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buckyjustbelikethat · 4 years

Text

The Fiction of Fairytales: Chapter One

Title: The Fiction of Fairytales: Chapter One

Characters: Stucky x Reader

Summary: (a/b/o au that is non-cannon compliant) After being captured and forced to live as Brock Rumlow’s mate for years you are kidnapped by the Avengers. They plan to interrogate you for information on Hydra and Rumlow, but after Steve and Bucky realize they are your true mates, they realize that their kidnapping was more of an unexpected rescue.

Warnings: Mentions of assault, kidnapping, death, and abuse, and strong language.

Word Count: approx. 3000

A/N: Hello lovelies! 💕 I’m so sorry for the late update. Life has been really crazy both personally and globally. I hope the longer chapter makes up for the wait. Let me know if you want to be tagged or if you have any suggestions or comments!

Previous Chapter

You followed his instructions until they reached the tower. As you were driving you had the urge to cry passing by the buildings and civilization you had been kept from for so long. But the freedom was a placebo, a momentary feeling that reality is plotting to destroy. You knew you were trading one cage for another. One where you were trapped with a murderer and one when you are considered one. Tony Stark fought for good, and he proved that Brock had turned you into something only recognizable as bad.

They arrived at the tower and the moment you placed the car in park your hands were put into high tech handcuffs. Stark’s hand firmly gripped your arm, and though it was not soft, you breathed a sigh of relief when it felt nothing like the force of Brock’s hands. Stark led you to an elevator that seemed detached from the main part of the building. You hoped he didn’t feel the slight tremble of your body. You were used to the danger of being a captive of Brock, but here, you didn’t know what to expect. The floor you arrived at looked like a police station. There were containment rooms and what looked like interrogation rooms. There weren’t many others on the floor, but the guards scattered throughout looked at you in disgust as you entered. You knew that you did not participate in any of the violence hydra had committed, but being looked at as if you did made you feel dirty.

Stark led you into one of the interrogation rooms, and sat you down on an uncomfortable metal chair. He sat opposite of you and placed his feet on the table between you.

“So, are you also a mass murderer or do you just have a fetish for murders in cults?”

His question reminded you once again that he did not save you, you were considered his enemy. You didn’t know the use in arguing with him, you were unsure if they would ever really believe you, and whether the reality of the circumstance would really save you, or if you were considered damned.

“I’ve never killed anyone.” You stated with as much confidence in your voice as you could muster.

“A girl like you bonded with an evil person like that has to get her hands dirty a little once and awhile.”

You met his statement with silence. Staring at the metal table and wishing all of this would be over. When he realized you were not going to respond to his previous statement he placed photos down in front of you.

“Do you recognize any of these men?”

Your body involuntarily shivered as you had looked at the faces of men who had taken part in your torture. You recognized Pierce first, and other Hydra members that had brought you so much trauma.

“Yes.”

“Are they all still alive?”

“I don’t know.” It was your honest answer but it made you feel hopeless. Stark wasn’t going to trust you if you couldn’t tell him anything useful. You hadn’t seen a lot of them in a while, but you would never be informed of those kinds of details.

“So you’re telling me you recognize all these men and we are supposed to believe that you know nothing about hydra?” You didn’t have to look at his face to recognize the skepticism in his words.

As Steve and Bucky were walking into the interrogation room they were hit both with the most intoxicating smell, it smelled like warmth, like vanilla and caramel, and it reminded them of the cookies Steve’s mom used to make them when they were younger. Underneath the overwhelming scent was the unmistakable wave of distress. At first they didn’t understand where the scent could be coming from, or who. It didn’t take long for them to narrow down the fact that there was likely no one else nearby besides the Hydra member, who was also Brock’s omega, that Tony just brought in. They glanced at each other in apprehension before entering. They knew that whatever they were walking into it was not the happy meeting of their omega they had dreamed of, but their instincts were screaming at them to open the door.

Steve couldn’t ignore the protectiveness he was feeling towards Bucky in the moment. Whoever this omega was, they were somehow involved with the same people that had hurt Bucky. He was ignoring the protectiveness he felt towards the omega he had not even met yet, as far as he was concerned they did not deserve his protection, Bucky was his priority right now.

“Stark, Captain America and Sergeant Barnes request access to the room to aid interrogation.”

“Let them in, Friday.” Stark responds with a sigh, obviously frustrated he got nowhere on his own.

As the two men entered the room your heart stopped. Their scents felt like home. The dark haired man smelled like freshly brewed coffee, and the blonde haired man smelled like ginger and licorice. You knew without a question these two beautiful men in front of you were your alphas, your true mates. After your mind cleared from the fog that their presence brought you immediately diverted your eyes, cursing yourself for forgetting your position, if Brock was here he would have punished you for looking at an alpha, even if they are his enemy.

