forgive your mother. But you could do your best to try and let go of the past, even though it had forever sunken its claws into your chest.

Yes, you would be fine.

no, i'm not afraid of hard work

i get everything i want

Now, at 24, despite working at a shitty entrance level job, you were doing pretty well. Jeongin had graduated, too. He'd done his bachelor's at the community college he'd started at and was now working on his master’s degree at the prestigious university that had led you hear initially.

Things were by no means easy. But it was the small moments, like waking up next to him on the weekends, adopting a stray cat you'd found on a night out, drinking cheap beer on late nights with friends at each other’s apartments.

Finally, you were happy. Yes, you had crappy water pressure, a loud upstairs neighbor and a painful amount of student debt.

And it wasn't what 6 year old you would have wanted at all. Your apartment was tiny, and not only did you have no dogs, but a cat, for crying out loud.

But you also had your best friend (read: boyfriend) right beside you, a grumpy alley cat to cuddle at night, endless support from your friends, and what you suspected to be an engagement ring hiding in Jeongin's nightstand.

That was more than enough for you.

i have everything i wanted

#kwritersworldnet #stray kids angst #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin angst #jeongin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #jeongin x reader #posting this made me blow a gasket bye

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juminsmysticmc · 2 years

Note

oooooo i’m so excited requests are open!!!!

i was thinking what if with the RFA members and mc had a son or daughter who is going off to the military??

RFA’s and Mc’s child going to the military

Hey! So this one was a bit difficult cause in Korea boys have to go to military from the age 18 - 28 and girls can only go there voluntary so it was kinda hard because since every boy is forced to go there as an adult I was a bit puzzled and unsure what I should write...I still hope you like it!

Jumin

,,I don’t understand why this is needed,’’ you hissed as you looked through the documents for your oldest son.

,,You know just as well as me that every boy needs to do this at some point,’’ Jumin said to try to calm you down.

The fact was, that your oldest son would soon be on his way to the military. Unfortunately for you, it was way too early as he was still your little boy in your eyes.

,,Besides, Mom, we agreed on me going early so that when I come back I can concentrate fully on my studies and working in father’s company,’’ he told you.

And even though you were okay with this decision at first, you hated it now.

,,Don’t get hurt,’’ you whimpered as you stood with Jumin as well as your other two children stood around the boy with a shaved head.

,,Make sure to get along with everyone and listen to your superior,’’ you said again, tears in your eyes.

In your eyes, you were still watching the little five year old boy play war with his best friend, not an almost grown up man.

,,Mom, I love you. I will try my best to contact you, okay? Don’t worry,’’ he smiled and kissed your cheek.

Once your son was finally gone, you were free to really cry out loud.

But the happiness was bigger when he finally returned years later, happy and healthy and more like an adult.

Zen

,,Why do you need to go?’’ you asked your daughter as you packed her stuff.

You were annoyed as she decided to volunteer for the military.

Zen also wasn’t pleased with his only daughter's decision, but he tried his best to understand her, unlike you, who still tried to change her mind.

,,Mom, I need this to become an adult. I just need to see what I can do on my own. I need to go!’’ she kept arguing with you, helping you to pack her things.

,,I mean, you could help me clean the kitchen to see what you can do on your own! I mean, if you want to grow up because daily life is getting boring, you could clean the toilet your father sits on daily! And if you are in need of seeing well built men, I can just ask Jumin for a few bodyguards for you! There’s no need to-’’

,,Mc, what are you even telling our daughter?’’ Zen cut you off, shocked as he finally decided to help you and your daughter.

The girl in front of you began to chuckle as she honestly told you that she was going to miss the both of you, making you feel even worse...

Yoosung

You and Yoosung were already married for a long time and were now proud parents of three boys.

It kind of made you sad as all three had to go to the military. Even though they were three years apart in age, they all decided to enlist together.

You sighed loudly as you watched the three of them with their short hair.

,,I don’t get it. Why do you want to leave your mom? You guys still have time,’’ you mumbled.

Your oldest laughed as he came to hug you. He was always the more affectionate one.

,,Don’t worry, we are all strong and we will take care of each other!’’ he tried to assure you.

,,Are you really going to leave your mother alone?’’ you asked them, making them laugh and look at Yoosung.

,,I’m not enough for your mother guys,’’ Yoosung joked and took you in his arms.

,,I still see three boys in front of me, playing volleyball after watching Haikyu!!’’, you mumbled.

Indeed, childhood times were so cheerful in your house, but as all your children too were growing older and older, you slowly had to accept that change...

Jaehee

,,It was so hard to get it and I did it!’’ your daughter laughed as she read the invitation for the military school she decided to go to over and over again.

You gulped as you began to bite on your lip.

,,We are so proud of you, Baby Girl!’’ Jaehee smiled, pinching you as you stayed silent.

,,Yeah!’’ you nodded, trying to hold back your tears.

,,I’ll tell my friends about it!’’ she jumped and quickly went up, probably to send them a voice mail.

,,You know, Mc, your face speaks the truth. You’re unhappy,’’ Jaehee said as she heard the door closing.

,,Well, my girl is going to a totally different world. Of course I’m proud. I’m more than proud, but I also know how hard it is.

My father was a lieutenant, you know? He was so overwhelmed… I don’t want my daughter to have to go through the same thing… I want her to enjoy youth…’’ you mumbled.

Jaehee nodded. She could understand you, but she also understood her own daughter.

,,She’s trying to find her own way and we will support her, right?’’ she asked you, rubbing your back as you finally let a tear flow down.

Saeyoung

Your children were living your dream. They were going to the military and trying their best to defend the people they loved and their country.

You always told them when they were children how much you would have loved to go to the military early in your youth. However, there was never a chance as you always had to stay home and take care of your siblings.

Later on you got to know Saeyoung and when you finally had the chance to go to the military after he found Saeran, the two of you wanted to work together to fight his father.

But even after this fight was won, you had no chance to go as you got pregnant.

And so, you never fulfilled the dream, passing it down to your children who found the same passion as you in the new world.

,,I’m so happy that Oppa could teach me and train me!’’ your younger daughter grinned, looking to her brother on the other side of the couch.

,,Well, I could only teach you what I remembered,’’ he laughed. He was one of your three children who decided to go for something else. However, you fully supported him as he was achieving his own dreams.

,,Just promise that you will stay healthy and well… Daddy will miss you and be scared to be left with mom alone…’’ Saeyoung joked. Half of his sentence, however, was the truth - he would miss his children for sure.

He himself was always scared of letting go of his children, but thanks to you, he always knew when he was overstepping his boundaries.

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

11.11.2021// 22:08 MEST

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lilacmeadows · 3 years

Text

Made For You pt. 2

Omg you guys thank you so much for all the support! Part 1 was my first fic and you guys were so sweet. I had to get started on part 2 right away. If you want to be on my taglist, just let me know! This is just leading up to the next few chapters that’s just gonna be FILTHY. I needed a bit of backstory to be satisfied, but now that the boring part is out of the way, I’m gonna go research other names for genitals. Hope you enjoy! -Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

“Make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.”

When she was first taken, of course she was scared. She didn’t know why, where she was going, if she’d be rescued. It was a painful adjustment, and some days it was as if the tears would never stop. It’s not like she was worth anything to anyone who mattered, her family wasn’t rich. Just her mom and brother. They lived a happy and normal life.

She’d guess it didn’t really matter. At the age of 10, y/n was old enough to understand basic concepts, carry a conversation with adults, and she had strict teachers in school, so she knew how to behave.

What she didn’t know was how to be a wife. Or a ‘life-partner’. None of the Men would ever call her a future ‘wife’. She was training to be a mate. Someone the Soldat could own and connect with so he didn’t fly off the rails if things got out of control. If he got out of their control. Every morning, a watcher would wake her up at 8AM so she could stretch, eat, and meditate. By 10AM, her first trainer of the day would come in and teach her the schooling she was missing. Just basic math and reading, a little German, and a little Russian. Not enough for her to eavesdrop on their plans, but enough to understand her Soldat if he didn’t feel like speaking English.

At 1PM, another trainer would come and bring her to the small kitchenette down the hall. They had no intention of domesticating the ‘couple’, but she was learning to be a woman- of course the Men would have her start in the kitchen. She would learn very simple meals that could feed a fully grown man, and usually had something light for lunch herself. The men brought her the other 2 meals a day. At 3PM she would have lessons on ‘Womanhood’. At least that’s what she called it. A trainer would come in and teach her a never-ending list of rules that she had to follow in order to be a ‘lady’. It reminded her of an old Barbie movie she would watch when she was little. There was a song called ‘To Be a Princess’, where a poor girl learned how to act proper. Once she started seeing herself as that princess, the days got a little easier. Some days, they would go over how to sit and lie down like a lady. Others, they would walk laps around the halls open to her, reviewing how to walk on the balls of her feet. She learned to talk in short sentences with excellent manners, and how to brush her hair, so she could look more presentable for her Soldat.

Over the years of compliance, the trainers softened on her just as the watchers had. Of course, they were still horrible people, but they knew she was a kind girl at heart and wouldn’t cause trouble. Some days, she would be made to sit perfectly still with a stack of books on her head, while her trainer would tell her something silly happening outside the walls of the building that became her home. She learned little bits of information about their lives, music, art. But never anything political or having to do with who the Men even worked for. That was strictly forbidden. They would let her color in her free time. Sometimes a watcher would bring a book from his home for her to read, and when she was old enough, she was given a few colors of yarn and started knitting sweaters and scarves on plastic needles. She didn’t have a clock, but she would learn by the rotating shifts of her watchers what time of day it was.

There were children whose lives sucked more than hers. And for that, she was grateful.

When she got older (let’s say 18), the training started to change. She never knew what day it was, or even what year. She had stopped keeping track so long ago, but the changes were made gradually. She would be made to read books on intimacy, and then watch videos of men brutally ravishing ladies about her size. She had to learn what to do to please her Soldat, without being taught physically. This made her happy. The thought of any of the watchers or trainers doing that to her made her sick. And everyone thought it was in her best interest to be completely innocent to the touch of a man when she has her first encounter with the Soldat.

Which turned out exactly as planned. But on the day Steve and Sam plucked her out of her bedroom, she was not expecting the Soldat to be sitting right in front of her. In all his glory.

The quinjet was eerily silent for all of seven seconds before Clint had the audacity to continue the conversation he started.

“You make the soldier happy?” was the best the shocked man could come up with.

“I haven’t met him yet, but I’m ready. They made me ready for him.” y/n said with bright, hopeful eyes. Her words flowed so easily, they sounded rehearsed.

“Do we tell her?” Tony asked Steve, who was getting greener by the second. He couldn’t believe he just got his best friend back, not two weeks ago, and now he has to worry about a girl who’s obsessed with said best friend.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” Steve replied, taking a deep breath. The whole quinjet looked like they were holding their breath. y/n still didn’t know the names of the three men on the opposite side of the quinjet. Two of them standing together, pausing their conversation, and the brooding man, who everyone keeps looking at.

“y/n, meet Bucky.” Steve said, pointing at the man across from her. But ‘Bucky’ went completely over her head- the name being unfamiliar to her.

“Hello, sir. Pleased to meet you.” She said, offering a genuine smile, but clearly not picking up what Steve was putting down. Clint chimed in again, wanting to be out of his confused misery.

“Wait a second. Y/n. You mean the soldier, as in the Winter Soldier?” Y/n immediately nodded at hearing that name. She knew her Soldat went by that name. “As in that guy right there?”

Her eyes went wide at the realization. He was sitting right in front of her. Staring at her since the minute she stepped onto the plane. And he was gorgeous. Long hair, thick thighs, piercing blue eyes, and a jaw that could probably cut glass. But he looked upset. Pissed really, and that scared her. She had one job: Make the Soldat happy. And there she was, barely presentable. She hadn’t even addressed him properly, how she was taught. With all the eyes on her, she felt a blush rush through her whole body at the embarrassing thought. But she had to. He wouldn’t like her if she didn’t follow the rules she grew up with.

Y/n daintily stood up and walked until she was right in front of Bucky. He held her eye contact the entire way, still not having said one word during this whole exchange. She gently knelt down until she was on her knees in front of him.

“I hope I can make you happy, my Soldat. I am a gift from the Men who take care of us, and I am entirely yours.” Bucky’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t said anything this whole time, but his mind was moving at lightning speed. He watched this gorgeous, barely dressed girl sit across from him, and was already in awe. But then that girl got on her knees and declared her loyalty to him? In front of everyone he knows? He couldn’t lie to himself, he’d never been more turned on. But everything about this was wrong. She was just a Stockholm Syndrome’d girl who wanted to follow orders. But her orders were to make him happy. He finally broke eye contact with her to see Tony’s shocked face looking over at Bruce and Thor, to make sure he’s not hallucinating this.

“Y/n, you should stand up.” He said to her in a hushed tone. Probably harsher than he meant to. He could see her visibly take a breath at the sound of his voice, his eyes followed the gentle slope of her neck down to her breast. She dreamed for years about what his voice would sound like, and it just rolled over her. But she quickly obeyed and stood in front of his seat. He expected her to say something else, but she was silent then. Her previous outburst was one of the few exceptions to her ‘only talk when spoken to’ rule. “What do you want? Where is your family so we can take you home?” He asked her. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. He didn’t want her was all she could assume. She was made for him, so why was he turning her away?

“I want to make you happy, sir. It’s all I want. Please let me be good for you. I promise, I’ll be so good for you.” Begging was familiar to her from her studies. She didn’t expect to be begging for her to be able to please him, but she would do whatever it took to get him to keep her.

“No. Y/n. This isn’t right. You were being kept there, whatever Hydra told you to do is over. You’re free now.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and it broke his heart. She tried to cover her face with her hands. He didn’t want to see her cry, nor did he want to turn her away, but he also couldn’t just let her be his sex slave. It wasn’t right.

“Please don’t be sad. This is for the best-” He tried to reason with her, but when he took her hand off her face so she would look at him, the contact only made her sob harder. This was all she wanted.

“Buck, I think we should just let her sit for a minute. Can you grab her some water? Tony and I will try to figure out where she was from.” Steve said to Bucky- trying to end this painful and awkward situation. Bucky stood and walked to another area of the quinjet. He was grateful to be able to use this time to think.

“Y/n, we’re gonna need your help to get you home okay. What’s your last name? How old are you?”

“Y/L/N” And then she went quiet. It never occurred to her that she didn’t know how old she was. Of course, she remembered her birthday, but she couldn’t tell the weeks and months apart, so she hadn’t celebrated it since she turned 10 in 2006. “What year is it?”

“When did they take you?” Steve asked gently. Being a man from another time, he could remember well the day he woke up in 2011 when it was supposed to be 1944. He knew how jarring it was to discover all the time that’s been lost, and wanted to spare her that grief.

“2006. I was 10.” She looked at him, and she could tell it’s not just 2008 by the look on his face. She knew her body went through changes over her time with the Men, but between the ‘dietary supplements’ they gave her, and the fact that she wasn’t looking in a mirror- much less shopping for clothes- she didn’t realize she had fully completed puberty.

“Y/n, it’s 2016. You’re 20 now.” And that made the tears come harder. But she wasn’t so upset about the 10 years of her life. She was mad at 20 years of her life wasted. Since Bucky didn’t want her, all of the training was for nothing. She knew living for him made her the definition of a broken person- she wasn’t dumb. The idea of her Soldat was what grounded her all that time. When she was lonely, she’d think about the man the Men always tell her about. They told her how he was their ‘greatest asset’. And she often fantasized about if he would fall in love with her. So by the time she met him, she had already been in love with him for much longer than she’d care to admit- which makes the heartbreak of rejection hurt that much more.

