#but Knives only demands to get married first so he can put it off forever and thus prevent Vash from getting married | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

The Visit

(I found this prompt while cleaning out my inbox and I’m so sorry I missed it the first time, Anon! With more than 150+ messages I am finding all kinds of treasures I missed when they came in!)

Prompt: "10. True tenderness is silent and can’t be mistaken for anything else" for Chris? <3

CW: Referenced death of whumper, referenced parental death, grief of an abuse survivor/whumpee, religious abuse, frank discussion of death, referenced past child abuse and survivor anger

Essentially a follow-up to this piece after Oliver’s death

Jake borrows Nat’s truck for the trip out to the cemetery, the old stick-shift Ford better able to handle the steep hills outside the city than his own beat-up four door. Chris sits next to him, pale and silent, and it’s a callback to a version of Chris that hasn’t existed in years, not since he was a frightened child.

This is a different kind of silence - heavier, it muffles the music from the radio, makes it seem like static and not songs at all. Jake doesn’t turn it up, or change the channel. He lets the silence draw out.

It’s not the same kind of silence, in the end.

The gates, wrought-iron and looking a mix of delicate and eerily strong, are open for them to drive inside. The rumbling engine of the truck catches the attention of an older woman laying flowers on a gravestone, who looks briefly up at them as they pass, but doesn’t wave.

She only looks.

Chris doesn’t look at her. His hands are folded in his lap, his hair caught low at the nape of his neck, the blue captured by a pale gray clip that holds it back from his face. He asked Jake to get him a suit, for this - he’s never owned one before.

Not since he left the bastard’s house.

Jake didn’t ask why - he just took Chris shopping, and they bought the suit. It’s black, with thin gray pinstripes that match Chris’s hair clip. His button-up and tie are perfectly done - Chris had done them up himself, the vestiges of training he still remembered. He’s wearing black leather shoes, shined up just for this, and he took out all his earrings, the perfect emptiness of the skin making Jake’s stomach flip at the way Chris has removed nearly all of the ways he made his body his own.

Jake drives around a curve on the little paved road, and finally comes to a stop.

The grave is unmistakable - the dirt is still fresh and soft, and hasn’t fully settled. It’s just... dirt, and behind it a little marker stuck in the ground. A simple name, date of birth, date of death. That’s all. The real stone hasn’t come in yet.

OLIVER WILLIAM BRANCH DOB: 09/09/1966 DOD: 04/02/202X Chris stares at the pile of dirt, and Jake sees his knuckles turn white. He’s not rocking, not tapping, not humming. Just... silent, and still. Like he’s carved from stone.

Statue boy, Chris used to whisper, when he was scared. Be a good boy, statue boys don’t move, stillness is better than what I do, statue boys stay still...

“You-” Jake’s voice cuts into the silence, a knife into skin, and he flinches at the sound of his own voice. He’s just wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and suddenly he wonders if Chris wanted him to wear a suit, too, if he’s disappointed Jake didn’t think of it on his own. “You don’t... have to do this, Chris.” His voice drops, stays lower.

Chris doesn’t look at him, only looks at the grave. His beautiful face is pale, and looks young - more like when he first showed up - and the blue hair suddenly looks wrong, like he shouldn’t have it yet. It should still have its coppery new-penny shine. The roots are hinting, just a little, at the color it used to be. “Yes, I, I, I, I do.”

Jake swallows against a lump in his throat, and slowly nods, turning off the engine and sitting back. The radio continues to play, pulling on battery power, while the two of them look at a pile of soil that covers a dead man whose life is still carved into Chris’s mind. “You want me to get out with you?”

There’s a quiet, as Chris thinks.

Then he whispers, “Please,” as his thin fingers find the handle to the door and open it up. His other hand grips onto the bouquet of roses they’d picked up to bring out here, wrapped in crinkly paper and tied with a thin string.

Immediately, birdsong filters in, intrudes on the silence, demands their attention instead.

Jake is out of the truck in a heartbeat and around to meet Chris as he slowly steps down. He looks like a child dressed for a party, even with a suit carefully chosen to fit. Or maybe Jake just struggles to see him as anything else, in moments like this one.

Chris leans towards him and Jake slides an arm around his shoulders.

He doesn’t regret this man’s death, only that it couldn’t have been half so painful as what the bastard deserved - but Jake keeps that to himself, because he can see the tears standing in Chris’s eyes, and that’s not what Chris needs to hear right now.

Instead, he just says, softly, “I’m here.”

Chris nods, bumping into him once, twice, three times - a reassurance, a reminder. Then he starts to walk, clinging to the roses in his hand, and Jake walks beside him, narrowing his own long strides to match, so he won’t pull away, so they’ll move together.

There’s no one else here, in this part of the cemetery. It’s just the two of them, walking towards the grave marker, the laid-in dirt. Somewhere, six feet down, is the man who once made the width and length of Chris’s world so narrow that it was condensed to a single hallway, a basement, to the shape of tears.

Jake stands slightly back when Chris steps forward on his own. He doesn’t offer platitudes - he can’t hope that Branch is in a better place, he’s still got his fingers crossed that hell is real just so people like Oliver Branch can experience it - he can’t say everything happens for a reason and then ask himself what possible reason there could have been for Chris to lose everything and be given his own hell in return.

