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scarlettriot · 3 years

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Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

#mha #bnha #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

Rules: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: You two have one rule when it comes to your hookups: don't fall in love. So what happens when one of you breaks that rule? (based on a anon request that Tumblr ATE UP)

wc: 1.8k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

You're riding him as fast as you can, hands cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples.

"God, this feels so damn good," Suguru hisses beneath you, eyes holding yours captive. His hand moves away from your left breast, sliding down your stomach and resting on your clit.

"Mmm... Su..." you breathe, your hands pressed on either side of him as your hips slam into his. "That's perfect."

Panting, sweating messes. That's what you're both reduced to every Friday evening when he comes through your door and fucks you until you can't walk. And he leaves before sun-up, just as you ask, placing the spare key beneath the mat at the door after he locks up behind himself.

"You gonna cum soon?" Suguru wonders, but not because he wants to rush you. No, you look down in those onyx eyes and see his desire to withhold himself from cumming for just a little bit longer. He wants to feel your walls rock against his length for as long as he can before giving himself up to you. Suguru loves it when you spasm around his cock - and loves it when you squirt even more - but every single time, he cums right after you. It's not because he's weak; no, that's never been the case.

Your pleasure means so much to him. And when he delivers you the best, toe-curling orgasm of the week, you can't help but let yourself indulge in the sensations and ride it out as well.

But the first caveat to your little arrangement was Rule #1: that neither of you could fall in love. The moment one of you catches feelings, it's over. And you were starting to see that it could very well be Suguru that catches feelings, just like all of the ones who came before him.

The only difference between them and this black-haired devil beneath you was that he'd not only lasted a full six months, but he was the only one that could truly satisfy you. You never felt like Suguru used you as a fuck toy or masturbated into your body just for the feeling of a warm cunt surrounding his twitching cock. Your pleasure meant something to him, even if he left before daylight.

Those are your rules, however.

Soft lips bring you back to the present, and a gentle scrape of the teeth against the flesh of your breast makes you moan loudly.

"Suguru, I--"

"Hush, y/n," he mutters, tongue darting out to flick your nipple. "I'm not done with you yet."

Rule #2: no pet names. And he'd stuck to it, only calling you by your name as he fucked you into the couch, or moaned your name as you came around his length.

"Fuck..." you breathe as he sucks on your breasts over and over again, switching between the two at his leisure. And still, he's bouncing you on his dick, making you shudder.

Rule #3: Condoms. Every. Single. Time. And Suguru never came empty-handed.

You'd gotten rid of men the first time they came over without a condom and blamed it on their brain, even though you kept a stash hidden in the bottom cabinet of the bathroom. Those were reserved for hookups with men who weren't on your schedule or for when you used your strap-on; not for "forgetful" people.

"Oh, shit," you breathe. "I think I'm going to cum..." Suguru nods, pressing you against his chest and speeding up his strokes.

God damn, he's intuitive, you think as he brings you to the edge and tips you over like only he can. When you shudder and whimper in his ear, Suguru grunts softly, hips stuttering as he cums right behind you. It's always been like this, you muse, kissing the man deeply and with feeling. It's never going to change.

_____________________________________________________________

Change comes when you first step into the high-end department store, and you spot a silk gold and black tie hanging on a display.

"Suguru would like that," you think aloud, imaging him tying it on just like he takes them off before wrapping them around your h-- You smack your cheek, waking yourself up from the semi-lewd fantasy. You forget all about the occurrence until you pass by the cologne department, and catch a whiff of a familiar scent.

"Miss," you ask, stopping in front of an associate. "What's that scent?" When the lady rattles off some famous cologne brand, you inhale the fresh scent again, suddenly transported to the time you buried your face in Suguru's neck and smelled his hair for the first time. "Thank you," you quickly mutter, and walk away from the counter as fast as you can. Your hands begin to shake as you place the shoes you just bought on, looking at them in the store mirror right as the words 'maybe I should ask Suguru how they look' rolls through your mind.

Your assigned stylist gives you a frightened glance as you growl and take the shoes off, stuffing them back into the box in her hands as you hiss, "I'll take them."

What the hell is happening to me? you wonder as you drive home impatiently, honking at every person who minorly inconveniences you as you speed down the highway. It's not even Friday, but thrice you've thought about asking Suguru to come over and spend time with you. Three times!

You drop your keys onto the counter and sit on your couch, burying your hands in your face as you think, think, think...

Cancel with Ryoma. Cancel with Aizen. Cancel, cancel, cancel...

You shoot off various text messages in a short amount of time, cutting the other five men out of the schedule. You can find others to fit into Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday if you need to. You just need it to be Friday and fast.

"Hello?" the soft voice murmurs when you dial - picked up on the second ring.

"Hey," you whisper nervously. "Um, Monday canceled and I'm feeling a little stressed. Are you free tonight?" Some papers shift around in the background, and you bite your lip as you wait for an answer. It seems like forever until you hear:

"Yeah, let me finish up at the office. I'll be there around seven, alright?"

"Alright." You hang up just as a rush of adrenaline pumps through you, making you shower and dress with vigor. You even put on the new shoes and a nice set of lingerie to match. All for Suguru. You tie a robe over yourself and sit at your computer - it's six-fifteen - to do some work as a distraction. And it proves fruitful because when the doorbell rings, it's seven o'clock.

You straighten your robe and walk to the door, fixing your hair before opening it up and grinning at Suguru, who is still dressed in his slacks and a button-down shirt. The top button is open slightly and his sleeves are bunched up around his elbows, but he offers you his sweet smile as well, stepping into the house with ease.

"You look really nice. Are those new shoes?" he asks, tossing his jacket over the back of the couch and turning back to you.

"Why yes, they are," you sing, walking toward him slowly, leisurely. "Do you like them?"

"Do you care?" Suguru wonders, cupping your chin and kissing your lips gently. "I'm going to take them off of you in a second anyways."

"You have all night to think about that," you tease, tugging him toward your bedroom. "But I'd prefer you let me wear them while you fuck me." Suguru lets out a surprised chuckle, following you into the room and shutting the door behind him.

But even after he's fucked you senseless, you can't sleep. Your earlier thoughts haunt you and a twinge of guilt eats at your brain as you lay against a sleeping Su, head resting on his chest as he holds you close. Even when you see the clock hours change from ten to eleven, to twelve to three am, you can't help but dread the moment when he would awake and leave you alone in the bedroom.

And when six o'clock comes, his watch buzzes on the nightstand, shaking him from his hazy sleep.

Your fingers curl into his side, and Suguru groans, rubbing his eyes.

"You awake?" he whispers into the darkness, but you don't reply, hoping he would just lay there for a few minutes more. "Y/n? Your heart is beating a mile a minute."

"So?"

"So..." He shifts up, petting your hair gently. "I think we need to talk." Your heart plummets into your stomach, and you try not to react sharply, but Suguru clears his throat as he turns on the bedside lamp. You look up into his black eyes, and he blinks in the light, biting his bottom lip at the sight of you fully awake. "Why did you call me over here and not anyone else?" You fumble for an answer, but thinking of a lie just wouldn't do. Not for Suguru. "Aren't you breaking your rule?"

"No," you counter, sitting up straight. "I'm not falling in love with you. Your dick, maybe. But not you." The look in his eyes tells you that he knows you're lying. You hang your head, fighting back an apology.

"We should call this off if that's the case."

"No," you whisper, shaking your head. "I don't want that."

"I don't want that either," Suguru murmurs, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "But what happens if you go back to..." You sigh, looking away. "I'm a jealous lover, y/n. I'm not the kind to play around with."

"And I won't," you reply, head snapping back to meet his eyes. "I..." you exhale shakily. "I couldn't stop thinking about you when I was at Bergdorf's." The admission doesn't shock Suguru, but he does clasp his hands together. "Everything reminded me of you, and I--" You break off, hands shaking. "I'm scared."

"Have you discussed this with anyone else?" The question implies the obvious, and you look to your phone, opening it up and letting him see the contacts "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday, Sunday" all with the same message:

Sorry, I have to cancel our weekly rendevous. Hope you understand.

"Am I saved as Friday?" Suguru chuckles, but you scroll down a little more, and his name pops up: Suguru Geto.

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

"I'm the special one, huh?" You turn his head toward you, leaning in to kiss him on the lips once.

"Please, let me break my rules for you." Suguru groans, leaning into your touch and kissing your palm in response.

"Let me start right now then, babe. And don't worry, we'll take it one rule at a time." You giggle as he tosses your phone aside and leans into you, kissing you just like he did before and switching off the light as daybreak comes.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @savantsoulfinder @chilledlucifer @kontentious @flare-on @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling @vabybizzle

#geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto smut #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

The Aftermath

Summary: Dealing with the fall out of their first night together isn’t easy for Whitney Taylor or Chris Evans, but given the complicated results of their frivolous activities, it isn’t something they can avoid forever.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One: Luckless Romance

Note: I was originally going to leave Luckless Romance as a one shot, but I had some requests for a part two. I had it all planned out in my head anyway so I figured I’d write it up to explain more of where our two lovely character’s heads were at!

Please let me know your thoughts! Or if there’s any other parts of their story that you’d like to hear about!

_____

When Chris woke up, the first thing he noticed was the throbbing in his head.

The second thing he noticed was the warm body curled into his side.

His initial reaction to that sensation was confusion, but as the events of the night before quickly came back to him, he was filled with an unignorable sense of dread.

He'd fucked up.

He'd spent a year burying his feelings for her to protect their friendship and all it took was a few drinks and flirtatious remarks for him to risk it all. He cared for her, there was no doubt about that, but he knew she didn't feel the same way. Clearly, she was at least attracted to him, but he'd hazard a guess that her loneliness was the driving factor in why she'd chosen to indulge in the activities they'd partaken in a few hours earlier. She’d had no luck in the dating scene, so she'd settled for him and now, when she woke up, she'd break his heart.

She didn't want him.

She didn't want the life that he could offer.

She'd made it clear that she found the world of Hollywood exhausting when she'd talked about her discontent with living in L.A. and that was a world he couldn't escape from. Plus, his fans had given her a hard enough time when she was just a close friend. If she was to become something more, they would tear her apart. He didn't want that for her and he knew that she didn't want that kind of hassle in her life either.

But he couldn't stand to hear her say it. He never did well with rejection and rejection from this woman - who he knew was absolutely perfect for him - was more than he could handle.

So, after carefully extracting himself from her grasp without waking her, he left.

He felt sleezy and awful not even saying goodbye, but he needed to quiet the noise in his brain before he could face her and he figured she would probably appreciate his absence. He knew firsthand how awkward it was to let down a one night stand the morning after so, really, he was sparing her just as much as he was protecting himself.

The heat outside was stifling already and made Chris realize just how desperate he was for something to quench his thirst. They'd drunk more than he normally did and he was feeling the effects. Perhaps that was why his mind was so fuzzy and unable to process what had happened, but he figured it was a safe bet that he could pin that on his anxiety.

And there were only two people who had much luck soothing him when his mind started racing: his mother and his brother.

He knew his mother would be disappointed in him if he told her what happened. He'd poured his heart out to her several times about the confliction he felt with his feelings for Whitney, he dreaded to think what she would say about him finally doing something about those feelings in such a reckless way and he was definitely too hungover to deal with her reaction to how he'd handled things that morning.

So, that left Scott.

Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the time and cringed. It wasn't even six thirty yet and with it being a Sunday there was a good chance that Scott was in a worse post-inebriated state than he was, but he took a chance and hit 'call'.

It took a few rings, but eventually Scott answered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Scott," Chris greeted him as he crossed the street. He needed to flag down a cab to get home, but figured the quiet park across from Whitney's apartment was a better place for this conversation. No extra ears listening in. "I fucked up."

"Chris, it's not even seven o'clock in the morning. How badly could you have fucked anything up this early?"

He sounded tired and Chris felt bad, but he needed someone to talk to.

"I slept with Whitney."

There was a moment of silence before Scott let out a cheer.

"Finally!" He practically squealed, but then he paused as he took in what Chris had said. "Wait, how did you fuck up? Did you not use your best moves?"

"What? No, nothing like that," Chris' brow furrowed in annoyance. "I fucked up by sleeping with her at all. She's one of my best friends, Scott, and now that's ruined. It’ll never be the same, if she even wants anything to do with me now."

"Did she not seem happy about it? What did she say when you left?"

"Nothing," Chris admitted. "I left this morning before she woke up."

There was a moment of silence as Scott processed his brother's words.

"Okay, I'm starting to see where you fucked up. You shouldn't have done that."

"No, I fucked up by sleeping with her!"

Chris' tone was snappy and uncalled for, but his headache was getting worse by the minute and he was feeling exasperated enough without Scott's judgment.

"Alright, alright, calm down," Scott sighed. "If you want my honest opinion, I think you're overreacting. You two have always had a 'will they won't they' vibe about you. She's clearly just as interested in you as you are in her."

"Why 'clearly'?" Chris questioned. "She's never acted like she sees me as more than a friend."

"Uh, yes, she has. She blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl every time you compliment her, she practically drools at the sight of you and listens with hearts in her eyes whenever you talk. She's got it just as bad as you do."

"Don't do that," Chris groaned. "Don't put ideas in my head that aren't true."

"It is true. I wouldn't lie to you about that," Scott insisted. "I think this is just your anxiety talking. Go back to her place before she wakes up, hear what she has to say and go from there. She might surprise you."

"I'll think about it," Chris lied, knowing already that he couldn't face going back. "Thanks for answering. I'll let you get back to bed."

"Don't mention it," Scott assured him. "I know you're stressed now, but I'm happy for you. It's about time the two of you came to your senses."

Chris smiled despite his disbelief in what Scott had said. He laughed it off and said his goodbyes before walking towards the nearest road to catch a cab.

He saw Whitney's message a few hours later, but he ignored it. He needed to get his head straight and steel himself for however she chose to let him down before he would be ready to talk to her.

It took days for him to get to the point of acceptance, but she never messaged him again. So, working on the assumption that she was relieved by his silence or didn't care enough to demand any explanations, he got on a plane and headed back to Massachusetts with plans to spend the next few months drowning his sorrows and pushing her from his mind.

Three Weeks Later

My period was late.

For the last ten years of my life, my period had arrived with impressive reliability and now, a few weeks after having unprotected sex, my period was late.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. There was no doubt in my mind that I was pregnant.

"It's not that easy to get pregnant," Hannah insisted as we sat in my living room, counting down the minutes until the pregnancy test would be ready. "A lot of people who actually want to get pregnant have to try for months before it happens. It seems super unlikely that you'd get pregnant from a random one night stand."

"Yeah, but it does happen to plenty of women," I pointed out. "And knowing my luck, I would get knocked up by a man who then flees the state without another word."

Hannah winced as I paced in front of her.

"Still haven't heard anything, then?"

"Nope, nothing," I sighed. "I haven't reached out again, but he made himself pretty clear by leaving before I woke up and then ignoring my text."

"I just don't get it. He was so obviously into you. I would have bet money that you two would live happily ever after."

"You did bet money," I reminded her. "I'm still waiting for that thousand dollars you promised me."

"You didn't accept!" She smiled. "I owe you nothing!"

While I didn't really expect her to pay me, I was going to argue the point, but the timer we'd set for the test went off and snapped our focus back to the task at hand.

"Oh god," I groaned. "You read it. I can't deal with this."

Hannah nodded and carefully picked up the little stick before looking up at me with a grin.

"It's negative!"

I felt a wave of relief, but it was quickly replaced with doubt. I felt like I was pregnant. My period was late for the first time in years, I'd had sex without a condom and I was nauseous and my boobs hurt. It seemed too good to be true that it was all some kind of coincidence.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah!" Hannah smiled. "There's two lines!"

Her words hit me like a truck as my stomach dropped.

"Hannah, two lines means positive."

"No, it doesn't," she insisted, reaching for the box. The fall of the smile on her face told me all I needed to know before she even spoke again. "Shit. Sorry, babe. You're pregnant."

I let out a groan as I flopped onto the couch next to her.

"This is a nightmare."

"Shall I get my shotgun?"

I raised an eyebrow at my friend.

"What?"

"For a shotgun wedding?"

I laughed at that suggestion, but shook my head.

"No, I don't want him to be forced into anything."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "It doesn't really seem real yet."

"Are you going to tell him?"

I looked down at my still flat stomach and nodded my head.

"Yeah, I'll have to. I know it's still new, but I want to keep it so he'll have to know," I sighed. "If he even answers my calls."

"He will," she assured me. "Or we'll fly out to Boston and you can tell him after I kick his ass."

The image that statement conjured in my mind pulled another laugh from my lips as I felt an overwhelming wave of appreciation for my friend. I knew that no matter what, she was in my corner and that was a comforting thought even in the midst of all the uncertainty that was swirling around me.

"Thanks, Hannah," I smiled. "I really appreciate all your support."

"Of course," she reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "Are you going to call him now?"

"No, I think I'll do it later," I informed her. "I want to wrap my head around it a little bit first."

"That's probably sensible," she agreed as a grin slid onto her face. "Wow, you're gonna have a baby, Whit. I know it's scary, but that's really cool."

"Cool isn't the word that I'd use. Try absolutely terrifying."

My earlier smile was still on my face despite my bleak words as I thought about what she'd said. It was somewhat good news. Definitely worrying, especially given my situation with Chris, but I'd always wanted to have kids so it would have been a lie for me to say that I wasn't at least a little bit intrigued by the idea.

When Hannah left my house, about an hour after we read the test, I planned on taking some time to fully comprehend the news before I shared it with Chris. However, almost as soon as I closed the door behind my friend, I remembered the time difference. Chris was three hours ahead of me which meant that even though it was only five o'clock for me, it was already eight o'clock where he was.

I felt the anxiety bubbling in my stomach as soon as I came to that realization because I knew that if I wanted to call him that day, I had to do it right away and if I didn’t call him soon, I was worried I’d lose the nerve.

I took a deep breath and went straight for my phone, dialing his number before I could change my mind, but I was crushed when he didn't answer. I waited a few minutes and then tried again, but still, there was no answer and I let out a growl of frustration as I frantically typed out a text.

Hey. Call me as soon as you can. It's important.

I paced around my apartment, the reality of the situation starting to creep in now that he, once again, seemed to be rejecting me.

I didn't want to tell him news like this over the phone, but I'd seen the paparazzi pictures of him arriving at the airport in Boston so I knew that I had no other choice. However, if he wasn't even going to answer my calls, I'd have to get the news to him another way. My mind immediately started racing with all the possible ways I might have to break the news to him as the panic of potentially having to do this alone started to rise.

But luckily, all those concerns were irrelevant when my phone lit up with Chris' name on the screen.

"Hey," I answered quickly before he had the chance to change his mind and hang up. "Thanks for calling."

There was a moment of silence before he replied.

"Sure," he kept his tone cool and steady, but there was an underlying tension. "What's up?"

The sound of his voice brought tears to my eyes. This was it. This was the make or break moment and I felt my palms start to sweat as it hit me just how devastated I'd be if it didn't go well.

"I, uh, I don’t really want to tell you this over the phone, but I guess I don’t really have much choice," I started. "I got some news today that you have a right to know."

It seemed obvious to me what I would be hinting at considering our current situation and the silence that followed my words led me to believe that he had a pretty good idea what I was going to say. When he stayed quiet, wordlessly waiting for me to continue, I took a deep breath and dove in.

“I’m pregnant.”

I hadn't thought much about how I was going to tell him, but I figured there was probably a better way than blurting it out that bluntly. I cringed slightly at my harsh delivery as his silence was almost immediately broken and he started spluttering and stuttering, stumbling over his words until he managed to blurt out one clear sentence.

"Is it mine?"

A burst of anger flashed through me at such a suggestion.

"Yes! Oh my God, Chris, of course it's yours!" I insisted. "How many people do you think I've slept with in the last month?"

Maybe he thinks you're a slut, the voice in my head taunted me. Maybe that's why he left without a word.

That thought was enough to get the tears flowing and, when Chris didn’t answer my question, I let out a sob. I covered my mouth to hopefully stifle the sound, but I knew he heard it loud and clear.

"Shit, Whitney," he sighed. "That was a dumb thing to say. You just caught me off guard."

"Well, how do you think I feel?" I hissed. "I'm scared, Chris. What are we going to do?"

This time there was no hesitation before he answered.

"I'll get the first flight out tomorrow morning," he informed me. "We can talk about it then."

"Okay," I sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," he assured me. "It's just as much my fault as it is yours."

My emotions were overwhelming me by that point and I stayed quiet, knowing I'd fall apart if I opened my mouth to speak, but Chris didn't let the silence last too long this time.

"Are you, uh, are you gonna keep it?" He asked, sounding heartbreakingly similar to a small child asking his parents if he could keep the stray dog he'd brought home. "It's your call, but I'm behind you one hundred percent."

"I am going to keep it," I told him quietly. "But you only have to be as involved as you want to be."

"I want to be very involved," Chris answered quickly before letting out a sharp laugh. "Fuck, I'm gonna be a dad."

The sound of more laughter floated through the phone after that realization, but I couldn't tell if it was giddy or hysterical.