Unfortunately for Bucky, his heart was heavy too. He tucked away into the tiny bed area on the jet after quickly handing Steve the water to give to y/n. It was too much. Being in that room with her, she looked at him like he hung the moon. But he most certainly had not. He was a murderer. Tony’s father was a scientist during the war, and Bucky knew him pretty well through Steve. And he killed him. He had scattered memories of hurting dozens of people, so why would she be so willing to be with someone like him?

Part of him wanted it. After almost a century of not owning anything and not having a choice, he was given the opportunity to have something that belonged only to him. A gift from the men who take care of us. If it wasn’t cruel, he would have laughed in her face. Maybe she was taken care of, but he most certainly wasn’t. She was brought in young enough to still be under the impression that Hydra wasn’t evil, just strict. He imagined for a minute how things could have turned out for the two of them if he hadn’t gotten free. If Hydra really was planning on giving him a gift. He didn’t like the last gift they gave him in the shape of an arm, but y/n was perfect. She was the perfect size for him- although his broad frame could dwarf most women. And her smile pulled at his heart.

He wanted to kiss her the minute he saw her. He knew he wanted to make her his.

And that was bad.

He rubbed his hand over his face and decided to rejoin the group in the middle of their conversation. Thor and Bruce decided to stop being passive members of the conversation and introduced themselves. Y/n was very confused at Thor’s proclamation as ‘God of Thunder’, but with all that was happening, she didn’t feel it was her place to question it.

“- a good thing we have spare rooms at the compound. You can stay as long as you like.” Tony finished speaking to y/n just as Bucky was walking into the room. “We’re gonna have a new house guest MC.” He waggled his eyebrows at the man who caught the back half of that conversation.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. This would only make the situation much harder than it needed to be. He looked to Steve for an explanation. The blond stood up and made his way over to Bucky.

“Look, Hydra scrubbed her records off of every database and-” He took a deep sigh, “Her family is dead, Buck. They probably killed them after they took her.”

Then it was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He knew the right thing to do was to help her, but he also knew how much he wanted to feel her soft skin in his hands. And that made her dangerous to be around.

What nobody knew was why Hydra took the 10 year old from Georgia. In 2006, the Winter Soldier was sent on a mission to kill a scientist that lived there. Of course the poor guy didn’t have a chance when the Soldier was sitting in his house, waiting for him when he got home, but what the Soldier wasn’t expecting was a little girl to be coming inside with him. The scientist looked sleazy and didn’t have any children, so who knows what would have happened to her if the Soldier didn’t get there in time. She screamed and cried. The comm in his ear commanded him to kill the girl for being a witness. But the part of the Soldier that was still Bucky wanted her to be safe. He shushed the little girl and asked her for her address. When she recited it to him, he rubbed her head and told her she was a good girl, before he dug his metal fingers into the child’s pressure points and she fell limp into his arms. y/n woke up in her bed, crying at the bad dream she must have had- her mother not even home yet. That was the first act of defiance Hydra ever experienced from the Winter Soldier. First sign of humanity and compassion. They knew if the mind control was getting weaker, he would be harder to control next time they unfroze him, but his protective nature of the girl would make her an asset to them.

Her capture was arranged before his heart was fully frozen in the chamber. Neither Bucky nor y/n remembered this- Bucky only remembering parts of his time under their control, and y/n never thinking about that bad dream again, but the connection was still there as strong as it was that day 10 years ago.

Part 3

#bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #stucky #james buchanan bucky barnes #the avengers #steve rodgers smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #dark!bucky barnes #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker smut #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter soldier smut #winter solider x reader

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bqstqnbruin · 3 years

Text

Always be my plus one - part 3

Ok, look, it's 4 am, there are going to be typos, and we're just going to have to deal with it. I also tried to find a gif that was Tyson and Cale but I couldn't find one in the gif insert thing on here so I just went with this one (it feels weird to change it up but like, oops)

I make no promises that you aren't going to be mad at me for this part so have fun !

This is shorter than the last part, coming in at around 5k words.

The only warnings I have here are implied sex.

Translations for the Italian in here: "tu sei uno stronzo" - you're an ass(hole)

stronzino - little asshole

Also want to thank @justjosty @zinka8 @hockeylvr59 @hockeywocs anons and I'm sure I'm forgetting people for helping me write this part but ily all I'm just dumb and tired

Read the previous part here!

Series masterlist

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Valentine’s Day

The Feast Day of St. Valentine is traditionally celebrated in the Western Catholic Church on February 14, to honor the patron saint of love. Though not traditionally celebrated as a Catholic holiday, millions of people celebrate the day of love with those who mean the most to them. While pessimists of the day say it’s a ‘holiday made up by greeting card companies,’ approximately 190 million Valentine’s Day cards are sent in the United States alone, not including cards given by school children to their classmates. Couples enjoy the holiday with a romantic night out, presents, flowers, chocolates, etc., while those who don’t have someone or don’t care do whatever they want without the pressure of living up to a holiday that doesn’t mean very much in the grand scheme of things.

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February 12, 2022

“Where are you going tonight?” Matthew’s voice came through his younger sister’s phone. He had called early in the week to see if Anne could babysit Harper so he and Stephanie could do something for Valentine’s Day without having to shell out an extravagant amount of money on a sitter.

“I’m, uh,” Anne hesitates, “going out with Tyson. Sorry.” She hears Matthew let out a sigh on the other end. “Hey, stronzo, why don’t you ask Lucy? Her and Jason never do anything on Valentine’s Day.”

Matthew starts talking about how the last time he asked Lucy last minute to watch his daughter, despite their girls being best friends, she ended up going on a fifteen-minute rant. While Anne gets her heels on, staring at herself in the mirror and admiring the floor-length, red dress she had on the slit going up the side for no one but herself, Matthew continues to tell her about how his twin goes on and on about needing a schedule at all times, how she can’t just drop everything in a moment’s notice because he wants to do something with his wife.

“Hey, Matthew,” she cuts him off, trying to shrug her coat on, “Why didn’t you ask Lucy or Sebby after I said no earlier this week?”

“Because I didn’t think you actually had plans.”

“Again, tu sei uno stronzo.”

“I am not an ass!” he detests.

“Fine, you’re a stronzino, happy?” Anne hears him stammer again, not letting him get a word in, “I have to go, I’ll talk to you later, ok? Ask Ma, Dad’s off in Florida right now so she would probably love to have Harper for the night.”

He lets out another sigh, Stephanie’s voice coming through in the background despite Anne’s inability to understand what she was saying. “Fine. Have fun with Tyson. I don’t need another niece or nephew around Halloween, though, ok?”

“Don’t be gross,” she says, hanging up and finally heading out the door.

Her cousin Adriana was getting married to her soon-to-be wife, Izzy. Her family had no idea that she was the only one who still talked to them, her mother having a fight with her brother after their parents died when Anne and her siblings were younger and vowing to never talk to him again. So far, the stubbornness that seems to run through her mom’s blood going strong since it had been over a decade since she had last seen her brother. Anne was invited to Uncle Frankie’s daughter’s wedding, but no one else in her family.

Adriana and Izzy had this Valentine’s Day-themed wedding, everyone asked to wear red or pink in theme with the holiday, Anne not doubting that there would be paper hearts and cut-out cupids as the decor. The wedding gift she bought them, one of the first things she found on their registry that Anne could afford, was shipped to the apartment they already shared two weeks ago, Anne just needing to remember the card.

She was fully prepared to just sit in the corner with a bunch of people she didn’t know and watch as her cousin got married to the love of her life. Anne wasn’t sure that that side of her family would recognize her after how many years, guaranteeing her to spend her time on the sideline.

Anne slips into the back of the church, seeing no one she knew or recognized to even go up to and sit with them. Everyone was dressed in red, pink, and black. A bit too much for her own taste, but at least she looked good in red and would have worn the color anyway. ‘Note to self, no themed weddings,’ Anne thinks, not particularly fond of the lack of color or real choice that everyone had in figuring out what to wear.

A blonde boy in a red suit walks by her, too far past her to get a good look at him. There was something about him that caught her attention. Anne knew that walk, but she had no idea where she knew it from. It didn’t stop her from admiring him from afar, though, the short blonde hair and the obviously fit physique under the suit captivated her for whatever reason, leaving her practically unable to pay attention to the ceremony in front of her. Not that she cared, at this point she was just there to enjoy the free food she knew would be good at the reception later.

Anne sat at the table against the wall, her cousin not bothering to make a seating chart and just leaving it up to the guests to sit where they pleased. That meant she didn’t have to talk to anyone she didn’t want to, being virtually left alone at a wedding where she knew no one.

“Anne?” a familiar voice snaps her out of the trance she fell into watching Ana’s sister and brother-in-law, Catie and Danny dancing with their two daughters, remembering seeing their pictures on Facebook when they were born, not realizing how much they had grown.

She turns to the man in the red suit who had her attention throughout the ceremony. “Cale?” she smiles at him, not sure how the two had missed they would be at the same wedding this weekend. Since New Year's Eve, the two of them had been texting, calling, FaceTiming, they had hung out, spent the night with each other, Cale insisting he buy her dinner at least once a week. The only reason they weren’t dating each other was because neither of them had said they were. They both said they were busy this weekend, but who would have thought they would end up at the same place. “What are you doing here?”

“Izzy’s brother and I grew up playing hockey together. I grew up with her. What are you doing?” he asks her, taking the seat next to her.

“Ana’s my cousin. Her dad is my mom’s older brother.”

Cale smiles at her, Anne’s heart racing at the sight of it. “So I get to meet your family?”

Anne shakes her head. “I’m the only one here,” she tells him, explaining the family drama that went on between Frankie and Teresa.

Cale looks down at his lap, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his suit jacket. The red bowtie, red pants, red jacket even against the black shirt were so much Anne couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red because of the reflection of his clothes or for another reason. “Tyson’s met your family, hasn’t he?”

She nods, taking his hand in hers. “I told you, Tyson and I are just friends. I needed someone to come with me to a family thing, so he came with me.” Cale nods, not entirely sure that something wasn’t up with her and Tyson. Something was off, there was something he was sure Anne was leaving out, but he wasn’t sure. “Hey, I’ve seen Tyson, what, three times since New Year's? All of them when I was with you. I like you, Cale.”

Cale leans over for a kiss, his hand grazing Anne’s thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. “How about we dance like we did on New Year's?” he asks, standing from the seat, shrugging off the red jacket before he extended his hand out to her.

She rolls her eyes, getting up with him anyway. “I told you then, too, that I don’t like dancing.”

“And yet,” he says, pulling her close, his hand finding the small of her back while he presses his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes, “you danced with me all night then, and you got up to dance with me tonight.”

Anne laughs, knowing he was right, burying her face in his shoulder, swearing she heard some camera’s clicking, probably the wedding photographer hanging around somewhere and taking pictures of the guests dancing.

“I know I have to say this about the brides when they come in,” Cale whispers in her ear, “but you are the most beautiful girl here.”

Anne could feel herself blushing, her mind flashing back to New Year’s Eve when Tyson told her she looked beautiful. He seemed so genuine saying it, Anne thinking back and not sure if he meant it or was actually pretending. But with Cale, she knew. Cale meant it. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she tells him, ghosting his lips before kissing him.

Being with Cale felt fine. Not perfect, but fine. It was right, but not correct, and Anne couldn’t figure out why.

Everyone starts clearing off the dance floor, the bridal party getting ready to come in. Cale takes Anne’s hand and leads her back to the table where he left his jacket, some other people finding their home base at the same table. Cale knew one of the men at the table, probably from their little hockey group that involved Izzy’s brother. The bridesmaids and bridesmen, as the DJ put it, started coming in, Cale leaning back with his arm slung around the back of Anne’s chair. She leaned back into him, his fingertips dancing up and down her arm as they watched everyone come in.

They watched Ana and Izzy dance their first one as wives, Anne’s stomach starting to make noise as they waited for the food to come.

Cale leans over, nervous about what he was about to whisper in her ear. “Are you hungry for food or maybe something more?”

Anne felt her entire body go numb at his words. They had been seeing each other for a month and a half already, so was what he was insinuating really that strange of an idea? “That depends.”

“On?” he asks, nibbling on her ear before kissing the skin right behind it, losing any sense of care over who at their table was potentially watching.

“On how long you think we need to wait before we can slip out without it being rude?”

Cale inhaled sharply, wishing he could say right now. “At least until they cut the cake. Unless,” he says, his hand moving up her thigh, slowly in case she decided she wanted it to stop, “Unless you wanted to try to find somewhere to sneak away to now.”

“Not for our first time,” she tells him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “And not with my family around,” she laughs.

“I’m fine with that,” he tells her, kissing her. “Your place or mine, though?”

“Well, I drove myself here.”

“And I got a ride.”

Anne smiles, crossing her legs in hopes that whatever she felt would be stifled by that simple action. “So it looks like it’s going to be mine.”

They spent the rest of the night waiting for the moment the cake was cut so they could leave as planned, Cale’s hand never leaving her leg unless he really needed both hands to do something.

Anne could feel her heart racing as she watched Ana and Izzy smash their cake in each other’s face, Anne looking over to Cale and smiling. “You wanna go?” she asks, her keys already out of her bag and in her hand.

Cale drags her out without saying a word, Anne leading him to her car. He walks over to the driver’s side, his arms wrapped around her waist with her back pressed against her car. “You’re sure about this?” he asks her, his eyes flicking between hers and her lips.

“Yeah,” she says, kissing him before he opens the door for her. She couldn’t wait to get home, sure she broke a few traffic laws as she sped back to her apartment with Cale sitting next to her in the passenger seat, his leg shaking the entire time.

They got to the elevator, Cale leaning against her against the wall with his lips pressed against hers, Anne’s hands already working to unbutton his shirt. Cale’s kisses trailed down her jaw to her collarbone, his grip tightening on her waist.

Anne pulled away to lead him down the hallway, practically running, partially due to anticipation for what they were about to do, and because Anne could feel a breeze on her back, indicating that Cale had already unzipped her dress. That, coupled with the fact that Cale’s shirt was already open, his jacket in his free hand, Anne had no desire for any of her neighbors to be given the chance to see her and however Cale was to her already getting naked before closing the door.

As soon as she unlocked her door, Cale had her turned back around, kicking the door closed as he carried her to her bedroom, Anne able to feel everything about him against her body. Cale laid her down on her bed, his lips never leaving hers as he positioned himself over her, sliding her dress off while she did the same with his shirt. Anne’s breath hitched at the sight of him, his body perfect while he stared her down, the first time she saw the typically innocent boy she had been seeing with a mischievous grin covering his face, his eyes darkening at the thought of doing what they had both been wanting to do all night.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks one more time.

Anne nods, taking his face in her hands. “Yes, Cale. I’m sure.”

=============

February 13, 2022

Anne woke up the next morning, the events of the night before rushing back despite finding the space he had occupied in her bed empty. Her dress was on the floor, Cale’s red bowtie somehow having ended up on her night stand. Maybe he left it there as an excuse to see her again, making a mental note to put it in the living room so she would remember it the next time she saw him.

He had slipped out at some point that morning, Anne playing the voicemail that he left her while she slipped on a t-shirt to cover herself. “Hey, Anne. Sorry, I couldn’t stay, but morning skate was calling. I,” she hears him sigh, knowing he had a stupid grin on his face for whatever it was he was about to say, “I can’t wait to have another night like last night with you.”

It was her turn to have the stupid smile on her face as Cale continues, “Um, anyway, I’ve got something going on with JT and some of the other guys tomorrow for Valentine’s Day, a, uh, charity thing? I think? So would you be free this weekend for a proper date for the holiday? You know, not as crowded, not as much pressure, ideally the same outcome, if you’ll allow it? Oh, hey Tyson,” she hears him say, figuring that he was calling her on the way into the rink despite her being unable to hear Tyson. “Yeah, I’m planning Valentine’s Day with Anne. No, not tomorrow night, this weekend. Uh, Anne, I’ve gotta go, but let me know about, say, Friday night? Alright, talk to you later. Bye.”

