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loveforsatoru · 5 months

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Our Blue Spring- Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader (Chapter 3: Cameras/Memories)

"Gojo-sensei!" The loud voice coming from down the hall could only belong to Yuji which immediately wakes Satoru up. He hadn't even noticed he fell asleep in the chair of his office. But he did wake up with the familiar feeling of a heavy chest, throbbing headache and wet stains on his cheeks from his tears. He had another dream about you, and a nightmare of the day you left, reminding him that he failed to hold onto the thing that mattered most. He may not get lots of sleep, but when he does, the images of you always play in his head, giving him hope, only to wake up alone once again.

It had been 7 years since that night. He's a teacher now, so he tries not to show his sadness whenever he's around his students. It's hard when all he wants to do is weep and cry every time he thinks about you, but he has to hide it. The last thing he needs is his students wondering why their usually "happy" teacher is all of a sudden upset.

He quickly pulls his blindfold over his eyes as Megumi and Yuji walk into the room. Yuji was holding something that looked like a camera while Megumi silently scolded him, attempting to get him to not bring up the touchy subject.

Megumi knew what it was, Satoru definitely knew what it was and he felt a chill go down his spine the moment his eyes landed on the small black device. He swallowed a lump and got up off the chair, approaching the two young sorcerers.

"What's up?" He asks, his tone cheery, contrary to the thousands of thoughts and emotions running through his head.

"Nobara and I were looking through a couple boxes scattered around the school. We found a camera with your name on it and wanted to know what it was for!" The boy spoke to his teacher with excitement coursing through his veins. He saw it as a way to finally get to know more about the man who everyone calls "The Strongest."

But Satoru saw it as a deep dive into his past, something he didn't share with anyone. The only ones who know a bit of it are Megumi, Shoko, and Suguru. Even so, he doesn't like talking about it.

Megumi shot him an apologetic look, feeling sorry for not being able to keep Yuji in check. Satoru dismissed it with a wave and small smile which threatened to fall into a frown solely at the sight of the camera.

"That? It's just an old thing I forgot I had lying around." A lie.

"It doesn't matter much." Another lie.

That camera meant everything to him. It contained almost every moment you and Satoru spent together. He loved recording the times you spent together and looking back at it in your shared bed with you tucked in comfortably at his side, giggling at the videos he would take. Never did he think he'd have to look back on those without you.

Every night after the break up he'd rewatch every video taken, swipe through every photo he couldn't bring himself to delete. He did this for about 4 years. It gave him a sense of comfort, but he'd only end up spending the entire night crying. He missed the way you'd look at him. He missed walking into the kitchen and listening to you quietly sing as you cooked breakfast. He missed immediately taking out the camera to record whenever you tried on new outfits or got your nails done and showed them off to him. He missed snapping candid photos of you when you weren't looking, setting them as his lock screen and blushing whenever he opened his phone. He was unconditionally in love with you and that would never change.

The reason why the camera has been at the school, hidden in piles of boxes instead of the nightstand on his side of the bed like it used to? It simply pained him too much to look at. He tried to move on, he really did, but he couldn't. He figured that "getting rid" of the camera would help with that, but it didn't. He just never went to go dig it out because it saved him the littlest bit of heartache.

"Does that mean I can keep it then? I've been needing a new one-" Yuji continued, but he was quickly cut off by Satoru.

"No!" That came it louder than Satoru wanted it to, startling both Yuji and Megumi. That camera was a part of his life, one that he never wanted to let go.

Yuji's smile dropped, and his shoulders slumped, feeling bad for upsetting his teacher even if he didn't mean to. Nobody could blame him. Satoru never opened up. Nobody knew what he was thinking about.

"I'm sorry, Yuji. It's just, that camera means a lot to me. I didn't expect anyone to find it." Satoru exhaled, feeling his gut churn.

There was a couple seconds of silence. Yuji nodded as Megumi whispered something in his ear. Yuji hands the camera back to Satoru muttering a "I'm sorry" before exiting the room. Megumi turns back to look at Satoru with a pained look on his face before following behind Yuji.

Satoru stands there, looking down at the small black device in his shaky hands. He takes off his blindfold and tosses it aside before walking over to his desk and sitting down, his leg bouncing anxiously. He stares at the camera for a few more seconds, his mind and his heart at battle. Should he be doing this? Won't it just hurt him even more? It's been 3 years since he last watched the contents it holds.

But to see you was worth all the pain he'd have to endure.

He powered on the camera, waiting impatiently for the screen to load. A little red light began to flicker, indicating that it was about to die. There was only about 5 minutes of battery life left.

Fuck. He didn't have a charger with him. He'd have to do the best he can with the little amount of time he has.

He watched as the camera suddenly turned on, his eyes lighting up at the sight. The screen was a little grainy due to the camera being somewhat old, but your smile still shined just as bright. Every swipe of his finger against the screen held memories that he's never forgotten and remember as if they were yesterday. He swipes through the hundreds of videos splayed throughout the camera. His touch against the buttons, and fingertips against the display were so incredibly gentle, holding it as if it were worth all the money in the world, but to him it was worth even more.

There was a specific one that caught his eye. It dated back to 6 years ago, your one year anniversary. He blinked a couple times, hesitating before hovering his thumb above the video and finally pressing play.

3/3/07-Now playing:

The video had started off simple. Yours and Satoru's everyday morning routine. You woke up earlier than him and decided to make breakfast, but today was special so you made his favorite. Chocolate chip pancakes.

It was ironic, how you'd always wake up first while Satoru slept in for a couple extra hours, burnt out from missions because nowadays, he's lucky enough to get 3 hours of sleep a night. He can't sleep anymore, not without you next to him.

You were softly humming your favorite song as you started with the pancake batter. Your hair was tied into a ponytail as you paced around the kitchen wearing Satoru's shirt which was incredibly large on you.

You were so caught up in cooking that you hadn't realized Satoru had woken up, leaning against the wall with the camera in his hand, recording your movements which he found to be alluring.

"Good morning, baby!" He beamed, walking towards you and holding the camera close to your face.

You nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, pulling you out of your trance.

"Satoru! You scared me! And get the camera out of my face! I don't have any makeup on!" You scolded him, but he could tell you weren't being serious by the way you giggled and flashed a toothy smile at him before focusing your attention back on breakfast.

"Aww, but you always look beautiful no matter what." He cooed, pampering your face with kisses as he zoomed in on what you were making.

His sweet words caused you to blush and turn your face away. He chuckled at the sight before propping the camera on the table and helping you with breakfast. You always appreciated the little things he did for you. It went on to show how much he loved you. And of course, he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Whether that included placing his hands on your waist to pass by, kissing you while you talked because he can't resist himself or wrapping his arms around you as you both waited for the butter to finish melting in the microwave.

It's safe to say things did not go as planned. Your kitchen was a mess. There was flour on the both of you and the floors with pancake batter smeared across the counters.

But you and Satoru were laughing, nearly falling onto each other like the lovesick idiots you were.

"Wait, wait, sweetheart, you have batter on your nose!" He spoke in between breathless laughs.

Before you could respond, he pulled you in by your wrists, and leaned down to lick the batter off your nose, making a face of contempt at the sweet flavor while trying to mask his laughter at your beet red face.

"Ew, Toru! That's nasty!"

"Oh cmon, you know you love everything I do!" He teased, picking up the camera and waving it in front of you to get a good angle of your face. The flour that coated your clothes, the flush on your cheeks, the way your bottom lip pouted out before curling into a smile as you let out the sweetest laughter. He could listen to you all day.

And he was right, you loved everything he did because it filled you up with such warmth and gave you a sense of security that you never had before.

“Hey, Toru.” You began, laughter dying down as you stared at him with admiration.

“Hm?” He responded, his eyes raking through you. Your beauty was incomparable and incomprehensible. How did he get so lucky?

“I love y-”

3/3/07-End

The flashing stopped and the screen went black. The camera died. He stared in disbelief, his heart shattering once more. Does the universe hate him this much? What wrong did he possibly do that he wasn’t allowed to hear his sweet girl say she loved him one last time? What could he have possibly done to get you taken away from him? He remembers this day and every interaction you shared on the back of his hand, but rummaging through his memory was nothing like hearing you say the words.

His head hangs low as he begins to cry into the palms of his hands. His throat sore, and eyes stinging as sobs fill the empty office space, emphasizing how lonely he is without you in his life despite being surrounded by hundreds of people. You're his everything. Those other people don't matter if he can't be with you by your side. You’re all he wants, all he needs. He’s been so miserable the past 7 years. It’s impossible to live without you. He can’t cry as much as he wants to, not here. He doesn’t want anyone to hear him, but his tears won’t stop flowing. Every passing second without you hurts him more and more. He doesn’t know how he made it this far.

His cries were so loud that he didn’t notice the camera slip off his desk and hit the floor, shattering instantly. The last of you, gone.

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #jjk x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen

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allwaswell16 · 2 months

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A One Direction fic rec of fics where at least one of the main characters has trust issues as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

🌊 Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse

(E, 162k, dystopian) When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

🌊 Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

(E, 124k, omegaverse) “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

🌊 And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 109k, famous/not famous) For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him? For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart? And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

🌊 Say Something by @kingsofeverything

(E, 105k, age difference) At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

🌊 Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 92k, famous/not famous) Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

🌊 One More Taste of Your Lips by @canadianlarrie, MsHydeStylinson / @mizzhydes

(E, 80k, canon) It had been eight years since the hiatus began, and Louis had spent that time writing and recording music, touring and making it safely through the pandemic. When the opportunity arose to go back on tour with One Direction, Louis knew he'd be a fool not to take it.

🌊 I Walk the Line by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites

(E, 55k, uni) Professor Louis Tomlinson is the leading researcher in his field. Harry Styles is Louis’ recently hired grad assistant. Sparks fly between them but something doesn’t add up when it comes to Harry, and Louis is determined to find out what.

🌊 where the lights are beautiful (series) by twoshipsdrifting / @polkadotlou

(E, 48k, omegaverse) the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

🌊 To Be Loved and To Be In Love by RealName

(M, 34k, First Dates au) Louis Tomlinson is a thirty-year-old divorcee whose friends have signed him up for the Channel 4 show First Dates. Harry Styles is a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer who has never been in a long-term relationship.

🌊 Compass to my Soul by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 31k, omegaverse) Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don’t notice him.

🌊 A Road To Something Better by @taggiecb

(E, 25k, small town) Louis Tomlinson, famous romance novelist, has just had the rug pulled out from under his feet when his boyfriend leaves him without notice. What's the most appropriate response to this? Move a thousand miles away and seclude himself in a tiny lake town, of course.

🌊 I Don't Wanna Fall Asleep by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(NR, 23k, exes) AU where Harry has trouble sleeping unless he’s wrapped in Louis’ arms. Louis left him 4 years ago.

🌊 let your lights shine by hazkaban

(M, 22k, football) AU where Louis is a faded professional footballer (soccer player) whose career is nearly ruined by an injury. Harry's his physiotherapist.

🌊 Might’ve Took The Long Way by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 21k, exes to lovers) Now Harry is back in town, and no matter how many times Louis tells himself they can’t be together, they keep falling right back into each other.

🌊 He Was a Different League (When I Was Nothing Much) by @afangirlfantasy

(NR, 21k, Marcel) an AU where finding that 'someone new' actually leads to finding that 'someone old,' and Marcel is painfully oblivious.

🌊 A Small Matter (A Matter of Trust) by @kingsofeverything

(E, 18k, tiny penis fic) Harry knows he and his Grindr hookup would be perfect together, if only he could convince him to give a relationship a chance.

🌊 Once The Dark Divides by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(E, 14k, bdsm) Louis finds out his childhood best friend is a Dom and somehow convinces him it's a good idea to learn about the world of kink with a hands on lesson

🌊 A Silver Lining In A Storm (You Were Lightning, I Was Born) by @fallinglikethis

(E, 6k, omegaverse) after the death of his first fiancé, a man who turned out far worse than Harry thought possible, his subsequent marriage to the man's brother leaves Harry finding it difficult to trust that everything will work out.

- Rare Pairs -

🌊 Bloom by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 28k, Louis/Liam) In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne.

🌊 One by @allwaswell16

(E, 4k, Louis/Tommy Shelby) When omega Louis Tomlinson becomes pregnant after an unexpected encounter, he decides his only option is to flee his pack. But Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, might not be willing to let him go so easily.

🌊 When We Hold On (To the Past) by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 3k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn could drop the subject and keep fucking him, keep the strings from getting attached, pretend that they weren’t getting closer than Louis was comfortable with. Or Zayn could choose the opposite path—which he did.

#ficrec #1dficvillage #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hlcreators #ficsfor4am

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scoops-aboy86 · 2 months

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The aftermath. I'm not sure how many more parts to this story there will be, but at least a couple.

Anyway, Eddie Munson lives, baby!

Part 1, part 1.5, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 of the love spell no go au

Scrying isn’t something Eddie has delved into much but he knows a scrying plane when he sees one. The shallow water beneath his feet ripples out with every step, echoing out into infinity. He can hear hundreds of thousands of voices whispering just on the edge of hearing, too quiet to make out, and pinches the inside of his wrist to see if this is a bad dream he can simply wake up from.

… Nope.

There’s nothing to see and nowhere to go, but he tries. He picks a direction and walks for a long time.

A very long time. Until—

“Eddie?”

He whips around, and a girl who may or may not have been there a minute ago regards him with big, tired eyes. Younger than him. Shaved head.

“That’s me,” he replies warily. “Are you… the party’s Supergirl?” Dustin had said something about her losing her powers, but she must have found them again to be here.

She smiles a little at that, a small but genuine thing. “I’m Eleven. You can call me El, or Jane.”

“El-or-Jane it is,” Eddie replies with a bow, and that one earns him a laugh.

“You are funny,” she tells him. “I’m glad my friends in Hawkins had you to help them.”

When Eddie goes to protest that she has it backwards, they’d helped him, El informs him that his ripcord spell had killed Vecna. She’d been in his mindscape when the others’ attack on the dark wizard had begun, the red hell dissolving around her, putting her out of range while Eddie was casting. But Vecna, through his hive mind connection with the bats, had been front and center, and it had zapped him like a bug flying into a light bulb. Enough for whatever power had kept him alive through the ravages of interdimensional travel and decay and being set on fire to be snuffed out.

El had hurt him, and his physical body had died of the burns from Robin and Steve’s Molotovs and bullets from Nancy’s sawed-off, but it was Eddie who struck the final blow. Otherwise, Vecna might have crashed through that window onto the front yard below and still gotten up again to slink off, lick his wounds, and continue his assault on the Right Side Up.

“I think we use our powers very differently,” El tells him thoughtfully, and isn’t that just the understatement of the goddamn year. “I don’t understand what you did, or how, but… thank you.”

Eddie is uncomfortable being thanked, when all he did was run and then pin all his hopes on one last-ditch effort. He jams his hands deep in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, sending out more ripples to nowhere. “Yeah, well… It’s been a hell of a week, all I want to do now is get some fucking sleep.”

El looks perplexed by this, then firm as she shakes her head and holds out her hand. “You have been asleep for long enough. I promised Steve I would bring you back.”

And, okay. Eddie isn’t really one for taking the hands of strange children (he’s in his twenties now, fifteen-ish is a child, shut up) and letting them lead him around, but he thinks he’d do just about anything for Steve.

Seeing Eddie’s eyes flutter open sends a shock of electricity through Steve. He barely remembers to give El the tissue waiting in his hand before swooping in to scoop up one of Eddie’s with both of his, enveloping pale fingers while careful not to jostle the iv line connected to his wrist. “Eds? Eddie? You with us, man?”

And when those eyes settle on him immediately upon focusing, like Eddie had already known where to find him, Steve feels that zing again only stronger.

“Mm,” Eddie croaks in agreement.

Robin is at Steve’s elbow, already handing him the bowl of ice chips (all Eddie is allowed right now) so he can spoon a few pieces in through chapped lips.

“Eddie,” Dustin says tearfully, and Mike and Will have to immediately restrain him from tackling the guy who just came out of a fucking coma in a relieved hug.

Steve holds Eddie’s hand again while he sucks on the ice and Nancy goes to let hospital staff know that he’s awake.

It’s a few more days until Eddie can stay awake long enough to really talk, and a few more after that before he starts remembering the answers to the questions he keeps asking.

“Is Dustin okay?”

Broken leg, but it’ll heal.

“What about Max?”

Two broken legs and two broken arms, but she’s already been discharged in casts and a wheelchair. She’s staying with the Sinclairs so she isn’t home alone while her mom’s at work.

“Did we win?”

Vecna’s dead, the three gates closed, and the Upside Down sealed away for good. Plus, they didn’t lose anyone this time; Hopper is even back from the dead. So yeah, it’s a win.

“Do people still want to kill me?”

Jason Carver had been arrested for assaulting Lucas, which had lost him a lot of standing with the town. (Not all of it though, so not nearly enough as far as Steve is concerned.) He’s now the lead suspect for the attempt on Max’s life, and it turns out that his only solid alibi for Chrissy and Fred’s murders had been Patrick. Eddie is still known as the local freak, but he’s at least no longer wanted for multiple murders.

“Where’s Wayne?”

Sometimes Mr. Munson is there to take this one, but most times, like today, Steve has had to explain that he’s working a shift at the plant. But he knows that Eddie’s alive and innocent and going to be okay, and he’s already planning to visit again as soon as he clocks out.

“It’s really over?”

Steve answers all of these, like he has before, and holds Eddie’s hand while he processes everything all over again like it’s the first time. It’s not Eddie’s fault; they’ve had him on a lot of pain meds.

“… I’ve asked this before, haven’t I?”

That’s new. Steve nods, then closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. And lets it out, finally. “I am so goddamn mad at you. I told you not to be a hero. What the fuck about that did you not understand? And then you went and nearly died.”

The look Eddie gives him is the clearest it’s been all week, sad and unsettlingly resigned. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re—” Steve stops, presses his lips into a thin line, pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Sorry? That’s it?”

Eddie looks down at their still-joined hands like he doesn’t understand why Steve still wants to touch him. He feels so fragile and washed out against the white of the hospital bed and the pale hospital gown, a nasal cannula holding back his limp and unwashed curls where it hooks over his ears. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll never do it again,” Steve replies, the words immediate and hot on his tongue. “Shouldn’t be too hard, it’s not like there are any more dark wizards or demon bats to chew half your skin off.”

He almost feels bad at how Eddie’s big eyes seem to get bigger, and definitely wetter at the corners. But he’s got his own bites, itching like crazy as they heal beneath the bandages hidden by his polo, and he’s been sitting in this hospital chair for what feels like forever while Eddie was in his coma. His back twinges when he moves, and he hasn’t been sleeping well, not even when Robin stays over. Everything feels uncomfortable and stressful and this idiot almost died and he can’t, absolutely cannot go through it again. Ever.

“Steve, I… I won’t, I just… I was stupid and forgot about the vents. I wasn’t trying to be a hero, I just wanted to fix what I fucked up.”

“Well you are,” Steve manages to say, despite his throat feeling increasingly tight and his own eyes starting to feel hot. He wipes at them roughly. “A fucking hero, I mean. You ended it. Butthead,” he adds, giving Eddie’s hand a tight squeeze.

That is what makes Eddie’s eyes spill over with a wet little sound sneaking out between his lips. “It was the ripcord spell. I ended everything. So… you’re mad, I get it, and if you don’t want to be friends anymore—”

“Of course I don’t want to be friends,” Steve interrupts. “I want to date you, you idiot. I told you that already.”

“But the love spell—”

“Fuck the love spell. Maybe it made me fall in love with you one time, but I fall for you all over again every time I see you, Eds. So when you’re healed up enough, I’m going to put you in a wheelchair and push you to the hospital cafeteria so we can have our first official date over the shittiest food in the known universe, and the only thing that’ll stop me in said universe is if you don’t want to.”

Eddie stares at him for a moment, a wonderful hope going from spark to steady glow in his expression. “Are you going to let me finish a sentence on this date?”

Steve smirks, but behind the mask of confidence he has the same wonderful relief welling up in his chest and he’s not actually sure he’s hiding it well. “Play your cards right, and sure.”

He’s never seen a brighter smile than the one Eddie aims at him. And yeah, Eddie is frail and scarred and still connected to a worrying amount of beeping hospital equipment, but he’s also just beautiful. “Then I accept, big boy. It’s a date.”