"You are," I agreed, feeling some relief from his reaction despite how complicated I knew things would be. "But we can talk about it all when you're here. If you really don't mind coming back."

"Not at all, this is important." He assured me. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll text you with the details as soon as I know."

"Okay, thank you."

He insisted that I didn't need to thank him before we quickly wrapped up the conversation.

There was a lot to say and a lot to discuss, but it wasn’t something to be talked about it over the phone. We needed to discuss it in person once we'd both had time to understand exactly what it meant.

And we needed to figure out what the hell we were going to do about us.

I thought having almost twenty-four hours to compose my thoughts would make things easier, but as I waited for Chris to get to my apartment I still had a lot of questions and concerns

But I had decided one thing for certain: we were better off as friends.

When we were friends, he didn't ignore my calls. When we were friends, he didn't run out of my apartment without saying goodbye. When we were friends, he hadn't broken my heart because I never gave him the chance. I was frustrated by his behaviour since the night we spent together and it made me angry. When I thought about it too hard, it made my blood boil and I wanted to tear a strip off of him for making me feel so used. When we were friends, I'd never felt more than a hint of annoyance towards him.

So, the only solution as far as I could see, was for us to stay just friends.

That would prevent any more heightened emotions and if we didn't do it that way, I would end up resentful and bitter. I didn't have much experience with children, but even I knew that those feelings would create a very toxic relationship for raising a child.

Which is why, as soon as he stepped into my apartment, I was on the defensive.

"I think we both know that we're better off as friends," I blurted out before the door was even shut behind him. "What happened was a mistake and now we just have to find a way to work together as friends."

Chris looked surprised, which I found surprising, but he recovered quickly and nodded his head. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't bittersweet. I didn't have the energy to argue with him, but part of me was definitely hoping that he'd put up a bit more of a fight.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed after a moment of thought before changing the subject. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I shrugged. "A bit nauseous and very emotional, but nothing I can't handle so far."

"Good, that's good," Chris smiled. "Have you been to a doctor yet?"

"No, not yet. I have an appointment tomorrow."

"Can I-" Chris paused to clear his throat, looking nervous. "Can I come?"

I felt my heart flutter at the thought of him caring enough to want to come to a doctor's appointment, but I shut those feelings down as fast as they popped up. He cared for the baby, not for me.

"Sure," I nodded. "But it won't be very interesting. I think it's mostly just checking all my basic information so they can keep track and probably some blood tests and vitamin recommendations."

"Doesn't matter," Chris insisted. "I want to be there for it all. We're in this together."

Those words brought more tears to my eyes, but I blinked them back and looked away. In a move that I wasn’t expecting, Chris noticed immediately and took the few steps needed to put him right in front of me.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

His hands settled on my arms and the way he rubbed them would have been soothing if it didn't break my heart. How could this supportive, comforting man in front of me right now be the same man who slept with me and then never called me?

"I'm just overwhelmed," I choked out. "We really fucked up, Chris. How could we be so stupid?"

"I don't know," Chris sighed. "It was a dumb mistake, but we can make the most of it. We can do this."

"I know, I know," I took a deep, shaky breath to try and pull myself together. "It's just a lot to take in and I don't think it's really hit me yet."

"It is a lot," he agreed. "Here, let's go sit down."

I let him lead me over to the couch and then flopped down on it. He sat next to me, but we stayed quiet, neither of us really knowing what to say. After a few moments of tense silence, Chris finally spoke.

"I know this might be asking a lot," he started, the hesitation in his voice making me nervous. "But would you consider moving to Massachusetts?"

It wasn't an unexpected request. I knew Chris was happier there and considered it his home and I had told him how tired I was getting of living in Los Angeles. It was probably the better place for raising a child as well. I'd heard plenty of stories about Chris' childhood and it was pretty idyllic - full of experiences that children growing up in a big city like L.A. didn't often get.

However, it meant that I would have to leave my entire support system behind. All my friends and my family would be here and I would be completely alone except for Chris - who I wasn't even in a relationship with - and a child - who was hardly going to be able to provide much emotional support.

It seemed like the best option for everyone involved except for me and I wasn't sure that was a sacrifice that I was selfless enough to make.

I realized how long his words had been hanging in the air between us as I got lost in my thoughts and my head fell into my hands with a groan.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this," I whined, tears filling my eyes again as I felt a strange mix of emotions There was plenty of regret and with that came guilt because this poor child deserved a mother that didn't dread it's existence. "I'm not mom material, Chris. I don't have the instincts."

"It's all still fresh," he reminded me. "The instinct isn't instant. But I didn't mean to upset you, if you don't want to move to Massachusetts then we'll figure it out."

"No, no, it makes the most sense," I sniffled, lifting my head to look back up at Chris. "It's just scary. I don't want to leave my family and friends and I'll have to move soon if I'm going to so I can find a doctor, it's a lot to think about right now."

"It is, but I can ask Carly about a doctor. My family will support you one hundred percent."

I forced a weak smile, but I felt more nerves bubbling in my stomach.

"Have you told them?" I asked. "Does your mom hate me? I hope she doesn't think I'm trying to take advantage of you."

"No way!" Chris insisted with a chuckle. "She gave me a very stern lecture about being responsible, but I've talked about you enough for her to know you're not some crazed fan looking for a payout."

"That's good." I breathed out a sigh of relief. I knew he was incredibly close with his mother and I didn't want her to think badly of me. "I haven't told anyone yet, except Hannah."

"Downey's gonna kill me, isn't he?"

He shot me a sheepish look as he spoke, but I shook my head.

"Nah, I think he'll be thrilled. He loves babies and he's been teasing me about us getting together since the night we met," I informed him, watching his face for a reaction to that statement. There wasn't any. "He'll probably have a bet to cash in on as soon as I tell him the news."

"Well, that's reassuring," Chris smiled. "I think we'll have enough people who'll be mad at us..."

He was clearly referring to his fans and I cringed.

"What are you going to do about that?"

He shrugged.

"What do you want me to do?"

I took a moment to think before I answered him.

"I don't want you to publicly deny that the baby is yours," I warned him, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to bear hearing that even if I knew that he really had no doubts. "But I don't care if you don't make a big announcement. We can just let people draw their own conclusions."

"Making a statement might be better. It would stop the rumours from getting out of hand. There'd be an uproar, but it would eventually die down," he pointed out. "I'll talk to my team and let you know, but you should probably make all your social media private whatever we decide."

I didn't use social media much and I definitely never posted pictures of Chris, but even so I'd felt the wrath of his fans more than once after we were spotted out together so I knew how they could be.

I nodded in response to his instructions and another silence settled between us.

My mind was racing with questions that I wanted to ask. I wanted to know why he'd left, why he hadn't called, why he'd even slept with me if he really didn't see me that way. Part of me even wanted to cry and plead with him to give me a chance, to let me show him that I was good enough to be more than a friend, but I knew I couldn't handle the rejection. Whatever his explanation would be, it wouldn't change the situation and with everything else we had to deal with, I didn't have the strength for more heartbreak too.

When Chris left almost an hour later, we had a firm plan in place.

I would try to get out of my lease - or Chris would pay whatever fee I was charged for breaking my contract - and I would move to Massachusetts by the end of the summer to stay with him. I'd argued that point at first, but his reasoning made sense. He would be in and out once they started filming the last two Avengers movies so I would have the place to myself a lot, but when he was home he'd be able to help with the baby. After the first year, when the newborn phase was done, I would get my own place and we'd work out an official custody agreement.

He promised to come to as many doctor's appointments as he could and offered to pay for absolutely everything that I needed. I assured him that wouldn't be necessary, but I appreciated that he was already committed. Many men probably would have run for the hills in our situation or, at the very least, demanded a paternity test before they made any promises, but Chris was enthusiastic and supportive and I couldn't ask for anything more.

Well, I wanted to ask for something more. I wanted us to be together - I wanted us to be making plans to be a family, not to be co-parents - but I knew that wasn't what he wanted and I was determined to accept that. I needed to focus on counting my blessings and being grateful for what I did get out of our relationship instead of focusing on what was missing and unobtainable.

Even if it broke my heart and hurt me more than the loss of any other romantic relationship I'd ever had, I was going to make the most of it for the sake of our child. It didn't ask to be born into such a messy situation and it's safety and security were quickly becoming the most important things in my life despite the fact that it was hardly more than a bundle of cells at that point.

And as that thought hit me, I realized that maybe I wasn't as lacking when it came to maternal instincts as I had thought.

@maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #chris evans one shot #once bitten/more hearts

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

The Little Things in Life - 5

Warnings: cheating, non-consent sex (series); not the sex you’re expecting but it’s the sex you get.

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Summary: Your suburban life begins to show cracks and your next door neighbour, Steve Rogers, seems intent on shattering what’s left.

Note: I finished part 7 yesterday but I’m legit just coasting at this point which means that I’m not rushing anything. I’m doing what I feel like in order to manage my anxiety so one day at a time. :D I do appreciate you all reading. Thanks to everyone for their feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Based on this drabble

You didn’t sleep well at all. You woke early and pulled on your torn jeans and the old tank with the bulldog on the front. You looked in on Kayla before you went downstairs and carefully crept to the back door. You went to the shed and got your tools.

Your small garden in the back was marked off with chicken wire and stakes. You climbed over the low barrier and checked in on the early sprouts. Carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes to start. It would be a while as the tomato vines had only began to wind up the cages.

You heard the gate. You stood up and neared the fence. Your heart sank as you saw Steve round the corner of your house. He wore only a pair of track pants and his sneakers. You glanced up at your bedroom window; confused.

“Hot out, today,” He said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was on my morning run.” He neared and you backed away from the wire. “I didn’t see you out front.”

“Oh gee, it seems like maybe I’m avoiding you.” You hissed.

“Logan tell you about Thursday?” He asked. You nodded. “Should I grab some wine? Or tequila?”

“I don’t think I’ll be drinking for a while.” You muttered. “Please, go.”

He put his hands on his hips. You didn’t miss the way he pushed his chest out or the way the muscles of his arms bulged. You tore your eyes away guiltily. He chuckled.

“I’m married,” You whispered and slowly glanced at him. “And I’m not interested.”

“You could’ve fooled me, honey,” He leaned on the top of the low fence. “You were shaking like a virgin.”

“Stop.” You sneered. “Go.”

He smirked and stood straight. He stretched his hands and traced a line of sweat along his torso with his finger.

“I’ll see you on Thursday.” He said. “Can’t wait.”

He left you with as little fanfare as he’d arrived. Your shovel slipped from your hand and speared the dirt. You spun and grabbed your head as if it would burst. You squatted down to collect your things. He wasn’t going to stop.

🏠

The days flew by. You hated how time could seem to drag one moment, only to speed up when you wanted it to stand still. You were trying desperately to distract yourself from the two men tearing you apart.

You spent hours in your office working as your mother volunteered to watch Kayla. You could hear them in the front room, giggling. You were thankful for the help though you regretted that your mom was spending her vacation time with your kid.

Logan’s nights were as late as ever. Your conversations tense. Every time you looked at him you saw Karina; the reflection of him as he posed in the mirror. He fucked you again on Tuesday. It was as unenjoyable as Sunday though you were surprised by his sudden burst of libido. Until you found out that Karina was out of town.

You were distracted from your blinking cursor as your thoughts drifted to your brewing resent. You rubbed your eyes and leaned back in your chair. It was harder and harder to focus.

A knock had you spinning around in the chair. You listened as your mother answered it and her voice came muffled through the door. You stood and went to peek down the hall. You cursed silently as you spied your visitor on the doorstep. Your mother turned back and smiled as she saw you.

“You’ve got a guest,” She chimed.

You sighed and emerged from behind the door. You tramped down the carpet and your mother gave a smile to Steve before she flitted back into the front room. Her voice spiked as she greeted Kayla and your daughter giggled in response. You leaned on the door with a frown.

“I’m working,” You said. “And my mother is here.”

“She’s nice,” He replied. “Like you.”

“My daughter is in the next room,” You lowered your voice. “I told you to stay away.”

“You know that’s not gonna happen,” He licked his lips. “I know that you’re looking forward to tomorrow as much as me.”

“You need to go.” You sneered.

“I just wanted to return these,” He held up your gardening glove. The spare pair with the teddy bears on them that you kept buried at the bottom of your basket of tools. “You forgot them last week.”

“What?” You reached out to take them and he caught your hand. He stepped closer and pushed your palm against his crotch. “Steve!”

He cupped his hand around yours and you felt a twitch. You tried to recoil but he had a firm hold on you.

“You should wear something nice tomorrow.” He purred. “Maybe a dress.”

“Let me go,” You demanded as you struggled with him. “What are you--”

He relented and shoved your gloves into your hand. He clung to you and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“I think of you… at night,” His lips brushed your temple. “It’s so exciting. I can’t stop thinking what it’d be like if you were really there. With me. Beneath me.”

Your lip trembled as he finally released you. You drew back and grabbed the door. He stopped it before you could slam it.

“Now, now,” He said with a smirk. “Your daughter’s in the next room.” He pulled his hand away slowly. “You don’t wanna scare her.”

You stared at him and shook your head. Stunned.

“Bye… Steve,” You uttered and closed the door gently.

You could see him through the frosted glass. You turned the lock and but he didn’t retreat. His palm came clear through the window as he touched it and you backed away. You looked down at your gloves and heard his fingers slide down the glass.

You went to the living room and looked in on your mother and Kayla. They were nestled on the sofa as they watched cartoon superheroes. You smiled but it quickly died as you forced yourself away from the doorway. You continued onto your office and glanced back at the door. The glass was pale; Steve was gone.

You carried on to the back door and eased the screen door open. You crept quietly down the steps and neared the shed. You stopped dead as you saw the latch. The lock was broken and the metal loop was on the ground.

You neared cautiously and pulled the door open. Your gardening basket was overturned. He wanted you to know he’d been there. It was a message; he would find a way to get to you.

🏠

Thursday came and your mother picked up Kayla at five. Logan was home early to your surprise and seemed eager to finish the beer he’d left at the Rogers’. You were in dread as you looked in the mirror and turned in your loose dress.

You were certain that even with a belt cinched at the waist, it betrayed little of your figure. The neckline was high-cut and the skirt reached your knees. You wore flats and a thin cardigan over it. You were assured that you were matronly enough to deter your covetous neighbour.

You were so distracted, that your anger with Logan was only a nagging jab in the ribs compared to the tightness in your chest. The anxiety that had you clutching the thin handles of the tall gift bag. You’d gone out and bought the same brand of wine Steve had given you. A gift for Sharon. Out of courtesy, or maybe, it was guilt.

You crossed the street with your husband. You avoided looking at him. You found it harder every day. Sooner or later, you knew you’d snap. You’d have to say something. You couldn’t live like this forever.

Sharon answered the door. She wore a red jumpsuit that enhanced her figure. The last of her baby weight was barely noticeable. She was stunning. You handed her the wrapped bottle of wine and she thanked you as she peeked in the bag.

“Steve’s in the den,” She said to Logan. “But dinner’s on it’s way.”

Your husband thanked her and dipped into the next room. She beckoned you into the kitchen and gave you a stack of plates.

“We should set the table.” She said. “I might be too lazy to cook but I can pretend I did.”

She grabbed the silverware and followed you into the dining room. Like the rest of her house, it was immaculately decorated. You recalled the designer she had brought in last year to do the nursery. You wondered how her and Steve could live in such a boring cul-de-sac. They should be secluded away in some exuberant mansion.

“Then, you can help me make the margaritas,” She trilled and drew you from your envy. “Oh, take that thing off.”

She dumped the utensils on the table as you set down the plates.

“How old is this dress?” She asked as she pushed your cardigan down your shoulders. “Have you lost weight?”

“I… don’t know.”

You wriggled free of your sleeves and let her sling your cardigan on the bag of one of the chairs. You began to place the plates carefully around the table. She turned to a small table and opened the slender drawer. She pulled out some folded cloth napkins and began to roll up the silver in the black cotton.

“I was on this mission once. When I was younger.” She said as you neared to help her. “I was undercover as a waitress for two months. By the end of it, I wondered if it would be easier to just stay. It was a nice restaurant and the tips…”

“I did some bar tending in university,” You offered. “I got demoted to cleaning dishes after I broke a bottle of Grey Goose.”

She laughed and watched you place the cutlery alongside the plates. When you finished, she led you back into the kitchen and set up her big blender. She dumped in ice, Cointreau, and a healthy dose of tequila. You recognized the half-finished mickey from the party. She revealed another from under the counter and added to her brew.

“Um, I don’t know if you need all tha--”

She held down the button and the motor drowned out your voice. She nodded to the cupboard and you turned and opened it. You pulled out for stemmed glasses and placed them on the counter. She turned off the blender and lined the rims with salt before she poured the icy mixture.

The doorbell rang and she shoved the glasses towards you.

“That should be the food,” She announced. “Take those to the table and get the guys, will you?”

You watched her go, her strides long as she floated on her gold heels. You took the glasses out two at a time and then dipped your head into the den. Steve and Logan chattered as sports highlights flashed on the large television.

“Dinner,” You said quietly.

Steve looked up first and nodded. He stood and Logan mirrored him. Steve waved him along first and your husband surprised you as he neared and placed a peck on your lips. You turned as he wrapped his arm around you and guided you across the hall. His hand rested on your hip but you nearly jumped as you felt a pinch on your ass. That wasn’t Logan.

You ignored it and swept away from Logan as you entered the dining room and sat at the chair where your cardigan hung. Your husband sat beside you and Steve made sure to take the seat across from you. You avoided his eyes as you let Logan hold your hand on the arm of the chair.

Sharon entered with a bowl of roasted potatoes. Next she entered with a rotisserie chicken and finally a spiced veggie medley. You couldn’t believe she had paid for the delivery. You knew the restaurant well and it was expensive on its own and the delivery fee was little better. You’d only been there once and Logan had bawked at the bill.

Sharon served each of you and then took her own seat. She reached for her cup and raised it.

“There’s more in the kitchen,” She promised. “I’ve pumped enough for another hangover.”

You gave a sheepish smile and sipped. Steve took a large gulp as his eyes caught yours and you quickly averted your gaze. You focused on your plate and barely tasted the savoury food. You flinched as you felt something against your foot.

Your flat was so thin you could clearly feel the leather toe of Steve’s shoe against yours. You nearly choked and hid it with the glass. You shot him a dark look and he smirked. He was brazen though the other two seemed entirely oblivious. You pulled your feet back and tangled them under your chair.

“So, Sharon,” You cleared your throat. “I heard you were thinking of going back to work early.”

“Oh, yes, actually, I was just discussing my return and, well,” She smiled and looked to her husband. “I hadn’t had the chance to tell Steve but… they’ve offered me part-time hours until I’m back in full form and then I can get back in the field.”

“Mmm,” Logan swallowed and turned to Steve. “What about you? I thought you were hanging it up.”

“I am,” Steve assured him. “It’s not for me. I’m just fine staying home with Sarah… admittedly, I didn’t think Sharon would be going back so soon.”

There was a silence and you glanced over at Logan. He shifted in his chair, realising he may have stoked a spark to a flame.

“Steve,” Sharon said softly.

“It’s fine,” He pushed a potato around with his fork. “Really. Only part-time.”

“I… haven’t said yes, yet,” She lowered her voice.

“No, no, if that’s what you want,” He shrugged. “We talked about it before. You know that whatever you want, I want. I just didn’t expect it to happen… now.”

“I didn’t either but--”

“Let’s talk about it later,” He interrupted. “We have company.”

Sharon laughed nervously and glanced across the table. Your lips wavered as you tried to hold your smile and you took a bite of chicken just to keep yourself busy. You looked down at your plate again then back up. Steve was watching you again. He raised a brow and tilted his head just a little; as if to say, see?

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #suburban au #the little things in life #series #mcu #marvel #captain america

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thewayshedreamed · 4 years

Text

This Time— Part 2

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

Alright, here it is! All of your responses to my first post were so encouraging, so I thank all of you for that! I was so nervous to post anything that I’ve written, and y’all made me feel so welcomed. Anyway, here’s the continuation of my angsty Nessian fic, This Time. It’s a long one, but I wanted to give some insight into Nesta’s headspace while also setting the occasion for the next part! Hope y’all enjoy it.

If you missed part one, you can find it here.

———————————————————————————-

A dull throb in her temples caused Nesta to stir in the early hours of Sunday morning. She was vaguely aware that it was raining, thunder rolling in a steady rhythm. She turned onto her back and gritted her teeth at the intensifying pain in her head. It suddenly radiated from her temples, meeting in the middle of her forehead and behind her eyes. For the briefest of moments, she wondered about the luck she had (or didn’t have) to wake up feeling like this. No recent illness, no allergies, no alcohol the night before. She blinked into the darkness as she considered, willing her cognition to catch up to her conscious state. Her answer became apparent when her eyes felt gritty as she blinked, and upon rubbing them, she felt a faint tenderness over and around her lids.

Ah, that’s right. The crying.

The events of the previous night flooded her memory.

I’m so gone for you...

You should go...

We can’t be friends after this conversation.

You don’t mean that...