Valentine’s Day date with Cale? Part two, more like, but still. Anne liked the sound of that.

“So, uh,” Tyson starts, already dreading what he was about to hear from his teammate given what he had heard him say into his phone. “You and Anne?”

“Yeah,” Cale breathes out, chuckling at the thought of what happened last night. “We, um,” Cale couldn’t even get a full sentence out, acting like a child who just got the toy he had been begging his parents for on Christmas morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he was that happy. “We spent the night together last night. I left from her place this morning.”

More of their teammates were filtering into the locker room, looking at Cale’s face turn bright red while Tyson stood there with him looking like he just about wanted to die. “Ok, but did you spend the night, or spend the night?” Ryan asks.

Cale started to stammer out nonsense, not really wanting to divulge the private details of his and Anne’s night despite the guys teasing him and congratulating him for what he wasn’t saying.

“Guys, keep it civil. Anne wouldn’t want us talking about any of this,” Tyson pipes in, Cale letting out a sigh of relief as the guys disperse to get ready for morning skate.

“Thanks,” Cale tells him, going off on his own to get his gear on.

JT appears by Tyson’s side, a stupid smirk on his face. “Would Anne not want us talking about anything, or would you not want us talking about anything?”

“Well, Anne definitely wouldn’t.”

“Oh, come on, we both know Cale would never.”

“Doesn’t mean I want him to have the chance.”

“You’re treading in deep water, dude,” JT sighs.

Tyson looks at him, hating that he knew what he meant. He had barely seen Anne, despite her brother’s texts from the night before asking if Anne really couldn’t watch Harper because of the two of them going out, Tyson going along with the lie just in case. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“It seems like you don’t know what you want from Anne, either,” JT shrugs. “But Cale does, and he got it.”

=============

February 14, 2022

12 hour shifts were the only shifts Anne knew. And they were the shifts that Anne detested the most. She was fine the first ten hours, but the last two always seemed to suck more than anything, leaving her exhausted for the rest of the day, into the night, depending on when she got home in the first place.

All she wanted to do was order dinner from the Thai place down the street, having it delivered despite her really not needing to since it was within walking distance, plop herself on her couch and watch whatever reality TV Lucy had texted her that she thought Anne would like. Anne knew she would turn it off after a single episode and switch to Food Network, but at least she could tell her sister she tried.

Anne walks to her apartment, dragging her feet to her door when she sees someone sitting on the ground, his head down looking at his phone. “Tyson?”

He gets up, grabbing the two bags he had with him as the smell of food filled her nose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my fake girlfriend,” he says, raising the bags while Anne opens the door to let him in.

“I’m confused,” she tells him as he sets everything down.

“Well, Matthew called me on Saturday asking if the two of us were sure we couldn’t watch his daughter, and I figured he might as well have some sort of photographic evidence as proof of us spending Valentine’s Day together,” Tyson explains. “So, I figured I’d go all out: flowers, dinner, and a present. You know, really convince them that we’re together.”

Anne stares at him for a second, not sure why her heart was racing at the thought of him going out of his way to keep up this facade with her family. “I don’t think I like that you and Matthew are so ‘buddy-buddy.’ Or that fact that he didn’t believe me the first two times I told him I was busy on Saturday night. And I thought that you guys had a charity thing tonight?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Tyson asks, handing her the container of food as she joined him on the couch, the Thai food she was planning on ordering right in front of her. “We have a groupchat. Yeah, it’s me, Sebby, Lucy, and Matthew.”

Anne scoffs, rolling her eyes at his failed attempt at a joke. “And let me guess: you gossip about me the entire time.”

“Actually,” he says, his mouth full of food, “you never come up. They think of me as the fourth sibling. The name Anne means nothing.”

Anne laughs, Tyson admiring the way her eyes closed as her smile grew. God, he wished he had gotten to her before Cale did. Why did he have to leave her alone at all on New Year’s Eve? If he were by her side the entire night like he had wanted to be, then he wouldn’t have to pretend to be her boyfriend, he could actually be getting somewhere with her.

“Hm,” Anne hums, swallowing her mouthful of food. “You said flowers and a present. When do I get those?”

“You can get them now on the condition that I can take a video to send to your siblings,” he offers, pulling out his phone and pushing the bag with the flowers and gift behind him. Anne rolls her eyes, smiling and nodding while he starts the video. He hands her the card first. “Read it.”

Anne pulls it out of the envelope, glitter getting everywhere and making her cringe, knowing that it would be impossible to get off her scrubs later on. It was covered with roses and hearts, bringing her right back to the wedding that weekend. “No one has ever made me feel like this. To the woman I love: Happy Valentine’s Day,” Anne reads, feeling a lump forming in her throat. The card was so corny, a little too corny for her taste, but coming from Tyson, she didn’t know why she loved it. She shakes her head, laughing at Tyson. “I love you, too,” she lies.

Tyson swallows hard at her words, wishing she meant them, pulling out the flowers from the bag and handing them to her. She looks down at the flowers, trying to figure out what they are before looking up at him. “Queen Anne’s Lace?”

“Queen Anne’s Lace for my Queen, Anne,” he tells her, cringing at his own words.

Anne giggles, placing them in her lap. “And my favorite flowers, anyway. Thank you, Tyson.”

“Wait, I have one more thing,” he says, hoping that the camera wasn’t shaking too much while he reached for the gift he bought her.

He hands it to her, a small red box wrapped with a gold bow. She unties it carefully, opening the box and gasping at the sight of it. A golden necklace with a white enamel heart as the charm, a golden pattern outlining the heart. “Tyson, it’s,” she starts, unable to find the words, “it’s beautiful.”

He stops the recording, figuring he had enough to hit send to his ‘girlfriend's' siblings. “Let me put it on you,” he says, Anne turning around and moving her hair out of the way. “I thought you would like it.”

Anne studies his face, the smile plastered on it despite her knowing that he didn’t mean it. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugs, grabbing his food off the table and staring at it now in his lap. “It was fun. I’ve never had a girlfriend who I could buy presents like this for. I mean, I still don’t, but I have you.”

“Oh, come on. You, Tyson Jost, have never had a girlfriend? Look at you,” she says, praying that she was careful with the words she chose. “You’re gorgeous, you’re sweet, you’re funny, you get along with everyone you meet.”

Tyson hated hearing Anne go on about him, knowing that she was just saying it as a friend instead of something more. He scoffs, trying to save face from whatever pain or other emotion he was feeling. “Come on,” he says, not believing her anyway.

“I’m serious!” she insists, reaching up and starting to fidget with her new necklace. “Any girl would be lucky to have you as her boyfriend. I’m lucky to even have you as a fake boyfriend.”

Tyson nods, turning his body to face the TV instead of Anne. “So what are we watching?” he asks, changing the subject and putting his feet up on the table, Anne doing the same.

“Whatever’s on Food Network?” she suggests, holding the remote in the air pointed at the TV.

The two of them settle in, Tyson not paying attention to the show she had turned on. “Hey, what’s that?” Tyson asks, racing over to the red fabric that was on Anne’s coffee table.

“Oh,” Anne blushes, taking it from Tyson. “This is Cale’s. He, um, let it the other night,” she explains, Tyson watching her turn his teammates bowtie over in her hands.

“So you and Cale are doing pretty well?” he asks. Anne looks at him, not sure if she really wanted to tell him about it. “Come on, we’re friends. You can talk to me about anything.”

“I mean,” she says, putting down the bowtie on the table, not taking her eyes off of it. “We’re together? I think?” Tyson already hated that he even offered to listen to her talk about her and his teammate. “I like him. A lot. And I know he likes me, but,” Anne lets out a sigh, not sure where to even take her sentence.

“But, what?” Tyson asks.

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, looking confused. “Everything is great, but it’s, I,” she stammers. “Something is off, and I can’t figure out what.”

Tyson stares at her for a second, trying to figure out what to say. “It’s probably just that it’s new,” he shrugs. “Everything seems weird when you’re still figuring it out. You and Cale will be ok,” he tells her, hating hearing those words come out of his mouth.

=============

February 19, 2022

Anne stared at herself in the mirror, the black turtleneck she borrowed from her sister coupled with a beige skirt and black tights on her as she got ready for her date with Cale. He was bound to show up any minute, promising each other they weren’t going to do gifts due to a general lack of time on both ends. She didn’t believe that he wasn’t going to get her a gift, however, sneaking out to the bakery down the street and buying some pastries that the two of them would like, giving them an excuse to both show up back at her apartment. And if he didn’t give her a gift, then she got the pastries all to herself.

If not, she could share them with Tyson, who had been showing up at her place or asking her to go to his place any free chance they both had.

She heard Cale knocking at her door, Anne rushing as fast as she could in her heels to answer. Cale was standing there, a black crewneck similar to her own turtleneck, paired with dark jeans, black boots, and a grey coat. Cale kisses her hello, one hand behind his back with the other resting on her hip. “Every time I see you I don’t think you could get more beautiful, and yet, you do.”

“You’re cheesy,” she jokes as he kisses her forehead, Cale laughing against her skin. “But you,” Anne says, resting her hands on his chest, “get more handsome every time I see you, too. And, you’re hiding a present behind your back, aren’t you, even though we said no presents.”

Cale laughs, closing the door behind him. “Maybe I saw this and had to get it for you,” he admits, kissing her again and holding up the bag near her head.

“Should I open it now or should I do it later when we come back here?” she flirts, holding the bag in her hand.

“Oh, we’re coming back here?” he teases her, trailing kisses down her neck.

“I might have gotten some dessert for us so we had an excuse to relive last Saturday. Plus, you left your bowtie here,” she gestures to it, still sitting on her table, “And I was thinking maybe you wear that tonight instead of keeping it off?”

Cale raises his eyebrow at her, a silly smile on his face. “And what else would I be wearing?”

Anne shrugs, pretending to act innocent. “I was thinking only the bowtie,” she tells him, feeling his grip around her tighten at the thought.

Cale kisses her again, unable to keep his hands off the girl in front of him. If he could, he would forget dinner altogether and just go straight to dessert, but he knew Anne wasn’t that kind of girl, and he wasn’t about to force her into anything she didn’t want. “Hey, I like that necklace you’re wearing,” he says, twirling the charm around in his fingers. “The heart is perfect for Valentine’s Day.”

She reaches up and takes his hand in hers. “Thanks. My sister got it for me a few years ago for my birthday,” she lies. She couldn’t tell him that Tyson had gotten it for her for Valentine’s Day.

#tyson jost #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #avalanche #avalanche imagine #avalanche fic #tyson and anne

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alphardblacks · 3 years

Text

alphard black, the brightest of stars in the noble, ancient house of black — his story, in a post.

alphard was born in the may of 1927, in the month of springs last darling, marking hope for the winters end, to pollux and irma black. he had an elder sister, walburga, and a younger brother, cygnus. he was sorted into slytherin house in the september of 1938, with tom riddle.

on the way to hogwarts, he befriended the said young tom riddle. he was quiet and silent, and he seemed unfamiliar with the ways of the wizarding world. it was alphard who educated tom on the great wizarding families - something his parents had instilled in him from a young age.

it didn't take long for the young alphard to find his way. with his elder sister in the year above at school, he did his best to maintain his image. however, he soon shed it to play for slytherin in the quidditch team. his tastes were more active than academic.

one of the acquaintances he kept throughout hogwarts was tom riddle. as the boys became older, they became closer. he told tom of the history of the wizarding world, and the noble families, though he himself had no care for the subjects the strange boy wanted to explore so much.

when tom attends a quidditch match begrudgingly, he sees alphard in a new light. he's fascinated in ways men usually were not fascinated with each other - he had never known an emotion like it. it seemed as though alphard felt the same, but they kept it secret.

alphard finds that by his final year at hogwarts, he has fallen deeply for tom. and tom realises that being with alphard is the closest he would ever feel to experiencing love. alphard didn't worship tom the way the others did. they were equals. but alas; they could never be.

but toms heart grew darker and his ideas for the future became too much for alphard to bear. each day he was less of the man he loved. alphard confronts tom about this, and in a rage, tom tells him they can never be together regardless, because of society, so he will not change.

alphard leaves hogwarts to take part in the war effort, to distance himself from the wizarding world that tom was infiltrating and slowly disrupting. whilst the other soldiers discussed their future wives and children, he could only think of the life he would never have with tom.

alphard was involved in a battle that left him injured, and news spread to his family that he was dead, including tom riddle. this loss is what makes tom snap, and his spree of killings worsen. by the time alphard recovers, the pain of what tom has done is too much to bear.

when he returns, and despite his family's wishes, alphard never marries. he could never live a lie with a woman and could never live in happiness with a man. he never has children but adores his nephews and nieces - particularly sirius and regulus.

living with the blacks was terrible for sirius and regulus, and if it hadn't been for uncle alphard, they would live their lives in uncomfortable solitude, with suppressed personalities in order to be deemed "proper". with alphard, they were free, and for the first time, happy.

walburga detested her boys being around what she deemed "muggle activities". alphard, being in the war, had picked up much of these, and showed them to his nephews. the nephews would visit him over summer and inspect his medals, whilst he told the in awe pair his war stories.

a core memory for the boys was alphard taking them to muggle london; buying sirius his first record from a stall, showing regulus muggle books like treasure island. he takes them to see movies, and the boys were too giddy to stay silent, though had to remain proper at home.

often, he would find the boys in their room at his estate, battling with sticks and pretending to be "spartacus". regulus particularly enjoyed their re-enactments of "a hard days night", where he would play ringo and pretend to drum for hours.

and as a young child, little regulus had been inspecting alphards hogwarts memories when he smashed a photo of him, and a young man, side by side. of course, as he always did, sirius told him to run upstairs, often taking the blame to spare his little brother from the rod.

fear filled sirius' heart, thinking of his punishment when alphard has turned the corner to inspect what happened. "i'm sorry uncle alphard!" he blurted out, too used to his mother and fathers cruel ways, and their punishments.

however, the emotion on alphards face was not anger, but worry. "did you hurt yourself? there's glass everywhere ..." for the first time sirius had experienced, alphard looked at him with a smile, and ruffled his hair. "don't be sorry, my boy. it's easily fixed."

tears filled the child's eyes, and he hugged the man tightly; he had never heard those words before. he had never hugged anyone before. his uncle embraced him tightly, protectively, and sirius knew that he would never be unloved so long as he had his uncle.

when sirius was sorted into gryffindor, he was full of terror. but his monthly letters from uncle alphard were full of encouragement; encouragement that made him accept his difference to his family. he questioned his family and their beliefs.

but when sirius matures more, he starts noticing that his feelings for his friend remus were changing. not friendship - something more. something strange. he knew that even the muggles didn't accept this sort of thing. he was broken, just like the picture. what would he do?

he and the marauders had snuck firewhiskey from a teachers office and in the heat of the moment, he kisses remus. he's in shock when moony kisses him back. when the firewhiskey wears off, he feels mortified that he would do such a thing. his family would hate him.

he's utterly terrified. one summer break, he lets it slip accidentally to alphard. he knows that this would be the end of his happiness with his uncle, and he would be sent away. his uncle merely smiled, and told him he couldn't be fixed.

because just like him, he wasn't broken.

and with this, sirius has fully bloomed into his true self. no longer does he sit and let slytherins talk ill of muglgeborns. he challenges his family. he challenges his mother. he becomes everything that alphard is proud of, and walburga detests.

when sirius is kicked out, alphard welcomes him with open offers and arms, though his nephew had flew the best and grown up; going to james instead. dear little regulus, on the other hand, is distant and colder, and alphard worries deeply for his dear nephew.

due to sirius' boisterous nature, his mother worsens her destructive attitude on regulus. he falls in with difficult crowds. no longer is he duelling as spartacus, but learning curses. the only drumming beat was his terrified heart when he was first recruited.

tom riddle is still a looming threat, and alphard knows it. he's still believed to be dead and he doesn't want to reach out. when sirius joins the order, he supports his nephew - they're the only hope. he would rather see tom destroyed than the evil man he had once loved.

despite all this, alphard still holds deep feelings for his former lover. deep feelings he could never let go of. as if he clung to the hope that tom could change.

until, during dinner, one night, he sees a dark mark on his little nephews arm that makes his blood run cold.

alphard and his pleading with regulus to get away from tom is the final push for the boy. he implores regulus to choose a better path, he is not a bad person, and he is not a death eater. this is what drives regulus and his sacrifice for the locket. uncle alphard was never wrong.

alphard blames himself for the loss of regulus. his little nephew; the baby boy he once held when walburga detested the sight of her 'sickly' little baby. he's a broken man. the beloved boy he had once loved like his own son was no more. because he couldn't protect him.

meanwhile, peter tells voldemort of his plans to betray the potters. that sirius would be perfectly set up, and even his uncle couldn't support his case. voldemort freezes when he hears the name; the name he hadn't heard since he went by "tom". alphard was alive.

for a moment, peter sees something flicker in toms eyes. even bellatrix notices the beat in the conversation. all those years he had grieved for alphard in the most wicked way. rage consumed him. he would destroy the potters, and the wretched black nephew alphard loved so dearly.

the broken alphard sits, in solitude; writing his will and leaving his fortune to young sirius, in the hopes that the fight would continue on. he knew he was destined to end this way. no happy ending. he pays one final visit to a former friend.

his former lover.