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8 @anaibis @connected-dots @lawrencebshoggoth

Part 10, part 11

#scoops words #love spell no go au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson lives #wg steddie

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leoniestarlee · 4 months

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Illyrian Assassin (10)

Pairing: Azriel x OC

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning: past trauma, slow burn

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

"Hurry up, you lazy asses," Cassian said as me and Azriel slowly made our way up to the front door of the townhouse. Willa softly snored against my shoulder as I held her in my arms, trying to fight off the sleep wanting to take me back to bed. Daisy tucked her head into the crook of Azriel's neck as he held her, a small blanket covering her body.

"I'm not a morning person," I groaned, leaning against Cass by the door. "Especially after being pulled out of bed without any warning."

Cassian pounded on the door as Azriel murmured to him, "If you're going to pick a fight with him, do it after breakfast and when they're in bed." He glanced down at Daisy and then to me and Willa.

"I wasn't the one who hauled me out of bed just now to fly down here," Cassian said as I closed my eyes. That was true. Az had hauled us all out of bed to come down here, saying Rhysand had to speak with us because Feyre the Cursebreaker was now in our Court. "Busybody," he added.

"One, no one—no one—but Mor, Rory, and I are able to winnow directly inside this house," Rhysand said from inside the townhouse to someone and my eyes flew open. "It is warded, shielded, and then warded some more. Only those I wish—and you wish—may enter. You are safe here; and safe anywhere in this city, for that matter. Velaris walls are well protected and have not been breached in five thousand years. No one with ill intent enters this city unless I allow it. So go where you wish, do what you wish, and see who you wish. Those three in the antechamber, besides Rory, might not be on that list of people you should bother knowing if they keep banging on the door like children."

Cassian pounded on the door, again. "You know we can hear you, prick."

"Pound on the door again, and I'll cut off your damn hand," I hissed, narrowing my eyes to slits as I held Willa closer to me. "We all know how much I hate the damn morning."

"Secondly," Rhys went on as Cassian stuck his tongue out at me, "in regard to the three bastards at my door, it's up to you whether you want to meet them now, or head upstairs like a wise person, take a nap since you're still looking a little peaky, and then change into city-appropriate clothing while I beat the hell out of one of them for talking to his High Lord like that."

"Just open the damn door, Rhys. I want to go back to bed," I said through the door and Cassian snorted.

Amren appeared behind me, making me step back. "You Illyrians are worse than cats yowling to be let in the back door." She tried to open the door, but it didn't budge. "Really, Rhysand? You locked us out?"

"Now who's yowling." I raised a brow at her as she sent me back a glare, that had Cassian and I both taking a step back.

We waited a long moment before Rhys opened the front door and the warmth inside greeted me.

"Welcome home, bastard," Cassian said as he walked inside.

"Took you long enough," I mumbled, following after Cassian who threw himself on the couch.

Azriel said from behind me, "I sensed you were back. Mor filled me in, but I—"

Amren cut him off. "Send your dogs out in the yard to play, Rhysand. You and I have matters to discuss."

"As do I," Azriel said, his voice cold.

I shoved Cassian's feet, making him sit up right with a groan as I sat down next to him and left Willa to continue to sleep on my chest. "Don't call my girls a dog, Amren," I warned her.

Azriel's eyes slightly widened as he glanced at me and then Amren, waiting for her to do something but she only kept her attention on Rhys.

"We were here first. Wait your turn, Tiny Ancient One," Cassian drawled.

Amren's snarl sliced through the house.

"Why is everyone here so early? I thought we were meeting tonight at the House," Mor said as she walked into the room half asleep.

Azriel sat beside me, keeping Daisy in his arms as Rhysand grumbled, "Trust me, there's no party. Only a massacre, if Cassian doesn't shut his mouth."

"We're hungry," Cassian complained, standing up and blindly picking Willa up from my chest before softly putting her down in his previous seat. "Feed us. Someone told me there'd be breakfast."

"Pathetic," Amren quipped as I pulled a blanket over Willa. "You idiots are pathetic."

"We know that's true," Mor said, sitting down on the opposite couch, "but is there food?"

"It's too early for this shit," I mumbled, taking Daisy and her blanket from Azriel before laying her beside Willa. "Where's Cursebreaker? Is she actually here?"

Rhys nodded from beside Amren in the archway. "She's upstairs with Cerridwen and Nuala."

"Mother above," I mumbled, leaning my head on Azriel's shoulder. "I can't believe she's actually here."

"What do we do about Tamlin?" Cassian asked, arms tensed across his chest.

"I don't know yet," Rhys said, looking slightly stressed. "I did everything by the book. Mor went into the court and got her, which means he can't bring a war here to get her back. But... she knows about Velaris."

"Obviously," I muttered to myself, looking at the sleeping girls before looking back at him. "At dinner tonight, she's not to meet the girls until I give permission. We've kept them hidden here for the last five years and I'm not going to risk anything on Tamlin's bride." Rhys opened his mouth, and I knew he wanted to disagree with what I called her, but I raised my hand and stopped him. "It's a fact that she's his bride and she loves him. She died for him. I understand your disagreement because she's your mate and all, but at the end of the day, I'm protecting my children. She's not to meet them or even be told about them until I give permission, understood?"

Everyone one else stayed silent, watching me as I protectively moved closer to my girls and Rhys studied me. After a long moment, he sighed, "Understood."

"Good," I hummed. "Now when can we eat?"

Cassian laughed, shaking his head as he walked past the couch and down the hallway. Mor pulled a blanket over herself as Amren started talking to Rhys, leading him away from us as I closed my eyes and rested my head against Azriel's shoulder again.

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andreafmn · 4 months

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Bound | Chapter 4

Word Count: 4.9K Warnings: implied/referenced SA, trauma, trauma responses, mentions of death, torture, mentions of DV

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could've hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: So, I noticed that the time span of Rosalie's kills take around a year according to Midnight Sun (which I have yet to read) which is why the timeline won't match up very well, but I think it still works... maybe... hopefully. Sorry it took so long to update this story, I honestly did not have time to keep writing it for a bit. This was meant to come out yesterday but I fell asleep 🫣🫣 Also, to any and all survivors of SA that you are not alone and what happened to you is not your fault, it never will be. I hope you have healed or are healing. And if you ever just need an ear to listen, I am here. 🤍

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Three months had passed since the night that changed Rosalie’s life for eternity, and the Hubert brothers had been found dead. Two, since Ulysses Levitt ran out of town with a girl his family would have never approved, and the body of John Harris was found in his hotel room, asphyxiated and with a broken neck.

Word had spread through the town of a killer that was taking the lives of prominent young figures. They had ransacked through two families already, and it was rumored they had taken the Levitt son hostage, regardless of the letter left. It made families hold their young ones closer to them, hypervigilant of their every move. No one wanted their child to be next. No one wanted to weep for their child. Not even for them to go missing.

Because none of them knew that they had nothing to worry about.

Well, other than the King family. The royal family of Rochester, New York, would suffer a great loss that night at the hands of who would have been their greatest acquisition. She would take his life into her hands the way he had done with hers. He would clamor for mercy, beg for forgiveness, plead for another chance. And she would laugh in his face.

There weren’t many places Royce could hide in that Rosalie would not have found him. He could have hidden a thousand feet underground, and she would have carved at the ground with her own hands until she got to him. He would not get away from her without paying for what he had done. She was judge, jury, and executioner, and she would make sure his sentence was fulfilled.

In the Cullen residence, the other three vampires walked on eggshells around Rosalie. The anger that radiated from the girl was hot enough that any closeness could leave them burned. Even if their words and worries came from a place of concern –at least from Carlisle and Esme– she did not want to hear them. All she had time for was her revenge. There was nothing else she had to look forward to.

She didn’t want to be angry. It was an all-consuming emotion that she did not wish to impart on the family that had “rescued” her.

“Good morning, Rosalie,” Esme called the girl’s attention as she readied herself for the day. “How are you feeling today?”

“As well as I can be while my rapist’s heart still beats,” she shrugged, brushing the golden curls in her hair. “Apart from that, I guess not worse than I felt yesterday.”

“That’s good, I think,” the woman offered a smile. “Hopefully tomorrow is better.”

“Oh, it will be. Once Royce gets what’s coming for him, the universe will balance itself out. After that… well, we’ll see when we get there.”

Esme remained quiet for a moment, weighing whether or not her words were welcomed in the blonde’s space. The last thing the woman wanted was to make something snap inside the girl. She was already fragile as it was, even if she wouldn’t allow herself to be, and Esme didn’t want to be the drop of water that made her cup overflow. “May I offer you some words?” she asked against her better judgment.

“If you’re trying to get me to see how wrong it is to take a life, please save your breath,” she responded, holding in her laughter at the irony of her sentence. “Carlisle and Edward have tried, and I can tell you there is nothing you can say that will make me desist from my plan.”

“Well,” Esme sighed with a smile on her face. “Then, can I tell you about my story? I can’t say that I lived through the horrors of what you did, but I did have my own monster.” The blonde simply nodded in approval, her attention fully on the woman before her. “I didn’t envision my life turning out this way, much like you. When I was younger, I dreamed of being a school teacher. I wanted to mold the minds of my students and help them navigate this crazy world. But my parents wanted me to be the perfect wife. They wanted me to stay home and marry. And I did. I thought then that my life would be better. That’s what my parents had promised, so that’s what I believed.

“Yet, the man that I married became the monster in the fairytale my parents had designed. He was abusive. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He made me feel like I had no escape. And my parents perpetuated that behavior. They told me to keep it quiet. That no one in town would ever believe that he could do anything like that,” the woman continued. Rosalie could tell how difficult it was to tell her story. She could see the fear flashing in her eyes and the tremble in her hands as she felt the ghosts of her past creeping up her neck. And she wondered if that was the way she would look. Regardless of her impenetrable body, anyone would be able to see the pain plastered on her face. “There was some solace when the Great War passed. He was drafted, and I had months of peace. I learned that you don’t know how deep in the chaos you have gotten until you see a way out. Deep down, I hoped he never returned. It was easier to be a widow than to live the rest of my life in fear.

“But, much to my dismay, he came back once the war had ended. I knew my sentence was until death did us part. Until I became pregnant a few months after his return, and there was a new life to fight for,” Esme said. “I ran as far as I could. I needed to protect my baby, and I couldn’t do that if I was dead. He found me the first time, though. So, I ran again. For some time, I even became a teacher. For the first time in so many years, I was happy. I had fulfilled my childhood dream, and I was building my own family. But all of that ended when my baby died only two days after being born. I had changed my entire life for my son, and he had been ripped away from me in just 48 hours. With him gone, I had nothing left to live for. And well, after all that, Carlisle changed me.

“I will say that I assimilated to this life quickly. It was easy when the alternative had been so horrendous for me. But, the reason I’m telling you this is not because I just wanted you to hear my sorrowful story,” she chuckled softly. “A couple of years after I was changed, Edward grew rebellious. We didn’t have a bad life, much less a bad relationship. But he was only a year younger than you are when he was turned, and he was growing angsty with our way of life, especially our diet. He went on a rampage, finding the worst of the worst among humans using his ability. He only returned to us two years ago. But he told me who his first victim had been. It had been my ex-husband. He told me how he made sure he suffered, that he yelled for mercy, and pleaded to God to save him.

“It should have made me feel better that he was gone. That he couldn’t hurt anyone any longer, for the world had to be a better place without another monster walking in its midst. I did feel relief for a second that he could not get to anyone else, but it didn’t really matter. He had still hurt me, and his being dead didn’t change that. All I could do was try and move past it. Not forgetting what he did to me, but learning to live with it,” she explained. Esme approached Rosalie, taking her hands in hers and staring deeply into the red eyes before her. “Killing Royce won’t stop the hurt from taking over your heart, Rosalie, just as I know that killing those other four men hasn’t satiated the ire inside you.”

“Even if it won’t fix what they tore inside me, I can make sure it doesn’t happen to any other woman. At least, the ones that would have fallen victim to them if they weren’t dead,” Rosalie said through gritted teeth. There were no tears to hold back, as much as she wanted them. She wanted them to make her eyes burn with anticipation, and she couldn’t almost remember that feeling and trick herself that it was happening. But the stream never came. “I cannot let him walk free on this earth after seeing just how well he can hide the kind of monster he is. If he was going to marry me and he did what he did, I don’t want to imagine what he would do to a woman he doesn’t even know. I’m not doing this to heal anything inside me or because I am seeking inner peace. I am doing this so they can never do this again.”

Esme knew there was nothing she could say that would deter Rosalie from finishing her plan. Instead of drowning with more words, she simply smiled and told her she understood. Before leaving the girl be, she turned and said, “You should take a stroll through the garden. This summer the nightshade has sprouted beautifully.”

Rosalie stared at herself in the mirror, and the vision that stared back at her startled her. Dressed in a strikingly white dress that was as close as possible to the one she had picked out with her mother was unsettling. Much more knowing that to that day, she should have been already three months married… or three months dead.

But she was neither.

No. Her blood-red eyes reminded her that she was not married and she was stuck in a land that was not quite living but not quite dead. She was stuck as she was in a world that was no longer hers for the taking. Still, if there was one thing that was still hers, it was the ability to taste Royce’s death already.

She had found his hideout rather quickly. He had trapped himself in the basement of an abandoned bank building that was still under his family’s possession. Little did he know that in his hiding, he had given her the perfect place to rid the world of the monster he was. His soul would forever be trapped somewhere that perfectly represented him –cold, dark, and made just for money.

Everything was already going to plan. The crate of whiskey had been delivered on time and sent directly into the vault with food and other necessities. All she needed to do was wait it out for an hour. Sixty minutes to allow the paranoia to set in, for the hallucinations to fester, for all the pain and discomfort to rip its way across his body. She would allow the little plant to set her stage because she would be the main act that day.

Rosalie waited until she could not wait any longer. Until she knew his mind would have started its descent into madness. She wanted him to be trembling in his skin before she made her grand entrance.

From the bank's main lobby, she could hear Royce’s racing heart, his breathing heave, and his frantic steps. It would have been the most intoxicating song had her heart not been filled with dark hatred. His suffering meant nothing to her until it was her own hands inflicting the pain. She had to get into that room sooner rather than later.

Though Royce was her main target, she needed to get past the two men that guarded the vault door. Innocent souls that had to be reaped because of the sins of a monster. Her parents had taught her the just paid for the guilty. And in matters of love and war, all was fair. That afternoon, two souls would join the five that had shredded her own. She would grant them a quick and painless death, and go on with the rest of the plan.

And so, she snapped the men’s necks and laid them on the floor. She closed their eyes and prayed to whatever higher power that was out there to forgive their trespasses, granting them safe passage into the afterlife. There wasn’t much she believed in anymore, but she needed to believe that at least the innocent made their way to something better.

With those men out of the way, Rosalie could finally accomplish what she had to do. It’s showtime, she told herself. No turning back now.

The door wasn’t locked, only put together to give Royce the semblance of security. Not that it would have mattered. Supernatural strength and speed allowed it not to matter. Without even knowing it, Royce had written his death sentence the second he had left her for dead.

“No. No. No. No,” she heard him mutter. “It’s not my fault. It’s not. I didn’t do it.”

Delirium. Truly perfect.

“Honey,” she smiled as she burst through the door, making the entire building tremble under her strength. “I’m home.”

“No, God, please,” Royce cried as he cowered in a corner, his eyes growing as big as saucers at the vision before him. Locked inside that room, he had felt he had started to go crazy. Hidden in the shadows lived the person that had haunted his friends and was haunting him now. He knew whoever it had been was bidding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. What he had not expected was to see her. “How are you here? How are you showing her to me?”

“I am not a mirage, dear Royce,” Rosalie said, smoothing down her gown. It dragged behind her as she walked, the sound of the fabric swishing on the ground mixing beautifully with the sound of his racing heart. “I am actually here. Standing before you as I would have months ago.”

“But you died… I mean, you had to have died.”

“Oh, I did,” Rosalie sighed. She crossed the room elegantly, taking in how it had been transformed. An elegant bed was pressed against one of the walls, the sheets perfectly done as though no one had ever dared sleep on them. Truly, the entire place had been decorated to portray a luxury suite, like the ones in the many hotels the King family frequented. Beautiful and expensive. Much like the armchair she sat on to face the man directly. “You see, I stand before you today completely dead. Well… technically undead. I’m living, but I’m not alive, Royce. I’m what you might call a vampire now.”

“That’s not… no. That’s not possible!” Royce exclaimed, trembling. The bottle he held in his hands spilled with every shake of his limbs, soaking his shirt. “You’re a ghost. The same one that’s been haunting me for months.”

“I know you wish that were true, Royce. Because maybe then I wouldn’t be able to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” he said as he cowered deeper into the corner of the room. “Why would you hurt me?”

“Oh, Royce. I knew you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but I didn’t think you’d be this cretinous,” she scoffed. “Do you really think I’m here just to say goodbye? Darling, I’m here to do so much worse. I’ve already started, actually.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Well, I’m sure you can feel the way your heart is racing, how your skin has gotten clammy, and how your brain is all delirious. That was a little gift from me,” she grinned devilishly, examining the perfection of her cuticles. “I know how you can’t resist a glass of whiskey no matter the time of day, and I knew you had a few scheduled shipments of bottles. So, with the help of a beautiful blue flower and absentminded delivery boys, I was able to slip some deadly nightshade into those bottles. Hence, the reaction from your body and your delusions.”

“You poisoned me? How could you, Rosalie? I don’t deserve this.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to speak my name,” Rosalie spat. In a matter of a second, she had killed any distance between them “My name is the only thing you will never have possession of. Not anymore. And to think you have the audacity to question what you deserve.”

“But I don’t, R… I don’t deserve this,” he cried as the girl balled his shirt in her hands. “I made one mistake.”

“What you and your friends did was no mistake, Royce. It was a deliberate and brutal robbery of my innocence, of my life. It was a testament to your true character and the monster that lay beneath sheep’s clothing,” she seethed. “The worst part of it all is that I would have lived with your sins had you simply given me the life I had dreamed of. I would have let you drink until your belly was full of nothing but liquor and beer. I would have let you cheat as long as you came home to me. I would have let you take everything as long as I had my children to care for. And what a waste of a life that would have been.”

Fat tears fell from the man’s eyes, connecting with the slobber of boogers that escaped his nose, and it disgusted Rosalie to be so close to him. But it was the dangerously fast pace of his heart that thrilled her. It was the perspiration on his skin that edged her on. It was the unnatural dilation of his pupils that made her want to dance in victory.

She knew he was in pain. She knew that his body wanted nothing more than to reject the poison of the deadly nightshade, but it would never be able to. Not while she was there, witnessing the demise of the worst kind of monster.

Royce pleaded under his breath, trying to appeal to the human side of Rosalie without understanding that the part he was begging to had died that night. The humanity left inside her dwindled as she stared at the pitiful man. She couldn’t imagine a world where she had ended up with him. At least, for that, she was grateful.

“You‘ll never find love,” Royce suddenly spat, a sudden rage boiling inside him, giving him enough energy to yell at her. “Not as the abomination that you are.”

“And what is that, Royce?” She said through gritted teeth. “Because the person I thought I loved was you.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he barked. “Don’t think I don’t know about your inclinations. I saw you with my own eyes.”

“Whatever you think you might have seen will go with you in death. At least you’ll have that memory then to keep you company.”

“The title of murderer is less vile than the other name. You’re lucky I took pity on you and showed you what you were missing out on.”

“Pity? You took pity on me?” Rosalie took hold of his shirt, lifting him from the ground as though he weighed no more than a dress. “You destroyed me. You defiled me. You took my life. Whatever it is that you think you may know about me did not give you the right to do any of that.”

“I saved you first from a lifetime of embarrassment,” Royce choked, his voice trembling as fear overtook him. “Your lifestyle would have gotten you killed regardless.”

“The only lifestyle that killed me was the one where I chose you,” she spat. “You did this to me, Royce. And now you have to pay.”

She let him drop to the ground to cower into the corner. One second, the man was back to crying and begging. The next, he was clutching at his chest and groaning in pain. “Please stop this,” he groaned. His heart had started running at a desperate pace, trying its best to pump blood to his body. But his arteries were contracting as the seconds passed, and his body would start shutting down soon after. “I know you can. Just please, I promise I’ll be better. Just give me a chance.”

“You had a chance, Royce. This life. This was your chance, and you wasted it. You decided to use your one chance to be a despicable man —driven by your greediness and your ego. You could have led a long and beautiful life, but you weren’t satisfied. You wanted more and more until there was nothing left to take. Now, you won’t take anything from anyone else.”