The maddeningly soft click of the door echoed in her mind repeatedly, emulating the rhythm of her heartbeat. She slammed her eyes shut and turned sharply onto her side to bury her face into the pillow.

So often, people talk about the all-consuming relief that comes with waking from a nightmare and realizing none of it was real. These are the stories told at dinner with family or friends, at lunch with co-workers, or at larger social gatherings. Account after account is shared of cheating spouses, car accidents, home invasions, etc., followed by an expression of overwhelming relief at realizing it was all a dream.

Almost never do people discuss the ugly alternative. The micro-interval of time immediately upon waking where one exists in blissful ignorance, followed by the sudden gut-punch of recollection. The ambush of emotions surrounding some life-altering event.

Nesta caught herself grasping for that tiny shred of time, just moments prior, where she was only navigating a headache.

She felt her pulse quicken and her body start to flush, both being clear indicators of her heightened anxiety. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she felt a slight tremble starting to run through her chest and stomach. She closed her eyes as tears threatened to pool yet again and focused on taking a few deep breaths. She lazily reached out, feeling around until she located another pillow across her too large bed. She clutched it tightly against her chest and abdomen, willing it to ground her somehow. Tucking it close to her body and keeping an iron grip, she started to count her breaths until she finally drifted back to sleep.

———-

She had to cancel lunch with Elain and Feyre that Sunday, having slept long enough that she didn’t have enough time to make herself presentable. After explaining that she was suffering from a crippling headache (with no mention of its origin), they sent their well wishes and told her to call if she needed absolutely anything.

Her mornings persisted in a similar manner for the rest of the week. Usually one to rise on her first alarm, she couldn’t find the motivation to do so no matter how hard she tried. She snoozed her alarm a half-dozen times, finally dragging herself out of bed to dress quickly, grab a protein bar, and fly out the door for work.

Work served as a decent distraction from current events. She stayed busy and engaged, allowing her to completely ignore her phone and avoid any personal questions. She knew her sisters would be worried after telling them she was ill, and it was a matter of time before news of her and Cassian’s fight permeated their group of friends. Her sisters would likely put two and two together. Busy bodies. Fiercely loyal, protective, and supportive, but busy bodies all the same.

Several evenings that week she had received several variations of “check in” texts from them, as well as a couple of their friends.

Elain:

”Hey, Nes! Hoping you’re feeling better. Just wanted to check in and see how you are!”

Feyre:

”Just checking in, sister! I hadn’t heard from you since we cancelled lunch, so I hope you’re doing okay! Love you!”

Mor:

”Hi, love! I haven’t seen you in DAYS. Far too long. Please tell me I’ll see you soon! And that you’re alive and well. <3”

Amren:

“Alright. Spill. What’s going on with you? You haven’t responded to anything I’ve sent you, and I’ve sent you some funny shit.”

Nesta drafted one text, copying and pasting it to each and every one of them. She didn’t have the emotional energy to answer the question at all, much less several times over.

“Hey! Thanks for checking on me. I’m sorry I’m just getting back to you! Things have just been crazy this week. I’ve been busy, but I’m fine! We’ll get together soon.”

She stared at the lie over and over again.

I’m fine...

Although, deep down, she knew. If she were fine, she wouldn’t keep scrolling to a certain text thread. She wouldn’t be reading and re-reading their previous conversations, and she definitely wouldn’t be focused on the date and time stamp of the last received message from days ago.

———

Nesta had been conflicted about Saturday all week long. She had very specific plans: sleep as late as her body would possibly allow, have coffee on the back porch, catch up on her reading, take a long nap, stream as much nonsense television as she could handle, have a bottle of wine, go to sleep. She had been looking forward to the peaceful oblivion of deep sleep, yet she found herself dreading the passage of her free time. It had taken a couple of days to land on an acceptable itinerary, and she felt better with a certain course of action.

She awoke to her covers being abruptly pulled away and the pillow pulled off the top of her head. She groaned dramatically and turned over to identify the offender, fully prepared to sling insults their way for interrupting her sleep. Before she could formulate a cohesive thought, a deep, familiar voice interrupted her.

“Enough of this, Nes. Get up. We’re going to brunch,” the voice announced, his tone dry and neutral.

Nesta’s eyes shot open, falling on a pair of hazel eyes that dared her to be uncooperative.

“What the fuck, Az? How did you even get in here? And what if I were naked?!”

”Look, I pulled the short straw. You’ve barely spoken to anyone all week. When you did, your responses were short and contrived. Your friends and family are worried, and I got volunteered to enter the lion’s den as the only one who isn’t afraid of waking you up.”

”That doesn’t answer all my questions,” she muttered as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“I’ve driven you and your sisters home on enough drunken nights to know where your spare key is. And I saw the sleeve of your sweater before I pulled the covers off. Give me a little credit.” He turned away from her to walk out of her bedroom. As he crossed the threshold, he paused with his hand on the door jamb. He glanced over his left shoulder as he said, “You have 15 minutes. I’ll be in here waiting for you.”

Nesta really contemplated throwing a full-scale temper tantrum by throwing herself under the covers and refusing to get up. A deep rumble in her stomach ultimately made her decide against it, so she stood up and padded over to her closet. She selected her favorite pair of jeggings, silently thanking the Cauldron that she had worn them once already so that they were perfectly stretched. She grabbed a sports bra and a long-sleeved tunic, put on some casual sneakers, and walked over to her bathroom to finish getting ready.

She wasn’t one for much makeup anyway, so she opted to wash her face, moisturize, and apply a little mascara. She brushed her teeth, applied a generous layer of chapstick, and quickly French-braided her hair down the center of her back. She glanced down at her phone; 12 minutes. Suck on that, Azriel.

She walked out of her bedroom, down the hallway, and found Azriel perched on the arm of her sofa, scrolling through his phone. Sensing her approach, he locked his phone and stood.

“All ready?” He grabbed his keys from his front pocket.

“Sure. Whenever you are.” She looked around for her small purse and grabbed it off of the coffee table. “Wait... did you clean up in here?”

She knew there was something different when she walked in, but it had taken her a minute to realize what. Gone were the take out containers from her countertops and coffee table. All the various cups she had left all over her apartment were nowhere to be seen, and her blankets were folded neatly in a stack.

Azriel cleared his throat and looked around. “Not really. I noticed your trash can was full when I threw my gum away, and I thought it would be pointless to bring it out and not get everything.”

She bit her cheek to stop her smile at his sheepishness. He had always been a good friend to her, but she knew he preferred when it went under the radar. No one blushed faster or got more awkward than Azriel on the receiving end of appreciation or a compliment.

“Ah. I see. And I guess the blankets folded themselves, then. Or did you need to fold them to ‘get everything?’”

“Nes, you know I cleaned up in here, so can we go already?” He was already turning toward her door, flustered and mildly irritated with her teasing. She gripped his bicep to turn him around before he made it outside.

“I’m sorry, Az. You’re a wonderful friend, and I don’t deserve you. Let’s go have some brunch and forget it, ok?”

He gave her a sideways smile and playfully shoved her shoulder. “Fine. But next time, you’re walking.”

———-

The drive over to the small cafe was short, so the pair sat in comfortable silence on the way. Upon arriving, Azriel found a small table in the corner of the patio, instructed her to sit, and walked inside to place their order. When he returned, he was holding a mug of coffee for Nesta and a mug of earl grey tea for himself.

“The food should come out in about 10-15 minutes. I couldn’t remember how you take your coffee exactly, so I just brought you a ton of shit.” He wasn’t exaggerating. He placed a handful of different creamers and sweeteners in the center of the table.

Nesta gave a small chuckle at his gesture, noting that it felt good to laugh for the first time in days. She couldn’t help but feel grateful that it was Azriel who had pulled her out of bed this morning, if it had to be anyone. They were more alike than most would assume, and they had made very fast friends all those years ago. She loved the purity of their relationship, built on years of trust and mutual respect, but never crossing beyond anything other than platonic. Cassian had always joked about being “outnumbered” around the two of them, commenting on their likeness and how he managed to find kindred spirits as his best friends.

The thought of him elicited a slight pang in her stomach, and she quickly shoved it down. She was pulled from her thoughts by Azriel’s voice.

“So. You want to talk about what’s going on?”

”Gods, Azriel. I haven’t even gotten the caffeine in my system.”

He took a sip of his tea, only breaking eye contact to blow gently on the hot liquid. He regained eye contact as he set his mug back down.

“We haven’t heard anything genuine from you in a week. Forgive us for being a little worried. I’m assuming it has something to do with Cassian?”

As she suspected, hearing his name struck a nerve and caused a certain heaviness in her chest. She felt herself becoming defensive, and even though her logical mind knew it had nothing to do with Az, she was snapping at him before she realized it was happening.

“Why is everyone acting like I’m off the deep end?! Maybe I’ve just been busy for a week. Cauldron forbid if I take some time for my damn self. And why the fuck would you immediately jump to him? As if my life doesn’t exist beyond all of you? And beyond him?” She felt herself flush out of anger. Or embarrassment. Who the hell knew anymore?

Azriel seemed almost entirely unaffected by her verbal lashing. He took a couple of seconds, leaned forward with his forearms on the table, and clasped his hands in front of him. He looked at her intensely, and she knew she was not going to get anything sugarcoated in this conversation.

“Need I remind you that I know both of you like the back of my hand? I’m not shooting in the dark here. You’ve been essentially MIA for a week, and that timespan directly correlates with Cassian being an absolute terror to be around. The odds of that being a coincidence are incredibly low. So, Nes, I’ll ask you to please cut the shit.” He voice remained even and steady. There was no true malice in his words, just the bluntness that exists between two close friends. He picked up his mug, leaned back in his chair, and waited.

Nesta’s posture softened slightly as she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and middle finger. She let out a long breath and looked up to meet Azriel’s gaze again.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. And I should also realize by now that you notice fucking everything.”

He merely nodded, acknowledging her apology and prompting her to continue with one simple gesture. She blew out another breath, preparing herself to explain everything. In the meantime, their food arrived, so she waited until the waiter walked away before beginning her story. She told him everything, even the uncomfortable details. Cassian’s confession. Her reaction. His anger. Her anger. The devastation on his face. As much as she could remember of their interaction. And finally, the words she couldn’t stop replaying in her mind. This time, it’s on you.

He listened intently, only offering small nods or slight facial expressions during the more intense parts of their conversation. Once she was finished, he let out a long whistle and said, “Damn, Nesta. You’re officially the most savage of the Archerons.”

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I’m not saying that to be insulting. I just meant that you kind of handed him his ass there.”

Nesta started at him, urging him to elaborate before she felt inclined to jump down his throat again. He picked up on her prompting and continued.

“Well, to be fair, Cassian’s full of it. The fact that he thought he was going to be able to sleep with you and continue being friends is short-sighted at best. Can’t blame him for trying, but considering how long he’s been in love with you, he was setting himself up for failure there.”

Now, she was gawking at him. How was he being so nonchalant about this bombshell? How long had Cassian been in love with her? And why the hell had he waited until now to say a damn word about it?

”How long, Azriel?” Her voice was so quiet that she wasn’t sure that he’d even heard her.

It was his turn to look surprised. “Are you telling me you didn’t know? Anyone within a mile of the two of you could have seen it.”

She shook her head, realizing she didn’t think she could handle the direction of this conversation. “Never mind. Regardless, we had an agreement that our friendship was too important to risk on anything serious and that it was supposed to remain purely casual. It’s done now. It’s not like it matters.”

A few seconds passed before she glanced up at Azriel. His brow was furrowed, conflicted with what he was going to say next.

”What? Just tell me.”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of bullshit, Nes? I get that you both agreed on those terms, but I think it’s kind of fucked overall. You’re telling me that the potential of a relationship wasn’t worth the risk but casual sex was worth it? That doesn’t make sense.”

She breathed sharply out of her nose before she responded. “Had the agreement been honored, we could have enjoyed our time together, and we could have stopped once life events called for it. If one of us started dating someone... if one of us moved... things like that. It’s fairly straightforward.” She wasn’t trying to hide the bite behind her words, but he still didn’t seem offended. She tried not to find his level-headedness infuriating, but her patience was thinning by the second. To her surprise, his composure slipped a little.

”And how did you think that was going to play out? You both would shake hands, go your own ways, and continue to hang out with each other as before? You would have been totally fine with Cassian dating another woman? And do you really think Cassian would be a-okay with sitting in the front row at your wedding one day? Has it ever occurred to you that you two always dislike anyone that the other dates? No one ever loves Cassian the right way. No one ever makes Nesta happy enough. Why do you think that—“

”Alright, alright! I get it.“ She held her hands up in supplication. “The fact remains, though, that it’s over. It’s done. We screwed up, and it cost me my best friend. We’ll never be the same.” She felt her eyes brimming with tears.

She was vaguely aware of Azriel apologizing for his outburst and suggesting that they head back. She forced a nod, stood up from her chair, and walked to his car. Once inside and buckled, he turned to her.

”Hey. I really am sorry.”

”Don’t apologize. You were being honest with me, which is something I’ve always valued so much in you. Don’t go soft on me now.” She managed the smallest of smiles.

“Deal. But the same goes for you. Our mutual honesty has saved us a lot of trouble over the years. Makes our friendship easy.”

”You’re right. Why couldn’t it have been us to fall in love?” She huffed a laugh, making sure he knew her comment was in jest. She turned to look at him as he finished backing out of their parking spot.

Azriel hit his brakes a little harder than usual at her words. He chuckled, turning to look at her with a small smile. “What good would that do us? What would we do for fun? Brood?”

Nesta laughed, truly laughed, at the truth in his words. Azriel made a wonderful friend to her, but there would be very little personal growth within their hypothetical relationship. She smiled at him, squeezed his forearm briefly, and said, “Fair enough. I guess we wouldn’t push each other to grow all that much.”

He continued to drive, eyes straight ahead. He still wore signs of amusement on his face, but his tone turned a little more serious. “No. We wouldn’t. I think that’s why Cassian has always been a great balance for people like us. We get way too comfortable in the dark.”

”Mmm. People like Cassian, for sure. Maybe people like Elain, too?” She gave him a knowing smile.

He pulled up in the driveway and placed the car in park before looking at her. She could see the faint blush on his cheeks at the mention of her sister, but she wouldn’t push him. She knew he was smitten with Elain and had been for some time. She hadn’t spoken to him plainly about it, but she could tell by the way they interacted that they were a matter of time. Inevitable, even.

“We’re not talking about me today. Only you.”

She giggled at his deflection. “Thank you again for today. I needed the coffee, the waffles, the venting, and the swift kick in the ass.”

”Of course. Speaking of Ellie, what’s your plan for her birthday party next weekend? You know Cass will be there.”

“Oh, man. I think I blocked that out.” She opened the door, stepped out of the car, and peered down at him before adding, ”That, my friend, is something I will have to play by ear.”

——————————————————————————-

A/N: Sorry for no Nessian interaction this time, but I just love the idea of a Nesta x Azriel brotp. I couldn’t help myself. Nessian interaction to come, I promise!

Tags are below! If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, you can comment, reblog, or message me!

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #acotar #acowar #nessian fanfic #nessian au #nessian angst #nessian fwb #acotar fanfic #This Time Nessian #nesta x azriel brotp

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osterfieldshollandgirl · 4 years

Text

My Prince Charming

Hello, this a imagine so the characters personalities are made up. Enjoy

During the quarantine, I am staying with my brothers Tom, Harry, and Harrison Tom's best friend at Tom's apartment. Sam and Paddy are at our parent's home. To help the brother's trust fans get through this thought time, we decided to have a puzzle war. During the puzzle war, we split up in teams to compete against each other. That Sunday morning as I am getting ready in my room, I hear Tom introducing the chickens to Instagram on his story and laugh to myself. The chicken was an idea that he came up with so we could not run out of eggs. As I am doing the finishing touches because since we are quarantined together with Harrison whom I have a crush on is going to be there today as every day I want to look good and hopefully get noticed by him as more than Tom's little sister. I spray my favorite perfume on before walking out to the kitchen where Tom is making a cup of tea and Harry and Harrison are talking in the living room on the couch. I have to pass the couch to get to the kitchen and as I was walking by Harrison looks up from his phone and smiles at me "good morning, how did you sleep?", I smile back instantly embarrassed by how quickly I responded: " I slept wonderful, you?" Now everyone's eyes are on us at this point and I am getting nervous it is obvious that I like Harrison, he took a minute to answer and said something that shook me " I slept better knowing that you are in the next room" in a flirtatious tone. I blushed so hard and mumbled a thank you while rushing to the kitchen and hiding where he could not see. I hear laughing and tom is there doubled over getting a laugh out of my embarrassment, I go up to him and smack his arm "ow" he exclaims jokingly "no need to get so sensitive it was cute" I nod as I continue to make myself breakfast. Tom continues getting serious " I can tell you like him and I do not want you to fall for someone like him, after all, I am his best friend, so please Harrison is off-limits" I take a moment to grab my breakfast and as I am walking away I angrily talk back " you can not tell me who I can and can not date, even if it is your best friend" not realizing how loud I yelled I turned around and Harrison's reaction is not what I was expecting, he acted like what I said was a joke and started laughing. Steam almost coming out of my ears I walk and stand in front of him "is my real feelings for you a joke?", he stops laughing and his facial expression shows pity like he was going to friendzone me so to spare the pain and go to my room slamming the door shut and locking it. I hear my name being called first Tom in an angry tone, Harrison in a concerned tone. I go to the bed embarrassed and mad about how the truth got out. As the day goes along I do my normal routine, after working out I checked if no one was in the kitchen and walked to grab some water. As I was grabbing water I see a figure walk in and look up to see Harrison. As I try to run away he grabs me by the arms and pulls me into a chair which he places his hands on the side of each side of me and leans in slowly. He studies me as he says, " you did not let me finish what I was going to say earlier I was not laughing at you I was looking at something else." I look away disappointed and say " wrong time to laugh, I told you I liked you and you were about to reject me so I spared myself the hurt." His eyes turned dark with lust as he gets closer to me almost standing between my legs " I am going to prove that I do think of you as a friend love, I have had feelings for you as long as you have for me." As I was about to talk he cups my face in his hands and cuts me off with his lips crashing down onto mine in a hot steamy kiss that I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck as he carries us to the couch. We are still making out as I am laid on the couch and as I take off his shirt he looks down just now realizing I am wearing work out leggings and a sports bra and whispers " you are so beautiful" in the most gentle voice I have ever heard. He hovers over me stroking my face and asks " will you give me a chance to prove that I am not as bad as your brother makes me out to be and I promise not to break your heart" I look up into his eyes and pull him down to my level kissing him deeply and passionately which he kisses back just as passionately. We pull away breathlessly I place my forehead on his and nod as an answer, he cheers by nuzzling into my neck and I hear someone coming down the hall. We quickly get ourselves together, him going on his phone and I take my water to my room acting as nothing happened, but before turning the corner I see Harrison watching me with loving eyes. I close the door and sit on my bed wondering what just happened. That night as we are all at the table eating dinner I am sitting between Harrison and Tom while Harry is sitting across from me. He keeps eyeing Harrison and me as he knows something is up. He finally speaks up and says" okay you guys got together, but now after this morning I thought it wasn't going to happen." Harrison looks at me and says " I could not hold my feelings in anymore knowing she likes me back" as he grabs my hand on the table intertwining our fingers as I lean over and kiss his cheek. A hand slams on the table as Tom hisses " I can not believe this you disobeyed me and went behind my back to get with my best friend after I said not to" Harrison immediately comes to my rescue saying" hey mate do not be like that I am the one who wants her as well so it's not only her", Tom scuffs " I know why you want to date her for reasons that are pure not because you truly like her." I yell frustrated" enough both of you is this what it is going to be like because if so maybe we shouldn't date then" "No, do not listen to him we do not need his approval to date, I need you now that I have you I won't let go" Harrison protest while trying to wipe the tears creeping down my face as I look at Tom to see his reaction. My relationship with Tom is strong and I have never seen this side of him before, " as I go to grab Tom's hands he takes them away with a hurt expression mixed with anger as he says the 3 words I dreaded " It is me or him" " you can not do that to me as your sister and him as your best friend" Tom laughs bitterly" he was my best friend no one would go behind my back like you two did" As I am about to walk away from the table tears streaming down my face I hear Harrison plead "please love, do not do this we can still be together I truly like you with pure intentions" Tom interrupts" you can stay here still because you are my sister but do not come to crying for comfort when he breaks your heart" and walks away to his room slamming his door. I run into Harry's arms crying and he comforts me calming me down. Harrison is patiently waiting for me on the couch with his face in his palms, I sit down next to him and gently pull his hands from his face to hold them. " I whisper between us" Tom will calm down and forgive you I am sorry I broke up your relationship with him" "No love, it is not your fault I want to be with you if he does not agree then he will have to deal with it." I grab his face and kiss him with all my strength and we share an emotional and loving kiss, I pull away " I love you" "I love you too" he responds and we walk to my room to cuddle and fall asleep after this stressful day. The next morning I wake up to a warm body next to me and remembered that Harrison slept in my room last night. I kiss his cheek to wake him up as he tightens the arm around my waist, he grumbles "good morning love" and kisses my neck. I cuddle into him " I am going to talk to Tom and calm things down he will be better today" Harrison looks at me lovingly " I will be here to support you". He gets up to use the bathroom and as he shuts the door Tom enters the room and sits next me holding my hands while looking down and says" I am sorry that I acted out yesterday I was just worried and did not expect for anything to happen just yet" I lean over and hug him as he hugs me back tightly. " it's okay, I promise to never go behind your back again." Tom smiles and I know we are on good terms and yells " Haz I forgive you but if you hurt her I won't be as forgiving" Harrison comes out of the bathroom and goes straight to hug Tom, I smile happy it's working out. We all get up and get ready for the day, I was bored so I decided to do the film a tik tok video and asked Harrison to be in it with me. As Harrison went to talk to Tom and Harry about something, he left his phone and it went off notifying a text I paid no attention except when I saw a girl's name. Then my curiosity took over and I read what it said and my heart broke when I saw the words from Mia I miss you, babe. I got an idea to do the tik tok to name people's last names challenge to see if he would admit who the girl is. I heard him come back so I made everything look normal and acted as I got ready. When we were filming that tik tok he was game for anything so I want through with the plan and it went like this. Harrison names all the famous last names and when Mia's name comes up he does not say anything and so I play it off on the video like it is nothing. But as soon as the video finishes he tries to explain himself and I do not say anything but point to his phone as he looks at his phone he sees the message and then realizes that I checked his phone out when he was not around. " I can't believe you read my text messages that intrusive, and Mia is an ex who means nothing to me," he says annoyed sitting on the bed. I turn around not saying anything at first then go to sit next to him on the bed " I am sorry that I read your messages, its just that when you said nothing on the tik tok I thought you were up to something. " He looks at me realizing I was about to cry and holds me as he says " it's okay I didn't mean to snap I would feel the same way" and wipes my tears away. As we cuddle I feel like this is a dream and so I lean on his chest and ask" can I kiss you?" He laughs and says " you don't need to ask baby you can just do what you want." So I do and lean in to kiss him and we end up having a heated make-out session. That night as we are all watching a movie together I feel someone looking at me and Tom is smiling at me with an approving look on his face, I nudge Haz's shoulder and he leans down to kiss my lips gently. I sigh happily, knowing that I got my happy ending and prince charming in the end!