He can’t say it’ll get better or time heals all wounds or you’ll find a way to forgive him or God has a plan because Jake has lived with those words branded in his soul from a thousand well-meaning relatives and church people and his mother’s so-called fucking friends and none of those words did shit, they never helped, they only made it clear that no one wanted to sit in silence with the weight of what had happened, only talk over it until Jake and his mom pretended the pain wasn’t there anymore.

No one deserves forgiveness - you make the choice to forgive, and it’s got nothing to do with whether or not anyone deserves it, you forgive for yourself - not for them.

Time didn’t heal shit, and he’s never forgiven the man who nearly killed his mother and would have kept hurting him if he never got bigger, stronger, better able to fight back.

He can’t say God has a plan, because if that’s true, then it’s a shitty fucking plan, isn’t it? To steal a child from the love that should have been the foundation of his life and hand him over to wolves to be devoured instead?

He can’t say any of it, because he doesn’t believe it, and all those well-meaning words are just knives that tear you open and then demand you comfort the people who can’t stand the sight of blood.

All he can do is give Chris his silence and his presence while he watches Chris lay a dozen roses on top of freshly turned earth.

Chris speaks, and his voice carries just enough, and Jake’s jaw sets, trembles, sets again as he pretends not to hear. As he tries, and fails, not to listen.

“I tried,” Chris whispers, in his slow-stone voice, the one he was trained to use, that he can still slide into as easily as he might throw on a shirt in the morning. “I tried... to be, be good, Sir. I was... I was good. I loved you, and... I didn’t... leave because I didn’t love you-... I... I didn’t deserve to be hurt, Sir. But...” He trails off, and Jake forces his gaze to wander.

A bright red cardinal stares back at him from a tree branch nearby, flits away, lands on a different gravestone. Jake stares at it, wondering with a strange unsettled curiosity if it’s the same cardinal, if it followed them out here somehow, but of course that’s... not possible.

There are cardinals everywhere. Cemeteries just make everything seem haunted.

The gravestone the cardinal rests on has been here a while - there’s a single spray of flowers laid on one side, and nothing on the other. It’s one of those double-stones for married people, Jake thinks.

Chris is still talking to Oliver, and Jake forces himself with all his strength not to eavesdrop, just to be here, to be the strength Chris needs. So he stares at the cardinal, and the gravestone.

Each side has a little clear plastic heart, and Jake knows what those are - the gravetones where you can put a photo of the person inside, and see them, and he thinks those are creepy as hell, but... but he can see why you’d buy one.

A woman and a man. Jake squints. They have the same date of death, he thinks, and his heart twists. Car accident, maybe? That sucks. Chris said once that he remembered his parents died.

He wonders who misses these two, who left the flowers.

Life is not forever - but love is. Beloved parents of-

Jake feels Chris press up to him, cold nose against his neck, hitching in sobs that are nearly soundless, gasping for air.

“Do you want me to talk to you about this?” Jake asks, gently.

Chris shakes his head, twisting his fingers into Jake’s shirt, rocking now, for the first time since they left. His voice, broken, starts to hum to try to drown out his own tears, and Jake slides both arms around Chris’s shoulders and holds him tightly.

“D-don’t, don’t talk, don’t-... don’t don’t don’t, I just n-need, I need, I-”

Chris tenses and then lets out a wail, echoing off the trees, soaked up in the ground around them, a half-scream of stifled pain he’s carried since he was seventeen years old.

“Hurts, h-hurts, hurts, it hurts-”

“Sssshhh, I know, I know it hurts, Chris, I know.”

“It hurts!”

Across the cemetery, the old woman doesn’t look up from her careful care of the stone she is tending, giving them space, a kind of tenderness all its own in allowing them their privacy.

Jake just holds on tighter, giving Chris an anchor, a steady presence he can scream into until all the sound is out of him, until the scream is gone.

Then, it’s quiet. They stand, for a while, in silence, other than Chris’s slow avalanche slide into outright weeping for the man who did nothing but try to destroy what spark he had left, and Jake doesn’t say a word.

He’ll probably cry when his abuser finally dies, too. Assuming anyone tells him.

When Chris, red-eyed and sniffling, pulls back to get in the truck, Jake lets him go, climbs into the driver’s seat, and brings the old truck rumbling to life.

Chris’s knuckles are still white, but as they drive around the curve again, he starts to rock, back and forth, back and forth.

When Chris starts humming, Jake turns the music up a little to give him something to hum along to, and Chris flashes him a tear-stained, trembling little smile in gratitude.

A dozen roses in brown paper lay on top of the grave of a man who could never deserve the grief that Chris so freely feels for him.

The cardinal watches them go, and then hops down from the top of the gravestone to peck at birdseed scattered on only one side of the double-stone grave of two people who died on the very same day when Chris was fifteen years old.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth

#grief #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #death of whumper #referenced death of whumper #referenced parental death #implied parental death #abuse survivor tw #child abuse reference #referenced child abuse #trauma recovery whump #grieving whumpee #angry caretaker #loving caretaker #caretaker and whumpee #found family #box boy #religious trauma tw

130 notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Text

The King of Hearts, pt. 12/finale

Summary: Desperate to find the truth about what happened to her husband and King, Queen Y/N starts to ask questions only to find not everyone is happy about it nor willing to help. Dissatisfied with the way things are, she finds it necessary to remind the army and all her subjects who is in charge. In order to find the love of her and retrieve his body, she calls to arms, more than ready to start a war if necessary and marches through the kingdom, toward the battlefield.