“Please,” he sobbed, but his words came out slurred as the poison kept rushing through his bloodstream. A rash had started peeking through his clothes, burning it way through his skin. He couldn’t choose between scratching at the patches or clutching at his chest, his entire body quickly starting to betray him. “I don’t wanna die.”

“Funny,” she laughed. “I didn’t either.”

Royce didn’t take long to deteriorate. His body was already weak from a diet of fear and whiskey—and the lethal amount of nightshade that she had injected in the bottles. He had gravitated onto his bed, barely hanging on to the little life that was left in him. His lungs wheezed and his skin reddened, his limbs spasmed and his lips trembled, and his eyes never left hers.

And she stared back.

“Soon enough, you will stop breathing,” she sighed. “I’m sure you can barely feel your arms and your legs. Just like I know you’re trying your hardest to take in a single breath. Isn’t it terrifying? To lay there and feel your life slipping through your fingers, all because someone else decided that you weren’t worthy of your own life.”

“P… ple… please,” he managed to croak out. Tears stained his face, mixing with the sweat on his skin. “H-h-help… m-me.”

“It’s too late, Royce,” she smiled deviously. “Don’t you get it by now? You are dying today. You will lay there and suffer and beg. And then, you will die. Not because it’s justice for what you did to me. But because no one else in this Earth will ever have to meet a monster like you. And I will stay and watch until you take your last breath.”

And so, he begged. Royce begged until the lack of oxygen forced his eyes shut.

And Rosalie watched. She watched until he took his last, wheezing breath.

Once she could not hear his heart beating anymore, she spared him one last close-up glance. She stood over him and looked over his corpse, wondering who it would be that would find his body. What would they think happened? The easiest explanation would be a heart attack, but the bodies in front of the vault would paint a different story. It wasn’t because she was worried she’d be caught –there was no way she ever would be– but rather because she wondered what plot would be spun to glorify Royce’s life and condemn his killer. And she was absolutely certain they would never believe a woman had been the one to kill him, let alone the other six men.

“Rot in hell, Royce,” Rosalie whispered against his ear. “Say hi to your friends for me.”

The girl thought she had merely spent an hour or two inside the bank, but as she slipped back into the alley, she noticed that the morning had come and gone, and the moon had started to peek its way out on the horizon. She quickly changed out of the wedding dress, ripping it from her skin as if it was suffocating her. Her lungs ached for a breath they didn’t need as something deep inside her snapped. It seemed that Esme had been right. Killing Royce didn’t make her feel better, but it had satiated her conscience. He could not hurt anyone else.

Rosalie placed a hat on her head to conceal her face as she walked through the barely crowded streets of her home. Whispers on the street spoke of the demented killer that had taken the lives of four young men. Even if it had been a while since he had killed, everyone knew he was still out there. She had expected that much. The fear of the unknown was enough to rattle an entire town, and after Royce, it would be the only topic on everyone’s tongues for a long time.

What she had not expected was to come face to face with a picture of herself.

Taped to a lamp post was her last photograph taken with the words MISSING in bold on top of it. Under, a brief description of who she had been was printed, her family calling for any information regarding the whereabouts of their daughter. But that didn’t strike her as odd. She knew her family would be worried—had been worried for months.

No. It was the small message posted under her family’s plea that made her stop in her tracks, a sudden wave of sadness numbing her limbs. She ran her pale fingers over the withered paper as though she could hear the voice if she touched the words.

Please help bring our Rosie home, the message read. There are people here who love her more than sunflowers love the sun.

There was no need for a signature for Rosalie to know exactly who’d had that message printed. She ripped the message from the page, folding it into the bag she had buried the wedding dress in, careful not to wrinkle the paper.

Her heart wrenched inside her chest as she remembered the last time she had seen this person. The last time she ever would.

Only a week before her wedding, Vera had told her how much she wished Rosalie a long and happy life. As the blonde carried Henry in her arms, her friend placed a soft hand into hers, squeezing comfortingly as she smiled.

“You deserve happiness, Rosie,” she had said that afternoon. “I just wish…”

“There’s no point in wishing,” Rosalie sighed, her eyes transfixed by the baby in her arms. She had been afraid to look Vera in the eyes —the beautiful gemstone eyes she had adored. “You have your family. And I’m on track to have mine. It is all we ever dreamed of.”

“But it was supposed to look like this,” Vera had sighed. “Not quite like how it really is.”

“We knew from the start that it would end this way, V. This is just the world we live in. At least this way, we can still be in each other’s lives.”

“Even with all your high-class parties and important people to attend?” she had joked. “You really think you’ll have time for me.”

“Always,” Rosalie had smiled. “Forever.”

“Really? You mean that?”

“Does a sunflower love the sun?”

Now, she had all the time in the world. So much time it could never run out. But there was not a second more she would be able to spend with Vera or with Henry. She’d never again brush away the little boy’s dark curls as they fell in front of his eyes. She’d never again hear Vera calling her name as she laughed. She’d never have everything she wanted —anyone she wanted.

After what felt like a lifetime of staring at her own face, Rosalie straightened out her dress and made her way back to the Cullen residence as though nothing had happened. She cleared her mind of all thoughts about her best friend and walked inside, ready to shut herself in her room until it was time to feed.

“You really did it, huh?” Edward taunted. “You really went through with it.”

“Please spare me the mocking tonight, Edward,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “My patience is wearing quite thin, and there’s no telling if I might snap. I have heard that us newborns have a tendency to be twitchy and rather strong.”

“You’re such a…”

“That’s quite enough, Edward,” Esme interjected before he could go any further. “Leave your judgment inside your head.”

Edward muttered a complaint as he disappeared into the backyard, acting as a teenager reprimanded by their mother. Which, in a sense, he was.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Rosalie,” the woman smiled. “I hope that whatever happened today and all those months before brought you some type of solace. I know it will never be enough, but I hope it’s a start.”

“I hope so, too.”

But she knew her heart would need much more mending than only a few deaths.

That night, she had pulled out the message from her bag alongside a picture she had managed to take with her of Vera and her in their class banquet. They had worn beautiful gowns and were smiling from ear to ear as they danced together. It was a memory she would carry for the rest of her life. But, then, she had laid in the bed she did not need, pressing the picture and the message close to her chest, and closed her eyes to pretend she could dream she was back there.

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white-sinner · 1 year

Text

obey me x eighth little brother reader

Welcome home little brother…(4/?)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷

It's been a while now since Y/N reunited with his brothers but his nightmares didn't get better they seemed more and more strange and twisted until the night before the announcement of the arrival of the new exchange students something happened

"Good Night Y/N"

"night Lucifer!"

Lucifer before leaving he left the light on being that Y/N was afraid of the dark well that could be expected after all their little brother was the avatar of paranoia.

After about half an hour the little one fell asleep but found himself in a strange room that looked like a doll's house.. a circus?

"ho no...Lucifer.." no response

"Lucifer, Levi? Satan!" no one answered until

"welcome Y/N I've been waiting for you" was a calm sweet female voice

"W-Who are you?"

"this is not important right now I'm sorry I can't be present with you and the other brothers" "it's time to go but trust me the 2 of us will meet again little Y/N"

at which point he woke up

"that it was another nightmare?"

Diavolo summoned the entire student council body which of course also included Y/N the eighth member

"it's good to see you again" Simeon said unaware of the little boy hiding behind his student council chair (welcome social anxiety)

"It's a pleasure for us to see you too" said Lucifer always maintaining a serious tone

"I don't understand why I have to be here" the second boy huffs

instead the third with white hair inspected the brothers

"my name is not Fido!" the little angel screamed trying to attack Mammon but was held back thanks to Simeon

"he's like a chiwawa" Satan exclaims "Y/N he never acts like that"

"Y/N?"

"That's right Y/N he's the eighth member and younger brother but where is he?" asked Diavolo

"He is here my lord" Barbatos said teleporting after Y/N who got scared turning into his demonic form

"he is Y/n" start introducing Lucifer “our little Avatar brother of paranoia" "if I'm not mistaken he and Luke should be the same age" Asmodeus said with a smirk

"really?"

"this is exactly Y/N is at least over one thousand years old"

"but this is magnificent the two could become perfect friends!" Devil said smiling

"that said, one last human should arrive, all of you four starlets in purgatory hall"

"Another human wasn't enough already one?!" think panicking little Y/N"

"Let's make this an unforgettable year" concluded Diavolo

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷

#obey me beelzebub #om! asmodeus #obey me #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #om! x reader #om! belphie #beel obey me #male reader #child reader #little reader #x male y/n #x male reader #lucifer #om! luke #om! simeon #om! barbatos #om! shall we date #om! leviathan

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mimisempai · 7 months

Text

The angel who never ceases to baffle me

Summary

When he entered the bookshop that day, Crowley certainly didn't expect to find his angel asleep on his desk. Aziraphale who never slept until recently, was taking a nap...

Notes

Day 17 : Napping

On Ao3

Rating G - 1077 words

"Crowley, did something happen to Aziraphale?"

Crowley, who had just gotten out of the Bentley he had just parked, turned to face a worried looking Maggie.

He replied a little confused, "Not that I know of, why do you ask?"

Maggie wrung her hands as she replied, "Well, he was supposed to come into the store around 4: pm, but he didn't. It's not like him not to let people know when he can't make it, so I went to the store, but the door was locked and..."

Crowley interrupted, "Aziraphale doesn't keep a set schedule."

Maggie shook her head, "Yeah, we all know the bookshop's opening hours are whimsical. So when I saw some light, I knocked on the door a few times, but he didn't answer."

Crowley, though slightly concerned, said gently, "He's probably deep in a book and didn't hear. We'll check right away."

Followed by Maggie, he went to the bookshop and opened the door, calling softly, "Angel?"

Receiving no answer, he walked further into the store and looked toward Aziraphale's desk. Here he couldn't hold back a small laugh, half amusement, half relief, and turned to Maggie to say quietly, "It's all right. He just fell asleep."

Maggie sighed in relief and replied, "Good. Knowing him, he'll probably feel guilty about missing our appointment, so reassure him and tell him to come by any time tomorrow. I don't have any plans."

Crowley nodded before turning and entering the bookshop, closing the door behind him.

He slowly approached the desk and couldn't help but smile fondly at a scene he would never have imagined surprising just a few weeks ago.

Aziraphale, who never slept, had obviously been unable to resist and was asleep on his desk. His head was resting on his crossed arms and he looked deeply asleep. His glasses were askew on his face, and his slightly parted lips occasionally released small puffs of air that caused the sheets of paper on his desk to rustle.

Having slept in the Bentley for weeks, Crowley knew that sleeping in an uncomfortable position promised a painful awakening, demon or human, so he moved even closer and said softly, "Angel...wake up."

The Angel mumbled, but showed no sign of waking.

Crowley then gently placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, "Angel, come with me, I promise you'll thank me when you wake up without a sore back."

The Angel opened his eyes, but was clearly not fully awake, so Crowley leaned down, pushed the glasses aside, and put an arm around his shoulders. He helped him to his feet, amused because Aziraphale was letting himself be handled like a puppet.

The demon led the angel to the sofa where he sat him down and no sooner had he sat down beside him than Aziraphale snuggled up to him and fell asleep almost immediately.

Crowley, a little surprised by such behavior but not at all displeased, allowed it and simply wrapped his arms around the angel, cradling him tightly against him.

After a few moments, Crowley shifted to a more comfortable position, not knowing how long the angel's little nap would last.

Aziraphale must have thought he was getting up, because he suddenly grabbed Crowley and whimpered, "Stay."

The angel had frowned in his sleep, and the demon, amused and pleased at the same time, kissed his forehead gently and said, "I'm not leaving, angel."

Though the Angel was still asleep, the wrinkle between his eyes disappeared as he relaxed back against Crowley.

Crowley now went from amused to amazed.

He knew that Aziraphale trusted him. But to see him like this, so surrendered in his arms asleep, moved him to the core.

He began to speak softly, "You know, Angel, I wonder if one day you'll stop surprising me. Thousands of years have passed since we met, and yet you go on and on. And each time I don't expect it. I've known both angels and demons, and I know what they're capable of, all predictable in their behavior, but you, you defy all predictions. Where I thought I'd meet a sworn enemy, you offer me an angel who dares to defy the heavens and protect me. You offer me your trust again and again. Showing it to me again and again. And now you sleep against me, defenseless. Sometimes I wonder how I ever deserved an angel like you."

"You are just you. You don't have to do anything to deserve me."

Crowley gasped and, lowering his head to look at the Angel, saw that Aziraphale was looking at him, eyes wide and a very gentle smile.

He exclaimed, "You little..."

"Hush, my dear, don't spoil this beautiful declaration."

Crowley asked, "How long have you been awake, you little traitor?"

Aziraphale looked pensive and then replied, a playful smile on his lips, "Well... since... I begged you to stay."

"Angel!"

Aziraphale snuggled up to him and said quietly, "And you stayed."

"Of course, you idiot. Did you enjoy laughing at me then?"

The angel lifted his face and said with a now serious expression, "There's absolutely nothing in what you've told me that makes me want to laugh at you. Not when you open your heart like this, Crowley."

He straightened up a little, brought his hand to the demon's cheek and said softly, "I'm glad I woke up to hear that. But to repeat what I said, you'll never have to do anything to deserve me. Just being you is enough for me."

He slid his hand from the demon's cheek to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to back up his words with a tender kiss before curling up against him once more.

"Anyway, it's much more comfortable to wake up like this."

Crowley chuckled softly and replied, "I told you, but you were so asleep you didn't hear. And w do you want to do now, Angel?"

Aziraphale reached behind him, pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and covered them with it before saying quietly, "Well, I'd like to explore with you the benefits of a little nap."

Crowley chuckled slightly and replied, "Sleeping with you in my arms, angel? You'll never see me object to that. "

He planted a light kiss in the angel's hair before leaning back comfortably on the sofa, his angel in his arms, and it wasn't long until they both drifted off into a gentle slumber.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GOS2Spoilers

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iwillnotdieamonster · 19 days

Text

"This is a beautiful letter from Fiona Apple explaining to her fans why she must postpone a concert date. I am impressed at the way she was instantly able to make the decision to choose love over her career. Indeed, the world needs more of this.

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.

I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.

I'll be seeing you.

Love,

Fiona"

Credit goes to the respective owners.

#love #caring #animals #family #loss

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yourneighborhoodporg · 6 months

Text

The Guardian

Chapter 4: Arrival (Part 1)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: mention of slavery, mention of character deaths, reference to life-threatening danger, sleep deprivation, sorrow, angst, stern Mace, fluff, banter, some reader/Anakin bonding :) and worried Obi :(

Summary: The days leading up to your arrival have been cumbersome for both you and Anakin— the two of you struggle together with these life-altering changes thrust in front of you by the Galaxy. As the group reaches Coruscant, new revelations are made that further urge Obi-Wan to meet with The Council as soon as possible: to discuss your discovery, and its consequences.

Song Inspo: Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up) — Florence + The Machine

Words: 6.1K

A/n: Ahhhh!! You all are so lovely. Hope you like this chapter. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments (and message if you'd like to be on the taglist!)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action — Ralph Ellison

“A war…”

Anakin’s hand loosely tilted a throttle lever to the right as the shuttle approached Coruscant only a few thousand kilometers away. Its spherical body crept into the viewport like a loth-cat poised for attack while your voice filled the cabin.

The peaceful lull of space gave the young Jedi a moment to glance back at the conversation taking place. He looked beyond Ahsoka, who was cozied up in the shuttle seat directly behind him, legs thrown over an armrest and a Datapad resting comfortably against her knees. As she typed away, you sat beside her quizzically, eyes fixed in an aimless direction with a cheek resting gently on your fingertips in thought.

You’d inquired twelve hours into the trip about galactic events that occurred during your last ten years of total isolation, and it took the remaining two days for Obi-Wan to provide you with a very abbreviated version. The wise Jedi spent much time on The Order’s growth throughout the years and various blips in the peace, like the Invasion of Naboo. Only in the last few hours did he arrive at the topic of the Separatist war. Your shock at being for so long completely unaware of the galactic battles taking place was palpable.

Anakin delved deeper into his memories of the last few days in this cramped, rickety shuttle as it traversed from the Outer Ring across the galaxy. Specifically, those late nights in which he chose to keep the ship off autopilot and fly it manually, long after Master Kenobi and Ahsoka had fallen asleep in the back.

In the dimmed lighting, his mind still rushed with questions about your discovery. He had anxiety about what your sudden appearance in his life meant, and frustrations from not being informed of your existence. So Anakin decided it would be easier to manipulate the bird’s mechanisms himself. To keep his mind from wandering too far into further misgivings.

On both such quiet evenings, he recalled your restlessness. You shuffled aimlessly in the rear cabin, from your back to your side, and after a few seconds, to your stomach with a defeated plonk. Eventually, after many noisy readjustments, he’d hear an exasperated sigh before you’d roll over and rise to your feet. He’d sense you quietly sneak up behind the co-pilot’s seat and, each night, you’d unceremoniously plop down beside him, leaning back with arms crossed and staring out the viewport as if it was just the lullaby you’d needed.

He’d peer at you, noticing your subtly sunk in eyes, before once again making the same comment.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah.”

And after a few drawn-out moments filled with only the silent hum of the shuttle’s engines, he’d ask a question. Nothing grandeur or serious. Just anything to lead to a conversation. To pass the time.

“Have you ever thought about where you’d want to visit? After leaving Hoth?” He spoke lowly.

And your head cocked with an imaginative gaze stuck ahead before answering with a small smile.

“I’ve always wanted to play grav-ball, and I’ve heard Nubia has some of the best teams. So probably there.”

Anakin nodded approvingly. “Coruscant has them too.”

And your smile widened as you twisted toward him. “Really?”

Then your interest was piqued. And you’d continue the conversation or make some completely unrelated, lighthearted query. Either way, the two of you would talk for hours during those calm nights in the old, decrepit shuttle.

It was during these late-night talks, that Anakin had the chance to uncover more of who you were. He brushed away at your sentiments, uncovering your interests like hidden gems while simultaneously sharing his own. The both of you seemed to have a great deal in common.

And that helped ease his mind.

Anakin turned back to the controls to prepare the shuttle for approach as it neared the planet’s gravitational pull, shutting off the main ion drives.

“And the Jedi as Generals? Controlling an army of clones?”

He watched as you shook your head and sighed, pressing your lips together as if mourning a memory.

“I always thought The Order was built to preserve peace in the Galaxy. Qui-Gon always made that clear. The Jedi were protectors, not stokers of conflict.”

“The Jedi have always been and will prevail as keepers of the peace.” Obi-Wan clarified.

His stance held firm behind the co-pilots seats, leaning against it with arms crossed as he analyzed your reactions carefully.

“We act in this war to do just that. The cohesiveness and strength of The Republic would be destroyed if The Separatist Alliance remained. You know as well as most from your studies that an existence like The Old Republic would act as an open cut to agents of the Dark Side.”

Anakin noticed as your eyes misted over in a dazed fashion.

“Forces like Maul…” You murmured.

Exhaling soberly, Anakin digested your solemn expression. Watching your mind struggle to process this newfound mountain of information was bringing back his own troubling memories from his youth. He never was the strongest enthusiast for change, and some of the most extreme adjustments he’d made involved similar exposure to newly dire circumstances. Whether that be learning he’d be hungry for another day, or of some plan to sell him off to another slave owner like cheap merchandise.

As a boy, he found himself best distracted from these circumstances by a new tinkering project, or by those rare moments of frivolity in such tumultuous times.

Yet here he was, already focusing his mind on fiddling with the outdated shuttle in front of him as he had done for the past few days. An expression of levity seemed to be the next logical step, he thought.

“Well, remember?” He grinned at you lightheartedly. “You don’t need to worry about him anymore. Master Kenobi put him in his place.”

Anakin observed as the corner of your mouth twitched upwards, stirring his own to take a wider stance. The momentary lift in your spirits was short-lived, although, as your lost eyes lifted from the floor, disoriented by your mind.

“It’s almost poetic.” You mused, a rueful chuckle falling from your lips. “The very beings my Master protected me from destroyed him in the end.”

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan who stroked his beard inquisitively as he mulled over your words in profound concentration. His narrowed gaze briefly met Anakin’s as if searching his irises for an answer to some distant, dubious puzzle.