@littlekidsteve @parkerpeter24 @parkeryeetsblog @gayfeministbroadwayyeet

#tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland #harrison osterfield imagines #harrison osterfield #ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan smut #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan imagines #grayson dolan

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btsbangtanreacts · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction, Making a Romantic/Grand Gesture.

Jin

Things had been crazy for you lately. Work was hectic, things with your family had been rough, you’d been sick on and off, and you felt like there was no reprieve. Late one night you couldn’t seem to clear your mind in order to sleep, so you rang your best friend, Jin. He answered straight away.

“Can’t sleep again huh, Y/N?”

“I just feel like I don’t have enough time to do anything. I just keep thinking about how much I’ve got to do. I mean I haven’t bought any groceries; I’ve been living off fast food for over a week, I have no clean clothes, my apartment’s a mess, I’ve got work, and family, and I can’t shake this cold that keeps coming back! How am I meant to just lie down and go to sleep?”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just talk to me until I fall asleep?”. Jin stayed on the phone telling you stories about his day and telling bad dad jokes until you fell asleep.

The next day you came home from work, pausing at your front door dreading the chaos that lay inside. You opened the door and did a double take to make sure you were in the right apartment. It was spotless and the smell coming from the kitchen was incredible.

“Is that you, Y/N?”

“Jin?”, you walked into the kitchen to find Jin packaging food into containers, “What are you doing here? What is all this?”

“Laundry is done, grocery shopping done, apartment cleaned, and enough meals to last 2 weeks! I know you’ve been having a tough time so I figured I could at least take some of that off your plate.”

Without even thinking about it, you crossed the kitchen, took Jin’s face in your hands, and kissed him. Instantly your friendship was changed forever.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever do that!” Jin laughed.

Yoongi

The other members frequently mentioned how Yoongi had a crush on you, but you couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t that you didn’t get along, but he just wasn’t affectionate towards you, so it was hard to believe he looked at you as anything more than a friend. When you first met the two of you had bonded over your love of piano. Most of the time when you hung out together it was in his studio to play together or share new compositions, so it was a surprise when he asked you to meet him outside the Lotte Concert Hall to hang out.

When you arrived, you found him leaning against a wall. As soon as he saw you a small smile spread across his lips and before even saying hello, he covered your eyes and asked, “You trust me, right?”

He started to guide you down the hallway and through a door.

“Yoongi, where are we going?”

“Shhh. Almost there.”

You came to a stop, Yoongi standing with his body close behind yours, his hands still covering your eyes.

“Ready?”, he whispered into your ear. When he uncovered your eyes, you realised you were standing inside the empty concert hall. The lights were dimmed except for one light on stage illuminating a grand piano. You looked back at him completely speechless.

“Go on. Go play.” He moved to a seat a few rows back as you went to take a seat at the piano.

You got lost in the music letting the notes fill the hall. When the final notes had echoed through the room you heard Suga clapping and cheering as he moved from his seat to join you on the stage.

“I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“I had to get you to notice me somehow.” He whispered with a smile.

Hoseok

Hoseok had been home for a month-long break with his family. You missed your childhood neighbour when he was gone and always loved spending time with him when he was back.

“Don’t leave me again, Hobi. I’ll be so bored!” you sighed dramatically throwing yourself across his bed.

“That’s just because I’m the best person ever. It’s natural to miss me.”

“No, it’s because you’re my favourite person so I miss you when you’re gone. You know I used to have the BIGGEST crush on you when we were teenagers?”

“W-wait, WHAT?!”

“Oh, come on, you knew! I practically threw myself at you! You were just nice enough to let me down gently.”

Hoseok blushed and changed the topic. He had no idea that you had had a crush on him and had spent years dreaming of you.

The next day he left to go back to work. As you climbed into bed after a long boring day without your friend, you noticed that a polaroid of Hoseok was stuck to your ceiling. Grabbing it down you read the handwritten caption, “1 of 30”. You sent a picture of it to him with a question mark.

“looks like you’ve got 29 more to go. By the way you have 30 days to find them to win the prize.”

He knew you too well and knew you couldn’t turn down a prize. The competitive streak in you took over and for the next few days your furiously hunted them down, finding them in all manner of places; pockets of your favourite clothes, inside drawers, in the mailbox, behind the curtains, and even stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

It had been 2 weeks since you’d last found one and you were still only up to 29.

“Hobi, please just tell me where the last one is?” you text him.

“Where’s the fun in that, Y/N? I promise the best one is last. You only have 2 days left”.

48 hours later and you were just texting Hoseok to officially give up when the doorbell rang. You opened the door to reveal Hoseok with polaroid number 30 stuck to his chest. Reading the caption, you could only smile. It simply read, “Date?”.

Namjoon

“AH!”, there was a crash from the hallway, “Y/N you really need to stop stacking your books up everywhere!”

“No Joonie, you need to be less destructive and leave my books alone!”. Your books were practically your friends. They crowded every spare surface and space in your apartment and had long since over filled your one small bookcase, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of any of them.

The following weekend you went home to visit your family, leaving Namjoon with the keys in case anything happened while you were gone. When you came home late Sunday night all the lights were on.

“Hello....?”, you cautiously called out.

“Y/N! You’re back! In here.”

Following the sounds of your friends voice you went to the living room to find the walls covered by floor to ceiling bookshelves, your precious books filling nearly every shelf. Sitting in a brand-new oversized armchair, that was perfect for reading in, was Namjoon grinning from ear to ear.

“Before you ask……no I didn’t build them myself, so they’re not going to collapse.”

You ran to him and held him in a long embrace, your head resting on his chest, listening to his heart racing.

Squeezing you tightly, Namjoon kissed the top of your head, “I’m glad you like it.”

Jimin

In the spring you moved to South Korea. It was hard to adjust at first but quickly became easier once you met your friend, Jimin. It was early in the winter and you were at the dorms hanging out with Jimin and the other members.

‘When do you think it will start snowing?”, you asked, your face pressed against the cold glass of the living room window.

“You’ve asked that 12 times in the last 30 minutes, Y/N, the answer is still the same. I. Don’t. Know.”, replied an exasperated Jin.

“Yeah well sue me for being excited, I’ve never seen snow. It’s hot where I’m from!”

You slept on the couch that night until you were gently shaken awake by Jimin.

“Chim, what the hell? It’s like 3am!”

“Shhh. Just sit up a second.”

With a groan you sat up, eyes barely open watching Jimin standing by the curtain covered window.

“Ready?” Without waiting for a reply, Jimin pulled back the curtain.

Instantly you were wide awake and staring in awe out the window, “Snow!”

“First snow of the year.”, Jimin smiled proudly.

“You woke me up just to see the snow?”

“You wanted to see snow so bad and the first snow of the year is the most magical. I just wanted it to be magical for you”, Jimin’s smile grew even bigger as his face flushed red.

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He gave a small nod and started to walk out of the room. “You’re not staying with me?”

“I….d-do you want me to?”

You lifted your blanket and shifted forward on the couch giving Jimin enough room to lie down behind you. He covered both of you with the blanket and you held his hand, wrapping it around your waist. His thumb gently brushed the exposed skin of your hip between your PJ shirt and shorts.

“I can’t believe you made sure I got to see this.”

“You deserve all the magic in the world, Y/N.”

Taehyung

Being away from home for so long had been hard. People constantly told you it would get better eventually but for you it was only getting worse. Your friend, Taehyung, was at your place one evening trying to cheer you up by making all sorts of weird faces and noises.

“Tae, please stop, I’m not in the mood”.

“Aw come on, Y/N, it will be okay. I know it’s hard”, he sat down next to you and rubbed your back to try and comfort you.

“It’s not just hard. I don’t want to be here anymore. I feel so alone all the time. I just want to move back home and be closer to my family and friends again.”

Taehyung didn’t want you to move away. He couldn’t deal with the thought of not being able to see you each day. Wrapping you in his arms he let you cry out your frustrations while he came up with a plan.

One you’d fallen asleep, he covered you with a blanket and quietly slipped out to start working on his plan.

Every time you called over the next couple of days, he said he couldn’t hang out or talk, which was out of character. Feeling even more lonely and sorry for yourself you packed a bag and headed out for a weekend home. As the elevator doors opened to go downstairs, you found Taehyung just stepping out.

“Y/N! I was just coming to see you!”, his face dropped when he saw the bag in your hand, “No, no, no, you can’t leave!”, he said desperately.

He held out a tan coloured teddy bear with a heart stitched on its foot.

“A teddy? Really? Tae I’m not five.” He grabbed the bag from your hand and thrust the bear into your chest, “Squeeze it”.

“Tae…”.

“Squeeze the damn bear, Y/N”, he pleaded.

With a sigh you squeezed the bear.

“I love you, Y/N”, you immediately started crying and squeezed the bear over and over listening to the sound of your mother’s voice.

“I know I couldn’t bring her here to stay so I figured this was the next best thing. Now you can stay right? You can stay here with me?”.

“I was only going for a weekend!”, You laughed.

“Oh……”

Jungkook

You’d been texting your friend, Jungkook, all day venting about how stressful work was. All you wanted to do was the same thing you did every time you had a bad day. You wanted to go home, get into the comfiest clothes you could find, get all your favourite junk food, and curl up in bed to watch the same terrible, trashy movies you always watched to feel better.

“Come to the dorm tonight,” Jungkook texted.

“I really just want to relax tonight, but thanks anyway.”

“Not an offer. An order. Come to the dorm tonight.” A few seconds passed before a new message came through, “Please?”.

“Fine. I’ll come straight from work.”

“Oh, so that’s why JK has been pacing around for an hour, you’re here”, Yoongi said as he opened the door to you, “You know where to find him.”

Knocking softly on the door you called out, “Kookie? It’s me!”

‘Y/N! You’re here!”, he slipped his body through the ajar door and gave you a tight squeeze, “Be prepared for the best night ever!”

He pushed the door open and stepped inside letting you see his room.

“Lots of pillows on the bed, your favourite candle, all the best junk food, and the corniest movies possible ready to spend all night watching!”

“Oh, Kook! This is just what I needed, thank you!” “Here!”, Jungkook leapt forward towards the bed and picked up a careful stack of his comfiest clothes, “Go get something more comfortable on and I’ll get the first movie ready.

Stepping out of the bathroom after changing into a pair of Jungkook’s sweatpants and t-shirt, you took in a deep breath of how good the room smelled. You jumped onto the bed where Jungkook was already sitting with the blankets covering his lap. The bed was stacked with a ton of pillows and blankets, just how you liked it, and there was every snack imaginable.

“Kookie did you do this all for me?”

“Of course, I did, Y/N. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“Anything?” you asked with a devilish grin.

“Anything at all for you” He said gazing into your eyes.

“Good!” you said bouncing onto the bed until you were sitting as close to him as you could without making him uncomfortable, “Cause my hands are freezing and I need somewhere to warm them up. Jungkook pulled the covers back so you could climb inside.

“Here,” he took your hands in his and slipped them up his shirt and onto his chest, his hands resting over yours holding them to his heart, “Warm?”

“So warm and toasty. You’re the best Kookie. I wish I never had to move from right here every again. I want us to stay just like this forever.”

“We could!”, JK hinted as his voice cracked. His face went bright red. “I’ll stay right here with you, just the two of us, for as long as you want me.” Nuzzling down onto his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist, you thought about it for a moment.

“I like the sound of forever with you.”

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slverjohn · 6 years

Note

can i second the knitting flint prompt?

Silver has always hated the cold, ever since he was small. The chill of the wind makes him think of the draughty attic room where he and the other boys slept, huddled for warmth in trios and pairs on their little mattresses, piling their thin blankets all atop of each other. By the time he was eleven and out of the orphanage the sight of snow no longer filled him with any sort of wonder or thrill; instead he would panic and pray he could find some shelter for the night, for sleeping on the streets during a blizzard could spell death for a frail, sickly boy.

Even now, when he has a home to which he can return and a hearth to warm his aching bones, Silver still can’t shake the dread he feels when the weather starts to grow colder.

Why Flint and Thomas had relocated to Massachusetts instead of literally anywhere else, Silver will never understand.

He knows for a fact that Madi finds his whining about runny noses and freezing chamberpots and damp socks amusing. Perhaps the only good thing about winter at all is that the sullen anecdotes in his letters make her smile, even if he cannot see it in person.

This time around, his second winter here in Provincetown, Silver has discovered a new reason to loathe the cold. His hands, constantly exposed to the wind thanks to his crutch, have become dry and cracked to a painful degree, and it’s not even mid-December.

He comes home from the tavern one evening, and has to work himself up to letting go of his crutch when he sits down next to Thomas by the fire; he knows that when he does unfurl his fingers it will be agony.

Thomas always arrives home first, and as such has already put the kettle on. The mug, when its pressed into Silver’s aching hands, is wonderfully soothing, and he can’t help the pleased sigh he lets out, leaning his head against Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas takes one of his hands, running his own fingers, calloused from years of work as an indentured farmhand, over the dry fissures across his skin.

“If you would just let us buy you some gloves - ” Thomas starts to say, but Silver interrupts him, pulling back so he can glare properly.

“We are not wasting our money like that,” he says firmly. It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation. “It’s just for the winter months. I’ll be fine once the weather warms up.”

Thomas pouts, put out. Within seconds though, his expression brightens considerably, which instantly makes Silver suspicious. “Well, if you won’t let us spoil you with something so luxurious as a cheap pair of gloves, then you’ll have to let me try a home remedy.”

“A what now?”

Which is how Flint comes to find an hour later his two lovers sitting at the kitchen table, one of them smiling smugly while the other ponders his life choices, hands submerged in a bowl of olive oil.

“Thomas, I don’t mean to be rude, but what the fuck is going on?” Flint asks, which makes Silver laugh out loud. He finds it absolutely hilarious that there is no doubt in Flint’s mind who was responsible for this particular decision.

Thomas seems just as eager to share his reasoning as he was when he explained himself to an incredulous Silver. “You remember Mrs. O’Malley? That sweet old widow?”

“The one who wanted you to re-bind her Anne Bradstreet? How did you go from discussing To My Dear and Loving Husband to drenching Silver’s hands in oil?”

“Well, I mentioned in passing that a friend of mine was having difficulty with his hands, what with these harsh Massachusetts winters, and she swears by this method. Told me my ‘young feller’ would feel like a new man after letting his sore hands sit in some olive oil for a few hours.”

“To which I said that olive oil isn’t cheap, but he wouldn’t listen. You know how he is when he gets an idea into his head,” Silver says with a shrug. In truth, it does feel nice, but to do this every night would be a waste of both money and olive oil, no matter what Mrs. O’Malley says.

“Has it truly gotten that bad?” Flint asks, his attention fully on Silver now. Silver had hoped they might band together in teasing Thomas for his wild ideas, rather than discuss his own problems.

“It’s fine,” Silver says, but Thomas, the traitor, undermines him immediately.

“It is most certainly not fine,” he says, tugging on one of Silver’s curls admonishingly. “You should have seen him when he arrived home, James. His knuckles were bleeding.”

Flint frowns, concerned but also strangely thoughtful. “Then perhaps we ought to indulge Mrs. O’Malley’s strange wisdom, for the time being.”

In the following days, Flint behaves most strangely. Sundays and Mondays are the only days in which all three of them are home, and they normally spend all their free time together; be it simply lounging in bed or reading in silence or even going on a day trip together. But Flint is strangely distant, withdrawing into the spare room without a word and only emerging for meals and to sleep.

At first, Silver worries that he’s done something wrong, that he’s upset Flint, but he doesn’t act any differently when they do interact. They all have their moods, after what they’ve been through; perhaps this is simply one of those times where Flint needs to be alone with his demons.

It’s not until a week later, when he walks into their empty drawing room to find a pair of blue wool gloves on their table, that he understands.

Suffering is not a badge of honour. I learned that from you. You deserve all the comforts this world can give, but for now you’ll have to settle for these.

The note makes him smile, as it is so very Flint. The gloves, when he puts them on, are a perfect fit, though he supposes Flint has plenty of experience with the planes of Silver’s hands.

It’s only when he looks into the spare room and sees the small mountain of discarded, unfinished gloves, sitting next to a broken pair of knitting needles, that Silver fully understands just how much work Flint has put in, all for his comfort.

He swipes away a stray tear, feeling foolish for getting emotional over something as simple as a some gloves.

There’s a set of arms wrapping around him, and he knows from their gangliness that they belong to Thomas. He leans back against him, letting Thomas rest his chin on his head.

“He really does love me, doesn’t he?” Silver asks quietly, a little disbelieving.

Thomas hums, squeezing him lightly. “Oh, most definitely. And you know, when it comes down to it, so do I. I wouldn’t waste perfectly good olive oil on just anyone, you know.”

#my fic #fic prompt #youcanchoosefreedom #this is so fluffy and thomas isn't nearly enough of a shit #silverflinthamilton #black sails fic #silverflint #silverhamilton #Anonymous

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creative-type · 6 years

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Murder of Arthur Wright IX

First Previous AO3

AN: Sorry again for the lack of updates. I kind of hate poetry and have no idea how some got into my story

Also hawkshaw is Victorian slang for detective

Chapter Nine: Child of Sorrow

Margot reached the Red Griffin Inn as the bells struck noon. She scanned the streets for a familiar face, but Cain was nowhere to be seen. With a mild sigh of irritation she settled outside to wait. It was a cheerful and bright Sunday afternoon, and the traffic showed it. It was the sort of day to spend relaxing outside with loved ones, not investigating gristly murders.

Margot was especially dour after a poor night’s sleep, the new revelations of the Wright family churning in her mind. She was a mage, a woman of science and method, firm in both her opinions and convictions. She believed problems were best dealt with when they were small and manageable—whether that was in the workplace or at home.

The Wrights were messy. Even if Master Wright hadn’t been killed it was the sort of family drama that wouldn’t have been easily solved. In the past Margot had helped students deal with difficult situations at home, and knew on a more personal note that Lyra’s relationship with her mother was…complicated, to say the least. But this seemed different somehow, more tragic after two very preventable deaths.

She supposed part of her disappointment was with Master Wright himself. Their last interaction aside, she had always admired his work and was proud of the opportunity to play a small part in his research. A talent like his only cropped up once or twice in a generation, and with an elf’s longevity Master Wright could have contributed to his field for decades to come.

Margot was not so naïve to believe that being a good mage made one a good person, but it still shook her to have the pedestal of someone she respected—someone she had met and thought she knew, if only a little—crumble so spectacularly.

She was still mulling over her thoughts when Cain appeared ten minutes later lecturing a ratty-looking child in a newsboy cap.

“No scampering off till you make eyes with everyone in the building, then report back to me. Do you understand?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Unlike your beard, I ain’t stupid. But I’m telling ya, that’s Rockhead territory. Louis broke his arm tanglin’ with one of their gang.”