Warnings: ANGST, slight fluff and implied smut

Word count: 4.2k

a/n: Thank you for sticking with this story for so long and I hope you like the way this ends. It’s definitely one of my favorite ones.

The King Of Hearts - Series Masterlist (E.D. Royal AU)

The news passed through her like a hurricane, everything she and Ethan worked for becoming dust and ruins. She blinked fast a few times, feeling as if the soldier is distant and the voice which he used to proclaim her husband dead is a whisper of her worst nightmares. There was that moment of absolute peace as she awaited news, moment she was sure it would bring her happiness and not this. This devastating desolation that blew through her insides like the icy wind these lands haven't seen in years.

„How?“ She mutters through her teeth, her eyes open wide and focusing on the soldier's blood-stained face. Her fingers curl and form fists, nails piercing through the skin to cause a physical pain in order to ease the heartache threatening to drown her in sorrowful waves of grief and loss.

„I don't know, Your Majesty. The army is only hours behind me and they'll have a better answer for you. All I know is that we won.“ The soldier replies, but not to her satisfaction. He gulped when her eyes narrowed and the always kind looks she had for everyone turned into a stone cold glare that could hurt as well as a dagger.

They won? It didn’t feel like a victory. If the won, people would cheer and no head would be hung low as it is now. If they won, she wouldn’t be frozen in the last moment they shared when he mouthed an I love you before leaving her in this castle alone. She’d be smiling, not fighting tears.

„Have them wait for me when they arrive.“ She orders to everyone who had gathered in hopes of learning the news as well. Ethan was a well loved King among his people, she knew that, but seeing the entire castle staff surrounding her as she turned to walk inside had her insides turning. Her eyes pass over each of them, a sort of shame filling her. They were with him for those years she spent running from her feelings...so much time wasted. So much they could have had and now they never will.

The crowd parted like the red sea as she walked, each of them looking at their Queen with sympathy. She couldn't stand it. Instead of walking, she ran. She ran as fast as possible inside, feeling overwhelmed by anger and sadness that had blinded her. She ran all the way inside the throne room where her pain is most focused, stopping right between his and her throne and looking at the room entirely. It held memories of Jon's death, of her and Ethan's rift forming and of all the times she wished to stop loving him in fear of today happening.

Twice a widow at the age of twenty five, three times if she counts Jon, someone she would have married if they had luck on their side. It’s as if she’s a poison to anyone who dares to love her.

A scream erupts from deep inside her chest; raw and human like never before, rooted in complete and utter devastation. It was the kind of scream that made your blood run cold. It was the loudest most piercing scream her subjects had ever heard. It sounded like a scream of wild panic. A scream of hysteria and disbelief, bordering on terror. It echoed throughout the castle, the sound breaking through wall, heard on the outside as well and the sheer intensity of pain in it had left a mark on anyone who heard her screams.

Y/N's entire body shook and her body was ready to give up and follow Ethan into nothingness. In her mind she's been left with nothing, like she is nothing without him. She can almost hear him argue with her on it, stating all the reasons why he loves her that have nothing to do with him at all and it brings her to tears instantly.

„My dear, the army is approaching.“ The Queen Mother speaks and Y/N turns to her with glossy eyes and blotchy cheeks.

How can she take all that she lost with such poise? Y/N thinks bitterly.

„I can't handle this. I can't.“ Y/N croaks, falling to her knees and hands. Lisa rushes toward her, taking her face in her hands. Wiping away the young girl's tears, she smiles softly despite the loss she too has suffered.

„You're a Queen and Queens don't fall to their knees for anyone. Get up and be a Queen. Be as strong as Ethan thought you are. Be that force of nature I met with disdain but grew to love. You’re not just a Queen, but a warrior. Don’t let anyone think differently now.“ Her voice is sweet and uplifting, but her words feel like knives to Y/N's heart.

„I'm no longer the Queen.“ Y/N reminds her, placing her hands on Lisa's shoulders for proper anchoring before standing and wiping her own tears away.

„My son sent a rider ahead with this scroll. This very scroll that you need to read.“ She tells her and Y/N frowns, her eyebrows furrowing together as she licks her lips clean, the salty taste of her tears reminding her of the reason why she's crying a river of tears in the first place.

„Unless it's him telling me he's well, I do not care.“ Y/N brushed Lisa off, trying to compose herself enough to face the army and to face his lifeless body. She felt her blood turn cold and her mind calming with it, almost like her heart froze and her insides turned numb.

„It's him telling you I love you and I trust you in the most ostentatious of ways....He gave you the crown matrimonial.“

***

„Where's the King.“ Y/N's voice is clear and loud, despite her previous state only minutes ago.

The Lord Commander approaches, his eyes boring into hers, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. It’s almost smug, the look on his face unwavering and no traces of sadness of his King’s death are visible.

„The King is dead, my Queen.“ He repeats the soldier's words, only pushing her anger to the surface

„I have been informed. I want to know how and when and where his body is. Why don't I see him?!“ Her voice grows louder and louder as her anger spreads, igniting her fierce heart once more. Another thing Ethan loved about her; her fierce heart.

„We saw him fall after a French soldier ran him through. He never got up.“ The answer left her forehead wrinkling and her left eye twitching.