Bucky felt consumed by you. You were more beautiful than he ever could have pictured. He was hyper analyzing every frown, every tremor that your body was making, the way that you diverted your eyes from them. The distress and feeling of hopelessness that surrounded you suffocated him. He just hoped your emotions were not fueled by you missing your mate. Though he didn’t like the alternative. He could not win in this situation, and underneath his calculated demeanor, Steve could also feel the feeling of hopelessness Bucky tried to bury, he could not hide his emotions from his mate.

“We have reason to believe they are trying to capture and reactivate the winter soldier, what are their plans?” Stark spoke completely unaware of what was going on.

“The winter soldier?” You were thankful to be snapped back to the reality of the moment, but his questions once again made you feel useless.

“Me.” The dark haired man replied, or Sergeant Barnes as the AI called him.

Your face fell. Though you didn’t know whether to trust your true mates or not, you knew you had very little chance of gaining their love. Not only did you bond with someone else, but they were someone that obviously hurt one of them, and might be actively planning to do so again. You would be pissed if fate gave you you as well.It seemed fate cursed them and is turned your life into a farce.

“I don’t know.” You sounded like a broken record, and you knew with each repetition there will be dire consequences.

“How convenient, it seems you know nothing.”

“I’m sorry, I promise I’m telling the truth.”

Steve’s composure fell, he no longer could quiet his rage.

“Bullshit! What kind of sick joke is this? We are mated to an omega not only bonded with hydra, but obviously she has blatant allegiance to them as well.”

“Mate?” Stark questioned in shock.

“Steve...” Bucky interjected, still not as convinced as his mate was that you were lying and trying to get him to relax.

“No Buck! You deserve so much better than her, than this. And not only does she not have the decency to wait for her true mates, but she mates with a member of Hydra, and is actively covering for an evil organization.” Steve said, looking into Bucky’s eyes while ignoring Stark’s question.

“She’s your true mate?” Tony tried again.

“No.” Steve said, though the message behind his words was heard loud and clear by everyone in the room. He was rejecting her.

You felt like you couldn’t breath. You knew what was going to happen, but God, you didn’t know how you could live with it. You knew his words were the truth, he didn’t even know the full extent of how broken you were and he could already tell you would never measure up.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to show your honesty behind your words, but your voice was weak. You did not understand why you were mated either, but you knew they were good people, they were alpha’s sure, and there are parts of that that scare you, but you know that if you had met them before ever meeting Brock, they would be everything you had ever dreamed of. Your eyes remained diverted, but you could tell just from his voice, his love for Bucky. You felt like it was ripping you in two, all you had ever wanted was a fraction of that love, but the universe deemed you unworthy, adding validity to all of Brock’s claims.

While Steve was filled with protectiveness, Bucky wasn’t so sure of what to make of everything. The ways your eyes never met their own, the pain and fear he could detect though you tried to hide it, and the apology only filled him with questions. Your behavior reminded him of his own when he first got out of Hydra, part of him hoped this wasn’t the case. He would rather be mated to evil, than to be mated to someone that had to withstand the kind of pain he had to.

“What is it exactly you are sorry for?” Bucky asks, his voice still cool, but not laced with the anger Steve’s words were entangled with.

“For being mated with someone else…” you cut yourself off there, not sure if you should list all the reasons why you were sorry you ended up their mate. “And for not being able to help you all with the information you want.”

“Not being able to and not willing to are two different things.” He replied.

“I.. I know. I promise you if I knew I would help you. I understand you don’t like me or trust me. I would feel the same considering who Brock is, but please believe that more than anyone, I don’t want him to be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

“Then how the hell can you justify being with him? For not waiting for your true mates, for him?” Steve almost yells as he tries to keep his cool. He was hurt but he was masking it with anger. Bucky reaches out his hand and lays it on Steve’s shoulder, he gives him a look that pleads for his silence.

Bucky could see the tears pooling in your eyes as you fought them away, and his fear that his suspicions might be true was nagging at his mind.

“How long have you been with Brock?”

This was something that you had fought over the years to know the answer to. You weren’t sure of time when he first took you, the days blended together, but once he started giving you more freedom you decided to keep track of how long it had been.

“Eight years.” you said.

“Okay.” Bucky said, his voice calming. “We have no records of you before Hydra, so can you tell us how old you are?”

“25.” Your voice was still breathy and quiet, unsure his intentions behind his questions.

The fear nagging at Bucky became more pronounced when he learned that you weren’t even of age when you got together.

“How did you meet?”