The former Padawan raised a brow at his Master’s countenance, silently asking what he did to warrant such an expression. Then, Obi-Wan’s lips abruptly parted in realization as he spun back toward you. Anakin took that as his cue to refocus his energy on the rapidly approaching planet whose gravitational field pulled them forward, marking the bird at only a hundred kilometers away.

“Qui-Gon did protect you…” Obi-Wan suspired earnestly as if hearing his own words for the very first time.

He gesticulated with a hand. “His final moments, his face, is forever etched into my mind.”

Kenobi’s sentence broke off. The pensive Jedi opened and closed his mouth a few times while he formulated his thoughts, as if questioning the significance of each word.

“In the thousands of times I’ve gone over his death, I was always taken by the complete peace, the confidence, with which he entered The Force.”

He paused once more, lips tugged upward and eyes glossed in wonder.

“It was because of you.”

Anakin spun fully around, facing the two of you as Obi-Wan dotted that final claim. He noticed your head shoot up at them from its lulled position.

“What do you mean?” You inquired, your eyes adrift in a sea of perceptible perturbation.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Anakin piped up bewildered.

He prayed to the Maker that his former Master wasn’t in any way implying that you had anything to do with his Qui-Gon’s death.

Yet Obi-Wan was undeterred by the assortment of sentiments swirling around him.

“When he first discovered that Maul was a Sith.” He began excitedly. “He must have realized the threat to you. Yes, he was protecting you from the Sith for most of your life, but The Order hadn’t encountered them for a thousand years. And yet, he appeared before Qui-Gon on Tatooine, and then…Naboo.”

Obi-Wan exhaled, letting his arms fall to each side as you leaned forward, watching him intently with hands now clasped firmly beneath your jaw.

Anakin could tell that your silver stare intimated even his former Master. He watched as the Master Negotiator not so subtly eyed the hull’s roof to escape your gaze.

“It is possible, that tracking you down was part of Maul’s mission. He may have discovered your connection to Qui-Gon.”

Kenobi sighed, stroking his chin. “Our former Master likely came to the same conclusion.”

Anakin saw as Obi-Wan’s eyes fell to connect intensely with yours, a smile lingered on the bearded Jedi’s features as his eyes creased in tranquility.

“You should find solace in the fact that you made his final moments most comforting. His death ensured that the Sith would never discover your whereabouts. I’m sure that gave him peace.”

For the first time today, Anakin registered a twinkle in your radiantly silver eyes as you silently thanked the older Jedi with a lift in your cheeks, leaning back into your seat comfortably.

The Chosen One glanced between the two of you as the gaze held. He knew Qui-Gon’s death weighed heavily on Kenobi’s soul. It strongly influenced his choices on the battlefield, and stuck to him like Chewstim during meditation sessions. Yet Anakin rarely heard Obi-Wan discuss the experience. Let alone with serenity blooming from his features like a Tarisian rose that had just escaped a long, winter hibernation.

Your mutual connection to Qui-Gon seemed to help heal these old wounds, and Anakin was grateful for that.

“Enough with the sappiness, Master,” Anakin exclaimed with a lively lilt, breaking the tension as he spun back toward the shuttle’s controls.

Obi-Wan shot Anakin an annoyed look. The teasing Jedi pushed a throttle lever down before programming the shuttle for atmospheric reentry on the left control set.

“I think Silvey would much rather take in our arrival.”

Anakin didn’t need to reach into the force to sense your amused brow’s rapid surge upwards. Obi-Wan stepped around the co-pilot’s seat, shaking his head in surrender as he settled into the chair, smoothing out his robe on either side.

“You sure know how to ruin a moment, Sky-Guy.” Ahsoka pipped up.

Her gaze remained fixed on the Datapad. Yet her comment only amplified his mischievousness.

“Silvey?” Anakin heard you question with feigned indignation as he entered the final commands into the shuttle interface, engaging the secondary thrusters.

The spirited Jedi snatched the navigational lever, pushing it down to lead the craft into Coruscant’s exosphere before glancing over his shoulder at your postured displeasure. He smirked as your eyes met, forcing a dampened smile to surface on your own countenance.

“Hey, don’t blame me! I could spot your silver eyes from a million parsecs away. It’s only fitting.” He defended.

Then, a particularly tantalizing observation entered his thoughts.

“Would you prefer Shorty?”

You chucked darkly, squinting at The Chosen One with a challenging glare as he brought the shuttle’s nose into a deeper dive.

Your lips pursed upwards. “If looks could kill, Anakin. If looks could kill…”

The pilot beamed at your playful remark. “Well, at least take a break from stabbing me with those freakishly sparkly things.” He quipped, waving you away. “You’re missing the view.”

Out of the corner of his focused stare, Anakin observed your head rise. You were immediately taken by Coruscant’s giant mass, a faded blue and gray planet with billions of lights forming golden circles that were interconnected like a geometric map. Your mouth loosened in astonishment with each glossy orb stuck to the viewport. He noticed you lean forward, as if pulled by some unknown force, resting your elbows on each knee with your chin fitted on clasped hands.

Satiated by your raised spirits, Anakin refocused on the throttle, pushing it down further to bring the shuttle into Coruscant’s baby blue troposphere. The ship began to quiver as the hull took the brunt of the friction.

For a few turbulent seconds, his vision was blocked by the vast array of rounded, white clouds. The cabin’s heat intensified as the edges of the viewport started to burn a fiery red.

But soon, the shuttle broke through the white veil’s final wisps, displaying the towering cityscape, which rolled like jagged hills and consumed the viewport. The sun was beginning its final crawl to dusk, filling the sky with a deep orange fire whose smoke billowed into dark blues and purples. The streams of light illuminated the busy skylanes, resembling the endless march of Endorian ant colonies. They brought life to Coruscant’s still landmarks.

“It’s beautiful.”

Anakin covertly peaked at you, registering the astonishment plastered on your face. He assumed for a being that’s only known endless snow banks and harsh winters all their life, that this experience would be terribly intimidating, terrifying even.

He thought back briefly to ten years prior. When he first came to Coruscant, he was petrified. Scared of this new environment. Of this added drastic change to his life.

But he was mostly afraid for his mother. For her fate back on Tatooine. Under Watto’s thumb, only to be bought by Lars, and then…

It permeated his being. Haunted him for years. Pulled at his heart with the constant mass of a planet, swinging like a pendulum with each reminder, each ache. And, still, he carries it with him today. But now, with a deeper anger. A stronger guilt.

But you seemed to take it all in with grace.

And Anakin admired that.

The Temple swiftly grew into view as the shuttle descended. The heat surrounding the hull began to recede. Anakin rolled the lever, bringing the shuttle in for a curved landing. He aligned the ship with one of the protruding hangars, the whole of which he believed resembled an upside-down lollipop. At least when he was a youngling.

After thumbing a few buttons on the control panel to release the landing gear, Anakin pressed the lever down, encouraging the craft to speed to the circular platform nose first. He turned the throttle once more to the right, slowing the ship by aligning its door with the hangar entrance, allowing for a slow, final descent.

The ship jostled slightly as it met the landing pad, signaling Anakin to begin a systems-wide power down, staring at the main control panel.

Another happy landing.

As he flicked off the last switch to power down the engines, Anakin felt an audible rumble from within, compelling him to focus on the sudden ache in his stomach.

It had been a while since he had a good meal with the back-to-back missions and low stock of ration bars. Not that he ever considered that bantha fodder food.

Usually after a long away mission, he would grab a speeder from The Temple and take a quick trip to the Senate Building. He’d roam the halls nonchalantly, chest puffed to signal an air of importance, like he had a very official reason to be there. Then, he would ‘aimlessly’ stroll to Padmé’s office.

Once he arrived with a covert knock at the door, Padmé would welcome him inside with a warmhearted smile. He would then spend some time resting on one of her guest seats meant for senatorial colleagues, attempting to entertain himself with the mechanisms of his saber’s hilt. But it wasn’t long until he began to distract Padmé from her work, eventually convincing her to call it an early night. The two of them would grab a meal in her spacious Coruscanti apartment that overlooked The Temple from a few miles away. But he was never intrigued by that view. His eyes remained fixed on her.

Yet despite all this daydreaming, Skywalker knew his wife was still on Naboo, managing the consequences of donating a vast array of medical supplies to another planet. Her responsibilities on her home world exponentially swelled in the last few months, so he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d next see her.

No one knew when they’d see each other next during wartime. Or if they would ever meet again.

If these musings indicated anything, it was that Anakin eagerly hoped to spend some downtime with the people he was closest to. No war planning. No cargo transports. No battle charges. Just a nice meal and entertaining conversation. And he knew just who he wanted to spend that time with.

Anakin stood, stretching his arms into a spin just in time to witness the very person he hoped to talk to swing her legs back over the seat they were sprawled out on before jumping up and charging for the door.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” He called after Ahsoka as she jostled the shuttle door open.

The orange light of the setting sun invaded the ship with a jolt, casting large shadows on the scattered groups of hangar workers, the closest of which approached the ship to take it off Anakin’s hands once the final three passengers exited.

She leaped out, landing delicately on the tips of her toes before turning into a backward jog.

“If I don’t finish this physics paper by midnight, Master Plo Koon is gonna kill me!” She yelled, shaking her datapad in the air. “Catch you later!”

Anakin’s gaze followed her sprinting form down the hangar’s walkway until she disappeared into the inner bay behind a small cruiser.

“Ok.” Anakin huffed before facing the two remaining Jedi with a grin. “At least the three of us can grab dinner.”

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“I’m afraid the two of you will have to enjoy without me,” Obi-Wan admitted as he glanced at Anakin. “The Council likely planned an emergency meeting concerning the recall of the Jedi from the front lines. I need to check in immediately.”

Anakin’s smile faltered. He inwardly groaned at Kenobi’s resolute dedication to rules and regulations. He was sure The Council could have waited half an hour, but Anakin knew Obi-Wan’s mind was set.

Obi-Wan twisted on his heels to face you. “I will also inform them about you.”

“Shouldn’t I be there then?” You questioned.

All hope of eating with one of his traveling companions drained from Anakin’s spirit. Maybe he could meet with one of them later instead, he thought. He supposed he could put off food for a bit, perhaps continue on that pilot droid project he hadn’t had a chance to work on for a while. But then he’d probably need to take a quick trip to Level 1782. Last time Anakin checked, he was low on spare parts.

“No,” Obi-Wan claimed.

Skywalker’s ears perked at that.

“That will not be necessary. They will likely need to confer without your presence for now.”

You silently agreed as Anakin internally sighed in relief.

Obi-Wan nodded to the both of you before turning to the hangar walkway, hurriedly traipsing toward his exit.

Anakin took a more leisurely pace in the same direction as you followed behind. An uncomfortable silence took hold as he guided the both of you into the inner hangar. The bustling noise of your surroundings amplified the awkwardness as the two of you closed in on the larger groups of hangar workers, barking out loud commands and using various tools, like sonorously whirring drills, to update or fix the conglomerate of crafts that idly scattered the zone.

Anakin felt his nose begin to tickle, perhaps from distant smoke. But he was too worried that it may prolong the uncomfortably fresh turf between the two of you if he tried to scratch it.

“So…” You spoke somewhat unsure of yourself. “What is there to do that’s fun around here?”

Anakin’s whole body froze, stopping dead in his tracks from eager surprise as if he were caught in a carbon-freezing chamber. He spun toward you, immediately seizing your shoulders with a steady clasp.

“What did you say?” He asked intently, excitement radiating up his spine and diffusing to his fingertips.

He observed your figure stiffen slightly at his agile animation. You raised a questioning brow as you opened your mouth with a hesitant pause, seemingly unsure if you should ask again.

“Do Jedi raised in The Order…not do anything….leisurely?”

The confident Jedi chuckled coolly while throwing an arm around your shoulder as you both exited the hanger into The Temple, pivoting to stroll down the hall opposite from Obi-Wan’s trail.

“I think we are going to get along very well, Silvey.” He hummed self-assuredly.

You rolled your eyes. “Not if you keep calling me that.”

“I promise you, you’re not gonna mind that nickname after I show you one of the most leisurely activities on all of Coruscant.” He assured.

You glanced at Anakin with lifted features. “But I thought you were hungry.” You teased

Anakin scoffed. “Food can wait. Now, tell me, Silvey.” Anakin dreamed as he patted your shoulder. “Did Qui-Gonn ever tell you about the Wicko District?”

—

General Kenobi maintained his nimble gait down the primary walkway to the High Council Chamber. His robes billowed as he passed an abundance of lounging Jedi, some conversing to the sides or keeping a moderate pace as they made their way to an unknown destination on either side of him.

Soon into his journey, Obi-Wan crossed paths with his old mentor Master Cin Drallig, followed by a group of twelve rowdy younglings whose voices bounced off the temple walls. Maybe they were asking questions, or telling a story, but the bearded Jedi couldn’t tell. Each utterance overlapped like a cacophony of crashing speeders.

Yet almost immediately, they noticed his presence, twirling away from each other to respectfully greet one of their long-held role models.

“Hello, Master!”

“Hello, younglings.” General Kenobi smiled.

He looked back to Master Dralli, catching his tired, yet fulfilled stare. They each exchanged a dutiful, yet brisk nod before continuing on their respective paths.

Obi-Wan always felt dwarfed by the massive olive-gray pillars that buttressed The Temple’s lofty ceilings. As a youngling, the golden archways seemed to stretch out endlessly in each direction, giving the effect of an infinite mirror when he passed under them. When he aged, however, Obi-Wan learned to better understand the structure’s finite nature, yet he was still taken by its capacious essence. Each hall resembled a palace built thousands of years ago by Mandallian Giants, specifically constructed for their wide gates and broad shoulders. And it would coax his imagination into its unyielding grasp.

He remembers spending too much time simply sitting crossed in these halls during his youth. The youngling would rest his eyelids to visualize the giants’ roaring tramps shake the coral- and lilac-marble floors in succeeding thundering booms.

As Obi-Wan turned a corner, tread crossing onto the ocean blue carpet of the inner Temple, he reminisced about the time Qui-Gon caught him red-handed in the middle of one of these fantasies. It was many years before the late Jedi took him on as a Padawan.

Qui-Gon would always engage with the younglings when possible. He had a habit of outwardly encouraging all initiates in their studies, especially those who struggled with their training and emotional discipline. But he would also silently approve those rare moments in which a young Jedi took a moment to themselves. Whether that be exploring the Coruscanti entertainment district, playing Sabacc, or Obi-Wan’s respite of choice, daydreaming.

With eyes shrouded in darkness, he could almost smell the sweaty towering creature. Its footsteps sounded like cracks of lighting, and he could feel the room’s imperceptible rise in temperature from the creature’s sudden presence. If he really focused, its colossal, green-muscled foot would nearly breach the void in his sight, creeping from the corner of his left eyelid. The hair on his arms prickled at the beast’s sudden proximity.

“Meditating are you?”

The young Kenobi’s eyes sprung open, cheeks reddening as his eyes locked with the wise Jedi before him.

“Uhh, yes…Master.”

And Qui-Gon simply smiled.

Obi-Wan’s worries momentarily lifted at the memory, delight gracing his features. But that instant disappeared from his mind as quickly as it arrived. The Jedi refocused on the task ahead, passing one of the large Sage Master statues that shined like freshly polished copper to his right as The Council meeting room entered his vision.

Just outside the Chamber door stood Master Windu, leaning with his arm against the wall beside him as he continued his deep discussion with Master Yoda, who rested in his flying chair. The two of them spoke softly, and from Windu’s creased brows, General Kenobi could tell that it was serious. A few groups of Jedi Masters similarly congregated around the door, talking lowly. Kenobi could sense heightened anxiety trailing the air.

As he approached, Obi-Wan caught the corner of Mace’s eye. He turned to General Kenobi, offering a curt nod at his arrival as Yoda reoriented his seat toward the newly arrived.

“Late you are, Master Kenobi.”

“I apologize for the delay.” Obi-Wan relayed sincerely. “Our shuttle experienced some unexpected complications.”

Yoda hummed deeply at Obi-Wan’s words, indicating his acceptance of this explanation to Mace before taking his chair on a measured stroll down the walkway, back in the direction from whence Obi-Wan came. Windu and Kenobi shortly followed in step.

“The Council has already met to discuss the issue of recalling the Jedi.” Master Windu began as the trio ambled down the hallway. “We have suffered a communications incursion by the Separatists.”

Obi-Wan was astounded, brows furrowing in confusion as he absentmindedly rubbed his jaw.

“A breach in our secure transmissions…How is that possible?” He exclaimed.

“Unsure, we are,” Yoda answered. “Investigate, our specialists will.”

Mace addressed the troubled Jedi. “A number of troops stationed in obscure outer regions of multi-planetary battle sites were ambushed in the last few weeks. The only way they could have been discovered would be if their COMMs were tapped into. It is possible that the Separatists have somehow obtained some of our transmitter codes or found some other flaw in the communications system. Because we cannot use our wrist comms or holopads to send sensitive information to communicate this development, we’ve recalled the Jedi.”

“Continue the battles, the clones will. Send out Jedi temporarily with verbal directions for troops, we must.

“Until communications are secured.” Windu clarified. “The 212th and 501st have already received new instructions for a less critical mission on Aleen.”

Obi-Wan hummed in contemplation. “And how long do you believe this situation will last?”

Mace exhaled. “We won’t know until technicians look further into the issue. But it may be weeks, months.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard as he ruminated about this concerning development. He trusted Commander Cody with his life, but still knew it would be difficult for the 212th to address more delicate missions in the near future without timely information from The Temple or even inter-troop comms.

“Concerned, we all are,” Yoda reassured, likely sensing General Kenobi’s unease.

“The Council will be informing all active Jedi in the Great Hall tomorrow morning. Make sure Anakin and his Padawan are present. And here.”

Windu reached into the right pocket of his robe, pulling out what Obi-Wan thought was a wrist comm, yet it seemed bulkier. An extra layer of wiring was hidden in an additional panel stuck underneath the control layer. Most notable was the thin, silver line of steel that encircled the device, something the General hadn’t seen on a comm before. He took it, feeling the mass in his palm. It felt cold, heavy, with a rusted button and weak indicator light.

He thought it ancient.

“It’s a comm from the old Temple emergency system. It’s completely separate from our current communications system so messages from these devices to regular comms will be secure. There are only enough for one per council member.”

Obi-Wan thanked the Master as he switched his current wrist link with the replacement, placing the former in his robe’s pocket.

“Still careful, we must be.”

Mace added. “Only use it to ask for meetings, not to share sensitive data.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “On the topic of sensitivity, I must inform you of a development.”

He breathed deeply, exhaling in a short burst as he gathered his complicated memories about you to present to The Council leaders.

“In our delay, Anakin, his Padawan, and I were on Hoth for a short time, where we met a being living alone on the planet’s surface.”

The two Jedi Masters listened intently as he continued.

“I discovered them to be a Gray Jedi, trained by Master Qui-Gonn himself. They claim to be The Guardian, a figure that is a part of The Chosen One prophecy, but was expected to be trained outside The Order. They are tasked with Anakin’s protection and guidance so that he may achieve his destiny. Their journey begins when dark forces threaten this fate.”

Mace’s eyes narrowed. “This is a bold claim, Master Kenobi. If anything, it sounds like a Separatist trick.”

Then, as soft as their nimble footfalls, Yoda uttered your name under his breath.

Obi-Wan’s head swiveled toward the Grand Master. “You know them?”

The shorter Jedi sighed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes glazed over in deep reflection.

“Gone, I thought they were, a long time ago.”

Mace’s brows raised as he turned to Yoda. “You know of this individual, Master?”

He nodded gravely, a light grunt resonated from his esophagus.

“Discovered them as an infant twenty-five years ago, I did. Kept a close eye on them, I had.” He sighed. “Killed by a dark power a year later, their parents were. Believed they died as well, I did.”

The Grand Master eyed General Kenobi carefully, as if the bearded Jedi made a mistake in his recollection.

“Interested to learn they are alive, I am.”

“A dark power…” Obi-Wan mused. “Master, do you believe a Sith may have been responsible? I have been theorizing that Maul’s presence on Tatooine could have had more than one motive.”

“Discovered their presence, you believe he did?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “And their connection to Qui-Gon.”

He paused, counting the years in his head.

“But Maul would have been too young when their parents passed.”

“The rule of two…” Mace hummed.

“A Master, then.” Yoda declared.

“Then The Guardian’s presence suggests that Maul may not be the last Sith,” Windu revealed. “If it’s true that their appearance suggests a new threat from the Dark Side.”