“You saying you can’t handle it?” Cain asked.

“I’m saying you ain’t paying me to scoop a building and keep clear of the Rockhead lads.”

Cain fished in his pants pocket and thrust a handful of coins at the boy. “That ought to cover your trouble.”

The boy snatched the money almost before Cain had his hand out of his pocket. “It otta. Pleasure doin’ business, Mr. Cain.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Tobe. Ever think of cutting an old man some slack?”

“Only when my purse is as fat as your head,” the boy said with a cheeky grin. He tipped his hat to Margot. “This hawkshaw fancies himself a gentleman, so don’t let ‘em work you without buyin’ lunch first.”

“Tobe!”

The boy melted back into the crowd before Cain could say anything more. He rubbed his eyes, exasperated. “I swear that boy will be the death of me.”

“Who is he?” Margot said, suppressing a smile.

“A common ragamuffin,” Cain said sourly. “A scoundrel of the highest order, pickpocket extraordinaire, and my best informant. I’m having him watch the playhouse where you first met Anansi on a hunch.”

“He’s a kid,” Margot said.

“He’s a runaway who had a very good reason not to want to go back home,” Cain said. “I make sure he’s got money to eat and a fire during the winter, and in exchange get another set of eyes and ears on the street. He’s got a knack for it, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Cain fished out a piece of jerky and sighed. “Do you have a half-penny I can bum? I just gave away all my spare change, and from what you said Anansi’s the type to stick to particulars.”

“You don’t have any in those magic pockets of yours?” Margot said.

“Pocket,” Cain corrected. “The rest are perfectly normal.”

“You never did say how it worked.”

There was a quiet snort, and Cain scratched the back of his head. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that. Shoulda known better. To make a long story short, it’s a vanishing pocket. Anything I put in there is technically in a state of existence and non-existence at the same time, which fools most spells protecting against theft—especially in old houses since the technique was only developed a couple of decades ago.”

“You’re lucky the Wright’s haven’t updated the defenses on their estate,” Margot said.

“They can’t, not without undoing a century of spellwork,” Cain said. “That house has had so many protection from fire spells on it you could douse the whole thing in kerosene and it still wouldn’t light. Would you risk taking that away on the off-chance an enterprising detective happens to have a workaround?”

“Tricky,” Margot said, impressed despite herself.

Cain tapped his forehead, grin spreading. “Mind like a steel trap.”

“And no change in your pockets, magic or otherwise.”

“Can’t deny it,” he chuckled.

“Anyway,” Margot said, “it’s probably best if I pay. Anansi very specifically said they would tell me a story.”

“That’s fair. Just remember, we’re trying to find out what Anansi knows about Desdemona.”

They walked inside together. The Red Griffin Inn was the type of place that, while not having the freshest paint or softest pillows, carried a certain amount of charm. It was only a few streets over from where Margot met Anansi for the first time, and catered to the same rough and tumble crowd. But the place was clean and sun streamed through open windows, carrying a fresh breeze along with the sunlight.

Margot’s attention was immediately drawn to a gaggle of children crowding the lobby. Some wore carefully mended clothing and went barefoot, while others were dressed in the crisp, clean linins of a merchant’s child. One girl, whose golden hair had been styled in the latest fashion, sat next to a boy so raggedy he made Tobe look like a prince in comparison. Every eye was glued to an orcish woman who sat at the center of them all.

She was dressed like a sailor and puffed contentedly on a long-stemmed pipe. Laugh lines framed deep-set brown eyes and a streak of white ran through a long braid. Even at a distance Margot could see the faint scars of a brawler across her knuckles.

The woman scanned the children while she smoked, a crooked smile spreading across her face as Margot and Cain settled in near the back. “Noon has come and gone. Who vould hear a story?”

As if by magic a coin appeared in each child’s hand. The woman handed around a battered cap, only pausing when she reached the ragged boy.

“For you, solnyshko, I vould speak a thousand stories,” she said, pressing the coin back in his hand along with a shiny red apple. Where she found one out of season would forever be a mystery, and the boy sat back with his eyes as wide as saucers, the fruit cradled protectively against his chest.

“Now yesterday I told the tale of the great Vizard Hym’s victory over the dread pirate Roberts. Should I continue his story, hmm? Or perhaps you vould like to hear the Dwarf King’s battle against the Lords of Night?”

The girl with the golden curls shot her hand into the air. “I want to hear about the Fairy Queen!”

“No, Khrone the Unkillable!” another shouted.

The woman listened to half a dozen suggestions and discarded them all before a young orcish girl at her feet said, “Can you please tell a story about the Wasted Lady?”

A hush fell over the children as the woman sat back in her chair and took another puff on her pipe. A glint entered her dark eyes, and she smiled. “You vould hear of the Lady? Very well, den. Our tale begins long ago, ven the stars vere still young in the sky…”

It was a story that Margot had heard a dozen times before, but the children were enraptured. Cain chuckled quietly under his breath and whispered to Margo, “When you said Anansi would tell any story in the world for a half-penny, I didn’t think it was literal.”

Margot craned her head at him. “That’s not Anansi.”

“What?”

Margot pointed behind the bar where a pimple-faced and beleaguered young woman was wiping down glasses. She was so unassuming Margot wouldn’t have noticed her, if not for the faint flicker of familiar magic that hid her true form.

“That’s Anansi.”

Cain did a double take. “You’re kidding.” Margot only shook her head, and he rubbed his chin in thought. “Right. Okay then. That’s not what I was expecting.”

“I get the feeling that’s how Anansi prefers it,” Margot said dryly.

Cain grunted in agreement. His eyes darting between where the orcish woman told her story and the false barmaid. Margot could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he processed this new information.

“Alright then,” he said so quietly Margot wondered if he was talking to her or himself. “Two can play that game.”

He strode over to the bar in a way that made his coat billow dramatically behind him. Margot followed in a less ridiculous manner and took the seat next to him. Cain had yet to remove his hat, and the shadows framed his face in a way that might have been intimidating if Margot didn’t already know him.

For a moment Margot felt uneasy. Trying to bully Anansi for information wasn’t going to work, but before she could say anything the not-a-barmaid was before them.

“What’ll it be?”

“It’s quite the crowd you’ve got here,” Cain said conversationally.

“If you don’t like the kids you can leave,” Anansi said. “Gudrid likes ‘em and she owns the place. Now what’ll it be?”

Cain nudged Margot softly in the arm, and she slid her half-penny across the bar. “I hear Gudrid isn’t the only one who knows her way around a story,” Margot said softly, voice laced with deceptive sweetness. “And I’m still looking for Desdemona Wright.”

Anansi blinked in surprise. It was the first time Margot had seen them break character, and her lips curled with the minor victory. The moment was gone almost as soon as it had come, and they regarded Margot carefully, dark eyes unfathomable.

“Still running errands for Felix then? I thought you were smarter than that, darling.”

“May I introduce my associate Mr. Dashiell Cain,” Margot said.

Anansi did the unthinkable and broke character a second time. They whipped their head toward Cain, sudden smile splitting their face. “Of course!” they exclaimed, drawing a look of ire from Gurdrid. Anansi offered a bashful apology before leaning across the bar table.

“You’re Conan’s little project?” they said in a stage whisper. “My goodness, you’ve grown.”

Cain frowned. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I know Conan Westmacott.” Anansi said. “Wonderful man. Spoke very highly of you, you know. I wept when I heard of his retirement. Wept. But it seems to be suiting him well, and he’s got you to follow in his footsteps. It all makes sense now.”

“Mr. Westmacott…talks about me?” Cain said, caught completely off-guard from this revelation.

“Of course, darling! You know, when I wrote that play of his he absolutely insisted on complete and total accuracy. No skimping on details, not even for the little half-orc who helped crack the case once and for all.” Anansi shook Cain’s hand enthusiastically. “Goodness, that’s been almost fifteen years now, hasn’t it? That play was my big break. I owe my career to Mr. Westmacott, and by extension you.”

“You wrote the play about the dwarven counterfeiting ring?” Cain asked.

“Wrote, produced, and acted,” Anansi said proudly. “My first one-man show. Conan thought the illusions were too gimmicky, but audiences loved it.”

“I didn’t know you helped Mr. Westmacott on the counterfeiting case,” Margot said, looking up at Cain.

“I…well, I didn’t. Not really,” he mumbled, his cheeks darkening with a blush. “It was a happy accident. I was just a kid who happened to be in the right place at the right time.” He coughed awkwardly.

“Anyway, that’s not why we’re here,” Cain said, trying to reassert himself. But it was as if the universe itself was trying to amplify his embarrassment. Any authority in his voice was drowned out as Gudrid finished her tale and released the small sea of children back to the streets.

Once they were gone Gudrid sauntered behind the bar and smacked Anansi on the back of the head. “I let you listen if qviet. Go make trouble someplace else.”

Anansi flashed her a charming smile that looked downright wrong on the face they were wearing. “You let me listen because I’m willing to work the bar for free—ow! That was uncalled for!”

Rubbing the back of their head, Anansi turned mulishly back to his audience of Margot and Cain. “See the abuse I put up with? I come trying to learn from the best storyweaver this side of the Tributine, offering free labor and asking nothing in return but to listen…”

Gudrid let out a low growl of warning, and Anansi raised their hands in a pacifying gesture. “I’m going, I’m going! Stars and stones, you’d think I drank all your beer and punched a hole in the wall.”

With nimble movements Anansi vaulted the bar before slinging an arm around both Cain and Margot’s shoulders. “Let’s go someplace more private, shall we? It seems I owe the professor a story of my own.”

Anansi led them to a private table and took the liberty of ordering them drinks. When Gudrid came around Margot took a polite sip and complimented the orc on her ale. The orcish woman softened a little at that, and Anansi was able to spout a cheeky retort without getting smacked.

The relationship between the two made Margot curious, but so curious enough to risk their chance at Desdemona by asking. Once they were are comfortably settled she caught Cain’s eye, and he gave a subtle nod.

“We would like to speak to Desdemona if it’s at all possible,” Margot said. “Do you know where she is?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you, darling,” Anansi said.

“Can’t or won’t?” Cain asked.

Anansi shrugged languidly. “As long as you work for Felix Wright, I fail to see the difference. I’m disappointed, Mr. Cain. Conan never would have taken a client of his sort.”

Cain’s features hardened, but he gave no other reaction. “What’s your beef with Wright junior?”

“He’s a pompous, self-inflated buffoon,” Anansi said. They leaned on their hand and looked at Cain with a dreamy expression. “I’ll admit I don’t know him, but what I saw at the mage’s conference was enough. The conference paid for rooms for all the speakers. I always enjoy speaking with the locals when I travel, and was having a lovely conversation the proprietor of the hotel after my show when young Mr. Wright came stumbling in, drunk and angry. It must have been near two in the morning, the day before his father’s great demonstration and he was near-shouting with the help for not having his rooms ready.”

Anansi went silent for a moment, frowning slightly at the memory. “I was aghast. Felix Wright portrays himself a gentleman, but what sort of gentleman needs his daddy to come down and get him to behave out in public, hmm? I’ve seen his type before, and I despise it. I’ll not lift a finger to aid whatever cause that overgrown child is championing.”

Cain and Margot shared a look. The story Anansi told was completely at odds with Felix’s tale of the night before the murder. But which one was telling the truth?

“What exactly did Master and Mr. Wright say to one another in the lobby?” Cain asked.

“Oh, Master Wright knew better than to cause a scene in public,” Anansi said. “But I would give one of my eyeteeth to have been a fly on the wall in their room.”

“What about the performance itself?” Margot asked. “I was told The Death of Desdemona was written anonymously.”

“You heard rightly,” Anansi said. “People often give me copies of their work. I honestly don’t recall where I picked it up. The play itself is nothing special, there was a line of verse that caught my attention. That’s the only portion I performed at the conference.”

Anansi cleared their voice, and their demeanor changed, the playful trickster replaced by the famed performer. And with the change came a new face. Gone was the comely human, and in its stead was an elven woman with long brown hair. Almond-shaped eyes were the color of emeralds, her skin a rich olive complexion.

It was not the face of Desdemona Wright. The girl in Master Wright’s photograph had brown eyes, and even at the tender age of five it was obvious that the Wright twins took after their mother. The mask Anansi wore bore little resemblance to that of Adaline Wright, but at a distance, in a darkened performance hall…

Margot tried to think of it from Felix’s point of view. It had been a decade since he’d last seen Desdemona. Her name alone shook him, perhaps enough to subliminally suggest that the woman he saw on stage was in fact his sister.

Whether the guise fooled Master Wright was another matter entirely, but Margot could believe that the name, along with a face that bore a slight resemblance to his daughter, would be enough for him to storm back stage and demand answers.

All of this flashed though Margot’s mind in the time it took Anansi to finish their illusion. In the blink of an eye she wasn’t in the Red Griffin Inn, but the grand stage of Benson Hall where Anansi stood on stage. The auditorium was dim save for a spotlight where Anansi stood.

Margot gripped the arm rests of her seat. She knew it was only an illusion. She knew. But her senses disagreed with what her brain knew to be true. She could feel the uncomfortable wooden seat, taste the familiar buzz of two hundred mages sitting in the same space.

Anansi spoke, their voice clear and ringing throughout the auditorium.

“Child of sorrow, none do mourn Alas, tis fate, now bear their scorn Lord and Lady turn their face And abandon thee in thy disgrace

Child of sorrow, none do mourn From friend and kin cruelly torn Fortune’s favorite son turns his head And finds another in your stead

Child of sorrow, none do mourn Lost in mis’ry, wandering lorn Seeking, searching as silence swallows pity’s cry Your father’s daughter bids thee die

The sun soon rises on an empty grave Though once abandon’d, hope doth save Child of sorrow, none do mourn As fire consumest dross, thou hast been reborn”

Each word was dripped in honey and hit with the power of a berserking orc. When Anansi finished Margot’s heart ached and tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she didn’t know why. She was not sentimental enough to fall apart over a melodramatic poem, but with Anansi’s performance that didn't seem to matter.

Suddenly Margot was back at the inn. Anansi offered her a kerchief, an apologetic smile on their face.

“I’m sorry, darling. I forget sometimes the affect it can have the first time”

“Hells bells,” Cain breathed. “That was…wow.”

“It’s not a great work by any means,” Anansi said. “It doesn’t scan and there’s no meter to speak of, but sometimes even a poorly written piece can have meaning.”

“A really depressing meaning,” Cain said.

Anansi raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Cain, do you know what the name Desdemona means?”

“Not a clue.”

“Ill-starred,” Anansi said. “Unlucky, miserable, and—dare I say it—sorrow. The death of Desdemona is the death of misfortune.”

“Reborn through hope,” Margot said.

“Exactly!” Anansi said. “Whoever the author was, they weren’t writing a lament. They were writing a celebration.”

#daughter of the lilies fanfiction #daughter of the lilies #The Murder of Arthur Wright #creative-type writes

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ol-razzle-dazazzle · 6 years

Text

Rattus Rattus- Chapter 2: Rats With Wings

Here we are again! Thank you all to my fellow Fyogol shippers, it’s nice getting awesome comments, and I really appreciate it- even if I haven’t had much time to respond to things! I’ve been a bit stressed, but here’s the next chapter.

The next one I’m going to be honest might take a while- as I have two exams in 3-4 days. It might take a week, it might take two. Probably just a week, since I’ve already written half of the other chapter- in which we will be introduced to Pushkin (and hopefully you’ll actually enjoy his character and not feel cheated)! After these initial chapters, things will start to pick up and become more interesting, so keep a watch out ;3c As for those wondering where Ivan will come into the story, he’ll come much later- after school and we will all suffer

Trigger warnings aren’t really needed for this chapter: just more catholic shenanigaggles, also Fyodor has misophonia (I personally hc him as autistic like myself)

Class went rather well, barring Fyodor accidentally picking up Myskin by the tail because he thought it was a pencil. There was a somewhat looming sense of dread, when the teacher glanced at him- and whether it was because he had heard about the rat fiasco or because he was a new student, the attention and requests to recite English was frustrating.

He hadn't even ended up going to his dormitory, let alone pack or unpack his stuff or look around the place (despite that being his own fault). Granted, Fyodor didn't bring too much- just a heap of books, school supplies, and food for Myskin that was disguised to his family as taking a strange craving for seeds and fruit. Irregardless, his family gave him some money that he could spoil through the weeks- and he hopes the nurse is nice and manipulable enough to get potential free lollies like he promised Nikolai.

The class bell rang again and Fyodor then decides to swear to memorise the timetable because he flinches every time the wretched alarm rings. He has no clue where the chapel is let alone how to get there, so he stands outside the classroom Nikolai entered.

"Ah! Fedya!" Nikolai calls, waving. "Lovely of you to join me." He looks around, peering into Fyodor's bag. "And the magnificent Myskin." He pats the rat.

As the two walk, Nikolai filled in as much information of the place as he knew. Curfew is at 9:30, but extends 15 minutes each year- older students also have privilege of leaving to explore the town more frequently, but for their current year, visits are once every three weeks. Saturdays are free days, with the addition of any services or clubs students wish to partake in- and Sundays have an 8AM chapel service, which continues for an hour, as well as one at 8PM.

"And dorms?"

"I'm not sure…I think they're mixed with years, two to four to a room." Nikolai thinks, "Well, generally speaking- I won't be in mine very often."

"How come?"

"Well, thing is…" Nikolai scrunches his face. "I'm here on a 'scholarship' of sorts. So, I'd mainly reside in my own room because 'asceticism'."

"That sounds rather stupid." Fyodor replies.

"…It is." Nikolai shrugs. "But I need to maintain the church as well."

"But we're going there to do just that." Fyodor frowns. "I'm not sure how I am supposed to sleep surrounded by people."

Nikolai sighs, "Well, we have to manage anyway. I'm as disgruntled about this as you are."

"Stop dragging your feet, you two." The teacher folds her arms, "For now you'll be cleaning the balcony with the bell tower." She hands them a broom, spray, mop and dustpan. "As for the rat, you're lucky it must've scuttled into the forest- as it hasn't been sighted."

Fyodor heaves a sigh.

"Also, while I do not have the time to oversee your detention, I will check the job is satisfactory in two hours."

Fyodor glances to the side, hoping for an incredulous 'Two hours?!'- but found none.

"Thank you." A smile instead.

However, the moment the doors closed and they clamoured up the stairs, a loud groan came from the other boy as he shut the door. "Two hours?! Seriously?"

A little late on schedule, but lovely nonetheless.

"It'll take us an hour to clean the thing!" Nikolai sighs, leaning against the wall, staring around him. While the tower was somewhat shabby and didn't have much room- due to the enormous bell and sets of pulleys, it was a nice view outside.

"Just…please don't ring it." Fyodor winces, finally he is face to face with his arch-nemesis- the bell that had tormented him thrice.

"Oh yeah- you don't like the noise." Nikolai peers over at the bell, "It's going to ring twice, automated- but there's a clock on the wall so I'll let you know…are you sensitive to loud noises all the time?"

Fyodor scrunches his face a little, not wanting to admit it. "…Maybe."

"Ah- I was just wondering because I know I can get a little loud."

"No!" Fyodor's surprised at his sudden response, "No, it's fine. I like your voice."

"Well, first time I've ever heard that!" Nikolai laughs, and it's a laugh that's far more superior to any bell. "Alright, let's get this done so we can spend the spare time lazing around."

"Hm, okay…" Fyodor examines the copious heavy tools. "I'll coat the bell with the spray, and you can sweep."

"Sure- but I wanna clean the balcony, and you can mop and polish."

"How come? The balcony would be the hardest part- she probably wants you to scrape the bird-"

"Eh, just a part of being a bird lover. I mean, you probably deal with it regarding Myskin."

"Myskin is very sophisticated and I am, in fact, training him to use a litter box or a disposable container." Fyodor frowns, "Also, I'm a bit worried he'll get nervous and jump from this height…" He zips open his bag, and inside it the mouse sleeps. "Well, either that or get awoken with the bells." He zips it back, "Poor thing has had enough trouble as it is."

Speaking of which…this would be a good chance to talk to Nikolai about…that.

"We'll sneak a snack for him and us when we go to nurse after this, your treat, right?" Nikolai smiles, getting the broom and dustpan, sweeping. "But after we get dismissed, come on now. Also don't talk while your head is inside the bell, back when I was in Ukraine I've hit my head wayyy too many times."

"Ukraine?" Fyodor raises an eyebrow.

"Also check the ropes to see if they're frayed or not." Nikolai interjects quickly, "Geez- there's so much dust here."

"Why did you come-"

"Come on Fedya! Ring ring ring! Sweep sweep sweep, clean clean clean!" He hums for a little while in this manner, and Fyodor resigns with a sigh, getting the spray and cloths.

The iron was surprisingly both hard and easy to clean- easy when there weren't blemishes or bird excrement, but difficult otherwise. Fyodor was not exactly known for 'elbow grease', and often resulted in 'ngh's and 'hah's and all matter of exerted effort.

"Is it really that hard?" Nikolai whistles, collecting the corners.

"Oh shush- you got the easy job." Fyodor rolls his eyes, moving to the corner to clean around the rim. "I'm sorry I'm not as tough as most people- but my strength lies in mental fortitu- AH!"