"all those years wasted, fighting opposite sides - and here we are, having precious few moments back. we could've ruled together, the two of us. i wanted you by my side.

goodbye, old friend."

if you've made it this far, thank you for reading my rambling headcanon on alphard black. three cheers for the best uncle in the world, and remember to stan tomphard.

(thread credit: narcissariddles on twitter)

#harry potter #alphard black #tom riddle #tomphard #serpentstar #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #regulus black #harry potter headcanon #headcanon #marauders #all the young dudes #atyd

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sokkas-honour · 3 years

Note

#17 for the spotify wrapped with zuko! <3

prom queen - zuko x reader

pairing: zuko x fem!reader

wc: 1k (it’s a short one, i didn’t feel like exploring this song too much as i associate it with a certain sort of my life. i also didn’t put too much effort into tbh, again for the same reason)

warning: if you’re sensitive to body image talk, possible diet talk, possible starvation mention, please don’t go any further. i tried to keep it as light as possible but i did project onto it a bit.

notes: i cherry picked lyrics that work best for this, and the least triggering ones. its kinda of a part two to detention as requested by @aangsupremacy (hopefully this works for you), just not a direct one.

wish i was like you, blue-eyed blondie, perfect body,

she was everything you could never be. with beautiful long black hair and an elegance that you only wish you could have. but most of all, she had the firelord’s attention, she had his heart. she had his attention ever since they were children and it was foolish of you to ever imagine things going differently.

it was foolish of you to think he’d even fall for you, the waterbender who’d been tasked to be his bodyguard ever since you two were children. it was foolish of you to think that, even though you two had been through so much together, you still would never even cross his mind as anything more than a simple friend.

all the nights you two spent on that boat, giving him a space to talk when he needed it. you had always been there for him, you were with him every step of the way from the agni kai to ba sing se, to joining the avatar and defeating ozai. you two had grown close during that time and you genuinely thought that something was happening between the two of you, but you couldn’t be further from the truth. you had forgotten that the affection that zuko felt towards mai transcended any relationship that you had built up with him. spirits did you wish you were her.

maybe I should try harder, you should lower your beauty standards,

you remembered the comments you used to get while on the boat, your body constantly being picked apart by middle aged men who didn’t have any better to do then to bodyshame a teenager. being away from the crew, a weight had been lifters off your shoulders when you found a group of friends that never said anything about your appearance nor found anything wrong with it.

you should’ve realised that when you agreed to join zuko as his advisor that the picking apart would get worse. his cabinet was still very closed minded and judgemental, none of them liked the idea of a waterbender from a watertribe to be the one advising the leader of the firenation, none of them seemed to remember that your whole childhood was spent in between these walls.

most of the time, words were never said directly to you but usually were whispers strategically placed to make sure you heard what they all thought about you. it hurt a lot but you were able to push down all of your emotions until one day, when someone who used to be a part of zuko’s crew, came to help him around the place. the crew had caught on that despite how much he aggravated you, you had a thing for zuko, so he of course made fun of you for it in front of the firelord’s officers who knew of his current relationship status. and that’s when things started to go down hill.

“i’m going to find the firelord and see what he thinks about it.” it all started when you were having a meeting with some of his esteemed generals and admirals, he was absent so you took his place which meant that some people thought it was fun to try and take advantage of your lack of authority. the only way to settle the current argument was to grab the firelord himself and drag zuko into the mess that only he could clean.

“wouldn’t want to do that, his girlfriend might think you’d want to steal him.” a misplaced teasing rang from general tao, one who seemed to always be against you.

“please, mai would take one look at her and not even think that she’d pose a threat. i mean have you seen her body?” another voice inserted himself into the conversation and you started to feel like you’d wish that you could just evaporate into thin air.

“not to mention that marrying someone from the watertribe would be absolutely dishonourable.” general sho added, a smirk on his face as he knew that all of their comments were affecting you. sho was definitely someone who liked to pretend that he didn’t miss ozai, just like half of the people in the room that laughed at the jokes.

“meeting adjourned.” you exclaimed, not wanting to even deal with them any longer and just go to your room and cry about what had happened. you were the first to stand up and go to the leave the room but right as you were about to leave, you heard one more comment.

“go cry about it, maybe you can waterbend it or, even better, loose a little.” it was the last straw and you felt your eyes prick with tears but you couldn’t show total weakness so you held your composure and scurried to your room, making sure to avoid absolutely anyone.

im no quick-curl barbie, i was never cut out for prom queen,

when you closed the door to your chamber, you threw yourself on your bed and just cried, letting all the words that everyone had ever said get to you. you knew that you weren’t ever going to make a good ruler, which is probably for the best that mai is a good contender for the position seeing as she and zuko are madly in love.

but spirits did you wish you were. you weren’t the regal type, you weren’t elegant, you weren’t raised as someone important, you were raised as a bodyguard who’s entire worth was based on wether or not you could protect the future firelord. not matter how much you tried to get over him, you couldn’t. your entire self worth had been based around him since a young age so of course it continued into your early adult years. your whole life had been intertwined with zuko and your destinies, at least that’s what you thought, were always going to be shared in a way.

maybe that’s why you tried your hardest to always be nice to him, be there for him, be a friend for him even when he didn’t want one. sometimes you wondered if you actually did love him or if it was just that if he did love you, you would actually feel like you had a place. you’d always conclude that it was the first, just seeing him happy and smile made your heart race as a fast as a rollercoaster. no one else had ever done that to you.

you remembered the one time you had ever lashed out at zuko. you were grieving and he was being selfish. you had always given him the space to talk about his feelings so you expected the same, only, it took you ignoring him for a couple of days for him to finally understand that friendship was a two way street, even when he was banished.

after that, zuko always listened to you when you needed it and spirits did you wish he was there now. you don’t exactly know what you’d tell him but in right now, you craved him just rubbing your back soothingly and letting you air out what was on your mind. those moments weren’t too common but they were precious.

you were ready to just recompose yourself in your room alone but you jumped a bit when you heard someone knock at the door.

“shit.” you mumbled, quickly trying to find somewhere to look at your reflection to wipe the tears and boy was that going to be a problem. your eyes were red, cheeks were puffy and heavily tear stained, and your hair was disheveled from gripping it as you sobbed.

there was nothing you could do but pray that whoever was behind that door was just a guard coming by to tell you something, they never commented on your current appearance as they were used to seeing the firelord in unpleasant circumstances.

you took a deep breath in and went to open the door. you felt your heart stop when you saw your best friend with a huge smile on his face.

“hey y/n, i-" zuko started off his greeting with the cheeriest voice you’d ever heard from him but the tone quickly switched once he registered that you had been crying. “are you okay?”

“yeah zuko, i’m fine.” you lied, fully aware that he could see that you weren’t and the lie was useless, but you couldn’t talk about what was going on with zuko.

“y/n i know you’re lying, you’re my best friend. and you look like you’ve just been crying.” zuko placed his hand on your cheek and rubbed his thumb gently from side to side. you sighed and leaned into it, savouring the affectionate moment.

“it’s fine, it’s nothing important.” you mumbled after a couple of seconds were spent in silence, not knowing if this was the time to tell him about the treatment that you’d received from his generals and the love that you had for him.

“you know you can tell me anything, right y/n? i learned that a while ago thanks to you. i come to you for help and advice, and vice versa.” he insisted, removing his hand, much to your dismay. his eyes filled with concern as he wasn’t going to just dismiss your feelings like the last time he’d found you crying.

“i don’t want to talk about it right now, maybe at another time.” you compromised, figuring that in a day or so you could finally come forward about it without breaking down.

“deal.” he smiled, glad that you had accepted his help.

“but you had news to tell me, so don’t let the way i look keep you from telling me.” you returned his smile, changing your tone to one of intrigue at the wonder of what got your friend so excited.

“mai said yes to the trip!” he announced giddily.

“the trip to?” you asked confused, if he had discussed this trip with you, you had completely forgotten.

“the trip where i plan to propose to her! i’m pretty sure i told you about this the other week.” he clarified, slightly confused as to why you didn’t remember as in his memory, he had talked it out with you a couple of weeks prior.

“oh yeah, that trip.” you felt your heart drop, you completely forgot about that, it was the last hope of zuko ever loving you as more than a friend, it was already small to begin with but now it was nonexistent. she would say yes and you’d have to live with the knowledge that you never said anything to him, you’d have to live with and help the new firelady, you’d have to see them rule the nation as you’d just think about your unrequited love.

“we leave the day after tomorrow, do you think she’ll say yes?” the firelord was nervous about a girl, your heart broke a bit knowing that you never had that affect on him but it was to her fault for keeping your feelings to yourself.

“of course she will zuko. the two of you are perfect for each other. you’re handsome, a great friend, you’re always there for your friends, you always want what’s best for everyone, and youre a great ruler. and mai, mai’s just drop dead gorgeous.” you rambled, not realizing that you might have raised his suspicions at your listing of his qualities but all it did was make him more confident, he must’ve only seen your small confession as a planotic one.

“thank you y/n. and when i get back, i’ll find someone for you so we can have double dates!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“yeah zuko, that’d be great.” if only he knew that the only person for you was him. you only gave him a half smile before he turned around to do whatever, leaving you alone in your room with something more to cry about.

if im pretty, will you like me? they say "beauty makes boys happy"

a little while after he left, you went out of your room to go clear your mind next to one of the turtle duck ponds. as you sat down to watch the adorable animals, you saw mai pass down the hallway that opened to the courtyard. she spotted you and waved, not bothering to stop as she probably had somewhere to be. you waved back but it made you realise something.

as you looked at your reflection, you thought of how beautiful mai was and how average you were. you’d never compare to her beauty, meaning zuko would never look at you and think ‘woah’. maybe no one would ever see you as the most gorgeous person in the four nations, all you’d be was someone who let the love of their life live with his life without knowing about your feelings.

maybe it was time to move out of the firepalace, the guards didn’t seem to like you and the comments started to get too much to hide the way it hurt you. you wouldn’t have to watch zuko and mai act all lovey dovey. youd finally move on from your life where your whole worth was based around the banished prince turned firelord. maybe you’d find love with someone who saw you as their whole world just like zuko did with mai.

maybe your life would be better.

atla taglist: @draqondance @biqherosix @missmorosis @firelady-jay

zuko taglist: @duh-dobrik

#atla x reader #zuko x reader #prince zuko #atla zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko x y/n #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender x reader #gaang x reader #firelord zuko #zuko x you #fire lord zuko #firelord zuko x reader

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atths--twice · 3 years

Link

Chapter Five

December 1923

It took nearly a month to secure the preparations needed to leave Cairo and begin the journey down the Nile.

If he had not seen much of Dana before, he now saw her nearly every day.

She brought books from work, shared information she had been gathering for years, showed him maps she had copied and shared where she believed the temple of Kha’ari was located and why.

“There are big areas devoted to the more well known gods and goddesses: Luxor, Karnak… but I don’t think it’s near them. I just feel as though it’s near the Kharga Oasis,” she told him, as he walked her home after dinner at the hotel.

“The names are similar,” Fox agreed.

“True, but it’s more than similar names.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think… and, I know how it will sound, but I think that the other temples were erected in places where it may have been hard to be happy at times, but…” She paused and shook her head with a heavy sigh. “I think it’s harder to be sad in a beautiful place. To feel the weight of your heart breaking, while the day is beautiful and others around you are happy. I think a temple near an oasis, near that beauty, for a goddess of pain and suffering… that would be the perfect location. Showing that there is that beauty in the world, even when we believe it’s not possible.”

Fox stared at her, thinking of the people who may have come to the temple, leaving their offerings of thankfulness, finally able to see the beauty in the day around them, their hearts beginning to repair. He smiled and nodded, believing she had to be right, her deductions far too reasonable.

“I think that makes perfect sense,” he said softly and she smiled.

_______________________

The Lady of the Nile, was a large beautiful ship in which Fox had procured two rooms to carry them to their destination. When they had arrived that morning, Dana had stopped and stared at it and then at him.

“Our journey will take three weeks. We may as well spend it in comfort,” he had said and while she had seemed hesitant, she entered the ship with him.

The ship was even more beautiful once they were being led to their rooms. The rich colors, tapestries, and details all added to the grandeur of it. Dana kept looking all over and shaking her head, telling him how beautiful she found it.

Her room was first and when they stepped inside, she gasped. The room held a small bed, wardrobe, nightstand, oil and globe lamps. There was a sitting area with a small sofa, a table in front of it, and a sink with a chest below it.

Shelves with brackets were above the bed and along the walls to hold objects and keep them from falling. A round window, above a small bookshelf which held a decent amount of books, opened to look out onto the water. Sheer curtains hung around the bed and a large rug covered the floor.

“This room is nicer than my flat,” Dana said softly to him as she looked around, her trunk set down by the porter.

Fox smiled at her before excusing himself and continuing onto his own room. It was similar to hers, though the colors were a bit darker and instead of the small sofa, it had two comfortable looking chairs.

He unpacked his trunk, hanging up his clothes and looking around with a grin and a nod. It was all really happening.

He walked around the room, touching the books in the bookcase, the oil lamps, the curtains around the bed. With another nod, he left the room and walked to the dining room, requesting a table for dinner on the deck at sunset.

When he left, he walked back to Dana‘s room and knocked on her door. She answered, though she did not open the door fully, staying slightly hidden behind it.

“I’ve made reservations for dinner,” he said. “But I was wondering if you would like to take a tour of the ship with me.”

“Oh… yes, I would like that very much. Can I meet you in a few minutes?”

“Of course,” he agreed with a nod. “Fifteen minutes? In the main lobby?”

“Yes,” she agreed, smiling and nodding as she closed the door.

He left and walked to the bar, looking at the alcohol displayed and ordered two glasses of champagne. As it arrived, so did Dana, in a dress he had never seen before, and his heart stopped before it began to beat rapidly. Her hair was up and she looked beautiful, though slightly nervous.

“You look beautiful,” he said as she reached him.

“Thank you,” she answered with a blush on her cheeks. “My mother sent me this dress, just in case I had an occasion to wear it. I’ve had it for nearly two years and never worn it before tonight. I feel a bit unlike myself, but thought it was the right time to make use of it.”

“Indeed,” he said with a smile, the dark blue of the dress making her eyes bluer, if it were possible. “Here.” He handed her one of the glasses, clinking it with his own.