“During the Battle of Geonosis, discovered that Dooku may be a Sith, I did.” Yoga established. “Great darkness, I sensed in him.”

“Then he is the Sith Lord?” Mace speculated.

Obi-Wan agreed. “He would have been quite capable of taking their parents’ lives over two decades ago.”

“It would also explain The Guardian’s survival, if Dooku’s late Padawan discovered his plans and partially thwarted them before they were carried out,” Mace suggested.

“Informed The Council, Qui-Gon would have, if believed Dooku was a Sith, he had. Much we still do not know, there is.”

Windu exhaled, placing his middle and index finger against his right temple and thinking deeply about his next words.

“I would like to meet this Guardian myself.” He gestured to Kenobi. “Tomorrow in the Sparring Arena after the Great Hall announcement. It is important for The Council to determine whether they have the necessary physical and mental abilities, and the appropriate connection to the Force, to be a Jedi Knight. To join The Order. Otherwise, leaving them outside the purview of The Order could have dire consequences. That is if they are even prepared to fulfill such a destiny after nearly a decade of isolation.”

“Of course, Master.” Obi-Wan acknowledged. “But from what little I’ve seen, they seem quite capable of holding their own.”

Windu’s stare held firm. “Respectfully, Master Kenobi, I will be the one to determine that.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze fell. “Understood.”

He didn’t take the Master’s tone personally. Windu’s conformist nature and deep dislike for any Jedi activity conducted beyond the domain of The Council likely made his discovery of The Guardian prophecy an unwelcome one. Obi-Wan only hoped that Master Windu would still treat you as any other Jedi when testing your abilities. He remembers the wise Master’s negative reaction to Anakin’s discovery, due to his age at the time Qui-Gon requested that he be trained. You were much older than 10-year-old Ani, so he was convinced that would pose a problem for the talented swordsman.

And this was not the best time for you to be meeting resistance from The Order that you trained your whole life to serve so to continue its millennia-long mission of preserving the peace through light. The Master Negotiator didn’t need to employ his strong conversation skills to discern how the past few days’ overwhelming changes had been affecting you. That, in addition to learning of your Master’s passing, had made you restless on the journey here. It was hard to ignore, even while he settled in repose each night, your twisted form which struggled to sleep.

He empathized with you deeply.

The General was also, in some measure, apprehensive about the inevitable clash of personalities. He found you kind, considerate, but also unafraid to speak your mind, or express your inner sentiments. He admired Master Windu since he was a boy, but his no-nonsense approach? His uncompromising mental discipline and austere lessons? It would surely cause a collision of temperaments.

“A different name, they must go by,” Yoda announced.

Obi-Wan’s gaze rose curiously at this. “Master?”

“Know they are alive, Dooku cannot.”

“Nor any other actor of the Dark Side. Nor the Separatists.” Windu interjected. “Their existence could pose a significant weakness to the Republic’s image of enduring peace and light. If Separatist forces discover The Guardian’s identity and purpose from their birth name, they may believe that the destruction of a specific Jedi could leave us vulnerable.”

He paused, turning to Yoda to verify his conclusions, who languidly blinked in concurrence.

Mace’s peer twisted back toward Kenobi. “If dark forces found them once through their birth name, they can again.”

The Grand Master nodded in agreement. “Destroy The Guardian, they may otherwise try.”

Obi-Wan’s heart dropped at the notion. It was clear that your identity needed to be protected from these powerfully dark forces, lest you meet the same fate as your parents.

If your mission was to guard and guide Anakin, his former Padawan, and dear friend, then the determined Jedi believed it to be his personal assignment to aid you in that destiny. Now he knew that hiding your identity to the best of his ability would be part of that task. The side of the light needed you, and Obi-Wan’s deep connection to it and his cavernous desire to continue Qui-Gon’s decades-long efforts meant only one thing— he needed to protect you too.

“Anakin gave them a nickname.” The General recalled, head tilted and eyes scanning up an idle column as he thought back. “Silvey, if memory serves.”

Windu's brows raised, unsurprised.

“Then Silvey they’ll remain,” he concluded.

Yoda hummed, his disconcertion bubbling to the surface with lips creased in a downward turn. “Their true name, only the three of us, Anakin, and little Ahsoka will know. Kept secret, their identity must be. Inform The Council of the prophecy, we shall, once communications are refortified. But within the council, it must stay.”

Master Windu mumbled in unanimity. “We must not entertain any notion of emerging Sith. Not among the Jedi, nor publicly.”

“I understand the delicacy of the situation and will act accordingly,” Obi-Wan assured.

The bearded Jedi halted, turning to the elders before leaning into a slight obeisance. The other Masters slowed to a halt.

“If you will excuse me, Masters, I hope to find my travel companions before they divulge any information about The Guardian’s identity.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi,” Windu stated as he bowed adieu, Yoda following suit from his floating chair.

And with that, Obi-Wan turned away to begin his search for you, Anakin, and Ahsoka.

As the General quickened his stride down that long, colossally immortal walkway, he wondered where he might find the three of you. Ahsoka was probably in the Jedi Archives around the corner, assuming she was continuing her work on that paper for Master Plo Koon. So he decided to start there. He assumed you and Anakin were stationed in the refectory closest to the hangar, remembering the previously mentioned dinner plans,

Or maybe it would be better to try the refractory first, Obi-Wan thought. If experience served true, Anakin would not stay silent about your discovery for long. He hastened his pace while mumbling these plans under his breath.

“Yes, the refractory first.”

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 year

Text

a/n: this one was fuuuun. this is the kind of extra wag i would be so i loved coming up with the little ideas lol. and yes, the photo in the cover is one i took at josh bailey’s 1000th game ceremony 😌 also, happy birthday to the big boy! legit can’t believe i got this done in time, but that’s what happens when it’s a cold and miserable rainy saturday in new york lol

word count: 8.1k 😅

tw: two smut scenes

summary: it’s andrei’s 1000th game and ceremony!

You let your fingertips trace lightly over the back of Andrei’s neck. His face is mashed into the pillow, cheek pressed flat, and a low hum is drawn from his throat. It’s still early, before either of your alarms are set to go off, but you couldn’t sleep very well. With cranky kids and the anticipation of today, you managed a few hours of tossing and turning before finally giving up.

“Solnyshka?” Andrei mumbles your nickname and your fingers still. You hadn’t really wanted to wake him up.

“Go back to sleep,” you whisper, pulling your hand back to your body.

He hums again and rolls onto his side, blinking warm brown eyes at you as he wakes up a little more. “Wasn’t asleep,” he says, a yawn cutting through his words and proving his lie.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,” you apologize, still propped up on your elbow.

Andrei squints at the alarm clock over your shoulder - the clock blinks 4:30 in red numbers - and shrugs with the shoulder not pressed into the mattress. “I think the crack of dawn is the only time we get to be alone anymore,” he laughs, reaching for you and pulling you into his arms.

You snuggle against his broad chest, brushing your nose against his collarbone. After a few moments of silence, you murmur, “big day today.”

“Mhm,” Andrei hums against your hair.

“A thousand games,” you continue, completely awed by your husband. “That’s, Drei, that’s so amazing.”

“It doesn’t feel real,” he admits, chuckling a bit. “It feels like another game day.”

At the end of the day, it really is just another game, but it’s also a cumulation of all the hard work Andrei’s put in over the last fifteen years. Not many players make it to a thousand games and you’re indescribably proud of Andrei for reaching the milestone.

You tangle your legs with his. “It’s a big day though. Even if the ceremony isn’t until this weekend.”

Even though his thousandth game is a Monday night home game, it was worked out that the ceremony would be on Saturday, since that game is an afternoon one - making it so much easier to bring the girls to the game. Only Evie, at six, would be able to handle the 7:30 ceremony start time and even she could be questionable, depending on the mood she comes home from school in. No, it’s so much easier to corral three girls in the middle of the afternoon.

“I’m glad you and Mama and Papa are coming tonight though,” he says, twisting your hair in his fingers. Your parents are coming over to watch the girls, that way you can join Andrei’s parents at the game. It works out for everyone - the girls get time with their grandparents and you get a child-free night to drink a cocktail and enjoy watching your husband play. Elena and Igor have been in town for a week and are staying for another two, that way they can be there for the ceremony and to spend time with the girls too.

“I don’t know who’s going to cry more tonight, me or your mom,” you tease, knowing Elena will probably take top prize. She’s been watching Andrei live his childhood dream for longer than you have.

Andrei laughs lowly and lets his hands roam over your back. You can tell he’s getting introspective, thinking about his career to this point, and you kiss his sternum. Your hand slides up under the hem of his shirt - the days of sleeping naked are long over for you both, with the oldest two girls constantly getting out of their beds to crash in yours. His skin is warm under your touch and Andrei sighs, his stomach contracting as your fingers dance over the ridged muscles.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, throwing your leg over his hip and rolling Andrei onto his back. His erection is hot and hard against your thigh and you grin down at him. “One thousand games,” you says, wiggling your eyebrows, “your stamina is impressive, Mister Svechnikov.”

His grin is all teeth and dimples. “I’ll show you stamina,” he says, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. He pulls you forward so you rub over his cock and you gasp at the contact, even though the layers of his boxer-briefs and your panties. You lean down, one hand braced next to his head, and kiss him deeply, rolling your hips over his.

Andrei bites your lower lip gently, sucking it into his mouth. One of his hands slides under your oversized shirt, his fingers playing at the edges of your panties, brushing sensitive skin. “Drei,” you gasp his name when his fingers disappear under the damp fabric, sliding against your skin. His thumb finds your clit and he presses down, surging up to capture your moan with his mouth.

“I was supposed to take care of you,” you mutter, clenching around Andrei’s fingers. “We’re celebrating your achievement.”

He laughs. “Maybe this is how I want to celebrate, solnyshka.”

You grind down on him and he groans, involuntarily bucking his hips up into yours.

“Mama?” A little voice breaks through the fuzz in your brain and you yelp, rolling off of Andrei with a painful tweak of your hip. His hand is still halfway caught in your panties and he mutters a string of Russian curses.

You lift your head and there’s Alina, backlit by the light from the hallway, clutching her stuffed puppy by the ears. Her eyes are wide in her face and she looks near tears.

“Alya, what happened?” You ask, trying to keep your tone soothing even as your heart is pounding out of your chest.

Your four-year-old rubs at her eyes and her lower lip wobbles, “I had a bad dream.”

Andrei looks over at you, holding his breath a little. He closes his eyes and it looks like he’s trying to do extremely complex math in his head. You sigh. “Baby, it was just a dream and it’s early, why don’t you go back to bed?”

“Can I sleep with you and Daddy?” She asks, eyes welling with tears. She chews on one of the dog’s ears and you melt.

“Come on up, Alya,” Andrei sighs and you really wish you hadn’t gotten as far as you did before Alina interrupted. She comes running for the bed and flings her little body at the mattress, needing Andrei’s help to climb on completely. She clambers over his body and tucks herself against your side.

You cuddle her close and she twists her little fingers in your shirt. Over her head, you catch Andrei’s eye and mouth, “to be continued.”

He grins and whispers, “I’m holding you to that.”

Alina falls back asleep quickly, ending up horizontal with her feet in Andrei’s side and her head on your chest. You stroke her hair off her face and close your own eyes. The next time you wake up, it’s to the buzzing of your 6 a.m. alarm. Andrei’s getting up too, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head.

“Glad we went for the California King,” you comment, tucking the sheet around Alina’s starfished form. Andrei settles her stuffed dog within arm’s reach.

“For such a little thing, she takes up so much room,” he laughs, greeting you with a kiss. “Good morning.”

“For the second time,” you laugh. “You ready for the day?”

“It’s just a game, solnyshka,” he repeats his earlier refrain, but you can see the extra spark in his eyes. He tangles his hand in your hair and pulls your head back gently to kiss you.

You blink a little when he pulls back, resting your hands on his hips. “You’re allowed to be excited, Drei. You’re allowed to think it’s a big deal,” you say. “To get here, after the pandemic seasons, after your ACL, this is such an achievement.”

He sighs. “I know,” his forehead furrows. “I think it’s just…so much of hockey is behind me now. Not that much left in front of me.”

Oh.

This is his hockey mid-life crisis.

“Drei, baby, you still have so much time left to play,” you smooth your hands through his hair. “I bet you have another seven, eight years of playing.”

He drops his forehead to yours. “Thank you, solnyshka. I’ll get excited, I just need to start the day.”

“Well, you can go handle Evie wake-up then,” you smile. “She’ll put you in a good mood.”

Andrei beams and bounces off out of the room. He and Evie have the exact same personality and you know that by the time you get ready and get Kira up, father and daughter will have already had each other in spasms of laughter and Andrei will be less in his head. You leave Alina sleeping and change quickly into jeans and a sweater. You’ve found that you get so much more done when you put on real clothes.

“Good morning, my little chickadee,” you coo, spotting Kira standing up in her crib.

The eighteen-month-old gives you a big toothy smile and shouts, “mama!” while making grabby-hands at you. Her hair, blonde fuzz at birth and turning darker by the day, is sticking out all over the place. You lift her onto your hip, pressing kisses all over her face, making her laugh.

“You woke up on the right side of the crib today, huh?” You laugh, making quick work of her diaper and dressing her in a little lounge set. You smooth down her hair and use a little bow to keep it in place.

“See Dada!” She grins and you shake your head. Of course.

You pull a face at your youngest. “You want to see Dada? Everyone wants to see Dada today.”

Evie’s bedroom door is open and you poke your head inside, but her bed is empty. There’s noise coming from the kitchen and you follow the sounds, walking in on Andrei and Evie making eggs. Andrei has Evie standing on a step stool and he’s guiding her hand while the scrambled eggs cook. Evie’s dancing on the stool, wiggling her little body along to a tune only she knows. “Hey, remember, we have to be careful when cooking, right?” Andrei reminds her, tapping her shoulder so she can focus.

“Dada!” Kira shrieks, drawing Evie and Andrei’s attention. Andrei’s smile widens and Evie jumps down from the stool to rush over and squish Kira’s cheeks in between her hands.

“Hiiii Kira,” she singsongs, brown eyes dancing when her baby sister giggles. You grin at the sight and set Kira on her feet. Evie plops down on the floor to entertain her sister and you take the opportunity to take over the egg making from Andrei.

He kisses your cheek, “I’ll be right back. Going to get ready.”

“Don’t wake the bear,” you warn, knowing Alina will be a holy terror if she doesn’t get enough sleep. Andrei salutes you, smirking, well aware of the perils of waking your middle daughter.

You finish the eggs, doling them out on plates for everyone and add toast and fruit to the girls’ plates before starting a protein shake for Andrei. “Okay, little misses, breakfast,” you announce, setting the plates on the table. Evie climbs into her seat and digs in, Kira slower behind.

With her mouth full of partially chewed food, Evie asks, “Mama, can I stay home from school and play with the sissies?”

“Chew, please,” you remind her, putting Kira in the highchair and giving her a strip of toast. “And no. You have to go to school, but remember Nana and Pop are going to be here when you get home.”

“Oh right!” She bounces in her seat, messy blonde hair flying everywhere. Where this kid gets so much energy at seven in the morning, well, you know it comes from Andrei, but you wish you could bottle it. “How come they’re gonna be here? It’s Monday.”

You scrape at the frying pan. “Remember today is a special day for Daddy, he’s played one thousand hockey games.”

Evie’s eyes go comically wide. “That’s a lotta hockey,” she says seriously.

“It is a lot of hockey,” you agree. “So I’m going to the game to cheer him on.”

You conveniently leave out the fact that Elena and Igor are coming too, because if Evie gets wind of the fact that Andrei’s parents are going, she’ll absolutely insist on coming. You love how much the girls love their grandparents, but tonight is not the night for wrangling children.

“Can we watch Daddy play on the TV?” She asks, propping her chin in her hand.

“Sure can,” you nod, putting the frying pan back in the cabinet. “But you have to go to bed when Nana and Pop say so.”

Kira drops a handful of egg on the floor and you sort of wish you had a dog to hoover it up, but three kids and a dog, when Andrei’s out of town half the time? No way in hell was that happening. Instead, you wipe up the eggs and point at Evie, “please go get dressed okay? And do not wake up your sister.”

Evie nods and shoves another strawberry in her mouth, running off upstairs while you shout after her to chew. You look at Kira, with her strawberry covered face and toothy grin, and wrinkle your nose at her, “today is a crazy day, huh, chickadee?”

“Kay-zee!” Kira chirps, mimicking you.

You get her cleaned up and by then, Andrei’s back downstairs with Evie clinging to his back and Alina wrapped like a koala around his leg. He grins at you, clearly thrilled by the chaos. “Alya has decided that she’s going to drive Evie to school today,” he informs you.

“Oh, is that right?” You raise an eyebrow down at your middle daughter. “When did you get a driver’s license?”

Alina, the cheeky little child, pipes up, “I don’t even need one ‘cause I’m fast like a runner and I can drive better than Daddy.”

Her explanation makes zero sense, but then again, half of what she says is insanity, so you just nod. “How about you have some breakfast and then you can take Evie to school?”

“Is it oatmeal?” Alina unhooks from Andrei’s leg and scampers to the table, peeking over the top.

“Yes, it’s oatmeal,” you reply, grabbing her under the armpits and swooping her up onto the chair. Alina’s on an oatmeal kick. It’s all she wants to eat and you’re tired of coming up with different way to doctor it up so she’s getting nutrients. Andrei had the genius idea of pureeing beets into it for dinner the other night and calling it Barbie oatmeal. Alone ate it up, literally and figuratively.

Andrei sucks back his protein shake, listening intently as Evie tells him all about her playground drama. She tells the story with her whole body, hands flying in the air, facial expressions exaggerated. Andrei provides the appropriate reactions too, gasping in shock when he’s supposed to. “Okay,” he cuts in apologetically, “finish the story on the road, zaychik. You’re going to be late.”

“I’m coming too!” Alina shrieks from the table, still dressed in her pajamas. Andrei laughs and gathers her up in his arms.

“Of course, we can’t go anywhere without the driver,” he kisses her forehead and ushers both girls out of the house, all three of them shouting good-bye to you.

Once the door closes behind them, the silence is deafening. You blink and lean against the counter, always a little dazed after the morning routine. Kira sighs in her highchair and pouts, “sissers?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “your sisters are gone for now. But they’ll be back, don’t you worry.”

Andrei returns an hour later with Alina in his arms and a carry-out tray of coffees. Alina nibbles happily on a cake pop and you shoot Andrei a look.

“It was this or have her keep screaming bloody murder in the middle of Starbucks,” he mutters, setting her down on the couch. “I chose sugar.”

“Wise man,” you say, taking your coffee from the holder and sucking back a huge sip. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.”

Andrei works on his own coffee - an iced white chocolate mocha - even as you tease him for his sweet tooth. He’s nonplussed, used to the ribbing from the boys. Once you’re both caffeinated, you split the morning tasks, Andrei taking the kitchen and keeping a vague eye on Alina and Kira in the living room, and you heading upstairs to make bed and clean up the clothes that have been left out.

You meet back up in the kitchen with the house a little tidier than before. “Morning skate is 11:45 today,” Andrei says, reading from a text. “So I should be home around 1:30?”

“Perfect, just in time to nap with the zoo animals and eat dinner,” you lean up to kiss him quickly. “Any special requests for dinner?”

Andrei shrugs, “whatever you’re making is fine. I’m not picky.” A slow, lazy smile curls at his lips, “I do know what I want for dessert though.”

“I’ll make something special,” you decide, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and the rush of want in your stomach. You’re still thinking about the denied orgasm from this morning.

“Daddy!” Alina shouts. “Come watch Bluey with me.”

“Duty calls,” you giggle, watching Andrei head into the living room. He sits on the couch and Alina and Kira are immediately draped over his lap. Alina has her little water bottle in one hand and her leg kicked up in the air, singing along to the Bluey theme song and Kira has her thumb planted in her mouth. Your heart melts when you see Andrei gently dislodge her thumb, holding her little hand with his so she can’t try and suck her thumb again.

Eventually, he has to get up, apologizing to the girls for having to leave. They pout and cry and reach for him and you can see Andrei’s heart break at having to go to work. You distract them with crayons as best as you can and pull them into hugs and a silly dance when he leaves.

Luckily, twenty minutes after Andrei leaves, Elena and Igor are at the door. Babushka and dedushka are the perfect distraction for when the girls miss Daddy.