He watched you as your body froze, panic entered your eyes and your breath became shorter. As you shrunk into your chair you winced at the metal pushing against your bruised body.

Steve started to sense the reasoning behind Bucky’s questions, especially when he saw your reaction. Things started to make sense to Tony too, especially when knowing how little you went out, and the way you looked for the cameras. He suspected you feared him and tried to find safety in knowing that Brock could see you in the surveillance footage, but now he was starting to think your fear was more of the cameras than him.

You didn’t know what to do, he asked about one of the worst days of your life, and you feared they would be disgusted by you if he understood. You saw Bucky move closer to you in an attempt to calm you down, his alpha instincts telling him to soothe the anxiety of his omega. But the closer he got to you the more you shrunk away from him. Trying to hide within the cold metal of your chair, as your pain became more pronounced.

“Hey, it’s okay, we want to help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t talk to us.”

His words calmed you and you cursed that he was able to have an effect on you. He knelt down beside your chair, trying to get a better view of your eyes, despite you doing everything in your power to hide your face behind your hair. You decided to rip the bandaid off, maybe if they understood then they would realize you were no use to them, and then maybe you could let you die on your own terms. You knew there was no other alternative. Brock would always find you, and you had no way of defending yourself, and you would not let yourself become a burden to them as an unwanted mate. You wouldn’t force them to deal with that, it would be wrong of you.

“He killed my parents and he was supposed to kill me too, but he took me as his mate instead.”

“He forced you to bond with him?” He was trying to suppress the rage overwhelming his body, he did not want to scare you away. Steve was still at a distance, now battling his own guilt from what he said to you.

“Yes, I promise, I meant nothing to him, I was just a body, everyone in Hydra viewed me the same. I promise they never discussed any information with me around, and if they did I would tell you, please believe me.” You spoke through your own tears.

“We believe you.” Tony spoke, laced with the same guilt Steve feels.

“Thank you... But they will find me, and what they will do to me is worse than death, I can’t go back, and I won’t be a burden to you, you both deserve to find an omega who is good enough. So please, I’m begging you to kill me.”

Steve and Bucky both started to growl. Unhappy with the words they are hearing from their omega.

“No!” Steve and Bucky both blurted out.

Your whole body was shaking, and it got worse knowing they wouldn’t allow you the kindness of a quick death. “Please, I know you don’t owe me anything but please. I can’t go back. Please.”

Bucky’s hand reached out to calm you, but he immediately realized it was a bad idea when you flinched away. Your face contorted in pain once again and Steve and Bucky wished more than anything that they could fix everything for you right then and there, no matter the cost. Bucky resigned his hand to himself, but Steve came up and knelt beside Bucky.

“No one is going to hurt you again. I promise you. We will protect you sweetheart. I’m so sorry we thought you were Hydra.” Steve spoke to you. His voice soft, and laced with pain for his mate.

“We are your Alpha’s and we will protect you.” Bucky said firmly, assuring you that they weren’t going anywhere despite what Steve had said earlier.

You calmed yourself enough to reply to their assertions.

“You don’t have to protect me,” you wiped your tears from your face with your still handcuffed hands. “I’ll be fine. Please, like you said earlier, you deserve better, and I understand that.”

“No, no. That is not true.” Steve said distressed at what his omega was saying to him.

“Honey, I was a captive of Hydra for years, they made me do horrible things, I understand what they are capable of, but that is not a reflection on you. Did you want to be there?”

“No.” You sniffled.

“Do you agree with the horrible things that they do?”

“No!” You stated, trying to convince them.

“Then there is nothing that could change our mind.”

You still felt unconvinced but Steve didn’t give you much time to reject what Bucky said.

“Are you hurt?” Steve asked, assessing as much of your body as he could.

You nodded. “I’ll be fine though, Brock wasn’t happy with me this morning.”

You could see Bucky and Steve’s body both tense up at your words.

“What happened?”

“It was my fault, I looked up at him.”

Both men started growling again, even Tony joined in already becoming protective over his teammates and friends’ omega.

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” Bucky spoke to you.

“But I’m an omega.. and I shouldn’t have done that.”

Bucky wished he reached out and guided your chin up so you could look him in his eyes, but he was afraid of scaring you even more.

“Doesn’t matter if you are an omega, doll. You are not lesser than other people, especially not him.” Bucky said his voice caring.

“Can we take you to the medical wing to get you checked out?” Steve asked.

“S-sure.” You replied, still not knowing if you could trust them and their words, but the fantasy of their words of love was too enticing. You decided that even if this didn’t last, it was worth it to escape, even for just a moment, in fiction.