Wrath – it's no longer anger, but wrath.

„And you didn't see fit to find him and make sure he is truly dead? You didn't see fit to bring his body back home for a proper burial?!“

„They burned bodies.“ He shrugs so carelessly that a cold chuckle escapes her, rather loudly as well. The fire inside her is now ice and the ice she has to offer is far worse than the burning rage.

„You're telling me you abandoned your King and left him to die or you left him to be burned to death on the battlefield? And you're telling me you didn't find his body? Did you even look for it? Because if you had, you would have found him. His crown...his sword...his ring, those are all the ways you could identify him.“ The calm before the storm, it's how she looked like. The eerie calm of her sharp tone had chilled the soldiers to the bone, but not the Lord Commander. No, he had anger of his own.

„It's done now.“ He snarled and she bit her lip before allowing herself to regain her regal stance. She could taste blood on her tongue, her teeth ripped through the soft skin on her bottom lip and it spilled both in and out her mouth.

„That's not the answer. You will answer my questions. I am Queen and I command you“, she begins, but Lord Commander grew impatient, already cutting her off and using an aggressive tone with a very disrespectful string of words.

„YOU COMMAND NOTHING! Without the King you're just a common whore.“ He leaned down enough to get in Y/N's face and she could finally see him for who he is. They all could. Should the King fall, the kingdom is left to the Lord Commander until the next in line takes over or sets a regent and Grayson would most likely appoint him as such....or so he hoped.

Unfortunately for him, Y/N isn't the kind of a woman he can scare into submission. Without her rage he'd treat her as the carpet on which he walks. With her rage she is trouble best ignored, left alone until signs of submissive behavior are offered. Should she demand acknowledgment of her pain she can expect his counter-rage - the scorn of last resort to put her back into her box. She read him as an open book even before he spoke. She knew to push his buttons would mean he'd reveal his true intentions.

„Do not test my patience and do not tempt my fury, for today I am King and I will punish those who defy me.“ She spat, getting into his face as well before turning to the men.

„Take the Lord Commander to the dungeons and then rest till morning. This is an official call to arms and we will march to the battlefield to find your King and bring his body home.“ And in that moment love left her body forever. Without it all she can focus on is revenge. She wants them dead, all of them, every last one. And if she needs to start a war to make sure the man who ran her husband through is found and killed, she will.

***

Y/N sat at her throne, staring at Ethan's in thought the entire night. Knowing he singed the crown matrimonial despite her never asking for it confused her. No one simply singed such a document as it meant the line of succession and dynasty would change. It was outrageous on his behalf, but the most honest way to show how deep his affection runs for her. It means he took care of her even after his death.

Y/N didn't sleep that night at all, staring at his throne and imagining he's still there. That smirk he always had that made her believe he's the most arrogant man she's ever met, the way he'd cock his eyebrow knowing well it made her heart skip a beat without her ever confessing it or perhaps the way he'd look at her like she's the Sun and he was unworthy of her in some way...it all came to her.

She could hear the people walking and whispering how the Queen lost her mind and how sanity left her and she smiled, knowing they weren't far from truth. She wasn't the same anymore, not without him. He made up a whole lot of pieces of her heart and now it was missing. Her body lost its strength. Her mind shattered and the rest of her followed suit. Without the hatred she'd die, there isn't any part of her that feels anything else. Without it she'd be nothing, feel nothing, so why eat? Why sleep? Why continue to breathe? But she has the hate, the fuel that keeps her heart pumping and brain ticking.

Revenge is coming. It's coming real soon.

***

On her horse, she lead the army back where they came from. Her resolution is admired and feared among the soldiers, mostly among her knights. Some of them remembered her fight with Ser Roderic and the way she sneaked inside the castle during the siege that took their former King's life and they were ready to follow her in the pits of hell if necessary. But those same men remembered her kindness and mercy, the same qualities that have left her now. She was a hollow Queen and there isn't a more dangerous quality to have than that.

„We're close.“ Ser Jorah informs her and she nods, feeling a pungent smell of burning flesh in the air. She had never been on a battlefield before nor seen the aftermath, but she was determined not to look weak. She raised her head high and tapped the hilt of her father's sword once to make sure it's in place should she need it.

She's been riding with a silent oath repeating in her mind:

I will find him or burn both kingdoms to the ground, for without him I have nothing. Without him, my heart and soul are just an empty, bitter void filled with endless darkness no one can touch and survive.

And she meant every word.

The battlefield came to view and she had to stop herself from grimacing. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed thickly, her mouth dry and her eyelids refusing to close and allow her to blink. The battlefield lay quiet, for it was now a graveyard of the unburied. Their corpses lay among the buttercups and forget-me-nots. The sun still shone and the wind still blew, but somewhere mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters waited in vain. These men that were once boys who played in the yard with sticks and laughed were now meat for the birds.Their eyes were as immobile as their limbs. Their souls had long departed to the celestial planes to walk with the ancestors and all she could think is about Ethan.

Where is he? Had he left too? Was he watching over her with their fathers and was he proud?

„Find your King. The bodies aren't burnt as Lord Commander claimed, so it should be easier. After, make sure these men have a proper burial.“ She orders and the soldiers comply silently.