“Baba! Dedu!” Alina shrieks, flinging her body into Igor’s knees. He laughs and lifts her onto his hip, kissing her cheek. “Come watch Bluey with me!”

Elena smothers Kira in kisses and you thank God that they’re laughing again, not crying. “That is the little dog, yes?” She asks Alina, shooting you a little wink.

“Yes! Bluey and Bingo are puppies,” Alina informs her grandmother very seriously. “And they’re sisters like me an’ Evie an’ Kira. And like Daddy and Uncle Geno!”

“Daddy and Uncle Geno are brothers,” you correct Alina, laughing.

“No, they’re sisters like me!” She pouts stubbornly.

It’s useless to try and fight with her, so you just nod and get the girls set up with Bluey. The screen time isn’t your favorite, but needs must. Once they’re distracted, you grin widely and turn to Elena. “I am so glad you guys are here. We have like an hour and half before Drei gets back from morning skate. I have a banner ready to be hung up, balloons in the garage, a cake in the downstairs fridge, and my parents should be here within the hour with Evie.”

You have a whole little surprise party planned for when Andrei gets back from morning skate and you’re so excited to pull it all together. Andrei’s parents jump in to help, decorating the open plan of the living room and kitchen and setting Kira and Alina up with crayons and construction paper to make cards.

“How do you spell bestest daddy in the whole world?” Alina asks, printing her name in big letters under a crayon drawing of Andrei and Stormy the pig. Elena sits down in one of the child-sized chairs and suggests that she help Alina write out her message. You four-year-old concedes the crayon to her grandmother with a benevolent sigh.

The house is mostly decorated when the front door bangs open and Evie rushes inside, her princess backpack bouncing against her back. “Mama!” she shouts, breathless. “Did you know Nana and Pop took me outta school early?”

Her eyes widen as she takes in the decorations and Andrei’s parents. You wait, totally delighted by the shock on her face.

“Oh my gosh! Baba and Dedu are here too?” She yelps, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “This is the BEST DAY EVER!”

Evie discards her backpack, jacket, and sneakers in a heap and throws herself into Elena’s arms for a hug. She kisses her cheek and snuggles up before whipping her head over to look at you, “wait, Mama, does Daddy know that EVERYONE is here? Because he didn’t say a single word!”

“Daddy doesn’t know,” you grin, picking up her backpack. “It’s a surprise for his special game, so why don’t you take your sisters upstairs and put on the shirts that are on your beds? Then you can come back and make Daddy a card.”

“Oh, I’m gonna make the best card ever!” She leaps off Elena’s lap and grabs Kira under the armpits, hauling her to her feet, much to the toddler’s protests. “Come on, Kiry, Mommy said to go change.”

“No!” Kira shrieks and your mom cuts in to hoist Kira onto her hip and usher Evie and Alina from the room, saying, “let’s not get your sister upset before your dad comes home. How about we practice our surprise faces!”

You look around at the adults and sigh, “seriously, thank you all so much for your help. I don’t think I could’ve wrangled them all on my own and get this set up.”

“We’re just so excited to celebrate Andrei,” Elena claps her hands together. “This is such a big moment for him.”

“He’s going to be so surprised,” you giggle just thinking about his reaction. “Oh, I wish he’d get home now.”

It’ll be at least another twenty or thirty minutes before he’s home, so once the girls are back downstairs in their matching shirts (red, with black wording proclaiming “Daddy’s 1000th Game!” with the date underneath and Svechnikov scrawled across the backs- an Etsy purchase you were extremely thrilled with), you set them to finishing their cards and drawings. Now that everything’s calmed down a bit, you inscribe your own message on the card you had also special ordered from Etsy (a cartoon-ish drawing of Andrei from the back with the Canes’ logo and a prominent 1,000 across the top).

Andrei texts that he’s on the way and you grin, “okay, be ready! Should we hide? No that’s silly. Just, we’ll all be in the living room with the balloons. That’s perfect.”

Evie and Alina are vibrating with excitement and Kira is in your dad’s arms, very ready for her nap. You just hope she’ll hold out for the surprise.

You’re checking Find My Friends, and once you spot Andrei’s little dot pulling into the driveway, you usher everyone into place. “Okay, girls, remember when Daddy comes in, we’re all going to shout ‘congratulations’.” You nod at them and they nod back, understanding the assignment.

The excitement builds and you’re ready to burst when Andrei finally gets through the door and shouts, “solnyshka, I’m back!”

You press your finger to your lips at the girls and then call out, “I’m in the living room, Drei!”

The second Andrei is in sight, you all shout, “CONGRATULATIONS!” and he rears back a step or two, clearly surprised. The girls rush him, grabbing at his legs and he rests his hands on their heads, trying to get oriented. Your heart skips when he takes in the banner pinned to the wall - CONGRATULATIONS ON 1000 ANDREI - and the gold mylar balloons, a one, three zeros, and a capital K, floating underneath.

“I…what?” He’s speechless.

“Daddy, you played so much hockey!” Evie yelps, tugging at his jacket sleeve. “Mama said we get to celebrate you!”

“I maded a picture!” Alina shoves the construction paper in his face and Andrei laughs.

“This is…I’m overwhelmed, solnyshka,” he says, giant grin on his face. He’s hefted both girls into his arms and they wrap their little arms around his neck in hugs.

You dance over to him and lean up to kiss him softly. “Are you surprised?” You beam and he nods.

“Very!”

He kisses his mother and your mother hello and somehow ends up with Kira in his arms too. That reminds you, before she ends up conking out for a nap, you want to get a picture. You hand your phone to Elena and pose with Andrei and the girls under the banner. You give each girl a zero balloon and Andrei takes the one, leaving you with the K. “Say one thousand!”

The girls chorus as best they can, smiling for the camera.

Looking at the pictures, you can see just how much each girl looks like Andrei. The four of them have matching brown eyes, all used to varying success when trying to manipulate you into doing something. Evie looks the most like Andrei, but Alina has his nose and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Kira has his smile - dimple and all - which means you love that she’s such a happy kid. It used to drive you crazy, how little they looked like you, but now you just love having your mini-Andrei clones.

Kira’s nodding off in Andrei’s arms and you send him off for his pre-game nap. The two older girls follow along like ducklings and you know they’ll all climb into bed with him and snuggle until you wake them up. He kisses you on his way upstairs, murmuring, “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“We love you,” you reply simply.

After an hour or so, once you’re done making an early dinner for Andrei, you head upstairs to wake him up so he can get ready. As you thought, the girls are all nestled in bed with him, looking sweet and peaceful while they sleep. You snap a quick picture and thread your fingers through Andrei’s hair to wake him up.

“Hey Sleeping Beauty,” you whisper. “Time for you to get ready for the main event.”

He chuckles and rolls onto his side to look at you. “You’re amazing,” he whispers back. “My parents, the decorations, the matching shirts. It’s a lot.”

“More where that came from,” you wiggle your eyebrows and step over to your dresser, pulling out a small wrapped box. “A little gift,” you say, placing it on the mattress next to his hand.

Being careful not to wake the girls, Andrei shifts so he’s sitting up and carefully unwraps the gift. A pair of silver cuff links glint up at him, engraved with the Canes logo and a little 1K on one and the date on the other. Andrei smiles slowly as he takes them in and swallows back emotion. “Thank you, solnyshka,” he murmurs, cupping your face in one hand. “I love them.” He brings your face to his and kisses you deeply.

“Wear them tonight for luck,” you murmur against his lips, your forehead resting against his.

PNC is louder than you’ve ever heard it when you get there later. There’s a buzz in their air and you decide to take a lap of the concourse while Elena and Igor go to the seats. There’s more Svechnikov jerseys being worn than you’ve ever seen and everyone seems to be talking about Andrei’s milestone. You’re sure you look crazy, wandering around with a smile on your face, but you’re so proud of him and everything he’s accomplished. A few fans recognize you from social media and stop to say hi and ask you to congratulate Andrei for them.

That’s one of the things you’ve loved over the years being with Andrei and living in Raleigh - the fans are incredible and most of them are so polite and friendly. It feels like you’re celebrating Andrei with thousands of your friends.

Just before warmups start, you shoot Andrei your usual pre-game text and include a selfie, blowing him a kiss.

He sends back a selfie where he’s doing a thumbs-up in full gear, Pyotr and Sebastian photobombing in the background. The picture makes you laugh and you join Elena and Igor at your seats.

The three of you are decked out in Canes gear - matching Svechnikov jerseys included. Elena’s is bedazzled and she keeps catching the light from the overheads. “One thousand games,” she says, already looking a little teary. “From when he was a little boy and the stick was nearly bigger than he was, to all this.” She waves her hand in a vague gesture encompassing the inside of the arena.

Igor rubs her shoulder, smiling. “It’s been a ride, hasn’t it?”

You’re getting emotional now too and wipe carefully at your eyes when the guys start onto the ice for warmups. You spot Andrei immediately, even though, as a tribute, all the guys are wearing Svechnikov 37 jerseys. You laugh, not realizing that the team was going to do that. You’re sure Andrei is embarrassed as hell, but you take plenty of pictures, warmth settling in your stomach. Andrei tosses pucks over the glass to some of the kids gathered and waves to the crowd. His smile is evident even from a distance.

Andrei is in the starting line and the crowd erupts when he’s announced. You and Elena simultaneously reach for each other’s hands, screaming and cheering his name. The puck drops and Andrei’s officially off, playing in his one thousandth NHL game.

The game itself is nothing out of the ordinary - a Canes win, with Andrei picking up points for a goal and an assist. He’s named the first star of the game and you’re pretty sure you scream yourself hoarse cheering for him.

By the time all the fun is done, Elena and Igor head back to their hotel and you head home to relieve your parents and wait for Andrei. The girls are long passed out, Evie and Alina snuggled together in the guest bed. You’re curious as to how that happened, but if they stay asleep, you don’t really care.

“They were so cute,” your mom says, showing you a video of the two oldest girls cheering in front of the TV. “Evie kept saying how her dad’s the best hockey player of all time.”

You snort a laugh, “I think Wayne Gretzky might have something to say about that, but yeah. we’re pretty fond of number thirty seven in this house.”

“Neither one made it past the half-way point of the first,” your dad adds. “I think it may have been the sugar crash.”

“Yeah, I noticed that there’s very little cake left,” you reply, shooting both your parents a side-eye. “Thanks for that.”

They shrug, non-repentant grandparents spoiling the grandkids, and you thank them for babysitting, kissing them good-bye. Andrei should be home in a little bit, so you tidy up and change into something else - the red and black lingerie set purchased specifically for this occasion - and settle on the couch to scroll social media until he comes home.

You hear the car pull into the driveway and bounce up, kneeling on the couch and looking over the back of it towards the door. A few minutes later, Andrei comes inside quietly, not wanting to wake the girls. You hop off the couch and rush to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. He catches you easily and huffs in surprise.

“I am so proud of you,” you whisper in between short kisses. Your hands cradle his face and your thumbs stroke his cheekbones. “Did you hear how crazy the arena was? That’s all for you.”

“It was exciting,” he admits, grinning. “But, uh, I like this better.” His hand palms your ass, fingers catching on the lace.

“Good,” you murmur, kissing his jaw. “I was hoping you would.”

“Can I take it off of you now?” He asks, very politely, even though his eyes are more pupil than iris and his fingers are slipping under the hem of the lace.

You nod, giggling when he practically runs up the stairs to your room. He sets you on the bed gently and leans one knee on the edge of the mattress, grabbing hold of your ankles and pulling you towards him. His hands are warm and rough over your skin and it would be embarrassing how wet you are for him if you hadn’t been married to him for so many years and he wasn’t so handsome.

“This was the best day, solnyshka,” he murmurs, lifting one leg so he can kiss the inside of your ankle. You shiver at the caress of his hot breath on your skin.

“I’m glad,” you sigh, cutting off into a little whine when Andrei lets go of your leg to take off his suit jacket and toss it to the floor. The cuff links glint in the dim lighting and it’s practically Pavlovian how you react to the clinking of Andrei undoing his belt buckle.

He looms over you, belt undone and fly of his pants open. You reach up and grab at his tie, yanking his face down to yours so you can kiss him, your other hand tangling in his hair. Andrei traces his tongue over your lower lip, smoothing his hand over your hip and trailing his fingers to the front of your panties, pressing against damp fabric hard enough to have your hips bucking involuntarily.

You gasp, breaking the kiss. “I’m hoping the girls stay asleep,” you laugh, breathless, “but I don’t know if we’ll be able to make tonight a long one.”

“That’s fine,” Andrei laughs, carefully undoing the cuff links and his watch and setting them on his night table. He rolls up the sleeves of his button down and you stare at the prominent veins on his forearms. “I’ve been waiting to get my dick into you all day, ever since this morning. I can’t wait much longer.”

Your legs fall open and Andrei grins. “I don’t think I can wait too much longer either,” you confess, arching your back when Andrei pulls you closer and hooks your ankles at his shoulders. He’s kneeling a bit and his mouth is on you immediately, tongue flattening over you through lace. “Ohhh fuck, Drei!” you yelp, instinctively clenching your thighs together.

He chuckles and keeps your legs spread, holding your ass with one hand and pushing aside the lace with the other. “Solnyshka, you promised me dessert,” he brushes his nose against the juncture of your thighs. “I’m starving.”

“I…oh, god, right there,” your hands fist the sheets, heels scrabbling against Andrei’s shoulders while he gets to work. He licks and sucks, heat and desire pooling low in your stomach. His nose bumps against your clit and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your scream.

“Too bad we’re not alone,” he murmurs, scrapping. his teeth and stubble over your heated flesh. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Next time -“ you break off into a muffle moan when he clamps his lips around your clit and sucks, once, hard, your vision briefly going white when you come. “Fuck,” you mumble, boneless.

Andrei’s head pops up from in between your legs, the lower half of his face wet and shining. He’s got that mischievous twinkle in his eyes and he kisses the inside of your knee. “That’s one,” he says.

“One?” you murmur, registering that he’s releasing your legs and discarding his tie and button down.

“Mhm,” he hums, grasping himself through the fabric of his boxer-briefs and stroking a few times. “If the rest of the day was about celebrating me, tonight is about celebrating you. I couldn’t have made it a thousand games without you by my side for over six hundred of them.”

His face is soft, boyish, when he says it, love for you written all over his features.

You giggle a little, “has it really been that many games?”

Andrei lies down on the mattress next to you and your hand comes up to trace the angles of his collarbone. He shivers a little under your light touch. “Doesn’t feel like it, right?” He asks, pulling you closer and kissing you sweetly.

“Time really flew,” you sigh, swinging a leg over Andrei’s hip and pushing at the waistband of his suit pants and underwear. “One thousand games, ten years, and three kids,” you smile down at him, wrapping your hands around his cock and pulling it out so it curves up towards his stomach. “How did we get so lucky?”

“Because you’re the rock,” he says, tangling his fingers in the lace at your waist. He tugs, not gently, and it rips, baring you to him.

“Hey!” You laugh, faux-indignant, “I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you more,” he promises, lifting you by the hips and guiding you so you’re hovering over him. You brace your hands on his chest and nod and he settles you down. You sink onto him until he’s fully inside of you and it’s the best feeling. You roll your hips slightly and Andrei groans. “Right there, solnyshka.”

Neither one of you talks while you settle into a rhythm, just enjoying the feeling of each other’s bodies. Andrei brushes his fingers against your clit, beads of sweat gathering at your hairline while your thighs tremble from riding him. He rolls you onto your back and kisses your neck, thrusting into you. With the change in position, you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into the hard muscle of his ass. The chain around his neck sways as he thrusts, bumping against your chin.

Your nails dig into his back, scratching his skin and Andrei grunts, sucking a mark behind your ear. “Moya koroleva,” he mumbles. “Love of my life, come for me. I want to see you fall apart.”

Starbursts blink in your vision and Andrei slips one hand between your bodies, his fingers slipping over the swollen bud of your clit. You cry out and Andrei muffles the sound with a kiss, pumping into you twice more before you’re pushed over the edge and coming around him. He keeps kissing you until he’s done filling you and then you’re both limp and splayed out on the bed. Andrei’s body is half on top of yours, his weight crushing in a good way. He kicks his legs lazily, discarding his suit pants and boxer-briefs to the floor. You huff a laugh into his neck, “I can’t believe you just fucked me with your pants on like we’re a pair of horny teenagers.”

“You said we might be interrupted,” he protests, kissing your shoulder. His teeth snag on the strap of your lingerie and he pouts. “I wanted to rip this off with my teeth.”

“Another night,” you push at his shoulder so he’ll roll off of you. You need to go pee before you get back in bed. After you clean yourself up and make your way back to bed, you find Andrei back in his boxer-briefs and under the covers. He smiles sleepily at you, that post-orgasm haze in his eyes, and opens his arms.

You climb in and tuck yourself against his side, playing with the chain around his neck. “Just think, we get to do this all over again on Saturday, you know, celebrate you,” you say around a yawn.

“Do you have another one of these little sets waiting?” Andrei teases, running a finger over the lace cup.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You tangle your legs with his and before you know it, you’re both asleep.

The week speeds by in a blur of travel for Andrei and child-rearing for you, until all of a sudden it’s Saturday morning and the house is happy chaos. All four grandparents arrived bright and early, bringing coffee and breakfast, so you don’t have to cook and make a mess. There’s no morning skate since it’s a noon start time, but Andrei still has to get to the arena early and he leaves while the girls are still asleep, kissing you goodbye and wishing you luck.

“Thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“I’ll see you soon,” he winks.

The grandparents are lifesavers and help get the girls dressed - all in matching Svechnikov jerseys, little black tutus, and red cowboy boots. Evie had picked the outfits and it’s honestly the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Mama, do I get to make a speech?” Evie asks while you fix her hair in two little space buns on the top of her head.

You smother a laugh and reply, “no, baby. No speeches. But we get to walk out on the ice and Daddy’s going to get some presents from the team and there will be a little video.”

“Oh,” she squints at her reflection in the mirror thoughtfully. “Am I in the video?”

“No again, little bug. It’s a video about Daddy’s time playing hockey and his teammates will talk about him. Is that okay with you?” You tie off the second space bun.

Evie nods, “yeah, since Daddy plays so much hockey I think it’s okay that the video is only about him.”

“That’s very generous of you,” you pat her on the shoulder. “Now please go sit with Pop and Dedushka until it’s time to leave.”

She scampers off, tutu swishing, and you check in with the moms - yours has Kira and Andrei’s has Alina. Everything is handled there, so you take the time to get yourself ready, curling your hair and doing your makeup before getting dressed. You’re all ready to go by 10:30, which feels like a miracle. The drive to the arena is smooth and the girls are beyond excited when they get to go through the back entrance and wait outside the locker room.

Andrei, dressed in full gear, steps out and they rush him, shouting “Daddy!” He gathers them into his arms and kisses their cheeks. “You two look like supermodels,” he grins. “Did you bring me a tutu too?”

“No, Daddy!” Alina giggles. “That’s silly!”

“You’re right,” he agrees. “Are you ready to get on the ice?”

Evie nods and wriggles out of his arms to bounce in her boots. “Can we say hi to everyone?” She tries to look around Andrei into the locker room, but you snag her hand to hold her back.

“They have to get ready for the game and we have to get into our spots, okay?” You explain. “Plus we have to go get babushka and dedushka, they’re coming onto the ice with us.”

“Oh!” Evie’s eyes go wide. “Can they skate too?”

Andrei laughs a little. “There’s going to be a carpet, no one is skating, zaychik.”

“That stinks,” Evie mutters. “I’m really good at skating, I could’ve showed everybody.”

She pouts the entire way back up to the suite, until a pretzel is handed to her by your dad and she’s all smiles again. You leave your purse and everyone’s jackets with your parents and settle in to watch a little bit of warmups before you’re ushered back down to wait in the zamboni tunnel while warmups end and the carpet gets laid out.

You hold Kira on your hip and Andrei’s parents gently usher the older girls out to meet Andrei on the ice. He grins and kisses you on the cheek and then kisses Elena’s cheek. She’s already crying and the tribute hasn’t even started.

“Hi,” he whispers to you, looking like the fresh-faced 22-year-old man you fell in love with.

“Hi,” you whisper back. “Ready?”

The lights in the arena dim and you all look up at the Jumbotron as the tribute video starts to play. The girls bounce around, pointing and gasping when video of Andrei doing The Michigan plays. Rod’s on screen, talking about Andrei’s career. Pyotr speaks, grinning when he recounts the early years that Andrei served as his translator.