“Cheers,” she said quietly and he nodded as they took a sip. Extending his arm, she accepted it, as they turned from the bar and made their way up the stairs.

They walked around the ship, discovering the luxuries it afforded: a dining room smoking lounge for the men, a library, a salon with chairs and sofas filling the room, the gleaming windows letting in the late afternoon sun.

The deck of the ship was even better with the view of the sunset, the water, and the other small boats sailing beside them, their masts filled by the breeze.

He glanced at Dana, the loose strands of hair blowing across her face, and he smiled. Her eyes were shining and her lips curling up as she waved to him sailing past them. Under any other circumstance, he would have seen the romance of the situation. Truth be told, he was hard pressed not to see it, as the setting sun created a romantic atmosphere all its own, but he pushed those feelings aside.

“This is a beautiful ship. Far more than I was expecting,” she said and took a last drink of her champagne, the glass now empty.

“What were you expecting?” he asked, taking her glass and then draining his own.

“I… I don’t really know,” she said, leaning her arms on the railing and twirling a strand of hair, at the base of her neck, around her fingers. “I’ve… It's been a long time since I’ve been around such luxuries. My income at the museum is not large and what money I am sent from my mother, it’s not much either, and not always absolute.” He frowned and she smiled slightly. “My father didn’t want me to leave and threatened there would be no financial help from him if I did.”

“That’s…” He paused, not knowing what to say, and not wanting to insult a man he did not know.

“Not exactly the kindest, no, but it’s been cleared up. Letters and distance work wonders, you know.” She smiled at him and he frowned again. “He was worried about me on my own, and didn't want me so far from home.” She bit her bottom lip and looked away with a sigh, the wind blowing her hair across her face.

“But you know what I think?” she asked as she turned to look at him again. “Although he never says, his own letters generally short, and only a postscript added to my mother’s, I think the money is from him, but he won’t admit it. Stubbornness and not wanting to appear too soft, he will continue the charade.” Fox laughed softly and she smiled.

“My mother similarly did not want me to leave. But… after the pain and uncertainty the war caused her, I can understand.”

“Were you… shot? Your leg…” She glanced down and back up at him. “Please don’t feel you have to discuss it if you don’t-”

“No,” he interrupted, not wanting her to feel she had imposed upon him. “I wasn’t shot in my leg. I was stabbed and it became infected before I could get proper medical health. I had to spend some time in hospital correcting the mistake. I didn’t think I would go back to the front line after that, but they cleared me to return. My mothers letters were filled with her worry and anger over that decision.”

“I can understand how she feels,” Dana said quietly, her eyes downcast, fingers stroking her locket.

He felt the conversation was becoming too morose and so he suggested they continue walking and heading to dinner. She agreed and they moved on, him carrying the glasses and giving them to a server who had passed by.

Dinner was delicious, their conversation easy, but he could not help but feel something was different. She smiled and laughed, but the happiness did not quite reach her eyes.

After the meal was finished, she politely excused herself to return to her room, claiming she was tired and could do with an early night.

“Of course,” he responded with a nod, and she walked away.

Not wanting to be held within the walls of his own room just yet, he strolled around the ship again. On his second trip, he stopped at the library where he spent some time perusing the titles. Taking a book back to his room, he was determined to read as much as possible before falling asleep.

__________________

The days they spent together were different from the seemingly endless ones of planning and discussions. Then they worked tirelessly, walking to and from the library, the hotel, and her flat.

Now, they had time to relax, sleep later, lounge about if they so chose, which they did as it was a very welcome change.

They ate every meal together, learning more about one another.

She had grown up in Maryland and was the youngest of three siblings; her youngest brother dying in infancy.

Her brother, Bill, had fought in the war, coming home wounded in one eye. He handled it well, saying he could live his life with one eye as well as two. His fiancée, Adelaide, had not cared, thankful he had returned to her alive, and his children, of which he had two rambunctious boys, thought of him as a pirate.

Her sister, Melissa, was married to a very kind and quiet man, Joshua, who doted on her every need. They had three children and last she had heard, would soon be adding another.

“They are all the sweetest children, my sister's children more so, always sending me drawings and little notes. I love them all, miss them of course, but…” A hand at her throat drew his attention, but no story was forthcoming and he was left wondering about the mystery of the locket.

He told her of his life, a sometimes lonesome one without a sibling, wishing he had a playmate, but happy with his parents. His mother especially was loving and attentive and he had never lacked for anything.

“But it’s not made you as some,” Dana said and he frowned in confusion. “I mean that some people become demanding and rude, carrying their wealth as though it puts them above others. You don’t do that. You have wealth, as was obvious when I first met you, but you don’t flaunt it. It’s a part of you, but not something you think or worry about.”

“That may be the kindest way to tell someone they are a rich snob that I’ve ever heard,” he teased and she laughed, looking out at the water as they sat at a table, enjoying a drink.

Other than the discussion the first day on the ship, the war was a topic they avoided and also how she had come to be in Egypt. It hung between them, something he would not have minded discussing, but one which she obviously did not, so their conversation mostly revolved around the journey and their destination.

The ship made many stops, allowing for touring the temples. For Fox, they saw nearly enough to make it all worthwhile, even without discovering anything on their own, but knew it was not the same for Dana. Her commentary of the day as they returned to the ship and had dinner, her eyes shining, he knew she was thinking of the excitement of their own hopeful discoveries.

Luxor, Karnak and Hathor, each place was more impressive than the last. The sheer magnitude of them was daunting enough, but the details in the artwork kept him standing in one place and sketching for longer than anticipated, only stopping when Dana joined him after touring places he had missed, his attention focused on sights before him.

There were people offering their expertise as a guide, but they declined them. Dana shared everything she knew, which was quite a bit, explaining what they saw with a passion the other guides lacked. He loved listening to her speak on subjects of which she knew, her tone animated and her hands moving quickly, pointing them out with a smile, his interest piquing with every word.

They went to the Valley of the Kings, where a large crowd waited to see the tomb of King Tutankhamun. Fox felt nervous as they made their way to the front of the queue, terrified he would react the same way he had at the pyramids. It would be twice as horrifying if it were to happen in front of Dana.

As the next couple walked forward, he took a deep breath. Thinking of the fact that it had been a while since he’d had any type of an attack of panic, he felt his heart start to race.

“Fox? Are you ready?” Dana asked, breaking into his thoughts and gesturing toward the tomb.

He took a deep breath and felt the panic begin to rise, when suddenly she touched his forearm and stared into his eyes. As she did, he felt a calm wash over him, his breathing returning to normal.

“Yes,” he said, letting out his breath and swallowing down his worries. “Yes, I’m ready.” She smiled and took a step forward and he followed; down the steps and into the tomb.

_______________________

December 25, 1923

Off the ship and now staying at a hotel in Luxor, Fox dressed for dinner, tying his tie before he put on his jacket and walked out of the room.

Tomorrow would begin their day of preparation. They would be meeting with the men who would be joining them on their expedition. Food would be acquired, tools, clothes, tents, and any other items they would need.

Fox was excited, but also nervous, hoping they would truly find what they imagined was somewhere out in the middle of the desert. Tonight though, he and Dana were having dinner and celebrating the holiday.

Nearly a month on a ship, he was glad to be in a place which sat on solid ground. The ship had been large and comfortable, the river calm, but he still preferred to be on dry land.

Down the stairs, he stood waiting in the main lounge area for Dana. She did not keep him waiting long and when he saw her coming down the stairs, he drew in a deep breath.

Wearing the same dark blue dress as she had their first night on the ship. Her hair was up, though in a slightly different style, and his let out his breath when she reached him. He smiled, unable to take his eyes off of her.

“You’ve managed to make that dress even more beautiful the second time. You quite literally took my breath away.” He smiled again and she looked down, her cheeks pink, before raising her eyes to his and smiling.

“Thank you. You look very nice too,” she said and he nodded as he extended his arm to her. She took it and they walked into the dining room.

The room was large, with a dance floor in the middle, and tables around the edges, covered with white tablecloths. Candles lit around the room and sitting on the tables, gave it an inviting feeling.

“It’s beautiful in here,” Dana said, the orchestra in the corner beginning to play softly as they sat down.

“It is,” Fox agreed, looking around and smiling. “I think what I like best though, is that we aren’t on a moving ship. This room, being stationary, makes me very happy.” Dana laughed, picking up the menu from beside her plate.

Their food orders were given and as the waiter left them, he looked at the orchestra, his foot tapping the floor beneath the tablecloth. Turning his head, he looked back at Dana who smiled at him.

“I want to thank you, Dana,” he said quietly and she seemed surprised at his words. He drew a breath, about to speak, when the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine, filling their glasses. “A toast. To the journey on which we are about to embark, all we have seen, and to one another.” She raised her glass and tapped it to his, her eyes shining.

God, she’s beautiful, he thought, the dress and style of her hair accentuating her beauty.

When they had eaten, and the dishes cleared away, they rose to leave. Her eyes followed the dancing couples as they glided past, smiling and laughing.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked and she shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her. “A walk around the grounds of the hotel perhaps?” She smiled in agreement and they began to walk.

“Fox,” she said softly, her eyes on his. “I have thoroughly enjoyed the last few weeks. I’ve lived here for over three years and I have not had the opportunity to travel as we have done. I knew it was there, but the cost was beyond my means. Here I was in a place I had wanted to visit most of my life and I was stuck in one place.” She smiled at him, reaching for his arm and slipping her hand into the crook of it. “I never imagined I would be here, on the brink of doing what I set out to accomplish.” She stopped walking and held tight to his arm, forcing him to also stop. Staring at him, she smiled again.

“Thank you, Fox.”

“It has been my pleasure,” he whispered with a slight nod. “I have enjoyed the past few weeks as well. Immensely.” Placing his other hand over hers, he squeezed gently.

“And now I must express my appreciation. Thank you,” he said quietly and she shook her head. “No. I do thank you. If it was not you who answered my first letter, I would not have been as intrigued to come here. To not only see all that we have, but to meet and thank the person behind the pen. I’m so glad it was you. Thank you, Miss Scully.”

She blinked her eyes rapidly, though he could see the tears shining in them. He squeezed her hand again, let go and took a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to her as they began to resume walking.

The music from the dining room could be heard through the open windows as they walked past and he stopped. Turning his face to her, he raised his eyebrows, asking silently if she would like to dance. She nodded and he took back his handkerchief, placing it into his pocket.

Holding out a hand, she took it and he pulled her close, waiting to feel the rhythm of the music.

“I’m not always good with the quicker steps, but I’ll try my best,” he confessed and she smiled.

“I’m not a great dancer myself. Please don’t feel worried,” she whispered. He smiled with a nod, his leg the furthest thing from his mind as he held her in his arms and they twirled, her laughter ringing through the air.

They stumbled only a couple of times, both apologizing and then laughing harder, but they kept dancing until the music stopped, with applause following.

Catching their breath, he looked at her and without thinking if it was the right thing to do, he leaned forward and kissed her softly, surprising both of them. He began to pull back, his apology already forming in his mind, when her grip tightened and she kissed him.

As quickly as it began, it stopped. She pushed away from him, her eyes wide.

“I… I’m sorry,” she breathed, a hand going to the locket at her throat. “I…” She shook her head and stepped back, walking away quickly.

“Dana… Please don’t leave,” he called after her, but she kept walking and he did not chase after her, knowing it was not what she wanted nor what he should do.

The music began to play again, happy and festive, the diners applauding, laughter echoing through the windows. He felt no such joy, only worry and confusion. Less than a minute ago he had been happy, and now he stood alone, the memory of her kiss still lingering on his lips.

#The X-Files #XF Fiction #Alternate Universe #Historical AU #Egypt #Getting To Know Each Other #Beginning Of The Journey #New Relationship

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angstymdzsthoughts · 4 years

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wow im loving this new ask layout.

it was post canon and wwx has been living with his husband and son in cr for a couple years now. jc is still somewhat reluctant to talk to him but he understands. jl comes by to nighthunt with his friends regularly. one unlucky day wwx had a mishap with resentful energy during a nighthunt accident and lsz died in the process.

everyone was heartbroken but wangxian were absolutely destroyed. they stayed in seclusion for months. wwx couldnt stand the guilt and had no face to see his son's friends and the other lans. even when lwj finally had to come out for sect duties wwx chose to stay in seclusion. he abandoned his regular cultivation and swore off demonic cultivation forever. in an effort to cheer up his husband, lwj persuaded him to go on a trip to worship the gods to pray for sizhui's death anniversary.

they came across a small temple, old and rickety and overgrown, and out of kindness they cleaned up and left a small offering. wwx just wanted his family back. lwj wanted a chance to start all over again. it suddenly stormed heavily that evening, so they had to take shelter in the temple for the night, taking caution to ask for permission from the resident god.

when they woke up, they were at the cloud recesses. lwj woke up in his old bedroom in a body that felt too small. wwx woke up startled in a guest bedroom in cr with jyl sitting by his bed.

"a-ying? did you have a nightmare?" wwx choked back a sob and just hugged his shijie for comfort. only then did he notice that he felt too small, and too soft. he looked down at his hands, then at his body. he was somehow a girl.

then jyl's presence in his room would make more sense. girls and boys dorms are separated in the cr. wangxian woke up as an alternate version of themselves with their original memories as well as the memories of their new body. lwj was still lan er gongzi. but in this body, she was just wei ying, a senior disciple of yunmeng jiang.

wangxian met each other again in class and wy took caution to not vex lqr too bad this time, lest he disapprove of their inevitably impending union. jc eyed lwj furiously when he approached wy after class to talk privately. it seemed that the two of them were the only ones reborn.

the first thing lwj did after that was ask his uncle to send a formal betrothal request to ymj for wy's hand. which to lqr was weird, but lz wouldnt budge. he thought lxc could still marry a more proper wife, so its fine.

they spent the rest of the year courting, lwj was in such a rush to marry wy. wy wasnt /actually/ jyl's little sister so it was no issue if she married first. meanwhile, jyl's betrothal was broken. this time by her own brother who punched jzx so hard he broke his nose. wangxian got married a year after they finished studying in gusu.

everyone was overjoyed when wy got pregnant. even mdm yu was happy for her. when their son was born, lwj recognized his soul to be their a-yuan, and wy cried her lungs out in joy. their little son had his old nose, lwj's nose, but now the rest of him look like them too. his hair was midnight black like lz's but with wy's playful curls. he had wy's ears and little constellation of moles on his skin. he even had lz's light eyes.

lqr wouldnt let go of his grandnephew that lan huan had to bargain with his uncle to be able to hold his nephew. after a-yuan could walk, they went to visit lotus pier. the toddler /adored/ jiang cheng, laughing and squealing loudly in his arms. he loved getting head pats by jyl and kept demanding attention from mdm yu by pulling on her skirt or hugging her leg and crawling into her lap. he wasnt so fond of jfm, however, only looking away in disinterest or reaching out his hands to his parents. for once jfm felt left out in his family.

wangxian wracked their brain trying to stop the sunshot campaign from happening, but wrh's power ran deeper than they thought and they could only postpone it, not prevent it completely. the wens attacked lotus pier first, burning it to the ground and killing jc's parents. the jiang siblings ran to cr, but it only served to bring the wen dogs sniffing at cr's door.

wy is talented in cultivation, but having sworn off resentful energy and having to protect the sect's children as well as her own, she could only do so much while her husband was taken to the nightless city.

lwj eventually managed to escape and jc with the help from qinghe nie managed to gather the survivors of his sect. they all went to war and the sun was finally shot. lwj came home to wy just in time to tell him they were expecting a daughter.

this time there was no yin hufu for jgs to fight over, just the remnants of the wen sect. knowing llj would abuse the war prisoners, lwj spoke up and ppl listened when he proposed the wen remnants go to qinghe for trials. civilians are left to themselves while criminals are sent to labor. the resouces belonging to the wen sect was distributed to other sects both big and small depending on how much casualty they suffered under wrh.

jzx fell in love with jyl during the war and got married as soon as it was over. jin ling was born not too long after a-yuan's little sister lan yuyan. together jyl and jzx forced llj to give out resources for jc to rebuild his sect.