„I don't want to seem disrespectful Your Majesty, but you need rest. I suggest you remain here while we search.“ Ser Jorah offers and for a moment a flicker of pain and gratitude reflect in her eyes.

„Thank you, Ser Jorah, but I will take a few knights and search the woods around here. I can rest when we return.“ She gives him a small smile before picking a handful of knights to follow her into the surrounding woods. She just couldn't handle being on the field, knowing the body she worshiped and loved had laid among them.

Her mind went back to the time they did have together: all those roses he sent her, the sweet smiles, dancing, riding together, him chasing her through the wilderness, stolen glances and the way his hand held hers gently, but firmly all along. She remembered his voice that calmed any storm her mind would make up and the way he'd run a hand down her back at night when she asked him to stay. She remembered all the hushed I love you's, their fingers intertwining as her thrusted inside her while he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. She couldn't forget his quiet snores, nor the heavy arm he'd drape around her form that brought her a sense of safety she never knew could exist.

„FIND THE QUEEN!“

She heard the knights yell and her first instinct is to draw her sword and look around for danger. Her eyes move left to right in order to identify what she might be facing only to find Ser Jorah rushing toward her.

„Follow me, Your Majesty!“ He waves her over and she lets out a small sigh before doing so, knowing they must have found him.

She didn't feel ready to face his lifeless body that once had so much love for her. How could she look at him and not have him look back at her? How could she handle seeing a blank stare instead of the warmth his eyes usually held? His skin would be pale and cold, coated in bruises and blood of his enemies. He'd be as hollow as she is now and there wasn't any part of her that believed she'd see him as such and survive.

Death by a broken heart. It suited her. He was the king of her heart and she was the queen of his and it would be natural that one dies and the other follows.

In a short while, she found the knights gathered and her eyebrows furrowed, a pained grimace taking over her features as she dismounted and approached them. The men moved to let her pass and she felt her chest shake under the immense pressure her still beating heart forcing blood in the bloodstream.

Once Ser Jorah moved as well, her knees buckle and she falls to the damp forest ground. She stares ahead with her eyes wide and unmoving, tears filling and her vision blurring. For perhaps a split second her grief was suspended, the surprise protecting her until it shattered like glass. I guess you could call it shock, but to her it's an inability to compute

„Told you I'd come back to you.“

His voice seems to unfreeze her, his hand taking hers bringing her back to reality.

„You never break your promises.“ She whispered, her tears spilling over as she takes him in.

Ethan's perched against a large rock, his armor damaged and a large velvet colored pool of blood on his abdomen. He's drained of color and his hand is clammy, lips chapped and eyes tired. His hair is mattered with dirt and blood, but he's alive.

„Well once, but it was for a good reason.“ He reminds her of his decision to stop her execution all those years ago and she shakes her head, a smile coating her lips before she lunged forward and kissed his lips. She didn't care how dry they are or how his breath smelled, only that she felt him under her fingertips.

„You need medical attention. Let's go home.“ She snaps her fingers and soldiers surround them, lifting Ethan.

„You got my army to listen to you better than they listen to me. I'm jealous.“ Ethan jokes, groaning in pain and panting as they move him.

Y/N holds his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze before they set him on a horse.

„Hold on, okay? I still need you. I still want you.“ She tells him and the honesty in her voice shakes him up, forcing him to keep his eyes open and fight to stay awake for her. She could tell he was barely holding on, but he didn't want her to worry.

Ethan could tell his Queen is in ruins. He knew her well. He knew the dark circles beneath her lovely eyes meant she barely slept at all since he left, that her lips had small wounds on them from biting on them, that her pale complexion meant she hadn't eaten...she was more dead than alive, worse off than he is and he's been injured. He wouldn't worry her any further and if staying awake and joking while pretending he's not in any pain is the way to keep her going, than he'd do it.

For her.

Anything for her.

„I believe I promised to be around to bother you for a long time as well.“

***

Somewhere close to the castle, Ethan had lost consciousness. The moment they returned, physicians took over and Y/N helped them to the best of her knowledge. She worked with them without showing any signs of distress, letting her instincts and mind take over instead of heart. She studied with great physicians during her time away and she would not let it go to waste.

After several hours, they managed Ethan's injuries and cleaned him, letting him sleep and regain strength naturally. Y/N laid next to him, afraid to even touch him. She feared hurting him any further.

She woke to Ethan already awake and watching her. Before she can draw in the air her body needs she melts into his form. She can feel his firm torso and the heart that beats within. His hands are folded around her back, drawing her in closer. She can feel her body shake, crying for the missed time they will never make back and for the darkest of hours she spent thinking he was gone forever, taken from her, crying to release the tension of these five long years. He pulls his head back and wipes the tears with a calloused finger, even this roughness brings more relief than her heart can hold. He is eating her with his eyes, running his hand through her hair.

„Don't cry my valiant rose. I'm here. I'm with you. Always with you.“ He whispers into her hair, kissing her forehead gently. He let her cry her heart out, sob into his chest until she had no tears left to cry and quiet sniffles filled the room. He let her cry until she exhausted herself and his heart felt strangled by pain he brought her. They fell asleep again, holding each other for dear life.

***

The King and Queen soon discovered the truth of their Lord Commander and his plot to save the French Queen. Ethan telling her he’s the one who wounded him had left Y/N resolute. He was tried and executed for treason before the King recuperated and was well enough to resume his duties. Y/N had no mercy for the man and she made sure to make an example out of him. The Queen managed the court until he was prepared to join her.