He fall backwards onto the floor, flinching at air and invisible strands. "…It seems that churches are also a haven for spiders."

"What were you saying?" Nikolai grins, "Also, I haven't swept that part yet- move over here."

"Oh shush. Besides, I'm working harder than you are- you've been humming along and I've already cleaned that part.

"Not really, there's a whole layer in the middle and top that needs to be done- as well as the underside." Nikolai points out.

"I know that- I'm working my way up." Fyodor looks away, and continues cleaning the other side, brushing away the cobwebs.

"Hmm…you don't need to be so defensive." Nikolai shrugs, "Besides, you'll have a growth spurt soon enough."

"Kolya, if you do not shut up I will make sure you drink this whole spray bottle."

And of course, as if the thunder of God himself decided to add more effect, the bell rang loudly.

Said effect was Fyodor once again fell as he was startled, bringing his hands to his ears and dropping the bottle.

"…I was right on the nose." Nikolai shudders for comedic effect, "You're scary, Fedyaaa."

He picks the bottle up and helps Fyodor. "…Thanks." At least he can clean the inside now.

"Just, please, don't fall now. I won't be able to catch you."

"You didn't catch me the first time." Fyodor murmurs, trying to make short work of the job- and by the time he was finished Nikolai had cleared the place of most dust and insects.

"Okay, now for the top part- you're going to need a ladder. I can hold it for you-"

"Nah, you can do it." Fyodor hands the spray and cloth over. "I'll hold the ladder."

"You aren't going to let me fall because I teased you a bit, are you?"

Fyodor just smiles, as he brings the ladder.

"…That's horrifying."

"It's fine right- you have the weird relocation thingy."

"…" Nikolai silently climbs up the bell tower, glancing to see if Fyodor was supporting it before he cleaned around it.

"You know I will have to inevitably ask or pry it out of you." Fyodor helps him down. "As I respect you, you will have the choice."

He's pretty serious when he needs to be, huh. "Well…okay- fine. We'll take a short break. It's fair enough." Nikolai takes off his blazer.

"So…?" Fyodor sits up on the wall, tapping next to him for Nikolai to sit.

"Well, okay- this is pretty weird but…some people have gifts. Like supernatural powers. I don't really know why, but one day- I was sleeping, and I must've put my hand in my other sleeve, because when I woke up- BAM!" He flutters his arms, "It's gone!"

"Because I had pretty bad vision in this eye-" He pokes the blurred one, "I didn't really know what was going on- because it was my left hand. And then I hear my family scream like nothing else before and…" He puts his hand in his jacket, as it materialised in front of them, waving. "There it was in the kitchen, shaking and wriggling around. You should've seen the face on my mom when she saw it- she almost had a heart attack!"

With that, he gets up. "And that's that."

"No it's not."

"If we waste too much time, we won't get to go bird-watching." Nikolai puts his finger to his lips. "It's only fitting such dramatic things are revealed on top of dramatic places."

"Must you be so extra?" Fyodor groans- just when he's getting somewhere.

"I must." He grabs the scraper and gets started on the balcony. The noise irks Fyodor, but nonetheless he grabs the mop and starts cleaning any leftover grime.

The bell rings again, and amidst the scraping he almost curses (he does, but in a Catholic school no one needs to know that.) "Alright, done. Balcony time." He chucks the supplies away. "We have half an hour."

Nikolai sighs, "Someone's eager. Fine, but you better tell some juicy backstory too."

"There's nothing juicy about it. I don't have magical tele-location abilities."

"Wow, Fedya- way to isolate me." He perches on the edge. "If you fall here, I'll catch you. Probably."

Fyodor perches next to Nikolai, holding the wall a little for support. Nikolai sighs longingly, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Fyodor sneaks a glance at Nikolai, his eyes half lidded and a relaxed smile- no grandeur or theatrics. The way his messy ponytail flutters and his bangs getting even more messed up- it's a strange picture.

A beautiful one. Well, when Fyodor's hair isn't getting in the way.

"Yeah."

"You keep looking at me and the wall, trying not to look down." Nikolai stifles a laugh. "It's almost like a storybook, in the distance."

"…" Fyodor glances quickly for a moment, being encapsulated. A forest, lush and green. The clouds, surprisingly for Russian weather, not looming and gray. The town in the distance with colourful houses and stalls and buildings.

"It's what birds see. They can go anywhere they want- and they see the world like this- in constant motion and flight."

"Yet they still return to the same places, still tied."

"You think so?" Nikolai looks at Fyodor, "I find that even nicer. A being that can go anywhere in the world and yet still returns."

"Will you return to Ukraine?"

"No- for that's no longer my home."

"It's where your family is."

"And will you return to your family?"

"…I don't have any particular attachment to them."

"Neither do I." Nikolai sighs, "They thought I was possessed or had some strange interference with 'things not of this mortal realm'. So they took me to the priest."

"Usually things like 'gifts' are blessings and curses."

"For someone so quiet, you're rather perceptive, aren't you?” Nikolai glances at him, turning a little to see him with his better eye, “Yes, they are. And what happens when a human sees something they don't understand?"

"They purge it."

Nikolai exclaims, "My! That's morbid! Ah, so Fedya is a realist. Well, not quite- one can't exactly 'bless away' tele-location. But, I managed to find out that it's accessible via an outer garment. Maybe that's why magicians wear long sleeves."

The words struck Fyodor as odd, 'bless away'- 'not quite'. But for now he pushed them out of his mind.

"Nikolai? What if everyone has a special ability but they just never know it?" Fyodor hums in thought, "It could be something really stupid and bizarrely specific like being immune to bombs, but only when they're in a certain shape."

"Ahahaha! You come up with the most preposterous things, Fedya. But…I guess I probably wouldn't be the only one. Maybe it's like when you learn a word, and then you see it pop up everywhere… That would be interesting, to see what other people would have."

"Hm, I don't think people would use them very well- such things could spiral out of control."

"Well, that's mean."

"It certainly would give someone a predisposition to a strange fate."

"Fedya, did you really have nothing else better to do as a kid than flick through dictionaries?"

"You have your ability, I have mine."

There's the laugh again, like bells.

A sharp knock on the door interrupts them, as they open it.

"Hmm…fine- it's a satisfactory job. Go on, then- and I expect the two of you to have learnt your lesson. Gogol, you can stay back for introduction into your room- and Dostoevesky, go to the nurse's office and then you will be taken to your dorm."

Nikolai stretches, as they walk down the stairs. "Alright, see you soon- at dinner."

"You have an hour and a half- and I expect you two to be prompt."

And so Nikolai waves at Dostoevesky, and he manages to find the nurse's office- swiping some lemon drops- and gets given directions to his dorm.

The hallways are rather empty and wooden, everything echoes- and it makes him think of that saying 'the walls have ears, the doors have eyes'. Watchful eye of God, huh. He puts his ear to the door, and hears some chattering- thumps of pillows, and turns the door.

#fyogol #fyodor #nikolai #gogol #bsd #my writing #rattus rattus

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bevioletskies · 7 years

Text

20 questions [13/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: the guardians finally get some work, peter and gamora question what their whole fake relationship is even about, and gamora kicks some serious ass.

word count: 6395 | total word count: 118k

a/n: this chapter started out at 5000 words. i’m not sure what happened?? also, spoilers for vol. 2 if you haven’t seen it yet. ALSO also, warning for violence against baby trees ;_; i’m so sorry, groot.

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

Unfortunately for the Guardians, the weekend wasn’t completely peaceful like they’d hoped. Director Fury sent them a message quite late on Sunday night as they were getting ready to go to bed (Groot had already been tucked in a couple hours ago), informing them to pack their bags and get ready for takeoff in the morning - they’d been requested. It wasn’t entirely unusual, as they were, after all, heroes for hire more often than not, but it was the source of the job that confused them, and frankly, concerned them as well.

“A member of the Sovereign,” Peter read in disbelief.

“A defector from the Sovereign,” Gamora corrected him, leaning over his shoulder to look at the long block of text on Peter’s tablet, her chest pressed against his back. “One of the Priestesses has had enough of Ayesha, apparently. Needs an escort to Xandar, where she will be placed under the Nova Corps’ protection.”

“I’d feel better about this if Ayesha didn’t already hate us,” Peter said, sighing. “Alright, Guardians. We ready?”

“We are still being left behind, aren’t we,” Nebula said, her mouth twisting in displeasure. “Wonderful. I will not miss any of you.”

“Don’t think they need that many for this job, anyways,” Yondu shrugged. He leaned against the doorframe casually, smirking. “Y’all remember what I told you now.”

“What’re you talking about?” Peter began rummaging through his knapsack, distracted.

“Nothing you need to know about, boy, don’t you worry.” Yondu winked at Drax, who looked half-confused, half-offended.

“Yondu, can you please be useful for once and help Rocket and Drax with the ammo?” Gamora ordered. He nodded with one last quirk of his mouth before leaving with the others. “Quill, are we prepared for this? You only just fixed the Milano.”

“We’re gonna have to be,” Peter said, moving closer to sling an arm across her shoulders. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’re all together this time. It’ll be...fun?” She smiled despite herself. “See, you’re totally down for this. We’ll be back before the week is up.”

“PETER!” Mantis came barrelling back into the room, tablet in hand. “The director sent in another message, did you not see? Look at the amount of money that the priestess is willing to pay.”

“It can’t be that - holy shit.” Peter was pretty sure he felt his eyes pop out of his head for a moment. “Yeah, okay, we’re definitely taking this job.”

______

At 8 AM sharp, as the other students were getting ready for their first class of the day, the Guardians were taking off in their newly-repaired ship, which, to be honest, was very likely going to get destroyed again, in one way or another. Their course was set for Berhert, strangely enough, where the priestess in question, Brionne, was hiding. Gamora was more than a little uneasy about returning again, considering how her last two trips to Berhert had been a little too eventful. She also found herself questioning the amount of money they were going to make on this job - enough to pay for everything they’d been complaining about for the past few months, along with enough left over to easily live a comfortable life for the next year. It made the money prizes from the yearbook contest look like spare change.

Once the Milano had been cruising on autopilot for a few minutes, steady as she would ever be, Peter got out of his pilot’s seat, satisfied. He turned to leave the cockpit, only to see Gamora still in her navigator’s seat, tensely clutching at her armrests as if they were in turbulence, staring off into the distance. “You alright? Still thinking about the Sovereign coming after us?”

“The money, actually,” she admitted. She stood decisively, gesturing for him to follow. They took the ladder down to the common area and moved towards the table, staring at the job briefing documentation laid out before them. “If we finish this job, we will be able to cover far beyond all of the expenses we’ve been waiting on for months. And then what?”

Peter watched her for a moment, the clench in her jaw, the squint of her eyes, processing her words. “You’re thinking about the yearbook thing,” he guessed.

“Now isn’t the time to be thinking about it, but, yes. We won’t need to worry about the contest money if we’re successful, and we very likely will be.”

“Well, I’m not aiming to fail,” Peter said jokingly. Then, he realized the other angle she was aiming at, one that he was sort of dreading. “You’re thinking of giving up the gig when we get back?”

A brief glimpse of alarm flashed over Gamora’s face, though he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things. “Another ten thousand units wouldn’t hurt,” she said a little too quickly. “Plus, our classmates would wonder what happened, and if we told them what was really going on…”

“Right, they’d be mad, probably ostracize us, and never trust us again. So obviously we should just keep it going. And the more money, the better,” Peter nodded. He felt half-relieved, half-anxious at Gamora wanting to continue. Part of him wanted it to be over, relieve him of the emotional turmoil he’d been experiencing ever since their New York trip. Another part of him worried that once it was over, she might not spend as much time with him. For all of her no-nonsense nature, Gamora was one of those girls that the others at the Academy wanted to be like. They looked up to her power, her control, her attitude and her discipline. What was she doing, hanging around Peter, when she could be with the other “cool”, like-minded people on campus (yes, that was Peter admitting he was kind of known for being a dork)? And worse, what if she stuck around too long, and found out how he truly felt about her?

He watched as Gamora left to join Drax in the kitchen, where he was preparing breakfast. As he did, he felt trapped between a rock and a hard place, neither feeling lesser than the other. Sometimes, all he ever wanted to do was be with her, whether that meant working on strategies for the team and fighting side by side, or falling asleep together and finding ways to make her smile. It was odd how separate it used to feel - like Gamora had two different personalities that never fell into step - but now he could see how it came together, how her strength and her vulnerability, her warmth and her stoicism, could exist in one person. But that’s what it was, wasn’t it - every moment he spent with her, learning about her, getting to know her more and more, was only going to deepen his affections, and make it irreversibly impossible to handle if she ever did walk away.

He could hear Yondu all over again, that scratchy voice of his in his head, chastising him, insisting for Peter to just try. Try and tell Gamora he had an enormous crush on her? Peter scoffed at the very notion. He’d been rejected by girls before, girls who thought they were too good for him, girls who thought he was too unruly, girls who didn’t trust him (and, fair enough, he’d been wearing his Ravager flames with pride whenever that had happened). All of those times had stung, but he could walk away relatively unscathed, forget the whole affair within the week. But now? Gamora was firmly rooted in every aspect of his life, a constancy he usually welcomed with open arms, but now left him kind of weak in the knees. Everything she said and did seemed to make his heart beat a little faster, his stomach feel a little warmer with contentment, his...okay, he wasn’t going to go into detail about that one. He felt sort of guilty about what he’d done to solve that little problem.

Honestly, how could he not fall deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole whenever she was around? He couldn’t decide whether his favourite sound was her warrior’s cry or her surprisingly adorable laugh. He didn’t know if he preferred the feeling of her hand in his or her breath against his neck. He was equally fond of the way she’d whisper secrets into his ear and the way she’d yell at him for being reckless. As far as Peter could tell, Gamora was above and beyond anything he could have ever imagined, so unlike the dream girls of his childhood and teenagedom, and, judging from her recent behaviour, completely uninterested.

“I am Groot?” Groot had tottered up to Peter while he had been lost in his own thoughts, holding out a daisy he had sprouted mere minutes ago. He had an adorably earnest look on his face, as if he were worried that Peter was going to reject his gift.

“Thanks, Groot,” he smiled, taking it and tucking it behind his ear. “Hey, so while we’re not doing anything right now, wanna listen to some of that new music I mentioned?” Groot let out a squeaky cheer and nodded eagerly. “Alright, buddy, let’s go.”

______

They landed on Berhert a few hours later, only a couple hundred feet away from the safehouse. Peter shrugged on his longcoat and activated his mask, spinning his quad blasters in idle confidence as he strolled off the ship. “Be careful, team,” he said, his voice authoritative. “Nova Corps sent a couple guards to keep an eye on her, but that might not be enough if the Sovereign find out that she’s here.”

“So there is a chance she is already dead. Good to know,” Drax nodded. Still, his daggers were at the ready.

“Not a good attitude to start with, dude,” Peter sighed. He paused to activate his helmet’s HUD, using its thermal vision to check for nearby heat signatures, any sort of indication of people - associates, adversaries, or otherwise - nearby. The Guardians shuffled closer to the entrance of the warehouse where Priestess Brionne was being kept, crouching in a thicket of tall grass that could easily obscure beings as tall as Drax. After a couple quiet minutes of observation, Peter found that he couldn’t locate any living thing nearby, including the Nova Corps officers, who were supposed to be stationed outside the door. “That’s weird. Where are they?”

“Dead, most likely,” Rocket said, though his voice trembled slightly, betraying his usual cocky attitude. “You getting anything on the priestess?”

“Walls must be lined with something, I’m not picking up any signals.” Peter let out an impatient breath, reaching to switch off the thermal vision. “Alright. We go in on the defense - there could just be some miscommunication, and maybe they’re just inside with her, instead of out here. Worst case, the officers and the priestess are dead, and the perpetrators are still inside. If that’s the case, take ‘em down - aim to stun, not kill. We gotta know who they work for and why they did this. If the fight gets to be too much, Gamora, I want you to make the call for us to bail, and we meet back at the Milano.”

Gamora reached for her sword, and - clink! - she was ready to go. “Understood. Move out.”

They dispersed one at a time, keeping their heads low, bodies tucked down into the grass, as they sprinted as quietly as they could, plastering themselves against the walls of the warehouse. Groot was sitting on Mantis’s shoulder, looking slightly apprehensive. The two of them had been instructed previously to not engage in the fight, since Mantis was still working on her weaponry skills, and, well, Groot was too small and impulsive to help in unpredictable circumstances. Still, he wanted to help somehow, debating whether he wanted to hitch a ride on Gamora instead, and go inside with them.

With a nod from Gamora, Drax kicked in the enormous doors, sending them flying a good fifty feet inside, clattering loudly. The sounds of their weapons charging up echoed in near-perfect synchronicity, bouncing off the metal walls of the warehouse. However, one glance inside, and it was clear something had gone wrong.

The warehouse, as large as it was, lacked any sort of inventory or storage units of any kind. Every little noise echoed with vibrancy, having no other surface to bounce off of. It was absolutely filthy, sewage water oozing along the large cracks in the concrete floor, occasionally passing over suspicious stains. The walls were eroded with rust, worn away in several spots, allowing tiny peeks of sun to stream in. It smelled like what the Milano bathroom would smell like if Peter hadn’t insisted on Drax having a regular bathing schedule.

In the very middle of the warehouse, Priestess Brionne. She was a vulnerable young woman without her typical Sovereign headpiece and garb, instead with her golden hair cascading in unsightly tangles down to her elbows, wearing what looked like a ripped tunic that was three sizes too large for her slight frame. She was knelt on the ground in a pool of blood, trembling, arms wrapped around herself as if she were freezing. Her eyes were fixated on the two mutilated bodies of the Nova Corps officers in front of her.

Her head snapped upwards the moment the Guardians stepped closer. “G-Guardians?” she squeaked, and Peter’s heart broke a little at the sound. She sounded so young, so vulnerable, that it reminded him of Mantis. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure his sister was still outside. She didn’t need to witness this. “Is that y-you?”

“Yes, Priestess Brionne. We’re here to help you. What happened?” Peter motioned for the others to lower their weapons. There was no need to frighten the poor girl any further. “The killers, are they still here?”

“It happened so fast,” she whispered, stumbling to her feet. Drax immediately moved forward to steady her, taking her delicate hands in his large ones, giving her a short nod of understanding. “A very odd-looking person...never seen anyone like that before. Dark armour...and he was so large. All he had to do was...pummel...those poor officers...to death.” She let out little gasps of air, attempting to catch her breath as she spoke. Peter hoped they could get her outside soon, so Mantis could help with what appeared to be the beginnings of a panic attack.

Gamora felt a chill go up her spine at the description. “Did he have large, pointy teeth? A horned forehead?”

Brionne looked at her curiously, a sort of desperation in her bright yellow eyes. “Yes.”

Gamora shivered, turning away to look over at Peter, who appeared confused at this exchange. “It is Cull Obsidian - one of the Black Order,” she said, fearful. “Thanos may be here.”

“What would Thanos want with a Sovereign priestess? No offense, goldie,” Rocket added, though Brionne was barely paying attention, staring off into the distance, unseeing.

“It’s not about her, it’s about me,” Gamora said, slowly stepping back. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Gamora, hey.” Peter reached for her, but didn’t touch. “You can’t think like that, okay? Brionne’s in shock, she might be misremembering things. Plus, even if it is that Cull guy, it doesn’t mean Thanos is here. And it’s not like he doesn’t know where you’re living right now, anyways.”

“I will fight Thanos if he does arrive,” Drax added in an attempt to be helpful. Brionne trembled a little harder in his arms.

Gamora shook herself. “Okay. Let’s return to the Milano before the killer comes back. There is nothing we can do for these officers but finish the job.”

Once they were back on the Milano, Peter and Rocket immediately got them back into the air, taking off from Berhert with no desire to look back. Mantis took Brionne to the bathroom so she could get cleaned up and properly dressed. Once their course was set for Xandar, Peter made his way to the common area, finally feeling as if he were able to breathe.

“You don’t find it suspicious that the attacker didn’t do anything to Brionne?” He jumped at the sound of Gamora’s voice. She was seated at the table, textbooks stacked neatly at her elbow. She wasn’t even looking at him, just staring listlessly at the tablet in front of her. “Something about this mission doesn’t feel right.”

“You say that every time, and I’d tell you not to worry, but considering you were right about my dad, I’m gonna go with your instincts,” Peter sighed, settling down across from her. “Where did Fury even get the transmission from? Was it Brionne herself?”

She turned the tablet towards him to reveal she was looking at the very message he spoke of. “Sent from the Sovereign planet, but no personal log-in or digital address that can be traced. It’s probably so Ayesha won’t immediately be able to tell who betrayed her, but why would Brionne do it from Sovereign, and not from later on, when she’s escaped? She made a big assumption that she would be able to get away in the first place. And how did she get away?”

“We can ask her after she’s gotten some rest. No use in asking her when she’s this traumatized,” Peter suggested. He reached across the table to pat Gamora’s hand in reassurance. “You wanna do some homework while we wait?”