3zun still became sworn brothers and wangxian didnt exactly know when jgy got married, so he still married qin su. jgs had jgy kill nmj, and when jgy wont agree to spy on gusulan he had another one sent. lwj sent nmj a missive not to trust jgy with calming and avoided his death.

it took a couple years, but when jgs thought he was ready he even imprisoned jzx and his family in koi tower, depriving them of any communications and arrested disciples that are loyal to jzx.

llj was gearing up to war once again, this time against everyone else. jgs had, unbeknowst of everyone, gotten the note on core melting hand technique and had xue yang learn it.

wangxian reached out to nhs, trying to find a way to kill jgs. realizing that jgs was fully prepared to kill lxc, jgy turned his sights over to jzx, admitting his faults and teaming up to kill jgs. jgs had jzxun attack qinghe, but it was easily defended against. xue yang led the troop against cloud recesses.

xy aimed at the main lan family and injured a-yuan. in a desperate attempt to save his family, lwj jumped out and xy destroyed his golden core. meanwhile, he still sent spiritual energy towards saving his son. distracted by his victim, wy managed to cut xy's head off. back in llj, jgy along with jzxuan and jc attacked jgs's forces in koi tower. jc beheaded jgs and with that this new war was over.

thanks to lwj, lan yuan was fine and his injury was stabilized. however the destruction of lwj's golden core not only take away his cultivation but also mangled his meridians. wy could do nothing but weep with her daughter in her lap while lxc and lqr played healing for her husband.

lwj died in his sleep that night, finally exhaling his last painful breath while wy fell asleep from crying. his funeral along with those fallen during the attack was held a few days after. wy didnt look like herself in the mourning clothes she wore along with the children.

wy was inconsolable and kept apologizing the the children. especially a-yuan. fate had been so cruel on him that he couldnt grown up with two parents twice over. it seemed that in this life too he would be named sizhui. wy refused to move and kept sigil by lwj's coffin.

suddenly su minshan came out of nowhere and started yelling at her. calling her a jinx and an unlucky bitch that shouldve prevented her husband from dying. lqr yelled at him to leave. two and a half year old lan yuyan tried to shoo him away, punching at his knees. but the adult man just kicked the little girl away. jc couldnt stay silent anymore and wrapped zidian around sms's neck and pulled, making sure his neck broke when hitting the floor.

wy didnt say anything. she just took her crying daughter and left. after making sure lan yuyan is alright, wy locked herself in her room for 3 weeks. she didnt even open the door when her kids come knocking and begging.

it broke lxc's heart to see once again two children waiting on their mother's door. he asked jyl for help in persuading wy to come out. when they came in, wy looked like a ghost still in her white mourning robes with a whole head of white hair and her eyes so weary from weeping. she fainted soon after opening the door.

they checked on her only to find out she was 2 months pregnant. the tears start anew for wy and jyl asked lxc to take wy back to lotus pier so she can recuperate with her sworn siblings. lxc and lqr reluctantly agreed and wy came with jyl and jc back to lotus pier. jzxuan became the new sect leader and severely punished jgy along with his father's men while his wife and son stayed in yunmeng.

wy made a promise with lwj once to never let their children be orphans like they were. even if only for her kids, wy tried her best to get better. she stood out in her white mourning robes in lotus pier. wy was constantly surrounded by kids, all wanting her attention. she ate jyl food with the kids and watched jc teach her kids and jin ling how to swim. after a couple months, her dark hair came back and she got healthier. her second son lan shun was born in the middle of the hot yunmeng summer in lotus pier.

after lan shun turned 1, they came back to cloud recesses. wy had some time to accept her loss, but kept thinking abt lwj. after hearing from other lan disciples, lan yuan asked granduncle to teach him inquiry. the first time lwj responded to a-yuan's guqin strings, wy broke down on her knees. wy has been wearing lwj's headband on her forearm, so lwj attached parts of his soul in it. some of it went to bichen, which lan yuan inherited. some went to lan yuyan who inherited wangji guqin. lan shun never knew his father so he didnt want anything belonging to lwj.

for now, wy had to be content with inquires to lwj. for now they had to be content with waiting for each other on the other side.

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nicketynic · 3 years

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Prompt: Jon Snow falls in love with Sansa Rivers, Brynden's bastard.

Catelyn Tully Stark had never forgotten the strange, painful parallel of watching her uncle walking through Riverrun’s gates, her lord father’s bones in tow, cradling a babe bearing his look, imagining it eerily similar to Eddard’s return to Winterfell, the return that brought his bastard son inside the walls of his ancestral seat before his trueborn heir had ever graced them.

Her feelings for Jon Snow aside, Sansa Rivers was her dear uncle’s only child, bastard-born or not, beloved enough to be brought with him to RIverrun as he took up regency for Edmure. Through letters, Catelyn watched her grow, transitioning from sweet, spirited girl to kind, dutiful young woman, thoughtful and grateful toward every bit of advice Catelyn offered.

By twelve, Sansa had stepped so naturally into the role of Riverrun’s surrogate lady, just as Cately had before her, and remained so at sixteen when Robb’s march south saw armies and lords aplenty descend on the castle. Then Ned was gone, and sweet Sansa was a steady source of comfort and support in a sea of grief and loss. How could she not love this wonderful, giving girl, everything she would have wanted in another daughter if the Mother had seen fit, for all she never regretted helping Ned secure his bloodline, for all that Arya was a willful, spirited, irreplaceable gift?

Ned was lost to her, and a solemn specter of his likeness stood stalwart at their son’s side. While loss and his unwavering loyalty toward Robb had eaten away at the bitterness toward the bastard, nothing could stop her hackles from rising the first time she saw Snow’s eyes land on Sansa, widening with surprise and interest. So intent was she on diverting that attention, she nearly missed when Sansa began to return his gazes, until she was as moon-eyed as the boy. It was only the march into the Westerlands that relieved Catelyn’s vexation with the whole affair, and as the war raged on and months became a year, then two, she became certain the infatuation had long passed.

Now, Jon Snow was a Stark-born bastard of a different variety, no longer a political unknown but the last scion of a dead dynasty, poised to have his pick between several noble seats. Some argued Dragonstone was his right so long as he let the name Targaryen die, Robb stood eager to see him landed and titled in the north, and Uncle Brynden himself had mused whether Harrenhal would be an acceptable compromise (granted to House Tully by way of Whent blood), if only to keep his daughter close by.

Catelyn was wrong that time and distance would kill the attraction between Snow and Rivers, for all that Sansa had never spoken of or inquired about him within her hearing. Sansa herself had presented her desire for Jon Snow’s hand in marriage, and Brynden was showing no signs of refusing. Feeling the weight of his niece’s gaze upon him, Brynden raised his head, bushy silver brows over Tully blue arching expectantly.

Catelyn hesitated for a moment, straightening subconsciously in her chair before she spoke. “Uncle, are you certain this is the decision you wish to make? The boy has prospects now, but the Targaryen legacy is liable to haunt him for the rest of his days. His children as well. Is it wise to subject Sansa to that?”

Brynden studied her for a long moment, deep wells of Tully blue full of something impossibly sad and wise. “Trust me when I say, little Cat, there can be no better judge of that girl’s happiness than Sansa herself. Her life’s already been hardship enough since the day I gave her the name ‘Rivers.’”

For the first time since his fateful decision, Brynden Tully was fully certain he had made the right choice when he plucked up a little red-haired waif from obscurity all those years ago, Tully auburn a beacon to draw his eye among a group of war orphans at Fairmarket’s motherhouse. All the evidence he needed was the soft, besotted look in Sansa’s eyes, the confidence in the way she spoke of Jon Snow’s love being true. That was all he could have possibly wished for the child who held his heart even if she wasn’t born of his body, much like the clever Cat sitting nearby.

Let it never be said that the Blackfish of Riverrun didn’t look after his own.

Contrary to their elders’ assumptions, Sansa Rivers and Jon Snow hadn’t been blinded from the hardships of their world by infatuation or innocence, and had long since forged their own path ahead together.

This day, Jon sat quietly in the shadow of several large old elms in Riverrun’s godswood. His eyes were closed, whether in prayer or sleep his audience was uncertain, only that he paid her approach no notice until he felt the light pressure of her hand on his shoulder, warm breath tickling against his skin with a whisper in his ear.

“Perhaps it is improper to interrupt a man in such serious contemplation, but the solemnity on your face should be far removed from the beauty of this day.”

He jumped at the initial touch, glowering. Sansa allowed herself a few giggles at his disgruntled expression, leaning against his shoulder and letting her lips tease against the sensitive place below his ear.

Jon looked at her sharply, and she responded with a soft reassurance and a firmer kiss to his neck. “I circled this clever spot you found from every direction I could conceive of, love. I only saw you since I knew where to look. We’re safe.”

Jon relaxed, turning in her arms to shift her closer, Sansa settling comfortably in his lap. She circled her arms around his neck, drawing his mouth to hers in a lingering, adoring kiss. She drew back at the need for air, giving him a cheeky smile. “Husband.”

“Wife.”

For weeks, Sansa had felt the weight of eyes on her. Over the years of men coming and going from Riverrun, she had become accustomed to the hard, lustful stares thrown her way, unabashed in their audacity given she was bastard-born with no noble title to protect her modesty. The only thing that kept their stares as only stares, their hands from never daring to pinch or grope, rip or bruise, was the power of her father and cousin’s affection for her. Nothing more, certainly not through any virtue of her own, as barbed, gossiping tongues saw fit to remind her every season she was forced to play host to the ladies and daughters of Cousin Edmure’s bannermen.

When she finally distracted herself enough for the chaos of preparing for war, she was shocked to discover the owner of these particular eyes. King Robb’s bastard half-brother, taciturn, solemn Jon Snow. A man who seemed too serious, too stoic, too devoted, for any woman to draw his eye away from his intense focus on duty. She puzzled over his interest, and several times she felt the burn of his gaze, she turned around to seek the source. More often than not, his expression was carefully composed into a sullen frown, and he was quick to turn away, but once or twice, she caught him unguarded.

His expression naked and open, wistful yearning laid bare for her to see, unique to the entitled vulgarity she’d reluctantly grown used to over time. His was a quiet longing, appreciative and warm every time his eyes landed on her. Still he wouldn’t approach, not even as she began to return lingering looks of her own, not even when her smiles grew soft and inviting. He never came.

So she went to him herself.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, my lord. Please tell me if my presence is unwelcome, and I’ll leave you be.”

“Your presence could never be unwelcome, my lady. And I know we’ve discussed that I’m no lord. Please, call me Jon.”

“Then you should remember I’m no lady, but I know from experience you’ll demure. So be it.” She smiled, slow and enigmatic. “Jon.” She drew his name out, testing out the sound, and Jon could have died from shame at the flash of heat it caused him.

“Jon,” the sound of her voice, soft, husky, and alluring, was intoxicating, his name slipping from her tongue sweet as honey. “Jon, I’ve felt your eyes on me for weeks. Always watching me. Never approaching, Why? Am I wrong”

He couldn’t remember a time when his tongue had ever felt so thick and at a loss for words. “N-no, you’re not wrong.”

“Do you want me, Jon?”

She’d bewitched him, surely, how else could he justify actually giving voice to his next words? “Yes,” he choked out, voice hoarse. “Gods help me, do I ever.”

Her beautiful face hardened, something in her eyes growing cold. “So I’ve often seen, more through the years than I care to count. You’ve been kind, Jon. Courteous to a fault. Do you feel you have more a right to me because you haven’t resorted to slobbering and pawing?”

“No!” Jon went milk-pale, horrified at the very implication. “I would never dishonor you! I was never going to tell you, I swear it. Never belittle your worth with a delusion that I’d have any hope of your hand.”

“Hand?” In her confusion, something softened, peering at him with a puzzled, considering expression. “You mean to wed?”

Jon looked ill at the very idea of continuing to discuss his feelings, but he resolved to finish if only she could feel some measure of safety in his presence again. “A boy’s dream, my lady. I know that. I would never hurt you. Please believe me.”

“Oh, Jon.” She drew closer, and closer still, panic rising in him as he saw faint tears glistening in her eyes. “I do. I so wished I was right, that what I saw in you was true. You just proved that.”

Hands on his shoulders, lips a breath away from his, Jon trembled, fists clenched at his sides to keep from touching her. “I won’t dishonor you,” he ground out.

“Then wed me. But don’t leave me without knowing your love.”

“You can’t mean-”

“But i do. You return to war in a few days.”

“And you want to make yourself a landless bastard’s widow?”

“The hope is that I don’t become a widow at all. But where’s the stigma in being a bastard’s widow when I’m a bastard myself? I adore you for your honor, Jon Snow, but it’s not your honor I want to know before you ride into battle.”

“Gods help me. Gods help us both.”

It was the gods he prayed to save them that they wed themselves before later that night, kneeling before the sad-faced weirwood, then bedding down beneath its red-dripped branches.

He kissed his love with the virility of youth, with the guilty passion and love he’d been harboring. They separated only before the need for breath became too great. He exhaled softly, not daring to open his eyes as deft fingers threaded through his dark hair to pull him into another kiss. His arms tightening around her, his hands grew restless, aching to explore further. Desire raged through him in a sudden storm of longing, tantalizing him to the point of desperation.

He groaned, a low rumble resounding through his chest. At the sudden sound, they pulled away, each regarding the other with shy, darkened eyes.

It was Jon who broke through the tentative silence. “I cannot leave you with child, Sansa,” he whispered softly, touching his hand to her cheek.

She leaned into the touch, gently sighing at the contact. “There are ways around it, love, for all that I would love to have that piece of you with me.”

“I want that as well. Someday.”

“Then come back to me.”

Jon shifted closer, dipping his head to press his lips to her ear. “Always, so long as I am breathing.” He kissed her again, allowing his lips to linger for just a moment before descending in a trail of soft kisses down her jaw and neckline. Sansa responded with a breathless gasp, her hands working up into the folds of his tunic to meet bare skin. He groaned as she touched him, aiding her in allowing the garment to fall away from his shoulders. Drawing her into his embrace, her body molded into his as he pressed close. She gazed down at him, brushing heavy hair away from his eyes, tracing her fingers along the strong features of his face. The intensity of his dark gaze followed her every movement. “Love me, Jon. Please?”

He did not hesitate, his hands beginning to stroke and caress, his mouth seeking hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. Locked in a lover’s embrace, he pressed her back against the ground, the soft earth and the fragrant grasses of the garden floor cushioning their fall. Their world faded to the touch of mouth and skin, passion overwhelming every sense but that of each other.

Jon sighed contently as he gave into the moment. “I’ve missed you so very much.”

“I missed you as well. Thank you for keeping your promise.”

He kissed her softly, his eyes so warm and full her heart swelled with feeling. “I promised you always, as long as I breathe. I wasn’t certain you would still want this, knowing I’m not who you thought.”

“Nonsense. Jon Snow, Jon Waters, Jon Blackfyre, it doesn’t matter, as long as you remain Jon at your core. And Jon loves me still.”

“As long as I breathe,” he repeated softly, this time catching her mouth in a deep, soulful kiss. Sansa’s arms twined around his neck as she opened beautifully to his passion, his ardor, his devotion, fingers burying in his hair to drag him impossibly closer.

She pulled back just enough to speak, only a breath’s distance between their lips. “And if my kisses steal your breath away?”

“Then we’ll share it. We did promise to share this life together.”

“Then i can’t wait to share that journey with you.”

#jon x sansa #jonsa #asoiaf #my fic

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

Text

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 4

Thomas X Reader

2306

Summary: Flashbacks and First days.