„I'm ready! I'll lose my mind if I stay in bed one more day.“ Ethan complained, fighting his wife's attempts to keep him in.

She smirks, raising an eyebrow before straddling him. Her palms over his chest, hair falling forward, she leans down and peck his lips.

„How about you stay in today and I'll make it worth you a while?“ She winks and Ethan's will crumbles. Instead of fighting her on it, he allowed her to make his mind hazy and body praying for more. He found himself addicted to her and addicted to all she is.

„In the darkness our cuddles are feel like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. I wish I could extend the night just so I could stay close to you for longer, safe in your embrace.“ Ethan pecks her shoulder, trailing kisses to her neck and she smiles widely, finally content and happy.

„When did you become such a poet?“ She teases, lifting her chin to allow him access to her sweet spot, his hand gripping her thigh firmly in response.

„When I fell in love with you.“ He says between kisses, eliciting a moan from his Queen and it makes him smirk as well.

„I have something to tell you.“ She pushes herself away from him slightly, wanting to be face to face when she delivers her news.

Ethan frowns, worried there's more trouble brewing. He feels her fingers grazing the still angry scar left on his left side, tracing it like she's still unable to comprehend what happened to him. He knew she's still cross with France and she still seeks revenge, but he knew her wisdom and she wouldn't do anything rash now.

„Whatever it is, I can handle it, love.“ He pecks her nose once more for good measure, allowing her to speak.

„I'm with child. The physicians confirmed today.“ The words barely left her lips when Ethan flipped them over, hovering over her body before peppering her face with kisses, then her neck and chest before kissing her belly.

„I think there's already a little bump.“ He says excitedly, tracing his fingers across her abdomen to determine if he's right.

„I know!“ She squeals, her hands cupping his face and gently moving him to look at her.

„You have no idea how happy you just made me!“ Ethan's voice cracks and Y/N laughs, letting him settle back by her side, his hand on her lower abdomen remaining.

„I'm the happy one. I'm glad you never gave up on me...and I'm glad you have meddling sibling who never gave up on their intent to find something worthy that would force me to come back to deliver the news personally.“ She rambles, remembering Grayson and Cameron fondly. Both of them are to visit soon and Ethan is ecstatic about it.

„I could never give up on you. Without you, I'm hollow. With you, I'm unstoppable.“ He rests his head on her chest. He listens to the sound of her beating heart, letting it lull him to sleep.

„Sleep, my King. My love, my heart, my sun and my moon.“ She whispers softly, falling asleep in her bliss.

Blessed with four children, the King and Queen lived a happy life together and their kingdom lived in a golden age many would remember for centuries to come. The King of Hearts and The Valiant Rose remained in the hearts and minds of history, a mark no time could erase.

vimeo

Tags: @heeydolan @ashwarren32 @ourlittleshawnie @peacedolantwins @accalialionheart @dolans-lover @xalayx

#ethan dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan au #ethan dolan series #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan fluff #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan fic

87 notes · View notes

plucky-belmondo · 5 years

Text

Oneshot - Pure Fury

M/eta K/night becomes aware of Plucky’s cuts and believes R/ichter is the culprit behind it. Letting his judgement get the best of him, the masked puffball lets out his unbridled rage.

@husband-of-lucoa / @cookieswaggie / @mrs-rock-light

►"B/ELMONT. I demand to know what you did to my daughter!!” M/eta cried as he grabbed R/ichter by his shirt collar. M/eta angrily gripped the Galaxia, trying so hard not to slash R/ichter to death right there, right now. How dare the blue B/elmont injure Plucky like that!? The azure hunter tried to break free of the masked warrior’s grasp, but it was futile.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir!!” R/ichter pleaded, gritting his teeth in between words.

“I spoke with my daughter earlier and saw her hands! YOU DID THAT TO HER, DIDN’T YOU!?”

...Ah, the mirror incident. Plucky smashed a mirror days back, and it left quite the cuts on both of her hands. Of course, she told M/eta that she and R/ichter worked it out, but for M/eta, it wasn’t OK. He wanted to confront R/ichter about this, and so he did. He was unaware that those cuts were self-inflicted and not done by R/ichter, however.

“M-M/eta, wait, I can explain--” before the hunter could utter another word, Meta made a clean strike on R/ichter and threw him to the other side of the stage. His rage grew with each passing second, and so did R/ichter’s cuts.

In R/ichter’s point of view, it was as if you were being attacked by throwing knives...his pain only grew, and he begged M/eta to stop so he can give his side of the story...

...but, alas, his efforts were proven fruitless yet again; the mysterious masked knight kept slashing away at him. Now at high damage, on his last life, R/ichter was coughing so much, he shakily held up his hand towards M/eta as a last resort to beg him to stop. Considering the fact that Plucky loves R/ichter, M/eta finally sheathed G/alaxia and gave him a chance.

At this point, R/ichter’s sustained several cuts.

“P...Please...l...listen....” R/ichter said weakly. “I...I didn’t mean to hurt your daughter like that. I’m not the one who cut her hands in the first place. She...she was actually worried, so...she smashed a mirror in rage.”

M/eta quipped, “Worried? About what?”

“She....she was worried that I would end up leaving her for someone here...M/eta, you have to believe me. I’m telling the truth! I would never leave your daughter for another woman!”