Gamora stared. “Did I hear you correctly? I swear you just suggested we occupy ourselves with school.”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “How else do you wanna pass the time? I don’t exactly want to continue 20 Questions when everyone else is around.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something particularly private to ask me?”

“They’ve kinda all been private. Didn’t really think you’d want anyone else overhearing.”

They both jumped at the sound of a cackle. “Gross, you two makin’ out in here?” Rocket had entered the room in search of food, a cocky grin back in place after his subdued manner from earlier. “Let me grab a snack, at least, before the clothes start comin’ off.”

“I - that’s not - what the hell, man,” Peter spluttered. Rocket simply snickered in response, finding a sleeve of crackers, and apparently a spare pack of batteries, before leaving again. Peter turned back to look at Gamora, sheepish. “I swear, it’s like the others forget we’re not actually dating sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Gamora reached for one of her books, pulling it in front of her and flipping to a random page rather hastily.

“Dunno, just...stuff that everyone’s been saying. Forget it, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

She was quiet for a moment, watching Peter’s face. He looked almost embarrassed to have spoken at all, shifty-eyed, mouth turned downwards. “Drax and Mantis have mentioned something of the sort to me as well,” she said gently. “And they did pick you and me for this con for a reason. Plus, we have become quite close since then.”

“We have, haven’t we?” He grinned at the thought, tilting his chin back upwards so his eyes could meet hers, soft. “Everything before that, it was mostly...training, jobs, school. I like this a lot better. Getting to know you, spend time with you.”

“I like this better too,” she replied. “I’m happier here, having friends. I...do worry about what my presence at the academy means for the other students, for the team. How much I’m risking everyone else by being here. But as you always say...we’ll work together.” With that, she grabbed another one of her books, flipped it open, and turned it towards Peter. He groaned. Right, homework. He was kind of already regretting making the suggestion.

______

Berhert to Xandar was a two-day trip, meaning they had to shuffle their sleeping arrangements so Brionne could have a bed. No one had a particularly good mattress, but Mantis kept her room quite spotless in comparison to the mess everyone else had grown accustomed to. Mantis moved into Nebula’s room, something they had agreed to never tell Nebula about. As always, everyone stayed out of Yondu’s room, not wanting to know what was making that strange squeaking noise in there. Peter suspected one of Yondu’s trinkets might have been a little more lively than they had counted on.

“If you two are romantically involved, then why do you not share a bed?” Brionne had asked curiously, gesturing at Peter and Gamora. They exchanged confused looks - how did she know?

“We’re already pretty co-dependent, running a team together and all, so it’s good for us to have our own space,” Peter had lied in return.

“Quill also has a loose definition of the word ‘tidy’,” Gamora had added with a sly chuckle.

At dinner, Peter had prompted Brionne to tell them about herself, leading them to discover how she differed from the Sovereign they had encountered previously. She was barely sixteen years old, and had been chosen as a priestess at a young age because of her strong resemblance to Ayesha. However, that also made the High Priestess dislike her in many ways - some of the other Sovereign thought Brionne was more beautiful, more genetically perfect, than their leader. Ayesha would set her out to do the most impossible tasks in retaliation, or on the other end of the spectrum, the most mundane, whatever suited her mood. Brionne grew to resent her, her own position as a priestess, and what her people stood for. She especially hated that Ayesha wanted the Infinity Gauntlet to recreate the world in her image. So, Brionne had fled with a bounty hunter who had been trying to steal their anulax batteries (“That is what they’re called, Drax”). The hunter had dropped her off on Berhert and never returned, despite promising to find her refuge on a more advanced planet.

Regardless of her suspicions, Gamora decided to give Brionne the benefit of the doubt. She seemed harmless enough, and after all, she wouldn’t be able to do anything to them on the Milano without putting herself at risk as well. It would do no good to interrogate her any further, at least, until they got to Xandar. Nova Prime would be better equipped to handle her.

Despite being different from her people, Brionne still had a bit of the high-and-mighty attitude that was likely impossible to shake, given her upbringing. She turned up her nose at Drax’s cooking until she realized there was no other food to choose from, and shrieked at the sight of a rat that had somehow wormed its way in between the couch cushions. Otherwise, she was nothing like Ayesha.

Peter spent most of his evening trying to entertain Brionne, allowing her to flip through his textbooks with wide eyes. Apparently, the schooling on Sovereign was something of “alternative history”, whatever would make them look good, and had covered very little of the outside world. “Terra,” she said slowly, a word quite foreign to her ears. “And this is where you all live?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, smiling encouragingly. “It’s not the most advanced place, I’ll admit, but it’s home.”

“How interesting,” Brionne said. “It looks quite diverse. I would like to live on a planet like that. I do not like being like everyone else.”

“Then you’d fit right in,” he chuckled. “Maybe after this is all over, you can visit.”

“That would be wonderful,” she sighed. “It’s dreadfully boring on Sovereign, Mister Quill. You wouldn’t believe it. Day in, day out, blindingly ‘perfect’. Why should I care about being ‘perfect’? I would like to be clever, or funny, or good.”

“You can be all of those things, Brionne,” Peter replied. “Your own kind of perfect.”

“I like the sound of that very much,” she grinned, and it reminded Peter of what Mantis had been like when she first joined the team. Sweet, gentle, hopeful. After everything poor Brionne had gone through, after everything Mantis had gone through, they still wanted to be good. Brionne stood, stretching. “I should go to bed, but thank you for taking my mind off things. It’s been a very trying time for me.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” he said, reaching to gently pat her arm. “Just let me know if you need anything else, we’ll do our best.”

Brionne beamed, a sort of luminescence emanating from her that had nothing to do with her golden skin. “You are a good man, Peter Quill.” She paused. “And admittedly, very easy on the eyes. Miss Gamora should keep watch on you, should I choose to pursue you, romantically, in the future. She would not be able to beat the allure of a Sovereign.”

Peter could only stare at her in disbelief before shaking himself and returning to his own room, ready to sleep off the long day. However, there appeared to be a mysterious lump in his bed. He would have assumed it was Mantis, who had muttered to him earlier about Nebula’s room being kind of scary, if not for the red hair strewn across his pillow. “Uh, Gamora?”

She peeked out from underneath the duvet. “I wanted to talk some more. I can’t stop thinking about Cull Obsidian.”

“Interesting name,” he commented, crawling in next to her. She turned over so they were face-to-face, so close that her breath tickled his nose. “Black Order, I guess.”

“They are otherworldly. I sometimes question my moniker as the ‘deadliest woman in the galaxy’ when Proxima Midnight is around,” she said, leaving him to mouth the name incredulously. “I’m...worried.”

He watched her face, the tension in her brow, the clench of her jaw. “Question,” he said softly. “What scares you?”

The weight of the question told her it was part of their game, something they had started so long ago and still were yet to finish. In a way, she wanted it to go on forever. She wasn’t sure how curious Peter would be about her after it ended. “The thought of being the last one standing among us,” Gamora murmured. It was a recurring nightmare of hers - standing in the middle of the Academy’s quad, seeing nothing but a sea of bodies, and laying at her feet, her Guardians. Nothing in her line of vision told her what had killed them, whether it had been Thanos, or worse, whether it had been her. “Do you...do you have nightmares?”

Peter nodded, swallowing. “I have this recurring one, ever since Ego. It’s where my mom beat cancer, and we got to be together again, back at the house. There’s always this one ‘scene’, where I’m doing homework in the kitchen, and Mom’s making dinner. She’s got the radio on, she’s singing along, I’m dancing in my seat. Ego walks in, and with one swipe of his hand, crushes her immediately, reduces her to the dust the way that I did to him. Tells me he came to finish the job, grabs me by the neck, and drags me onto his ship.” She let out a soft noise of sympathy. “If it goes on any longer than that, he brings me back to his planet, threatens me by showing me the bones of the other kids. Mantis is still his servant, but she’s just this...this tiny little girl, no older than five, helping him sleep. And she doesn’t talk, she just stands by his side, like when we first met her. Doesn’t move a muscle when Ego uses the light on me for the first time.” He shuddered a little. It wasn’t something he liked to relive. Gamora shuffled a little closer so she could rest a comforting hand on his arm. “Have you ever shared a bed with anyone before?”

“Depends on what you consider a bed,” she said thoughtfully. “Before, on Sanctuary, we slept on the ground in small groups. But as for something as...intimate, as this, no.” She burrowed herself further into the pillow, her cheek obscured by its mass, her lashes fluttering against its surface. Peter’s heart sped up a little faster. “Do you really believe we can defeat Thanos?”

“Really going with the hard hitters today,” Peter joked. “Honestly, no, I don’t. But I also didn’t think we could beat Ronan, or Ego, or Ayesha. Every single time, it felt inevitable that we were gonna die, and yet, it all worked out. So, maybe Thanos is where our luck runs out. But I wanna think positively in the meantime.”

She looked satisfied at this, the worry in her face slowly melting away. “And we’ll do it together.”

______

Peter woke to the sound of Brionne’s screams and the feeling of Gamora’s hair in his mouth, neither of which were too pleasant. He barely had time to register what was happening before Gamora was dragging him towards the direction of the yelling. They found Brionne jumping up and down in the kitchen in complete hysterics, pointing at the holo-screen.

“It is him!” she exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the screen so violently it was as if she were trying to knock over the entire display. “The bounty hunter who helped me!”

She was watching a galaxy-wide news channel, where a Krylorian reporter was currently talking over footage of what appeared to be a siege on an abandoned dwarf planet not far from Xandar. There were grainy images of a person, covered up entirely in large, loose robes with just a tiny slit for their eyes, leading the charge.

“Please, can we go and get him? He must be rewarded for helping me escape Sovereign,” Brionne pleaded.

“More likely to get arrested for that nonsense he’s stirrin’ up,” Rocket pointed out. “We ain’t stopping, Priestess.”

“But you must listen to me, mustn’t you?” There was an immediate switch in her demeanor, the girl drawing to her full height. “You have no power over me, Guardians. I could choose to cut your pay, or remove it entirely, if you do not obey.”

“Alright, let’s not get hasty, lady,” Rocket said, holding up his paws defensively. “Quill?”

At a loss for words at the sudden change of events, Peter looked over at Gamora. She was always better with this sort of thing, the decisions that could lead to kill or be killed. Her mouth twisted slowly, consideringly, before she set her jaw in determination. “We will comply with your request, Priestess Brionne. But do not be naive - that man will not be celebrated for helping you when we take him with us to Xandar, and trust me? We will. We would not be the Guardians of the Galaxy if we turned ourselves the other way from a criminal like him. A man of his crimes, his insistence upon violence, civil unrest, and the death of innocents, does not deserve pardon or even penance. It will be punishment of the highest order. So. Are you really sure you want us to pursue him?”

Peter cracked a grin at Gamora’s threat. She always knew what she was doing, and it certainly sounded better when it was directed at someone other than him. He had worried that his mistreatment of her had shaken her down, but it seemed she was back in true form. Brionne cowered, though she still looked as if she wasn’t going to change her mind. If anything, backing down would cause her to lose face, and Sovereign defector or not, her pride still remained. “Let us go to him. Please,” she said, with much less conviction than before.

______

Mere minutes after landing on the dwarf planet in the early evening, only a few hundred feet away from where the hunter had been spotted last, they were attacked by a pack of what they assumed to be his associates. Peter barely had his helmet activated and his guns up before Gamora had run forward with a loud shout, sword steady at her side.

Mantis grabbed Brionne and Groot and ran for cover, while Peter, Drax, and Rocket sprinted to help. However, it took Gamora all of thirty seconds to mow down the fifteen assailants with barely a fuss, slashing her way through the crowd with ease. To finish, she leaped incredibly high to bring down her blade over the last person’s head, slicing clean through, landing neatly on her feet. With a feral snarl, she yanked the Godslayer out, whipping it above her head as if it were a trophy, showering herself in alien blood. Damn, Peter thought.

Brionne looked disturbed as she emerged from her hiding place, watching as Gamora casually wiped the blood off her face with her bare forearm, smearing what looked like thick cerulean sludge everywhere. Mantis awkwardly stepped forward to offer her a baby wipe. “You sure your bounty hunter actually wants you here?” Gamora said, looking smugly at the priestess. “That ambush tells me otherwise.” She accepted the wipe, though only to clean her face. Apparently, she’d barely noticed the rest of her was soaked as well.

“He may not know I’m here with you,” Brionne said, glancing nervously around them. There was a crumbling building about a hundred feet away that they hadn’t noticed before, likely the base where their attackers had come from. “Let me approach them and make my presence known.”

Peter instinctively stepped forward as if to stop her, though found himself hesitating. “Be careful,” he said softly. “You don’t know what you’ll find in there.” She nodded, biting her lip in worry, before turning and walking away, head held high. “Man, she’s just a kid.”

“A kid with a fat wallet, so shut it and let her do what she wants,” Rocket snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

“If she dies on our watch…” Gamora trailed off, unsure of what she was going to say. She stepped closer to Peter in lieu of continuing her train of thought. He turned towards her, staring at her questioningly, before taking another wipe from Mantis. He gently began to run it over Gamora’s hair, easing out the blood that had already started to congeal in her tresses. Sighing, Gamora grabbed another wipe and began running it over her neck and collarbones. At least it was something to do while they waited.

“Should we have given her a weapon?” Peter murmured as the others moved to sit on the ground, unsure of how long they would be waiting.

“It would have made her too brave. We don’t know her level of competency,” Gamora replied. Peter took one of her hands in his, holding it up to brace it against his chest. He hoped she couldn’t feel the drumming of his heart as he wiped her arm clean. “Quill, if this goes wrong…”

“We’ve had jobs go wrong before.”

“But as you said, she’s just a kid,” she protested. “Maybe we shouldn’t have let her go at all. This can only end in a fight.”

“I would not mind engaging in a fight, considering you decided to selfishly handle the last one by yourself,” Drax interjected. Despite sitting cross-legged on the ground, he still had his daggers tightly clenched in his fists, ready to go. Gamora only rolled her eyes in response, while Peter chuckled under his breath.

As they waited, their idle chatter faded away to tense silence, staring at the building as if they were willing it to speak to them, tell them what it was hiding. Groot eventually crawled up Gamora’s side and settled onto her shoulder, eager to get a better view of the action. Several uncomfortably long minutes passed before Peter found himself getting impatient - and worried - and activated his helmet, ready to approach. “Gamora, with me.”

They moved towards the deteriorating structure, guns and blades at the ready. Despite being much closer, it was still eerily quiet, as if Brionne and everyone else inside had vanished in thin air. Slowly, but surely, they crept inside on high-alert, dreading what could possibly lie ahead for them. Everything about the building - the sights, the smells, the sounds - made the safehouse on Berhert look like a five-star hotel. Gamora found herself wishing she had left Groot with Mantis, but before she could suggest to Peter that they turn back, they were startled by what could only be described as a cackle.

“Guardians!” Brionne’s voice trilled above them in the foyer, strong, confident, so unlike the timid little girl she had sounded like before. Their heads shot up to see her standing at the top of the landing, accompanied by the bounty hunter. He was still fully covered and therefore impossible to identify, but Peter was more concerned by the giant rocket launcher he had on his shoulder, aimed at their faces. “Shame the others didn’t join you, but I suppose taking care of you will be a good start. It will make for a very tragic love story, won’t it? The Earthman and the deadliest woman in the galaxy, who started off as adversaries and found hope in each other. Oh, and they made such good friends, had such amazing adventures, fighting side by side on the battlefield. Until one day, they were bested by the Sovereign at last. The lovers were doomed to fall together, as they have always been fated to do since the very beginning. You even have your little child here to die with you.”

“BRIONNE! What have you done?!” Peter shouted, aiming one blaster at her and the other at the hunter, motioning for Gamora to get behind him. She swiftly moved to tuck Groot inside the breast pocket of her jacket, obscuring him from view. She slowly began stepping backwards, eyes fixated on the rocket launcher.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Brionne giggled rather obnoxiously. “Oh, and Ayesha says hello.”

Gamora managed to wrap her arms around Peter’s waist, yanking him around to cover him as much as possible before the rocket launcher could hit. The weapon burst with an earth-shattering boom, striking her in the back with all of its brute force, crushing them to the ground as it felt like the world exploded around them. Brionne’s mocking laughter echoed through the rubble as the building began to disintegrate before their very eyes. All Peter could hear before being knocked out by a large piece of rebar, however, was the sound of Groot’s pitiful wail and Gamora’s anguished shriek.

a/n: oops yikes etc. i'm sorry!! i promise this is the last time these two are in danger, we're getting close(r?) to the end. after all, they have to make it back for prom, right?

#starmora #peter quill #gamora #guardians of the galaxy #avengers academy #myfic #myfic: 20q #marvel #will i ever stop putting them in dangerous situations #will peter ever realize gamora loves him too

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startrek-z · 6 years

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STZ V: Part 6

Another restless night followed Zelda’s visit. Before dawn Sunday morning, Link gave up on sleep and got to his feet. He quietly rummaged through his things, collecting a couple of items from his bag before silently leaving the lifeless building. He walked away from the campus, retracing his steps through the surrounding forests and slowly making his way to the shore. By now, the sky was gray, and the horizon glowed a soft pink.