Elena and Igor get video spots, talking about Andrei’s love of the game even as a child. When Geno’s on screen, Andrei smiles widely and shakes his head, brushing his cheek against the shoulder of his jersey. His eyes look misty in the dim lighting.

Jordan, retired for a few years now, speaks last, “from one Canes Captain to another, we’re so proud of you, Svechy. Here’s to another thousand games.”

You sniffle a little, eyes welling up with emotion. The girls are clinging to Andrei’s hands, dancing in place and Kira is taking in all of the sights. Once the lights go back on, Brady, Sebastian, and Jarvy skate over with bouquets of flowers for you, Elena, and the girls.

“Congratulations,” Brady grins at you, handing over your flowers and Kira’s. “Svechy’s lucky to have you.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” you say with a smile, “again!”

Andrei’s gifted a silver stick - which the girls immediately start to inspect. Brady and Jarvy pull the red curtains off of a framed, team-signed jersey with 1000 instead of 37 on the back and a painting of Andrei’s Stanley Cup winning goal from two years ago.

“Daddy,” Evie tugs on his jersey, whispering, “that’s not the right number on your jersey!”

“That’s because it’s a special jersey for all the games I’ve played,” Andrei explains while ushering them into position as the entire team skates over for a group picture. Evie and Alina ham it up for the picture, but there’s nothing you can do about that except smile.

Andrei kisses you before you leave the ice, “I love you, solnyshka.”

“I love you too, Mister Svechnikov,” you grin against his mouth. “Now go win a game.”

He winks at you before skating back to the bench.

“Now what?” Evie asks as you walk down the tunnel. She’s holding Elena’s hand and swinging it back and forth.

“Now,” you grin at her, giving a little shimmy of excitement that gets Kira giggling, “we party in the suite!”

The girls cheer and rush ahead, staying within eyesight. Igor trails after them and Elena falls into step next to you. Kira leans from your arms and reaches for Elena, so you transfer her over. She snuggles into Elena’s neck.

“This one,” Elena smiles, patting Kira’s back softly, “is just like Andreyusha at the same age. All cuddles and those big eyes, watching everything, planning.”

“They’re all little Drei clones,” you laugh. “We’re lucky to have him. Thank you for raising him into such a wonderful man.”

Elena squeezes your forearm. “Igor and I took Andrei so far, but you and he, you are a wonderful team, wonderful parents. We are so proud to have you as our daughter.”

You wipe at your eyes and laugh wetly, “too bad PNC doesn’t run on tears. We could’ve had this place powered up for a year.”

The girls absolutely thrive in the suite, dancing to the music and eating as many snacks as they can get their little hands on. At one point, you’re on the Jumbotron for the Kiss Cam and the girls scream with delight when they each plant a kiss on your cheeks. It’s one of the more fun games you can remember, mostly because the girls are engaged and excited, and Andrei is clearly having the time of his life on the ice.

When he scores, he points up at your suite and you blow him a kiss that he probably can’t even see, remembering the first time he scored after you had started dating, when you were sitting right behind the Canes bench and he had pointed right at you, grinning with the dimple.

If you could tell that girl that one day she’d be here, ten years later, living her dream life and watching that same twenty-two year old with his little hair wings and dimple celebrate his one thousandth game, you don’t think she’d believe you.

#andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov fic

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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 year

Text

The 30th by Billie Eilish

Summary: (Alternative Unvierse) It’s been 5 months since you and Bucky official divorced. You still don’t understand what happened between you and him but a phone call from Memorial Hospital stops you in your tracks and shatters your world.

Warning: car accident, injury based on that, mention of stalking

Word Count: 2.8K

“Is this Mrs. Barnes?” A female voice asked. The last name that you haven’t used for a little over a year surprised you. You and Bucky have been separated for a year but divorced for 5 months. ‘Mrs. Barnes’ was a name you haven’t heard in a very long time.

“Speaking, may I ask who's calling?” You asked. You were putting dishes away from dinner and your kids were asleep.

“Of course ma’am, I am the head nurse on call at Memorial Hospital.” You sat down on the island. Your mind began to spiral on each possible situation. Was it your parents? Natasha? Steve? “Your husband was in a car accident.” The nurse said. Bucky must have kept you as his emergency contact.

“How is he?” You asked.

“He’s in serious condition but the doctors are doing everything they can.” Your heart stopped. The man you devoted so many years of your life to and the father of your children. You cleared your throat.

“Can I come and see him?” You asked.

“Yes, you can. I’ll let security know.”

You were thankful your neighbor, Wanda, and her husband, Vision, were able to watch the girls. Their twins were the same age as your eldest, Rebecca, and Wanda loved Taylor. The girls asked a thousand and one questions but you assured them that everything was okay even though you weren’t sure if that was the truth. You kept your emotions at bay as you drove to the hospital. You had to be strong for your girls, for Bucky, and yourself. You and Bucky met through a mutual friend, Natasha. You went to college with her and she and Bucky knew each other when they were kids. Natasha invited Steve and Bucky to go out with you during your freshman year. A drunken one-night stand turned into a coffee date the next morning then 4 years of dating. He proposed the day after you graduated college. Life was good. You gave birth to two beautiful girls and were doing well in your respective careers; you as a lawyer and Bucky was working as a contractor at Steve’s construction company. Then something changed. He became distant. He was there for the girls but he began sleeping in the guest room. He worked late and was away for many weekends. Finally, you confronted him and he asked for some time apart. He moved out and then asked for a divorce. You were completely blindsided by it and it hurt because you were still in love with the man.

A nurse brought you into his room. The sight took your breath away as you stared at Bucky. He was barely recognizable with machines attached to him, gauze keeping him together, and a tube down his throat. You were pretty sure a doctor came in to tell you the extent of Bucky’s injuries but their words weren’t registering with you. “Y/n,” you heard Natasha’s voice. You looked toward your friend. The doctors were gone and it was just you, Bucky, and her. She was wearing what she typically wore to work with her badge on her hip.

“Nat, what-? How-?” Your brain was short-circuiting.

“Let’s go talk somewhere else,” she led you out of Bucky’s room. You noticed an officer standing by Bucky’s door. Your friend led you to a conference room and you saw her partner, Maria. Steve called her Natasha’s work wife. You’ve met her a few times.

“Natasha, what is going on?” You asked, sitting down. A cup of coffee was already in front of you. Natasha sat down next to Maria.

“We don’t think Bucky’s crash was an accident,” Natasha said. You were stunned into silence.

“We found another set of tire tracks at the scene and in our initial investigation we found another paint color on the back of Bucky’s car,” Maria added. You leaned back in your chair and covered your face with your hands. The room was quiet, too quiet.

“Are you telling me someone tried to kill Bucky?” You finally asked, looking at Natasha. She nodded.

“It appears so,” she said. “Bucky had no alcohol or drugs in his system.” That was no surprise, Bucky was straight as an arrow when it came to not drinking and driving.

“Who the hell would try to kill him? Everyone loved him,” he was a little grumpy and as Sam said he had a ‘resting bitch face’ but he was a teddy bear.

“Have you noticed anything strange?” Maria asked. You glared at her.

“The man divorced me after being together for almost 10 years for no reason. Does that classify as strange?” You deadpanned, taking a sip of your coffee. You sighed. “Sorry. Before we got separated he was distant towards me but not the girls.”

“Was there trouble at work that Steve didn’t know about?” Natasha asked.

“I don’t know,” you told them.

“Could someone from the law firm be angry enough with you to go after him?” It was possible. You’ve worked some major cases over your career and your relationship with Bucky was public knowledge. You’ve tried to keep your kids out of the spotlight. You’ve gotten your fair share of death threats from family members and criminals.

“Maybe. I can have my assistant send you a list of people we’ve gotten threats from.”

“Thank you. For now, I’m going to assign an officer to you and your kids. Are the girls at Wanda’s?” You nodded. “Okay, I’ll have Coulson go over there.”

“Thank you, Nat.”

“Don’t thank me for just doing my job,” You said your goodbyes and headed back to Bucky’s room. You sent a text to Wanda explaining the situation and asked your assistant to send the information to Natasha and her team. You sighed, placed your phone in your pocket, and stood next to Bucky. You cupped his face gently in your hands and kissed his cheek.

“Don’t leave me, sergeant,” you whispered. “That’s an order.”

6 months later

Bucky’s condition improved but he was still in a coma. The doctors were hopeful that he would wake up on his own as he had high brain activity. You brought the girls to see their father and explained the situation to them in a way they’d understand. You told Bucky’s family as well. It was nice talking to his mother and sister again. You split your time at your office, the hospital, and at home. You were exhausted.

You were at the hospital working on a case when a knock on his door made you jump. You closed your laptop and looked at the door. It was Natasha, with a messenger bag over her shoulder. You saw the redhead almost every day. She was making sure you were taking care of yourself. “Hey Tash,” you said. “Are you here for work or pleasure?”

“Work, unfortunately.” You gave her your full attention. You didn’t ask about the ongoing investigation. You didn’t have the brain capacity to focus on it and you trusted Natasha to get the job down. She sat down in the empty chair next to you. “Does the name Brock Rumlow sound familiar to you?” She asked. You nodded.

“He was close friends with Alexander Pierce.” You put Pierce behind bars for conspiracy to commit murder when there was an attempt on Natasha’s boss’ life. You wanted to put Rumlow away too but there wasn’t enough evidence.

“Did you also know he and Bucky knew each other?” She asked. You didn’t hide the shock on your face. “They knew each other back when Bucky served.” He didn’t talk about his time over there. But you knew it still affected him as nightmares kept him up. “Once Bucky was discharged due to him losing his arm, the two stopped talking.”

“What does this have to do with the car accident?” You asked. Natasha pulled out a folder from her bag and set a picture down in front of you. It was of Bucky and Rumlow, dated right before Bucky asked for a divorce.

“Oh Buck,” you whispered. “What did you get yourself into?”

“They were meeting for a while.” She took the picture back into the file. “When you put Pierce away Rumlow lost it and went off the grid, the only time we resurfaced was to make contact with Bucky,” Natasha explained.

“What did he want?” You weren’t sure if Natasha was going to tell you.

“He wanted Bucky to help him break Pierce out of jail,” your stomach dropped. “He had some dirt on Bucky back when they served together and he threatened to release it. He also was following you and the girls,” she took out a few pictures of you and the girls at the park, grocery store, and the library. You rubbed your head.

“How-how do you know all of this?” You asked. She pulled out an evidence bag. Inside were Bucky’s dog tags and his cell phone.

“Bucky recorded every interaction. It took a while for the forensic team to pull the file off his phone.” She smiled at you. “He refused to help Rumlow and Rumlow caused the crash. The paint on Bucky’s car matched the car Rumlow has.”

“What?” You said, speechless. “Why are you sitting here and not arresting the jackass?” She punched you in the arm. “Ouch!”

“Maria and Phil are handling the arrest. I thought you wanted to know the whole story before the press took hold of it.” The press was watching this case like a hawk.

“Thank you. I won’t be able to play you back for everything you did.” She was working overtime on this case.

“You and Bucky are family. Now you can focus on healing,” she stood up to leave. You walked over to the door and hugged her. “One more thing.” She said, facing you. “Bucky tried to call you the night of the crash. But he couldn’t get through to you. He recorded a voice memo.”

“Did you listen to it?” You asked, already knowing the answer. She nodded.

“Maria and I were the only ones that listened to it. I sent it to your email.” You nodded. “Listen to it when you are ready.” She gave you one last hug before leaving you. The machines that were attached to Bucky seemed louder than normal. Maybe they were trying to be heard over your pounding heart. You took your cell phone and headphones from your bag and walked over to the window. You plugged your headphones in and found the email Natasha sent you. She said to listen to it when you were ready. You weren’t sure if you ever would be ready. You put your headphones in and hit play as you stared at Bucky’s still form.

It was silent besides the grunt or moan of pain. “Sugar, doll,” you felt your eyes burn with unshed tears. It’s been so long since he’s called you those pet names. “Fuck baby I messed up.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “I just wanted to keep you and the girls safe, you know?” He groaned. “I did some bad stuff overseas. Stuff I wasn’t ready to tell you. I thought I could handle Rumlow myself. So I distanced myself from.” He went quiet. “I thought if we weren’t seen together he couldn’t use you. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Yes you are Bucky Barnes,” you whispered, wiping the tears away that fell.

“I miss you so much, baby girl. I don’t want to die without telling you how sorry I am,” you stood up and looked at Bucky. You ran over to him.

“You aren’t going to die Barnes.” You said, cupping his face in your hands. Your tears fell onto his skin.

“I love you. You and the girls are my worlds,” his voice continued. “Tell them that, will you?”

“Tell them yourself Bucky,” you whispered. “Tell them when you wake up.” It was becoming harder to make out his face because of how hard you were crying. “Please baby, you have to wake up.”

“You made me a better man, doll.” His voice was becoming strained and hoarse. “Meeting you was when my life started. I love you.” The voice memo ended. You rested your head on his chest, mindful of his injuries, and cried. You haven’t cried through this whole ordeal. You let yourself cry and cry and cry.

3 months later

Bucky woke up a month after Rumlow’s arrest and when he was released from the hospital he moved back in with you and the girls. They were ecstatic to have their father back with them as he healed and recovered. But you and Bucky were walking on eggshells around each other, uncertain of how to act with one another. Sometimes he would act as he did before the accident, before the divorce and the separation. Then other times he would pull away. He doesn’t remember much from that night, especially the phone call he made.

You had enough. For 2 months, you were at your breaking point. You sent the girls with your parents, you cooked his favorite food and dessert. The smell brought him out of the room. His hair was wet from a shower. “Do you need help?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Can you set the table?” He nodded, grabbing two sets of plates and silverware. You were sipping on wine already. Once the food was done, you ate in silence. You watched him eat, slowly sipping on your wine.

“You're starring,” he said.

“I am,” he whipped his face with a napkin.

“Can I ask what all this is for?”

“After dinner.” He washed the dishes. It was the rule when you were together whoever cooked didn’t have to do the dishes. You pulled out the cheesecake and cut two slices. You handed him a plate.

“It’s after dinner,” you nodded, taking a bite of your cheesecake.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked. He finished the cake and placed the dirty dish in the sink for later.

“You are going to have to be more specific,” he said, walking over to the couch.

“Rumlow. The fact that you knew him while I was working on the Pierce case,” he didn’t say anything as he sat down. You walked over to him and he was opening and closing his metal hand. “Or that he asked you to commit a crime and used me and the girls as leverage.” He still didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even looking at you. “We were a team, Bucky. Why didn’t you tell me?” He sighed.

“Because I didn’t want you or the girls to find out that I’m a monster.”

“What?” You questioned, sitting down next to you.

“I was tasked with black op missions overseas. They nicknamed me the Winter Soldier. I did so many horrible things for this country,” he explained. “Rumlow was on a few of those missions. I wasn’t ready to tell you.” You looked forward, staring into the fireplace.

“I know the man I married and fell in love with,” you said finally. “That man is not a monster.”

“Doll-” he said.

“No,” you cut him off and knelt in front of him. “You are not a monster. I’m upset that you didn’t tell me but I understand.” He smiled. “You tried to call me the night of the accident but it wouldn’t go through so you left me a voice memo. Do you remember what you said?” He shook his head.

“I vaguely remember it.”

“You told me you loved me,” your voice cracked. “That you missed me and that you were sorry.” You smiled. “You told me that the girls and I are your worlds and that I made you a better man.” He nodded.

“It’s the truth.” He whispered.

“I was so scared Buck,” you admitted. “What if the accident happened on a different day? On a bridge where there wasn’t a railing in the way. Or a neighborhood street where the little kids play?” You felt the tears running down your cheeks. “What if you weren’t alone and the girls were in the car? What if you were remote and no one knew where you were? If you changed anything, would you have not survived?”

“I’m alive,” Bucky said.

“You're alive.” You repeated. “You’re alive.” He pulled you onto his lap and hugged you. He hugged you tight as you cried against him. You felt his tears on your skin. You ended the hug and put your forehead against his, staring into his blue eyes. A color you didn’t think you would see again. “You’re alive.”

“I’m alive.” He said against your lips. You connected them. The kiss was slow and salty from your tears but it was perfect. You were so scared that you’d never hear his voice again, kiss his lips, or feel his hands on you. He pulled away. “Thank you.” You smiled.

“You said it on the phone, you're an idiot,” he laughed.

“But I’m your idiot.” You nodded.

“Yeah, you are.”

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x female reader #winter solider #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes drabble #natasha romanoff #maria hill #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes

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marsipaniscool · 2 months

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Santana really did have a shit life. First, his family was massacred. Then he got kidnapped by the murderers and told to become a strong warrior, and when he failed, they just left him there for a minimum of 2000 years. And THEN he woke up to being experimented on, and I'm not sure if he then died or stayed alive but in pieces. Lowkey hope he died and has some peace

RIGHT. gonna talk abt both of the boys because I feel like they bounce off of each other really well, almost foils. under the cut because I love yapping <3

in my opinion, Wamuu and Santana internalised Kars' and Esidisi's actions very differently. Wamuu acknowledges it happened, but his loyalty to his masters runs so deep that he willingly turns a blind eye to it, even though it brings him a lot of turmoil. I think that's a part of the reason he doesn't like fighting women or children, he sees Kars ordering him to kill his mother, and even himself as a child. Something something if Wamuu had been a child instead of an actual baby, he realises Kars would have had him killed too more than likely. He copes with this by proving his worth time and time again on the battlefield, doing quite literally whatever Kars demands. This increased tenfold when Santana was left behind. Yeah Wamuu talks big game about having a code of honour and strong morals but alllllll of that goes out the window when daddy kars demands. Honestly, Wamuu won the genetic lottery in terms of being a fierce warrior, he ends up taller than Kars or Esidisi and appears more well built. I don't think it was the fact that Santana was weak, I think he was just comparatively weak to Wamuu, and ended up being perceived as the weakest link. Kars and Esidisi had milleniums of training and Wamuu was a fighting prodigy, so Santana, who was probably just an average, untrained, pillar person (see:child), was by default the weakest. Santana had to process the information of Kars and Esidisi killing his family in an entirely different way. While Wamuu came to his own conclusion, I can easily see Kars holding that information above Santana's head. Santana had to hear that Kars "saved him from a life of darkness and drab" and how Santana should be "thankful you (Santana) weren't slaughtered like everyone else/your parents/family." When physical punishments were given to Santana, I can see Kars and/or Esidisi telling him how he was just as worthless and weak as his mother. I talked about it in-depth before, so just to rehash my thoughts: Santana was abandoned in Mexico at least 5,000 years ago (K,E,+W went to Eurasia in search of the super aja.) Santana would have looked around 10 years old at his age of 5,000. Picking up here, Santana would very likely stick to the same general area for quite a while before branching out into the greater Central America. Honestly think he became an idol in these areas due to him being bored as fuck with a booming population of humans around him. I see him spending a few thousand years like this, until eventually he got bored/not enough nourishment/whatever happened, and he fell asleep for several thousand years. Really leaning towards lack of nourishment leading to his slumber, he holed himself up in the temple and only woke up to a copious blood sacrifice. He woke up, the events of the show happened, Santana is stone in the SWF again. I don't think Santana is dead, I think they woke him back up and experimented on him. Von Stroheims entire mechanical body is based off of Santana. They may have been able to study him to such a degree while he was asleep, but honestly I think homeboy was awake and just restrained in some fashion while the Nazis and SWF experimented on him. I really hope he passed by the events of part 4 at the latest, but maybe they studied him until they were satisfied, and then kept him turned to stone. Maybe they had Joseph swing by and kill him idk. I just hope he found a peaceful ending.

#jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #battle tendency #jjba headcanons #pillar men #pillar men headcanons #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #santana headcanon #wamuu headcanon

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arteastica · 9 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (6)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.3k

Hindsight always makes it simple to distinguish between what should’ve been done and what shouldn’t. But nobody is able to predict the end result. Not even someone like Erwin Smith. You thought as you poured boiling water into a porcelain cup. The lives of hundreds of his soldiers or the lives of thousands within the walls. The commander had made his choice.

He had, but you were sure it didn’t make it any easier. After all, he had led hundreds of his men to their deaths. Not only in last week’s expedition, but also in the ones that came before, and the ones that were yet to come. It was, most certainly, something one never got used to.