This response only caused M/eta to unsheath G/alaxia again. “THEN PROVE TO ME YOU’RE NOT LYING!!”

The azure hunter proved his point by pulling out a black box from his pocket. In it...was an engagement ring. He only showed it once before; this was the second time. M/eta K/night was shocked, and lowered his sword. “Plucky’s the only woman that I love...and I would even give up my life just to see her happy. Sir...I’m aware of the pain she’s been through, and I want to be there for her. But...I wish to be with her forever. If...if it’s okay with you...then one day, I would like to have her hand in marriage.”

M/eta was silent, his cape softly swaying with the wind currents. He turned away think for a few moments about B/elmont’s declaration. Would he let him marry his daughter?

Richter hung his head down and put the box back in his pocket. “It’s alright if you don’t believe me. You can finish me off here.” he said, as he stretched his arms out.

Meta instead turned to face him again, and sighed, “...No. I will not do as you say. Your life has been spared. I understand how much you love Plucky, and I can see how strong it is. I knew I was in the right mind to trust you...if you wish to marry her, however, promise me and the other B/elmont one thing.”

“I’ll do anything, even risk myself!!”

...

“Protect each other, and never let anyone else pull you away from one another. Understand?”

R/ichter gulped in fear, “Y-Yes sir...”

#plucky writes stuff #self insert #technically counts since i mention Plucky here #self ship #Living with Batman...Sort Of #Otherworldly Bond #Azure Hunter 💙#Dad Borb

13 notes · View notes

mystarsforanempire · 6 years

Text

Loki’s Timeline

Just a timeline of marriages, big events & children. I’m going to say a YEAR of ageing for the Asgardians, once they’re adults, is the equivalent of 100 years; when they’re growing up, the equivalents are definitely a bit screwy. Re: the myth fusion, I take a lot of the mythos into my portrayal, but none of the Baldr stuff, and I also exclude Skadi.

General warnings for trauma, character death and sexual assault. I have a lot of tragedy in Loki’s past, but none of it is really an excuse? So, please don’t read any of this as a reason to woobify or excuse any of Loki’s monstrous behaviours.

He’s awful because he chooses to be, and the trauma of his past doesn’t excuse what he does with his free will.

BIRTH -- Discovered by Odin Borsson and taken home to Odin and Frigga. Loki’s new brother, Thor, is old enough to be curious, but not old enough to ask questions or remember their answers.

Aged 250 years (~5) -- Loki is old enough to begin his experimentation with seiðr, and often mimics the magic his father and mother perform. Brimming with natural talent, he shows a great love of magic in his day to day life, and although he is still a young child, he immediately takes a great deal of interest in his studies.

Aged 400 years (~8) -- Loki is proficient enough in his magic to transform himself into other forms for temporary periods, although they have to be close in size to his own. Thor, for the past while, has been given basic training by members of the palace guard and by his father; Loki, impatient to begin his own training, shows an aggressive interest in weaponry such as knives and poisons.

Aged 800 years (~14) -- Loki now jealously watches Thor practice with the Warriors Four every day, not permitted to join their practice himself. He takes tutelage in both magic and knife-skills from his mother, but isn’t yet ready in either of his parents’ minds to fight against any of the older youths. Loki is now able to take on a great many forms, and is able to create crude imitations of himself in magical illusion.

Despite these strengths, Loki is often mocked by Fandral & Thor particularly, as Loki grows no stubble and remains as pale as ever, looking very different to them, with their golden hair and rosy cheeks. When Sif makes the mistake of joining in on their mockery, Loki loses his temper, and spells her hair out of her head: forced to try to make the situation right, he visits the Dwarves of Svartalheim to get her a new head of golden hair, and he also retrieves the hammer Mjolnir and several other gifts for those of the Gods’ Council.

As punishment for cleverly avoiding having to pay the Dwarves, Loki’s mouth is sewn shut with a needle and thread; when Sif mocks this, he turns her hair to be as dark and unshining as his own. (The Dwaves Of Svartalheim is written in its entirety here.)

Aged 950 years (~16) -- Loki spars with Thor, Fandral, Hogun, Sif and Volstagg every day, and accompanies his brother on adventures close to home. Loki has a reputation for playing minor tricks and japes upon some of the citizens of Asgard, but is often asked by some members of the city for help with minor disputes and considerations, although not when it comes to fighting off beasts as Thor might be asked.

Loki is now old enough to attend the Council of the Gods, and on the first occasion he does so, the issue at hand is that of a Jotunn visiting Asgard. He offers to fortify Asgard from any outer attack by creating a gigantic wall, but he demands as recompense the sun, the moon, and the hand of the goddess Freya in payment. Loki, desperate to impress the other Gods, suggests that they give him only three months in which to complete his work, that the Council can avoid giving him payment at all. Gladly, the Gods agree to Loki’s plan.

Aided by the great stallion, Svadilfari, the giant smith looks like he may be about to finish his goal, and the Gods blame Loki for the fact that they will have to offer the recompense they promised: Odin tells him that if Freya is to be given to the giant smith, he will make of a wedding gift Loki’s head.

Transforming into a mare, Loki leads the stallion far away from the giant smith, running until the last days of winter have given way to spring, but so exhausted by his run, he is unable to transform back into his true form, and he cannot fight off the stallion’s lust.