The air felt cool and clean. He closed his eyes, trying to find solace in the gentle breeze. His heart would not let him forget the country he’d failed. Zelda needn’t feel guilty; what had happened hadn’t been her fault. Maybe that was why she found it so easy to move on. Clutched in his left hand was an old, wooden mask. It was one of the few items he’d salvaged before the disaster on Sira-8. The ocean looked so calm and peaceful, he ached to be a part of it, even if only for a time. Link brought the ancient mask to his face, tensing as pain spread through his limbs like liquid fire. The sensation was short lived, and soon he was breathing the cool air, relishing the warmth in his limbs. A pool of water at his feet revealed the change to his eyes. A tall, lithe creature with smooth blue flesh was standing in his place. Black eyes were set deep on a narrow, long face. His nose was sharper, and the back of his head sloped down and came to a point. Transparent fins ran parallel to long, thin arms and legs. The creature looked up at the pale, predawn sky, before walking forward and disappearing under the water’s smooth surface with a quiet splash. *** “Where the hell is he?” Jeremy muttered, looking around the cafeteria at lunch. He hadn’t seen Link all day, and his roommate’s disappearing acts were starting to frustrate him. “Looking for someone?” The redhead turned to see Melissa looking up at him from her seat. “Yeah. Have you seen Link by any chance? He’s disappeared again.” “Sorry, haven’t seen him since our supposed fencing match. I think he’s been avoiding me,” she informed him with a hint of bitterness. “Maybe he’s afraid I’ll beat him this time around.” “I doubt that. He’s been off his rocker for a few days, now,” Jeremy muttered, peering around the room. Within a few moments, he spotted the Hylian sitting in a secluded corner of the cafeteria. “Ah, there he is. You can come join us if you’d like,” Jeremy offered, before stalking over to the small table. Link was forcing down a bowl of soup. He knew he had to eat, even though his appetite was completely nonexistent at the time. ‘I’m trying Zel…really, I am,’ he thought with a sigh. “Where’ve you been?” Startled, the Hylian looked up in time to see Jeremy plop into the seat across from him. He forced a smile, and straightened his posture a little so that he hopefully wouldn’t appear as distracted as he was. “Went for a walk, then stopped at the library for awhile,” he lied smoothly. “Why? Did you need me?” “Well, no. I just wondered,” Jeremy shrugged, falling for the act. “Oh, Melissa’s upset with you.” Link swallowed a mouthful of soup. “Why?” “She thinks you’ve been avoiding her.” “Oh.” “Have you?” Jeremy asked. Link shrugged, looking nonchalant. “I’m a little embarrassed about Friday night is all. I haven’t been avoiding her, but I haven’t really been looking for her either, you know?” “I can understand that.” There was a brief pause, before Jeremy spoke up again. “Hey, is your sister coming back anytime soon?” His only response was an exasperated groan. *** The weeks that followed were rough. Link tried his best to act normal and unburdened around his peers, though inside he was still fighting to get through his grief over Hyrule. The flashbacks continued. They always struck without warning; some were enough to send him to his knees, other briefly passed over his vision like a daydream. Despite his ‘everything’s fine’ act, it was becoming apparent to those around him that something was wrong. By the seventh week, the shadows under his eyes were more obvious than ever. He’d started to lose weight again too, when he hadn’t had much to spare from the start. During that time, Link anxiously awaited word from McCoy. The Hylian was growing concerned over the lack of e-mail’s from his friends out in space. Meanwhile, despite his attempts to intervene, Jeremy had difficulty getting more than small talk from his introverted roommate, and Melissa could hardly get anything from him at all. An awkward barrier had formed itself between the Hylian and the Alpha Centuri. Up until then, his flashback episodes had gone unperceived by anyone else, of which Link was thankful. Unfortunately his luck did not last. Link and Jeremy were sparring in their self-defense class. Jeremy held himself back, having noticed the drop in Link’s ability to focus and keep up over the last few weeks. The instructor had been noticing too, as had Link himself. He tried his best to make up for it, and worked even harder at the skills, resulting in utter exhaustion by the end of class. They were working on a new maneuver when it happened. His vision was suddenly flooded with blurs of tan and orange. Clubs sailed in at him from every direction. He could hear Gerudo giggling maliciously all around him as they played with their new ‘toy.’ A scimitar embedded itself in his flesh and twisted, making him writhe in agony as hoarse screams forced their way through his throat. Through the mist of blood in his vision, he saw Malon. She was screaming in pain, burning alive. He could smell it… Suddenly, he was back in the training room, kneeling on the padded floor, his arms clutching his abdomen as he hunched forward. As his senses slowly came back, dread settled deep into his chest, only made worse by the odd silence in the room. “Link, look at me,” someone was saying. He suddenly became aware of the tears in his eyes and he hastily tried to blink them away, before raising his gaze a little. The instructor was crouching in front of him, trying to get a glimpse of his face. Link swallowed thickly. “S-sir…I’m sorry, I…” he stammered, not sure how to explain what had happened. “Dude, are you all right?” he heard Jeremy ask in a hushed voice. His roommate’s eyes were wide with concern. He could feel the hot, expectant gazes from the rest of the students on him. “You’re white as a sheet, Mr. Link. What’s wrong?” the instructor asked, her voice still demanding authority, though it seemed a little gentler than normal. “I-I don’t know … ” The instructor’s brow wrinkled in concern. “Well at least you didn’t say ‘nothing’,” she remarked casually trying to lighten the mood. “Are you hurt? Did you take a hit?” “N-no, sir.” “Alright then.” She stood and offered him her hand. Link took it and she pulled him to his feet with ease. “I think you and I will take a trip to the infirmary.” Link tried to protest, but as he stood feeling slightly dizzy and swaying on his feet, he knew that he had no grounds on which to do so. He sighed in resignation. ‘Guess I had this coming,’ he thought. “Mr. Sheffield,” she called to a tall, lean fourth-year who had been working out by himself in a corner. “You will please take over my class. Keep them at their drills.” “Yes Commander,” the boy said, walking over as if it were no big deal. He handled it as though he got asked to teach the class everyday. “Get back to it you lot!” the instructor snapped at the class, who stopped whispering amongst themselves and returned to their sets. “Come on,” she said more softly to Link, taking his arm and guiding him towards the door. “Excuse me, sir,” Jeremy spoke up, following the pair at a safe distance, “ may I come too?” The instructor eyed him for a second, glancing between the human and the Hylian. “I suppose you may Mr. Cromwell.” Link was touched that his friend cared enough to want to join him in a trip to the infirmary, but in reality he didn’t really want him to come along. It was bad enough that the Commander insisted on taking him herself. ‘This is so embarrassing,’ he thought. They walked in silence down several halls, but luckily for Link the infirmary was set in the wing next to the one containing the Training Centers- probably for a good reason- and the agony of walking wasn’t very long lived. “Here we are,” the Commander said unnecessarily as the entered the waiting area. “Have a seat while I find us a medic.” Link slumped down heavily into a chair and closed his eyes. He heard Jeremy plop into a seat beside him. “What the friggin’ hell is up with you, man?!” he asked in a tense whisper. “You scared the crap outta me back there! I thought I had killed you or something!” When his roommate didn’t reply, he sat back with a thump and sighed. “You drive me absolutely nuts. You know that, right?” Link smiled wanly. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.” “Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna kill you if you pull another stunt like that!” the boy continued. He was about to go on some more but the instructor returned with a youngish looking medic in tow. “Here he is,” she was saying. “Alright Mr. Link, Dr. Tam will see to you.” She saw his hesitation and gave him encouraging smile. ‘He’s a doctor?’ Link thought in surprise as the young man led him back to an exam room. ‘But he’s so…young!’ He couldn’t really be any older than Link himself. The doctor led him into a typically sterile, grey walled medical purpose room. “If you could sit on the table…Let me help you..it’s pretty high. There you are. Now, relax and take a couple deep breaths for me,” he instructed as he turned on the scanners and adjusted the settings. Link lay back and closed his eyes, flinching a little as the machines began to purr softly over him. He would never get used to the ‘doctoring’ of this world, where the doctors never laid a finger on you. The computers could instantly tell what was wrong with you. It still threw him how wounds could be healed almost instantly, and illnesses cured by tiny pills one could fit in their pockets. He kind of missed the ‘hands on’ type of medicine he used to receive back in Hyrule; it was somehow more comforting. In any case, he did as he was told and took a couple of deep breaths. The whirring in his head eased off a bit, and the world seemed to settle momentarily. “Perfect,” Dr. Tam said mostly to himself. The computer beeped signaling the scans completion and Link opened his eyes in time to see the doctor’s brow furrow in concern. “Have you been sleeping much?” he asked looking from the screen before him to Link. The boy knew it would be useless to lie to the doctor considering he had the truth right in front of him. The question was only a formality, really. “Not very well, sir…” he answered quietly. “How about eating? Your blood sugar is low and your white blood cells are on the rise.” “I haven’t had much appetite lately either, sir,” Link confessed, not able to meet the others shocked stare. “I know they work you first years pretty hard, but really; You’re one of the worst cases I’ve seen yet!” Dr. Tam exclaimed “So what is it that keeps you up at night?” Link had to think quickly, “I guess it’s all the strange new surroundings…” Not a total lie. “ I see… Well,” Tam got up and went over to a wall mounted dispensary and began typing in a prescription, “we’ll just have to do something about this 'insomnia.'” Another computerized beep and the doctor removed a bottle from the dispenser. “Alright, Mr. Link. Take one of these fifteen minutes before you’re ready to lie down for the night. I suggest making sure you’ve finished your assignments…It wont do to realize you have two chapters to read in Alien Bio or something ,’cause once you’ve taken it, this’ll put you out like a light,” he laughed, handing the pills to Link. “Oh and no matter what don’t take more than one. The consequences are not pleasant, so please don’t do that to me.” Link took the small bottle from the doctor. “So these will help me sleep?” he questioned, skeptical that little blue pills could do something so wonderful. “Yep,” the doctor said, eyeing him funny. “A nice deep, dreamless sleep.” “Dreamless?” “Yes, that’s what I said! Perhaps you need your ears examined as well? Though I think that’d be a waste of time, as big as they are,” Dr. Tam joked. Link managed a halfway convincing smile for him, not really paying much attention to what was being said. ‘This is exactly what I need…if it really works,’ he thought, ‘Maybe I’ll be able to function normally, now.’ The doctor was watching his face as these thoughts ran through his head and frowned slightly. “Just so you know, this isn’t a ‘cure-all.’ No medicine really is,” he warned. “Your going to have to take care of yourself in other ways as well. Pills can’t solve all your problems.” “Yes sir,” Link said with a hint of disappointment. 'But for now, this is a good start…’ “Just do me a favor and eat at least one good meal a day…preferably breakfast. It’ll help regulate your blood sugar, and you’ll be surprised at boost of energy it’ll give you.“ Link nodded and started to get off the table. “Wait,” Dr. Tam said, typing furiously on his handheld computer. He soon handed Link a slip of yellow paper. “I’m excusing you from the rest of your classes for today. Go back to your room, take one of those pills, and get some sleep.” “Yes sir. Thank you sir.” Link replied gratefully. The doctor escorted him back to the waiting room where Jeremy was sitting. “Any time kiddo. Come and see when ever you run out, or if you need anything else.” Dr Tam shook his hand then left to tend to a girl with a violently bloody nose. “How’d it go?” Jeremy asked getting up and meeting him by the door. “Well enough. He gave me these pills,” Link told him vaguely. “Where did the Commander go?” “She got a call and had to leave.” “Ah. Oh, could you take this to Fed. History with you?” he asked handing the red headed boy his excuse paper. “Uh…sure,” Jeremy replied, taking the slip, meanwhile giving the Hylian a questioning look. “The doctor said I should go lay down for a while.” Jeremy pouted. “Oh, okay. Have fun with that, you lucky thing. Poor me has to go off to Federation History all alone…” “Oh yes, poor you,” his friend said sarcastically. “See ya’ later man,” Jeremy laughed as he took a different hall than Link, waving offhandedly. Link just shook his head, which still seemed a bit fuzzy and continued on to their room. He sighed as he reached the empty dorm. It felt surreal being here when he would have normally been in class, even with permission. He set the bottle of pills down on his desk and left to take a quick shower. The hot water felt better than normal against his skin. He sighed, and simply stood there a while, resting his forehead against the cool, tiled wall. With his eyes closed, he let some of the memories come, too worn out to fight them off. “Come back soon, Faerie-boy!” he smiled faintly at the voice as it drifted through his mind. He saw her standing on the porch, waving at him. Red hair trailed out, caught in a gentle breeze like a flag. “I’d like to thank you, but the one who’ll save me is not you, Fairy boy. It’s my Prince.” He laughed softly at the memory. She’d been sitting in the hay, her wrists and ankles bound by Ganondorf’s minions…it was the first he’d seen her in seven years. Not five minutes later, during a battle with a throng of Gerudo, she’d demanded to know, “Why did you yell out the Princess’s name like that? What relationship do you have with her?!” The memories flashed forwards. They were now walking together in the field, dried grass crunching beneath their feet. He stopped her, and pulled out a small ring. Her eyes filled with tears, and she hugged him tightly. The joy he’d felt at that moment was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. His own choked sob brought him back to reality. Tears were running in streams down his cheeks, mixing with the hot water that was falling over him. He’d failed her–her and the rest of Hyrule. He let the tears out for a few minutes longer, his heart aching for how things were. The ring he’d given her still hung on a silver chain around his neck; he never took it off, as though it would somehow keep them connected. No matter what Zelda said about leaving the past behind, he would never take it off. He would die before he took it off. Link turned the water off with a sigh a few minutes later, and dried himself off. He slipped on a pair of clean sweat pants Pavel had given him, and returned to the room. The mirror made him pause briefly. Scars crisscrossed his upper body, usually hidden under his uniform. He’d earned most of them during his battles in Hyrule. Each had a memory tied to it, very few of them good. With a shake of his head, the Hylian turned from his reflection and snatched up the bottle on his desk. “Well, here goes nothing,” he muttered, before tilting his head back and swallowing one of the tiny pills. It felt wonderful to lay down again. The mattress gave a little as he rolled onto his right side, pulling the blankets tight around his shoulders. He stayed there a few minutes, and was just starting to wonder if the medication would work when drowsiness swept over him like a hawk. His eyelids slid closed against his will, and he felt himself surrendering to darkness.

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#STV V

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viralhottopics · 7 years

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In Iraq, thousands of terrorism’s victims go unnamed

(CNN)It was a typical July night in Baghdad and even at midnight, the air radiated the day’s heat. Some people in the upscale Karrada neighborhoood were sitting at outdoor cafes, watching a nail-biter finish to a Germany-Italy soccer match.

Thousands more were shopping. The holy month of Ramadan was near its end, and Baghdadis were buying new clothes and gifts for the festival of Eid al-Fitr. The brightly lit Hadi Center mall was teeming with people, as were the myriad shops and eateries along the main avenue.

Fathers and mothers were out with their young children; teenagers and college students hung out with friends. On that Saturday night, Karrada was hopping. It was a time for joy and mirth; a time to celebrate with loved ones.

But all was shattered about 45 minutes after midnight when the sound of an explosion reverberated through the entire neighborhood.

Sajad Jiyad, a 33-year-old political analyst, was with friends at a nearby caf discussing Italy’s defeat in the critical Euro Cup match when he felt the blast. The sound was one he and other Baghdad residents had grown used to over years of violence.

Baghdadis, he later wrote on his blog, have learned “to differentiate between a car bomb, a truck bomb, a Grad or Katyusha rocket, a mortar, a grenade, an improvised landmine or IED, a missile, or just a plain sound bomb.”

This one, he thought, sounded like a car bomb that could kill maybe 10 people.

He reached instinctively for his mobile phone to check initial reports on social media. He has known someone killed or injured every year since 2003, when the U.S.-led invasion triggered a seemingly constant state of violence.

Jiyad learned the bombing was at the Hadi Center and his heart skipped a beat. He knew how crowded it was that night. Suddenly, the mood changed at the caf. No one cared anymore about football. Phones started ringing. Fire trucks and ambulances began speeding past. On social media, Jiyad saw images of the mall engulfed in flames and the death toll creep past 15.

He tried to drive toward the blast site but turned back after he saw the chaos. He went home and fell asleep at 4 in the morning, thinking perhaps this latest act of terror had left maybe 30 people dead.

But by 7 a.m. on Sunday, Jiyad’s phone was buzzing and ringing constantly. The death toll had reached 65, and Jiyad began to understand the gravity of the incident.

‘He is dead, whoever it is you are looking for’

On his drive to work, Jiyad found the normally bustling streets eerily sedate, as though Baghdad were under another curfew. The acrid smell of fire hung over the city. The looks on people’s faces fell somewhere between shock and sadness.

Throughout the morning, the death toll kept rising: 100, 115, 140. It would be many weeks before the final count would be known: 382.

Among all the terrorist attacks of 2016 worldwide, the Karrada bombing on July 3 stood as the year’s deadliest.

2016’s worst terror attack, and the victims you never heard of

And yet to Westerners accustomed to news reports about violence in Iraq, it would be just another bombing in which the numbers, not the victims, would be front and center. Media outlets would report what happened, who claimed responsibility and how many were killed and injured. And then the world would move on.

In the immediate aftermath of the bombing, Jiyad reacted as he always does when he hears of senseless acts of violence in his hometown: He felt sadness and anger, tempered by a certain numbness.

That was, until he learned his friend Ahmed Dhiaa was among the missing. Dhiaa had gone shopping for Eid presents with two of his brothers-in-law. His phone was active until 12:55 a.m. After that, no one was able to reach him.

Rescuers were still pulling bodies from the charred ruins of buildings. It wasn’t a car bomb but a truck packed with explosives that had detonated; the fire that followed had burned people alive and possibly done more damage than the bomb itself. Many of the bodies were charred beyond recognition.

Mohammed Al-Rubaye, deputy head of the security committee of the Baghdad Provincial Council, said he’d seen 30 years of fires and explosions but nothing like this. Many of the dead had to be identified by DNA.

Late Sunday afternoon, Jiyad drove to the site of the bombing with a heavy sense of dread, but he couldn’t get close enough to be of any use. Instead, he stared at the blackened sidewalks and the burned guts of the mall.

A man next to him who had been shoveling through ashes for hours looked at Jiyad and said: “He is dead, whoever it is you are looking for is dead. If he hasn’t showed up this morning then just accept it.”

Jiyad walked away because he felt there was no point looking at the scene. It was all death and destruction, a place where hope no longer existed.

By 6 p.m., Jiyad received the confirmation he had feared. His friend’s body had been pulled from the rubble. He didn’t know what to do or how to express what he felt. So he sat and stared at a wall for a while.

Jiyad saw Dhiaa as part of a new generation of younger, well-educated Iraqis who wanted to turn a devastated country around. Dhiaa worked at the Agriculture Commission and wrote about ways to enhance modern farming. He believed Iraq’s future would be better than its past. That kind of optimism made him a bright light among his family, friends and colleagues.

“I open Ahmad’s Facebook page, I want to see photos of him smiling, to remember him as a wonderful young man, not to think of his burned body,” Jiyad wrote on his blog. “I tear up as I flick through the photos, he was going to achieve so much, he should not be dead.”

They loved and were loved

So many of the dead had hopes and dreams erased by a single moment of extreme violence.

They were 5 years old. And 50. Sunni and Shiite. Muslim and non-Muslim.

They were lawyers, doctors, activists, artists, students, recent graduates, engineers and policemen. A husband and wife died together. A father and two sons.

Some were better known than others.

Adel Euro was a dancer inspired by Michael Jackson’s moves, especially the Moonwalk. He taught himself to dance secretly in his house. His parents warned him he would face trouble in conservative Iraq, where dancers can be seen as being gay, he told the BBC in 2015. The police confronted him once, telling him he had brought shame on himself.

But Euro believed he was born to be a dancer and he persevered, taking classes for the last two years of his life via Skype with New York City’s Battery Dance Company. One day, he said, he hoped to leave Iraq and “go to a place where people love dancing.”

Zulfiker Orabi was the young and handsome son of a former Iraqi football star, Ghanim Orabi, who played on the 1986 World Cup team.

Mohammed Badri was a young dentist and a father of a little girl who spent his spare time helping Iraqi orphans. His wife gave birth to their son on the day Badri was buried.

Iraqi filmmaker Mustafa Najafi, whose cousin knew Badri well, posted photos of Badri as well as many of the other victims on Twitter with the hashtag #NotJustANumber.

“With everything that is happening around the world, people have lost their humanity,” Najafi told CNN. “It’s all about religion, sex, where are you from, where are am I from?

“Having an image of that person and the slightest little detail about their life … helps people relate to them,” he said.

On Twitter, the world came to know, for instance, that Akram al-Bayati was planning for his wedding in just a few days. Mourners carried his wedding suit next to his coffin.

“I don’t want people to feel sorry for Iraqis, but I want them to feel some sympathy,” Najafi said.

He wants Westerners to recognize that terror inflicted by Islamists doesn’t just strike in France, Belgium, Germany and America. It happens in Iraqi much too often.

2017 is only a few days old and already more than 140 people have been killed in Iraq’s violence. This, on top of the 6,878 civilians killed in 2016.

Again, the victims have become numbers in Western news reports. In recent days, deaths in Baghdad were once more overshadowed — this time by the nightclub attack in Istanbul — or reported only as statistics.

Rasha Al Aqeedi, an Iraqi fellow at Al Mesbar Studies and Research Center in Dubai, said even though the Istanbul victims were overwhelmingly Muslim, they were seen as Westernized with liberal or Christian values.

“It is easier for a Westerner to identify with them than with the Iraqi,” Al Aqeedi said. “A Muslim terrorist killing ‘us’ will always be more concerning than a Muslim terrorist killing ‘other Muslims.'”

#NotJustANumber started trending after the Karrada bombing as Iraqis, disappointed by the world’s muted reaction to their tragedy, put up photographs of the friends and family they lost.

They wanted the world to know Baghdad’s victims were real people with real lives. People who loved and people who were loved. They were just like the people who had been killed in Paris, Brussels, Berlin and Istanbul.

‘Please remember Iraq’

The night of the Karrada bombing, countless people in Baghdad waited to hear about their loved ones, gripped by the kind of uncertainty and fear that many Americans felt on September 11, 2001.

Nedal Wady Hassan, 42, was one of them. Her sons Abdalla and Ali Tawfeeq both worked in shops in Karrada. Abdalla, 22, had quit school when he was 8 so he could earn money for his family.

He left for work that day wearing brand new clothes — he liked style and owned several bottles of cologne. He kissed his mother before walking out the door.

A half hour later, the bomb went off. Hassan says she felt in her gut that something terrible had happened. “I just lost my son,” she thought.

Ali, who worked in a nearby shop, tried desperately to search for his brother. But a great wall of fire stood between them. He returned home bloodied and banged up and could not bear to answer his desperate mother’s questions.

Hasan put on clothes and her hijab and went down to the explosion site. She described it as “Judgment Day.”

“Nobody could talk or say anything,” she said. “Everything was destroyed.”

She told CNN that she could not recognize her son’s body. He had no clothes, no hands, no legs, no hair. He did not even have his eyes.

“Nothing at all,” she said.

Still, she was thankful to have retrieved a body to bury. She felt for the mothers whose sons were lying in the morgue, waiting to be identified. She felt for mothers like Shada Mohamed Ali, who lost two sons, Adnan and Ali, as well as her husband, Safaa.

Adnan was almost finished with a law degree at Al Mansour University. Ali had graduated from college and joined his father’s business.

“They were candles lighting our house and that got extinguished,” said Shada Ali. “I wish they could return and everything could be returned the way it was. However, this is what God wanted.”

Shada Ali said she used to worry about her sons when they left the house and got in their cars. “Be alert,” she would tell them, especially while stopped at intersections. She worried they might be abducted or shot. She told her husband not to take them to crowded places like Hadi Center.

“Don’t worry,” her husband told her. “Nothing will happen.”

He was wrong. At 45, Shada Ali was left a widow grieving for her husband and young sons.

The streets of Baghdad saw one funeral procession after another. Images of those who perished began appearing on the charred walls of the Hadi Center. Massive crowds gathered at the site for memorial vigils. Or to express their anger.

They were angry at Daesh, the Arabic acronym for ISIS, which took responsibility for the attack. But they were also angry at their own government for failing to prevent it, and then for taking so long to identify all the bodies and figure out how it happened. Ultimately, they relied on their resiliency, toughened by relentless violence, to get through the Karrada tragedy.

Jiyad, the political analyst, told CNN that Iraqis have learned that suffering and sacrifice are necessary to survive difficult times.

“Violence is not normalized,” he said, “but they have adapted to cope with it and to maintain their dignity and … move on .”

Iraq’s response to the Karrada bombing should be to unite against the terrorists, he said. For the rest of the world, he had this message: “Please remember Iraq and its people in your prayers, your show of support means a great deal.”

He hoped Iraq’s dead would not be forgotten.