You walked the empty halls. The sound of porcelain on metal, the only disturbance in the quiet castle at that time of the night. It was way past working hours, and despite the absolute stillness, you were certain nobody was asleep. Everyone who made it back, really didn’t come back. At least not as the person they were before. It was as if an unretrievable part of themselves was still out there, beyond the walls, waiting to be collected.

And you were no different. But you were trying to learn to live without it. During the day, you tried to keep busy with work, and at night, you tried to do the same by writing, but every time you sat down, nothing came out. It was like trying to turn on a very tight faucet, frustrating and exhausting. So you usually ended up tossing and turning in bed until your eyelids got heavy enough. But on some nights, not even that seemed to work. And this was one of those.

You glanced behind your back before going up the stairs, and found the comfort you were looking for when you were able to confirm that the only one following you was your shadow.

Who was inside the female titan? Whoever that was, they managed to escape. Not only that, but someone who’s working with such person is among us.

You picked up the pace and turned around a corner, most of your tensions dissipating when you saw light seeping through the gaps of the door.

He suspects that. The commander had a reason not to trust anyone. He knows that someone in the Survey Corps can’t be trusted. That’s the reason why only the survivors from 5 years ago were informed of the plan. He must have assumed the enemy infiltrated when the wall fell back then.

You used your right shoulder to push the door open. And just like you had predicted, you found him at his desk, working under the candle light. He didn’t even notice you were there.

Besides the dark circles under his eyes and the two-day-old stubble now covering his jaw, there was something different in him. But it wasn’t new, something told you it had always been there. But you were noticing it just now.

Before the expedition, you only knew the caring leader, the one who encouraged his subordinates to share their ideas, reassured them when they made a mistake, or smiled when they brought him tea. After the expedition, you met the other. The one who ordered them to stay behind and fight, to give up on their dreams and dedicate their hearts. The calculating leader who decides what lives are sacrificed and which ones are preserved.

You stood still for a moment, watching him. Even though his right hand seemed busy, his eyes didn’t. They were unfocused and seemed to be lost some place far away, probably beyond the walls.

It must have taken him so much to become the leader that he is. So many others trying to become an inch of the man that he is, yet no one doing what he does. Not a single one of those silver spoon leaders from Mitras, not a single one of them willing or capable to make the decision he had.

They weren’t like him. They ordered around from the safety of their castles. But they weren’t there to face the consequences when they came knocking at their door. But Erwin Smith, he never expected more of his soldiers than he gave of himself. And he expected the world from his soldiers. He took so much from them but what he gave in return was hard to put into words.

So no, they weren’t like him. They weren’t capable of going through the things he and his people had. And you were one of his people now. After all, it was thanks to him that you were there now, placing a tray on the corner of his desk.

The sound made him look up and when he saw you, he tried to hold a smile, but it was so weak it expired pretty soon. And in that exact moment a hornet must have come flying in and stung you right in the center of your chest.

“You didn’t have to. You should be getting some rest.”

“My wounds have already healed.” You smiled softly. His eyes were vacant, and his usually impeccable bolo tie, loosely done. And you resisted the urge to ask him how much sleep he had been getting lately, if any at all. “Commander, I’ll take care of that tomorrow.” You pointed at the expedition reports in his hands “I’ll finish them and send them to the capital by noon.”

“It’s okay. This is somewhat of a routine for me after expeditions. It helps you notice things you didn’t before.”

It had been unsettling enough for you to record the casualties and write letters to the relatives of the deceased. Writing about the injured had been even more disturbing, maybe because you knew that they would be left to deal with the permanent scars for the rest of their lives, both emotionally and physically. If the gruesome details of their condition still haunted you, you couldn’t imagine what it must be doing to those soldiers, or to the man who was in charge of them. You were certain that for him, those reports were downright traumatizing.

“Resting also helps. This will help you sleep better.” You promised before placing a warm cup beside his papers.

“Thank you.” He said, bringing it to his lips “It’s wonderful.” He took another sip, and a slight smile formed on your lips. If only that could help him close his eyes and escape this nightmare of a world for a moment. Even if it was just until the morning. “I’ll just work a little more.”

You nodded, feeling a little defeated. “If there is anything I can help you with, please let me know.”

“It’s okay. You may go.” He attempted another smile before turning his attention back to the papers.

You started heading for the door, but the sting in your chest kept hurting. Hurting, burning and begging you to tell him.

To tell him that you understood why he did what he did.

“Commander, back then-”

And that you were aware of the crushing burden he was carrying as a result.

“you did everything you could.”

And how much it meant for you, what he did for you.

“You are the reason I-”

You remembered how it had felt to be held by him. The warmth of his embrace and the comfort of his body. And something about that memory made your heart fall out of rhythm.

“What I mean is, you made your decision and regardless of whatever happened, Eren is still here today. We didn’t lose him. I could tell you were prepared to abandon everything.”

“Yes. But so was the enemy.” He said, his stare getting lost somewhere in the opposite side of the room.

In the days that followed, the dining hall slowly started to recover its characteristic liveliness, although the disharmonious and usually ale-induced singing wasn’t back yet; people had started conversing and laughing in the corridors again; and the hallways had stopped looking so empty and eerie at night, something you were particularly grateful about.

The tossing and turning had also become less and less frequent, and you had been able to get back into writing. Not only diary entries, but also letters home. Your mom wanted to know if there was any chance she would get to see you before the winter holidays, and Hitch, if there were any attractive men in the Scouts. Of course her exact wording had been a little different: Well-proportioned, beddable gentleman who is both an eye-candy and a sex-god.

The commander and his eyes had begun to recover their expressiveness, every passing day he was able to hold his smile for a little longer, his light stubble was now gone, and so were the dark circles under his eyes, although it had taken them a full two weeks to disappear completely. You knew this because you had been counting. Not in the literal sense, but mentions of him during your late night writing sessions had become more and more frequent. Until one day, you had no choice but to acknowledge a certain tendency you had developed.

A tendency to look in his direction at every opportunity you got. And by opportunity, you meant every time you could steal a glance without him noticing. And you were aware that without context, that would even sound inappropriate. But it was not. ‘There are reasons.’ You had told your diary.

There was a reason you had started bringing him dinner every time you found his seat at the dining hall empty. There was a reason you had started adding honey and a lemon slice to his tea when brewing it, and placing warm butter biscuits on the side. There was a reason you had started bringing up your weird obsession with Stohess figs every time his expression seemed to get a little too vacant for your liking. And, of course, there was also a reason you had started coming up with pretexts to stay in his office way after your shift ended.

Before, you looked at him to confirm you were doing your job properly, now you just wanted to confirm he was doing okay. And did it all risk looking a little more personal than work-related? In all honesty, maybe it did. Because it actually was personal. After all, he was a person, not only your boss. And it was thanks to that person that you were still alive.

“The government officials are waiting for you in the meeting room, sir.” You informed him that morning.

“Okay. Better not make them wait any longer if we are hoping to secure those funds.” He grabbed some papers along with his black notebook and headed for the door. But when you saw it, you shook your head lightly. There was something he still seemed to be struggling with after the expedition.

“Commander” You called out just as he was about to open the door.

“Yes?”

“Your tie.” He blinked at you, his eyes clearly asking you to elaborate further. “It’s just- your- let me.” It was when you saw your fingers fiddling with the green oval in the collar of his shirt that you realized how compromising of a position you had put yourself in. And you also realized how much you liked his perfume. You liked it a lot actually.

“It was a little tilted to the side.” You explained, your eyes now looking up to find his.

“Thank you.” He said softly while staring back into your eyes, and you wondered if his voice had always sounded that deep.

You wished you had an explanation as to why you didn’t step away once you were done fixing his tie, or a justification for your sudden inability to look away.

“I’ve been wanting to-” When you started talking, his eyes drifted to your lips for a brief second, and suddenly it became too hard to express your thoughts. “I’ve been wanting to tell you-”

Shameful. Both, the way you suddenly forgot how to speak and the way your heart started racing.

“Yes?” You would have found his patience encouraging if he hadn’t spoken in such a low, husky voice, if his eyes weren’t all those colors, and if he didn’t smell that good.

“Thank you” Sometime in between all the things happening inside your head, your voice had turned into a whisper, “for helping me” and apparently, you had lost your ability to string words together “back then.”

“I told you I wasn’t losing my assistant to a titan.” He said, the corners of his mouth slightly curving upwards. And you wished his lips weren’t so distracting. And that they weren’t that close. You realized you had never seen them from such proximity.

“Commander, we shouldn’t…” Your chest rose and fell in clumsy attempts to manage what little air was available in the room, oxygen all of a sudden becoming the most precious resource in the world. “…We shouldn’t make them wait.”

“We shouldn’t, indeed.” He said, eyes still boring into yours. “That would be inappropriate.”

“Very inappropriate.” You managed to say before forcing yourself to look away and head for the door, mostly because you desperately needed to breathe, and not so much because you cared about the men in the other room.

next chapter

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acesofspadess · 4 months

Text

One Last Time

October 2011

It was the European part of the Promo Tour now and it was nice just being able to have a moment of normalcy with the boys. After finding out you were number 1 in the U.K things really blew up for you guys. More radio gigs, more interviews and more fans.

In Milano you guys didn't expect much. It was very far from home so unless they had seen a tiny clip you were unimportant.

You were very wrong

Thousands of people showed up. It seemed the city was at a standstill because of you guys. Police held all the fans back and the event ended up getting cancelled because it was deemed too dangerous. You tried to wave to as many people as possible as you were guided into the building and you could've sworn someone dropped to the floor.

“If we were here 10 years ago,” Louis started from his seat next to you. “People would have no idea who we are because obviously there wasn't twitter there wasn't youtube. There's none of that. You come over to a country where youve done zero promotion, and just through the power of the internet, we've got such an amazing fan base out here.”

4 countries in 4 days was something you never thought you would ever do. You were fooling around in airports and then being surrounded by fans, all the boys standing around you in protection.

In Amsterdam you went in paddle boats which you guys happened to almost get hit by a tour boat.

“Backwards Louis!” you screamed while laughing as a giant tour boat was headed through the tunnel. He laughed as slowly started going backwards clearing the way just in the nic of time while your heart was in your chest. ‘Harry! Niall! Save me!” they laughed as Louis wrapped his arms around your waist pretending to throw you over which sent you two into a fit of laughter.

Now you were all settled in the comfort of a place you knew you could call home. Cheshire. You had been over back to the bungalow with Harry a few times during everything as your grandparents and his parents had gotten really close. You and Harry were up the latest last night helping set everyone up, which meant you two were still in bed.

You, Harry, and Niall, bunked together and how all three of you managed to get in the bed made for two was incredible.

Harry had your back to his chest with his arm draped over you and you were holding onto what you thought was Niall.

You were cozy and warm, in a serene sleep. But with 5 other boys, serene was a luxury.

‘Its time to wake up in the morning’

The guitar strums were somewhat nice but the singing was damn near awful. You groaned, turning to face Harry and trying to hide in his embrace still mostly asleep wondering where the music was coming from and why it was so loud you could hear it.

‘We drove two miles to get it’

‘So you better get up and eat it’

You felt Harry pull you closer and that serene moment…

‘SO WE GOTTA GET UP!”

The screams were followed by you being jumped on and commotion that should not have been comoted this early in the morning. They finished their song as your eyes opened but your face was hidden.

“Time to get up!” Harry finalised throwing his hand in the air before letting it drop dramatically and cuddling back into you.

You were sat in the living area -on the floor in between Niall and Harry with your back against the couch and your legs across Nialls and Harrys - with a guitar in your lap. You had barely finished your tea before Niall was playing a tune on his guitar, you quickly recognised it as ‘Gotta Be You’ as Liam started singing. You put your tea down before fiddling with the strings of your own guitar to add a melody to what Niall was playing. You sang your solo after Liams starting quiet as you were still half asleep and playing guitar.

You all sang the chorus together before agreeing that was enough for now.

The day was slow as you all hung around taking in as much of the break as you could. You were watching the boys interact with each other knowing that they needed time to be men without you, just like you needed time to be a girl without them. You couldn't help the fact that your eyes always landed on Niall and Harry. They were the main thing on your mind.

You snuck away from the group who you knew were not paying you any mind to do some laps in the pool. Maybe that would help ease your mind. Of course though, three of them were your best friends, and while all of them would notice you were gone in a heartbeat, only Louis, Liam, and Zayn were your friends. You knew there was something different about Harry and Niall.

“Bug? Why are you out here?” Zayn caught your attention crouching down to be somewhat leveled with you. “Just needed to think about something.” you whispered looking up Liam and Louis behind him.

“Could it be a certain two boys?” Louis suggested and you looked away. “I really like them.” you confessed. Saying it out loud scared you. It wasn’t unheard of - a ‘couple’ with three people. But that didn't mean that Harry and Niall wanted that, or even each other, never mind you. It would be harder for them, coming to terms with loving the same gender was not an easy feat.

“I can see your mind running Bow.” You missed them all coming to sit by you. “What if they dont want-’

“If you were going to say you then don't because it's very clear they want you.” Zayn cut you off. You shook your head. “No,” you paused, “what if they dont want each other?” silence was casted over you four and you swore you could everything and nothing. “I guess I hadn't thought about the fact that for them, that means coming out.” Louis spoke to break the silence. But when he finished the silence resumed.

“Shit Bow.” Liam shook his head as if that would shake some things into place. “I know Li.”

“I think you should tell them.” Zayn had all eyes on him. “I'm serious. I think that they might have some feelings for each other, they just don't know how to process it because no ones brought it up, i think if you were to bring up the fact you like them both they might realise their feelings for each other and then us three can finally stop seeing you three make love eyes at each other secretly.” he managed to get it out in one breath which made you all laugh when he took a big inhale.

“You might be onto something.” Liam applauded.

“Or in something!” you screamed pulling him into the water fully clothed and when he came back up he immediately splashed you back. You were laughing so hard you hadnt noticed Liam and Louis get in and add to the commotion. You definitely werent quiet considering Niall and Harry came out and jumped in with you guys.

Some way or another it was the boys against you in a water fight and of course you lost. “You win! You win!” you laughed trying not to drown under all the water being splashed at you.

A body swam under you lifting you up on their shoulders and you screamed in surprise. “Oh my god Niall.” you breathed roughly still catching your breath. You looked down and saw a devious smirk on his face. “Niall don't you da-” and you were back into the water before you could finish.

Gasping for air when you came back was not fun. “You guys absolutely suck.” you laughed pulling your curls away from your face. BUt when you opened your eyes they were gone. “Of course you left.” you shook your head.

“INCOMING”

It was like bomb after bomb, the boys running and jumping back in the pool all around you.

You couldn't believe this is where you were. It seemed like yesterday you and Beverly were trying on clothes at the mall. You couldn't even step foot in a mall now. You were here surrounded by 5 boys who cared, and loved, and treated you so so well. They had become your family and you knew that there were no other people you would ever want to go down this road with.

“Hey Bear. You okay?” you snapped out of your day dream to see all five boys awfully close. “I love you guys.” you pouted softly and they all tackled you in a hug. “We love you too Bug.” you all laughed as you started to sink together before pulling away and starting to just swim around for a bit longer before it was just too cold and you all decided to go back in.

You were all clean and warm as you sat in the living area again eating the pasta you had made for everyone.

“I helped!” you laughed as Harry advocated for himself. “Yes Haz you did an excellent job.” You took everyones finished bowls and put them in the sink to wash later. When you came back they were all chatting aimlessly with their drinks in hand. “She's back. I wanna play a game.” Liam shifted off the couch and onto the floor encouraging the other boys to do so aswell.

“Alright what game Payno? Louis asked, sitting next to him. “Truth or Dare.” you looked at him and knew exactly where this was going.

Two rounds had passed which consisted of you only picking ‘dare’ scared Liam would out you. “Bug, you're out of dares.” Shit. you knew this was it and it seemed Liam and Louis knew it too. “Truth.”

“Tell them.”

To be honest, you didn't think that was going to be his approach. Zayn was blunt, yes, but still it was surprising.

“Tell who what?” Harry broke the silence and you looked up at him, then Niall, then back to him.

“Bug has something she needs to tell you guys. Boys come on. We’ll just put things up and bring back dessert, alright?” Zayn led Louis and Liam out but not without them throwing supportive looks over their shoulder.

“What do you need to tell us?” you knew the best way of getting it over with was to just tell them, but what if this didn't turn out right and it broke the band dynamic. You were already so deep in the hole that telling them or not telling them would only dig you deeper.

“Fuck.” you laughed to yourself squeezing your eyes shut. “Open your eyes Petal.” you almost did, but you shook your head. “Can I just tell you like this please.” you damn near begged. You didn't want to see their faces when you told them. “If that makes it easier for you than of course Bear.” you wanted to cry at how sweet they were being, and you couldn't help but think that this would be the last time.

“I like you, both of you. And I know that this is gonna be weird figuring this out if you two don't like each other and even if you do that's still a lot on you guys- not that you would have to come out you don't need to explain yourself to anyone!-” you rushed out, “but i know i'm in a deep hole already and I-”

“Bear, open your eyes.” Harry whispered and you could feel how close they had gotten. You opened them slowly and were met with green and blue eyes.

“Can we kiss you?” Niall asked softly and you were nodding your head before you knew you were and they smiled at you. Harry cupped your face and your eyes naturally fluttered closed. The feel of his lips against your sent a shock and when it was followed up by Nialls, you swore you were gonna melt into the ground. You smiled softly, your fingers pressing against the slight buzz your lips felt.

You saw Niall and Harry look at each other, seemingly having a conversation through their eyes. You watched as they both leaned forward resting their foreheads against the others. You knew they were thinking and you didn't want to interrupt. You saw Nialls slow head nod and Harry immediately connecting his lips to Nialls and you knew from that moment on that this would forever be your favourite sight.

“Fuck.” you whispered, catching their attention and they both attacked you softly, laying you down on the blanket you all sat on. All you felt was them. Harry's lips on yours, Nialls pressing kisses to your neck and their hands roaming your body. Your hands tied into their hair and they both moaned softly. You looked up at them with a smile that resembled the one placed on their own faces.

“I think I’m addicted.” Niall giggled softly making you and Harry giggle with him. “Does this mean I get to kiss you guys whenever I want?” Harry questioned and you looked at Niall. “I'd be more than okay with that, Ni?” he nodded, “god yes.” which made you all laugh softly again. You sat back up and decided to have a little fun. “When they come back, pretend I told you that I don’t want to play guitar anymore or something completely opposite.” they giggled and kissed you quickly as you heard footsteps and you moved to sit with your backs against the big couch.

“We brought ice cream.” Liam announced awfully loud, before stepping into the room. “Li why are you yelling?” you giggled while taking the bowl of your favourite ice cream he passed to you. “Just in case.” he shrugged and you shook your head at him disapprovingly.

“So?” Louis was the one to break the ice, he seems to always be the one doing that. “I mean it was a shocker.” Harry started and you and Niall immediately caught on. “Out of everything she could’ve told us, I wasn’t expecting that.” Niall added and you watched the boys' faces drop. “I mean it's definitely gonna change the dynamic of the band but we always have Niall.”

The boys all turned to you. “What do you mean ‘we always have Niall’ ? Zayn questioned a little frantically. “She told us she didn't want to play guitar anymore, it'll leave it all down to Niall probably but it's okay, right?” He looked over to you and Niall who nodded and when you looked at the boys they looked at you sadly before nodding at you.

You figured they ‘knew’ you couldn't tell them but left it alone. “Alright now that that's settled. Movie?” you offered trying to change the subject. They agreed and while Liam was searching through what to watch you followed Harry up to the couch and they let you lay down first against the arm of the chair. They both settled between your legs as the couch was deep enough back to allow them too.

The movie was just what you all needed and the boys were ready for another but you were knackered. “You guys stay here as long as you want but I'm knackered, so I'm headed for the bed.”

Of course groans accompanied your announcement. You slipped from under Harry and Niall and stood up stretching. It had become tradition that everyone hugged before you went to sleep, so you did your rounds. Zayn, Liam, and Louis went first and they kissed your head like they normally do. When you went back up to the couch you leaned over to give each of them a kiss.

“Goodnight.” you called out clear seeing the blush on Harry and Nialls cheeks and the dropped jaws of Zayn, Louis, and Liam.

You weren't sure how long it had been after you got in the bed that Harry and Niall came in and laid on either side of you but the sweet sounds of them saying goodnight to each other and feeling them leaning over you to kiss each other gently made you smile and snuggle further into them. You could stay here forever, and you wished that nothing would stop you from doing that……….

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