By: @adventuresintooblivion

[ Nine months before Somme]

“Why are all of the songs you sing happy?” he asked, mouth half full of slimy porridge.

Y/N glanced up from her rations, “What do you mean?”

Thomas shrugged, “You always sing about fighting or beating the odds no matter how bad it seems. Or about how angry everyone is about the war. Why don’t you ever sing anything that’s sad?”

She put her spork down, “You want me to sing a sad song during war?”

He didn’t answer right away, only shoveled a couple more mouthfuls down his gullet. After a swig of stale water he continued.

“I dunno. I feel like we should be allowed to be sad sometimes. Singing all these happy songs feels like we’re pretending that all the bullshit we see everyday isn’t real. Like we didn’t just watch several men lose their legs or that artillery didn’t just rip a man in half.”

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Thomas, I love you, but dear God man I’m eating.”

His heart skipped a beat. This was something he wished more than anything was real. That went beyond the comradery of soldiers. Yet, he schooled his features into something more neutral. Despite the fact that he craved to hear the words again but it was their spontaneity that was precious to him.

Thomas was barely able to scramble together a reply, “I just want to feel again.” He blinked, not exactly sure where the admission had come from. Though he couldn’t take it back now.

Over the next few days he’d catch her humming a melody he didn’t recognize. Some parts she would work over again and again. Others would be there and gone, carried away on the breeze. When she sang it to them for the first time it was after a rough day.

They had lost a handful of people to a tunnel collapse in the northeastern sector and all the hard work they’d done over the past six months was completely scrapped. One of the members of that team had been the youngest in their company. He had a fiance with a baby on the way even if he couldn’t yet grow a full beard.

She’d been perched on a piece of rubble that had fallen from a church. Her voice was clear and perfect as crystal. The song was about a soldier going home to find his wife bleeding on the floor. She’d ended her life to be with him after receiving a call that incorrectly informed her that his company had been massacred.

The men of the 174th wept that night the hardest they had since the war began. All the pent up rage and fear leaking out onto their pillows in the dead of night. For those who couldn’t be silent, they wept with their heads held between their hands in an attempt to muffle the noise. It was the army though and no one ever questioned crying men.

Thomas hadn’t cried. He was more angry about the deaths and couldn’t quite settle down enough to listen to the words. It wasn’t until she’d sung it a second time it had unraveled him. She’d changed the ending. The first time the wife wasn’t saved and the soldier had to move on without her. This time, they lived into their greying years with the knowledge that life was unbearable without the other.

“Why is it the ‘happy’ ending?” she asked him once.

Thomas shrugged, his eyes still swollen. It was one of the few times they were alone and she’d sung it for him. He didn’t mind being the only audience but it had made the unexpected turn in lyrics all the more powerful for him.

Thomas’ voice cracked as he spoke, “Don’t ever sing that in front of Hopper.” He elaborated when she raised her eyebrow, “If you sing a single note of that in front of him he’ll figure out you’re a woman.”

Y/N froze, “How did you know?”

He smirked, “You never bathe with the other men. Your uniform is always too big. You’re almost a head shorter, to the point I’m surprised no one has said anything. And your face does the thing”

“What thing?”

“That soft thing that everyone thinks is cute.”

He swore he imagined it but her cheeks turned a light pink, “Did you just call me cute Shelby?”

He shrugged, “Just keep the singing away from Hopper.”

〜

[Present Day]

Y/N awoke the next morning to the raucous laughter of dozens of men floating up the stairs. With a bewildered groan she checked the small window to her room to find that it was at least past noon at this point. On Saturday.

She cursed to herself as she quickly dressed in trousers. Her leg almost didn’t lift high enough to get inside without pain shooting up her back. With an audible growl she shoved her limp foot through the hole and grabbed her violin case. A passing glance in the mirror told her that her hair was wildly out of control, but if the singing had already started it was too late to fix it now.

Y/N practically hopped down the stairs on one leg. Twinges still assaulted her with every step, but it was better than just hobbling around on a bum leg. Which she’d have to do anyway on level ground.

Upon descending into the bar, she was confronted not by the milling groups she’d seen at lunch time the previous day but a completely packed room. Fully grown men were pressed shoulder to shoulder all staring up towards the front of the bar. A woman’s voice lulled over some lyrics Y/N recognized as a folk song that had become popular again after the war. Nostalgia always popped up in weird places.

With some luck, and her short stature, Y/N squeezed her way close enough to the bar that she had enough elbow room to play. Standing in front of the bar was the woman she’d seen at the opera...and the restaurant. Once she was done with her current song she waved to grab her attention.

Grace’s eyes practically bulged out of her head when she noticed Y/N, “Uh..Y...Yes? Can I help you?”

“Oh, this is weird,” she mumbled to herself. Speaking louder to be heard over the crowd, she lifted her violin case, “Thomas told me I was supposed to help you out on Saturdays. What would you like me to do?”

Grace’s eye’s cast about wildly. “Did he hire you?”

“In a way. Did you need help or…?”

“Yes. Yes. Set up over at that end of the bar. Do you know Black Velvet Band?”

Y/N nodded as she moved. “I know most of the popular songs. But if I don’t know something I can usually figure it out after the first verse as long as it’s nothing weird.”

For the next several hours, they entertained the patrons of the Garrison Pub. Grace could usually sing several songs in a row, but eventually she needed a break and that’s when Y/N would go from a supporting role to the main role. After Grace had rested and filled orders, she would once again relinquish center stage.

The patrons were eating it up, and at one point Y/N had caught sight of Jerimiah. She waved in a small pause in the music and damn near killed the man. He had turned ashen when he’d registered who she was and had begun to sway only to be caught by Danny, who’d stopped by after an errand.

He’d quickly left, returning a couple hours later with almost the half the platoon they’d served with. The bar, already almost at max capacity, was now so overflowing with people that the party had begun to spill onto the streets. Someone had gone home and grabbed a portable skillet and had offered to cook anything people brought him. Soon the smell of grilled meats wafted through the slums of Birmingham. And the Garrison Pub was serving every single one of those thirsty people.

At some point a couple of men had constructed a makeshift stage for the women to perform on and had urged them outside. Now the dancing had started as women came to find their husbands up to their ears in drink and food. Children ran amok, mimicking some of the dances with others finding whatever they could to play with as music brought this part of the city to life.

It wasn’t until the sun had begun to set that someone caught sight of Thomas Shelby and his family approaching the Pub. Word spread quickly, and most continued their revelry even if it was subdued. Finally, Thomas made it to the foot of the stage. Everyone waited with baited breath to hear what the gang leader had to say.

“So, allow you two to play music for one day, and it becomes a feast?”

Y/N finally put down her violin after hours of playing. Her back practically screamed at her to sit down, but this was the first time she’d played to a crowd like this in years. She’d missed it.

So she did what she always did. “That’s what you get for sticking us both up here. Hell, between the two of us I’m pretty sure we could play so well the pearly gates themselves would open for us.”

“After all the shit you’ve pulled?” He raised his eyebrow skeptically. A soft murmur went through the crowd as people shared confused glances. She knew Thomas.

Y/N couldn’t help but grin, “Oh, they couldn’t bear not to have us play for the angels themselves. But here we are instead playing for these hard working men and women, and I think we’ve done a good job filling their hearts with hope again.”

He chuckled, “Fine. Just make sure the Garrison stays busy.”

“As you wish.” Y/N shrugged, her arms complaining as she lifted her violin once again.

Grace stared at her new companion with unveiled wonder, “He lets you talk to him like that?”

Y/N flashed Grace with one of her signature wicked smiles, “We were army buddies.”

“But they don’t allow women to fight.”

“Eh, who says they had to know?”

Grace’s mouth fell open as Y/N started up another song, one that Grace didn’t recognize. But the entirety of the 174th sent up cheers, their glasses raised.

It was a fast paced one that made it hard to sit still. Y/N braced herself before she began to dance on the small stage, tapping her feet in time with the beat as the 174th began to sing. Their voices rose over the general din. There wasn’t much melody in it, but those men sang from somewhere buried deep inside. It was as if the hope that had carried them through the worst days of hell sprang to life to answer the call of music.

At the edge of the crowd in the shroud of darkness, the barest outline of Thomas Shelby could be seen. Even if he didn’t scream the lyrics along with his brothers in arms, he still sang. It was then that Grace understood why Thomas had been so adamant about there being no music in his pub.

If Grace wanted to truly understand Thomas Shelby she’d have to learn about him not as the gang leader, but as the man who survived the worst part of human history. Who was he before and what had happened with this woman that had changed his life forever? It was a way out, another option that didn’t rely on giving herself to the enemy. Holding onto that hope, Grace closed her eyes and tried to decipher the jumbled lyrics.

〜

Finally the Garrison Pub closed. Grace sat slumped against a table as Harry mopped the floor. Y/N curled up on one of the few benches in the corner. After everything was well and tidied up, Grace got up to leave.

“You coming?” she asked.

Y/N shook her head, “Actually I’m staying upstairs.”

Grace’s brow furrowed, “But...why? I mean your dress was lovely, and you were playing in one of the most expensive places in town. Can’t you afford a better place?”

“This suits me just fine. Besides, you of all people should know that a pretty dress is just a costume; at the end of the day it doesn’t mean nothing.”

Grace froze, “What do you mean?”

Y/N fixed Grace with a tired gaze, “It’s just how it’s always been. You may love rolling around in the dirt, but a bath and pretty dress later no one would ever know.”

She let out a deep sigh of relief but just as she was about to leave Y/N stopped her once more, “Hey, since you’ve been in town longer do you know any good music halls? Operas? Theatres? I’m looking for work that isn’t just on Saturdays”

“Oh, I can’t stand Opera so I wouldn’t know about that. But I think there’s a new place opening up on the other side of the river.” Grace waved dismissively then shut and locked the door behind her.

Y/N slowly stood and finally let herself limp over to the bar and poured herself a drink. She mulled over the possibilities of why the hell Grace was at the opera if she hated it and wasn’t dragged there by family. So far none of the possibilities looked good and it was getting to the point she’d have to tell somebody.

The wad of money Thomas had shoved at her still burned a hole in her pocket; she hadn’t gotten a chance to return it today. A goal for tomorrow then.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy #peaky blinders imagine #shelbys at somme #adventuresintooblivion

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aprito · 3 years

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hello <3 since i got these asks at the same time i decided to combine my thoughts on them in this post. yet another annoying sjw essay from yours truly on this blog

before i get into these i think i need to preface why im like. i guess overly hyperfocused on a certain unproblematic base (same age au / platonic canon) for them and avoid the ped0philic content like the plague lol

tw for pedophilia ment, rape ment if that makes you squicky. ALSO THIS IS LONG AND RAMBLY

as i’ve mentioned a couple times already, ive been into the ship since i was 12, back when it was very very common to not only post untagged (nsfw) canonverse content of the two in writing and in drawing but also non con and the like, so you can imagine how bad my first impression online was. thinking back on it ...as a child i found it disturbing but didnt really register how problematic it really was?? (i know, but i also lived in the middle of nowhere and had no one explain this to me)

skip to 2014 aka me coming back to naruto at 17ish and i had kinda become hyper aware of the fact that there was an increasing amount of people online who had come forward with explaining how fictional problematic content, mostly pedophilia, had been used to groom them into starting relationships with adullts. it was also a time where a lot of people didnt believe these victims, not registering how common it was for minors to be online friends with adults who had no boundaries and no qualms exposing them such content. not gonna get into my personal life here but i was lucky to not having gone through this myself. like... it kinda was my first time truly realising how fiction can EASILY be used to manipulate others irl (and yes i will not argue this, if you dont think fictional media can form and manipulate people’s opinions on attitudes, countries, cultures and virtues, pick up a book about the effects of propaganda media at least once please)

i, being young, still liking the dynamic but not really the romance, would point this out here and there in the fandom and get into fights with grown adults in their mid 20s who assumed i automatically hated the ship(s) and tried to restrict their freedom of speech or whatever, heard everything from the “age of consent doesnt exist in naruto” to the “sasori looks like a child what does it matter” despite people clearly playing on him being older and experienced. it made me so upset that people were just consuming all this content uncritically and exposing children to it tbh?? not really just sos but a lot of minor/adult ships in naruto in general. and thats where i sat down and thought, i do not want to be a grown adult talking down to children that point out how unsafe the fandom is. theyre absolutely right in drawing these boundaries and calling out adults who defend the uncritical consumption and creation of this content. i do not want to consume or create content that predators could use to groom minors, and i absolutely do want to let younger people in fandom know that i am respecting their comfort zones and want them to have a safe and fun experience. after all, naruto is not an adult show and i think a lot of people forget that!!!! i am not perfect in that regard but its something that i, at the age of 23, am very passionate about and strive towards to.

and i guess thats where same age au was born for me and i have been sticking to it ever since.

so finally we can move to the first question

aside from the fact that we both dont like canon sos, i dont think it would work out even if i wasnt prejudiced to it anyways. in all honesty, 35 year old canon sasori is not a redeemable character to me, given the fact that he’s easily amongst the cruelest villains in naruto (torturing and killing and taxiderming people for his own fun personal gain, never for a goal that served anyone but himself. how do you redeem having over 300 corpses in your backpack that you felt absolutely no remorse for killing). sasori was legit one of the only cruel villains that didnt had someone else pull the strings, which sends a clear message on kishi’s part, who absolutely loves to redeem villains LOL.

being that old, he obviously had already been very manifested in what he believed in, even if it was shakey, to the point where the first crack in that world view (sakura and chiyo protecting each other) immediately had him give up on his life all together. that, in my opinion, is not a man who’s going to know what healthy relationships would look like, regardless of it being romantic or not. 35 year old sasori to me has the same appeal as an expired can of tuna and he’s probably very happy 6 feet under. he’s supposed to be a failed gaara in that sense that he had no one to look out for him and therefore was never going to experience anything but a bad ending in life. its fine that hes dead honestly, it wraps up his short character development the best IMO.

adding to that, seriously, sakura was obviously interested in knowing why he was that way, and called him out for being seriously fucked in the head, but it’s weird to me that people assume she had any interest in actively rehabilitating him, let alone starting a serious romantic relationship with him. sakura who’s not only very, uhm, immature and straight forward when it comes to her romantic viewpoints also, as a big bootlicker, wouldnt soil her standing in the village by starting anything with a disgraced and far too gone criminal like sasori. shipping that version of sasori with sakura intimately is still going to set her up for a huge power imbalance that would be difficult to handle imo, even if she was the one in the fight ultimately exerting her power over him. i would still look at it and think damn she deserves better than having to play therapist for man like that lol.

additionally, even if you ignored all of this, you cant really ignore that sasori had already known her as a child, and that had been his first and most impactful impression of her. i dont think that sasori would look at 35 year old sakura and see her as a grown woman and not the little green girl she was in the fight. plus, you easily fall into predatory comparison territory between the “childish” and “womanly” and i have seen way too often in fic just being boiled down to her now being fuckable. a lot of of ships do this and i would just like to remind yall thats it not normal for adults to want to start relationships with children they have seen grown up or known as a child when they themselves were fully grown adults. therefore, maybe if sakura hadnt met sasori before it would be less of a problem? but that also obviously defeats the point of the dynamic and the reason he died in the first place. so yeah, it sounds kind of doomed especially if you were to make it romantic.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE SECOND QUESTION

let me preface this that im not fundamentally against age gaps, even if im not super interested in it. after all, colorblind had a 5 yr age gap (with sakura being 21), even if, say, i wrote similar fics today i probably would make it smaller lol. i think it can be handled well if both parties have enough life experience to deal with it, and the author is cautious of where the age gap starts, i think a 10+ year age gap would be fine in a scenario where the younger party (i guess sakura) was at least 25-27ish, meaning she has completed most of her most formative life stages and probably had been in relationships before, meaning she would be able to handle it without having to fear a huge power imbalance. the older the younger party is the less the age gap is going to matter tbh .TsukiHoshino and AngelOfDeath10 both handle age gaps in their fics really well imo, so i do not mind reading about them.

unfortunately, a lot of people in this fandom think making sakura barely "”””legal””””” (18, not even 20 which is hilarious to me because the source material is obviously japanese) because they both cannot stand her being past her “prime years” of being young fertile and fuckable to much older men as well as thinking a 20 year old is automatically old enough to handle that type of relationship. ive seen a lot of unironic takes that believe it will absolve them of callout posts if they throw around age of consent and “shes 18 now suckers!!!” enough lmfao. absolutely hilarious. aging a minor up without aging the adult down seriously reeks of predatory “cant wait until youre 18″ narratives and thats why i find it similarly disturbing as straight up pedo shipping.

ultimately, sasosaku is and will always be a inherently problematic ship in canon, which is why i think it should always be handled a little more responsibly in fandom spaces, ignoring or outright excusing the main problem factor, which is sasori, isnt going to convince anyone that the dynamic in itself is well written and interesting enough to explore in aus, like giving sasori the redemption most of us wanted him to have by aging him down to a point in time where he was still realistically going to allow being positively influenced, similar to gaara.

so really, what i think is well handled age gap and how most people handle age gap in the naruto fandom are two different worlds at times lol

tl;dr

canon shippers have never been anything but gross when i was younger and i didnt wanna be like that, even if youre “smart”enough to differenate, actual creeps dont really care and might use your content to blur the lines, sasori isnt rly redeemable so romantic canonverse realistically wouldnt make much sense and is still iffy, age gaps are fine if they are handled well, but given that the dynamic doesnt really need the age gap to still work im not that invested on making that an essential part of my shipping experience.

thank you for reading and hope this makes sense!