Some months later, Loki gives birth to the eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, and the foal is taken away to become Odin’s steed. Odin and Heimdall are the only ones who know about about Sleipnir’s parentage, and Odin means it as a kindness to save Loki the humiliation of the situation, but Loki never forgives him. (The Coming Of The Giant Smith told in its entirety here.)

Aged 1050 years (~17) -- Loki is responsible for the kidnapping of his good friend, Idunn, and must then make moves to retrieve her. Her kidnapper, the Jotunn Thjazi, is killed by the Council of the Gods for his crimes. Inspired by the events of Idunn’s rescue, Loki begins to utilize his newfound ability: he Skywalks from place to place, and begins to visit far-distant realms from his own.

Aged 1100 years (~18) -- Loki meets the Jotunn woman Angrboda on his travels, and falls head over heels for her bright spirit and warlike capabilities. He spends day after day offering her his heart on a platter, and with every day, she grows more fond of him. They marry in the dead of winter, beneath naked trees on a blanket of hard snow, then elope to an island on the edge of forever, surrounded on every side by harsh seas, and together they have three children.

First, the great serpent, JORMUNGANDR; next, the lovely and round-cheeked HEL, and lastly, the wolf, FENRIR. Loki, far away from the City of Asgard, spends his days in the deep waters of the endless ocean, playing with his children and his wife. Loki, so full of the love he could never lay upon the back of his first son, Sleipnir, cannot believe how lucky he is to have such children.

Aged 1200 years (~19) -- A seer tells the Council of the Gods back in Asgard that the children of Loki will lead to Ragnarok: Odin is immediately worried the seer means the stallion Sleipnir, but the seer goes on to say that the leader will be the child that runs on four legs, with amber eyes. The Council of the Gods seek out the home of the newly weds on a day when Loki is far absent, hunting a great deer with which to feed his family.

Odin casts the great serpent Jormungandr into the sky, cursed to eat his own tail, to ensure that he cannot break away and bring about Ragnarok; the goddess Hel he casts into the underworld, that she might rule the realm with her icy fist and not break away to bring about Ragnarok; finally, the wolf Fenrir, still naught but a pup, he binds in chains deep beneath the halls of Asgard, unable to ever break away.

In the skirmish between Odin and these three children of Loki, the goddess Angrboda is killed, and when Loki returns to his home, a freshly butchered deer upon his shoulders, he is so distraught and full of rage that the seas around their island home are brought to a tumultuous boil, leaving no water, and a layer of salt upon the sand.

Loki is dragged back to Asgard kicking and screaming, and he levels whole forests before he exhausts himself and falls unconscious upon the ground, his skin sizzling with overpowering magic. Odin carries his son home in his arms, although clutching the body burns his own hands, and for the next few months, he and Frigga take it in turns to take care of him, as the overuse of his magic has worked him into a dangerous fever that could easily kill him.

Loki initially forgets his children and his wife, and slowly pieces together his memory as he recovers from the fever. By the time he remembers everything, his children already despise him: the serpent Jormungandr moves away from his hand, the wolf Fenrir snarls and slavers at him, and the young goddess Hel will not respond when he tries to call upon her.

Aged 1500 years (~21) -- Odin arranges a marriage for Loki, wanting for him to be able to forget Angrboda and his lost children. Loki is unwilling, but each day Sigyn brings him flowers and does her best to make him laugh, and with each day, Loki’s hardened heart softens. They marry in the warmth of springtime, in robes sewn of flower petals and ornamented in gold.

Sigyn bears Loki two twin boys: Narfi and Valí. These two children are full of Norse blood and brightness: they are each sweet and sharp in terms, and Loki adores them, puts his very heart into raising them. He doesn’t isolate himself as he did with Angrboda, but remains a warrior alongside Thor and his Warriors Four.

Narfi and Valí play alongside the many children to Volstagg, and for the first time, Loki feels like he truly belongs. He still grieves for Angrboda and his lost children, but no matter how he tries, he cannot coax his children into listening to desperate apologies. Loki teaches his children what he can of magic, and Sigyn teaches them the name and origin of every flower and tree around them.

When Narfi and Valí are around eight years old (400/500 years), Loki joins Thor and Odin on a trip to Alfheim, where an elf takes offence to a well-meaning comment of Thor’s. When the Elf attempts to poison Thor’s wine, Loki takes offence to such underhanded moves being brought into play (by someone other than him) and he humiliates the Elf publicly in the nearby square.

The Elf goes to Asgard, and curses Valí, turning him into a wolf, that he might devour Narfi. When Loki returns to Asgard, discovering that one of his sons is missing and the other has been mauled to death, the Elf sends him Valí’s pelt. Loki and Sigyn part ways.

Aged 1900 years (~25) -- Instead of angry, this time, Loki is unfeeling, and disappears for around three hundred years. Although Odin, Frigga and Thor each search for him, he is nowhere to be seen; he uses a special magic to hide himself from Heimdall’s Allsight, and when he returns, finally, he pretends he does not hear the questions asked of him.

He slips into his position as Thor’s brother, and focuses his attentions on this duties as prince. He refuses any woman that so much as looks in his direction.

Aged 2100 years (~27) -- The events of Thor.

#v; in times of youth #t; headcanon #c; superior self | loki

2 notes · View notes