#nonitxt #meta #another hot take from me #but seriously if you're offended over these #unfollow me lol idc #defending predatory content is not a hill im gonna die on in this life

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sunlightdances · 4 years

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Public Relations (Bucky x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Prompt: “I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability” Author’s Note: Written for @captain-kelli’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge! Congrats, Kelli, and thank you for hosting! Takes place post-Endgame, but with some adjustments to canon (Tony and Nat are alive, Steve stayed). This has a lot more dialogue than I initially planned! Hope it’s not too choppy. My love of commas is also evident in this piece. *shrug emoji* Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky, Marvel, or any other related characters or events. The other details of the plot are mine, including the characterization of the “reader”. Please don’t post my work on any other sites without my permission! If you liked what you read, please consider reblogging to help my work be seen. I would love you forever!

Let’s clear one thing up straight away: Bucky Barnes is not an asshole. He has a chip on his shoulder, sure, and it’s also true that he can be grumpy from time to time.

But can you blame him, really?

His life after age 26 has been one giant shit show that he’s just starting to get back on track, so he thinks the world at large could forgive him if he’s not super nice to the reporter hanging around outside the coffee shop or if his resting face sometimes looks like he wants to punch someone.

Still - he’s working on it. Trying to appear a little softer around the edges, trying to remember how to be the person he once was, not because he thinks it’s healthy to try to go back to that time, but because that’s the last time he actually remembers liking himself.

But, again, he’s not an asshole. Or, he tries really hard not to be. A fact he has to keep reminding his friends of (and he uses that word loosely, sometimes), especially when you’re around.

Everything just comes out of his mouth wrong when you’re there.

Probably because you’re around all the time, and you’re smart, and funny, and pretty, and-- nope. He’s not going there. Because reminding himself all the reasons why he likes you just makes him feel more guilty about the way he acts around you. He’s just too chickenshit to admit that he likes you, and ends up being a dick.

As soon as he walks into the Tower, you’re there.

After Thanos, the Avengers returned to New York City. There’s not much left of the Compound upstate to live in right now until the rebuild is done, and he’d been thinking about Brooklyn anyway. Manhattan is different, but he feels better in the city. He thinks the rest of the team likes it here too - it reminds them of the old days, or whatever.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you greet him coolly, matching his stride as he heads towards the elevator. “There’s a meeting in fifteen minutes in the main conference room.”

Bucky makes a noise of acknowledgement, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the tenth floor. “Do I have a choice to attend?”

“No you do not.”

“Great.”

He thinks you’re trying not to smile. He grinds his teeth.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice comes through the overhead speaker. “Captain Rogers requests that you, and I quote, don’t even think about it.”

You snort, and Bucky rolls his eyes. “Punk,” he whispers. “Thanks, FRIDAY. Tell Captain Rogers I said, and I quote, to shove it--”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” you interrupt, “Thank you so much.”

The few remaining minutes in the elevator are in silence, and you push your way out of the elevator before he can even take a step when it stops. Bucky follows you reluctantly to the conference room where some of the rest of the team is waiting.

Nat looks barely awake (she has trouble sleeping after literally coming back from the dead when Steve returned the stones, what a shocker), Sam is spinning in his chair, and Steve is patiently listening to Peter prattle on about some project he’s working on for biology.

“We’re just waiting on Tony, Bruce, and Scott,” you say, heading towards the head of the table. “Wanda is on a mission with Clint, and Thor is off world. No word from Carol in a few days, either.”

Steve waves you off. “Don’t worry about it. We can fill them in later.”

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Wait, this is your meeting?” He asks you. “What was the point of the AI-assisted lecture from you--” he pointedly glares at Steve.

“Because I knew you’d try to get out of it, so I asked for some help.” You smile sweetly at him.

The rest of the team files in over the next few minutes, and Bucky watches as you shuffle through a few papers before turning on the overhead projector. He has to admit, while he absolutely despises public relations, he has a lot of respect for what you do.

He knows it’s not easy wrangling Tony’s ambitions plus whatever manic situations the team get themselves in on a daily basis. Trying to do press for the Avengers is probably akin to wrangling cats, he supposes.

“So,” you clap your hands together, “the event at Children’s Hospital is in two weeks. Can we please, please avoid any earth-threatening situations that might take precedence over this? We missed it the last few years, obviously, so we need to get out there and make some kids happy.”

A murmured agreement goes throughout the room, and Bucky tips back in his chair, counting down the minutes until he can go literally anywhere else. It’s not you, really. It’s the idea of public appearances. He hates them. People still think of him based on who he was, not who he is now. Despite the fact that Steve and the rest of the team have publicly vouched for him and are working on clearing his name, he sees how people look at him.

You’re tied to that feeling, even though he knows that isn’t fair. He has a hard time separating you from your job.

“The next thing -- and I don’t want to hear about it --” You look around, eyes landing on him meaningfully, “-- there’s a magazine feature for the anniversary of the Battle of New York.”

“Well, that’s me off the hook,” Bucky says flippantly, grinning smugly at Sam, who high fives him.

“No, it absolutely doesn’t,” you argue.

“I wasn’t there, in case you forgot.”

You glare. “Thank you for the reminder.”

“Guys--” Steve tries to interrupt.

“You have to participate, because this article is about the team and how it’s grown since the inception of the Avengers.” You say, almost sounding bored. Probably because you and Bucky have this argument at least once a week.

“Bucky, it’s an hour.” Steve says gently, trying to barter.

“Whatever.” Bucky grumbles, “You know what they’re going to ask,” he says, suddenly angry. “Where was the elusive Winter Soldier during the Battle of New York? Do I remember it happening, or was I in the middle of being frozen or wiped for the thousandth time?”

You shift your weight, looking down at the floor. He feels guilty for a half second. “I won’t let them ask.”

His heart thuds weirdly in his chest at how earnest you sound, but he just can’t help himself, apparently. “Because you’re so sure they’re going to listen to you.”

Hurt flashes across your face so quickly he thinks he’s imagined it, but he knows he hasn’t. Again - he’s not usually an asshole. He still hates himself for it, though.

“Alright, we’re done here.” You say quietly, gathering your paperwork. “I’ll email you all the details.”

Sam elbows him, and across the table, Steve is giving Bucky a look that he’s come to associate with a lecture.

He sighs and rolls his eyes before getting up and heading out of the room, his friends at his heels.

“Wow, a five minute meeting,” Sam is saying, sarcastically. “Gotta be a new record, don’t you think, Rogers?”

Bucky’s new plan is to ignore Sam at all costs. It’s not a plan he thinks is going to work out in his favor, but it’s what he’s sticking with.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

“Are you a mind reader?” Bucky asks, hitting the button in the elevator for the residential floors.

“It’s two events, Buck.” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can handle it.”

“Yeah? Why don’t I let you field the questions I normally get, and we’ll see how you like it.”

“I’m not doubting you. I just don’t understand why you always have to take it out on her.” Steve’s voice is so disappointed, Bucky almost wants to laugh. When his best friend turned into such a mother hen, he’ll never know.

“Don’t be late!” Sam calls as Bucky gets off on his floor, leaving the other men in the elevator.

Flipping him off over his shoulder, he hears Sam’s chuckle and Steve’s sigh before the doors close, and finally he’s alone with his thoughts.

Turns out the interview happens before the hospital visit.

Bucky is in an uncomfortable chair, a reporter across from him, and you behind the reporter, fidgeting slightly. He feels almost relieved that you seem to be as nervous as he is.

“Mr. Barnes,” the reporter begins, a smile Bucky already hates on his face.

“It’s Sergeant.” You say quietly from behind him, and Bucky meets your eyes briefly, seeing the resolve there.

“Of course.” The reporter says smoothly, offering another smile to Bucky. “Sergeant Barnes, you weren’t in New York for the Chitauri invasion, were you.”

“No.”

If the reporter thought he’d elaborate, he doesn’t let on. Bucky saw these questions coming a mile away, and isn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of saying something he’ll regret. Well, he won’t regret it. But it’ll be a pain in the ass for everyone if he can’t keep his cool.

“This was the first official Avengers event. Do you remember hearing about it?”

Bucky wants to laugh. “Do I remember-- no. I don’t think I was awake for much of 2012.” You fidget again, shifting your weight, and Bucky sighs, grinding his teeth. “I’ve been fully briefed on the invasion and know that what the Avengers did that day saved the world.”

The reporter looks at him for a long moment before shifting the papers on his lap around a bit. “The Avengers have changed a lot in all those years since that first mission. Can you tell me a bit more about your role with the team?”

Bucky relaxes a bit. This is the part he prepped for, the part he could recite in his sleep if he had to. Whatever instinct he had back in the day that allowed him to lead a unit and report to his CO is still there, especially for questions like this. “I work mainly with Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson to coordinate missions and do strategic planning. Recon and research are my main areas of focus, but I go on missions too if needed as backup, or if it’s an all hands on deck situation.”

“So you’re not handling any weapons?”

Bucky blinks. Over the reporter’s shoulder, you frown.

“All Avengers team members undergo weapons training.”

“During the War, you were a sniper with the 107th, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you’d say that you’re pretty proficient with a gun?”

Your eyes are flashing now. “I’m sorry - none of this was on the list of pre-approved questions.” You interrupt, and the reporter holds up a hand to stop you, causing you to make an affronted face.

Bucky would laugh if he wasn’t feeling so sick at this turn of questioning. Every time. No matter who they vet, no matter how many times reporters insist they aren’t trying to catch him in a question he can’t or doesn’t want to answer… this is why he hates interviews.

“I’m just saying -- you’re one of the world’s most accomplished assassins. I guess I wanted to know why you’re doing research and recon when you could be on the front lines with the team? Are they worried you’ll have a setback?”

Bucky barks out a laugh.

You start, taking a few steps forward. “That’s enough. We’re done here.”

Bucky’s already standing, pulling out the chair from behind him as you come around to follow him out, until the reporter stops you, a hand firm on your elbow. You freeze, and Bucky’s eyes narrow on the point of contact, an unfamiliar feeling surging through him.

“Do you know who I work for?” The reporter hisses. “You told me I’d have a half hour.”

“That was before I knew you were going to ask questions that have nothing to do with your article.” You reply, face darkening when he still hasn’t let go.

Bucky waits, waits for one more sign that you’re uncomfortable before he steps in.

“If you ever want to get another high profile piece done on your team you’ll let me finish here.” He threatens, hand tightening.

You sigh, almost looking bored, and in one swift move, you’ve shifted enough of your weight to turn, pulled the elbow he was holding out of his grasp, and driven it into his ribs, simultaneously kneeing him in the groin.

Bucky’s eyebrows raise, and you look at him, rolling your eyes. “What?”

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he says, letting a smile slip out so you know he’s kidding.

The reporter is doubled over, still making threats, but neither of you pay him much attention as you walk out the double doors of the conference room in the unfamiliar magazine office, heading towards the lobby.

In the car that’s waiting for you outside, Bucky watches you carefully as you roll your shoulders a bit, clearly smarting from the move you pulled back there.

“If I would have known you could do that, I would have been a little nicer,” he teases, but there’s an undercurrent of truth to his words. Not that he thought he’d ever piss you off enough for you to hurt him, but that he wishes he was nicer to you in general.

You glance at him, face neutral. “It wasn’t that hard. Everyone who works for the Avengers goes through basic self defense training, and I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability.”

Bucky nods. “Still. Thank you, by the way, for putting an end to that.”

You sigh, sitting back in your seat, all the fight leaving you. “It’s nothing.” You dig your phone out of your pocket and he watches as your thumbs fly across the screen before you hold it to your ear. “Hi, Steve.” A pause, “No, that’s cancelled. You’re not doing it. Tell Tony I’m cancelling the rest of the interviews. We’ll find some other place to get it published.”

He knows he’s staring and he knows he should stop before you notice, but he just… can’t take his eyes off you. The way you stood up for him, the way you promised him you would even when he was being a total asshole… he has no idea what he did to deserve it, but he’s damn grateful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, your tone softer than he’s ever heard it.”

He shakes his head, looking down at his feet. “No reason. Just-- sorry I’m such a dick sometimes.”

You laugh, and he immediately wants to hear it again.

“I mean it,” he continues, “I don’t mean to be. You don’t deserve it.”

“Bucky.” Your voice is even softer, quiet, and he struggles to think if you’ve ever called him by his name before. You wait until he meets your eyes. “It’s fine. We’re all-- just trying to get through this.” You shrug. “I know it’s not easy for you. Just… Trust me sometimes, will you?”

“I do trust you.” He replies immediately, absolutely sure of himself for once.

It’s your turn to be a little surprised.

He rubs his hands together, a nervous tick he’s never gotten rid of. “I’ve been trying to distance myself because I like you. And that honestly scares the shit out of me. I don’t know--” He stops, frustrated. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. And all I keep thinking about is what could go wrong.” He takes a chance and glances up at you, and the look in your eyes… it’s more than he expected. He feels his heart take off in his chest.

“We’re both so stupid, Bucky.” You tell him, but your words are light. “You should have said something.”

He rolls his eyes. “People always say that. But when has a conversation like this one ever been one that someone wants to have?”

“Maybe when the other person feels the same way?”

Bucky can’t breathe. He never even considered it. It was always a forgone conclusion in his mind. He thinks you’re beautiful, and you never think about him at all. That was always the truth that he thought he knew. “Go out with me.” He blurts, and then feels his face redden. “I mean-- let me-- will you let me take you to dinner?”

The car stops in front of the tower and you’re opening the door before you say anything, making him panic a little. A look over your shoulder, “I’ll see if I can pencil you in somewhere.” You say, and then with a wink, you’re gone, leaving him scrambling to get out of the car to catch up to you.

Before you can, Steve is there, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Not now--”

“Can’t help it. She called a meeting.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, and laughs. “Did she.”

“She must know how much you love them. Come on.”

Upstairs he finds his usual seat next to Sam and across from Steve, but when you gather your notes and meet his eyes, yours absolutely sparkling, he finds he’s not dreading this one at all. He still wants to take you to dinner though, so he might have to try to break his own record.

A 5 minute meeting so he can convince you to go on a date with him? He thinks he can swing it.

End

#captainkelli500fam #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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