Next Chapter

Tags (open): @snakesonastarship @thanossucks @yomama-umbridge @grandluminaryearthquake @laughsandlivia @bloo-moon-freak @this-is-a-chilis-drive-thru @sergeantrosabellaswan

#stucky x reader #alpha stucky x reader #stucky #alpha bucky barnes #alpha steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader

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wishfullyeternal · 4 years

Text

Jack Sparrow x Reader- Tension

Words- 1,294

Warnings- Language

A/N- Thanks for the request, definitely broadened my horizons! I enjoyed writing it and hopefully I portrayed him correctly! As always, requests are open and I love you lovelies!

I don’t really have any specific plot, but there is an alarming lack of Jack Sparrow fan fiction out there, especially *good* Jack Sparrow fan fiction. Maybe if you could do something where he betrays the reader to teach them a lesson that could save their life one day and accidentally reveals he’s deeply in love with them and the whole thing is a farce? You don’t have to but I would really really appreciate it. Thank you!!!

"Captain Jack Sparrow I presume?" The man turned around, his beaded hair clacked against one another.

"The one and only," The man leaned on the cobblestone wall next to him, he kicked up sand and seemed drunk on some kind of alcohol. You learned Rum was his poison of choice. That was when you met the most eccentric pirate of your life, and quite possibly the last pirate you would ever meet, considering how many near-death experiences you had whilst sailing the seven seas with him. You got along fine though, besides the drunken arguments in the ship's hull that may have gotten a little out of hand. You may have almost thrown him overboard. He never lets you forget about it. At this point, you were stuck with him.

"Time to go to Swank, off of the Atlantic!" Jack went to the front of the ship and looked out to the endless ocean. You scoffed, he looked at you in confusion.

"What? Do you not want to go?" You laughed at him,

"Just a weird sounding island, don't you think? Sound like something from the year 2000..." Jack shook you out of your thoughts,

"This is not the time to daydream, we've got sailing to do!" He ran across the ship, moving parts and praying for the wind to take him the right way. In a few days' time, with the wind blowing all the right ways you arrived. Anchoring the boat the both of you ran out to the island Swank. It wasn't anything mesmerizing, but it was still nice to have your feet on solid land once in a while. The air was clear and the palm trees were shaking in the light wind. The crew had gone separate ways, planning to meet up tonight. You and the Captain, however, wanted to explore the desolate island. The eccentric drunkenness of Captain Jack Sparrow made him especially fun to go adventuring with. He would trip over rocks and stones, sometimes even talk to birds that ventured too close. You laughed at his stupidity as he looked back at you. You thought you saw him blush, but he quickly smiled and took your hand.

"Coming?" You nodded and he pulled you along with his callused hand. You ran with him until you spotted what seems to be a building. He stopped and hid behind a tree, you followed and did the same.

"Abandoned?" You asked him, Jack shrugged.

"There's only one way to find out," He lept over a fallen tree trunk, you trailing slightly behind. Looking at the structures he motioned for you to come closer.

"Abandoned indeed," You said.

"Well then, let's explore my friend!" He walked around the structures, looking into each one, finding nothing. You went ahead and right when you were about to look into one of the structures you felt something crack and you suddenly fell into a hole. You screamed in surprise. You heard loud footsteps and Jack was soon looking at you in the hole.

"Well, it seems someone has found something." He said, you crossed your arms.

"You gonna just stand there or help get me out?" He sighed and walked presumably to find something for you to climb out with. Although he took a lot longer than you thought, you began to call out for him once ten minutes had passed.

"Jack? Captain?" You began to yell,

"Jack, get over here! Help me out!" You heard footsteps coming towards the hole and sighed in relief.

It wasn't Jack.

"Who the hell are you?" The man pointed at you with a machete and dropped a rope.

"I would recommend you climb that now, wouldn't want a pretty girl like you to be killed."

Oh god. You thought.

"Where's my Captain?" The man snorted,

"You'll see him soon enough." You climbed out of the hole, but before you had a chance to run away he pushed you into the ground, sand and dirt filling your mouth. He roughly tied your hands together behind your back and lifted you up. He walked you to an unexplored side of the island. You saw Jack in the clearing, his hands also bound. The man sat you near him, but too far for you to plan anything. He looked over at you and gave you a slight smile, almost apologetically.

"Two pirates come across our island? What a surprise." People had begun to crowd around us, the man who captured us spoke, seeming to be the leader.

"So, what should we do with you two?" Jack spoke up,

"It's all her fault, I never wanted to land here, imprison her, not me." You looked at him with confusion.

"Lock her up, I did nothing wrong." You whimpered.

"Jack?" He didn't even bat an eye to you. The man used his machete to break the binds that held Jack.

"You may run free, but if I see your ship again, you won't be as lucky." Jack sprinted into the woods and slowly his footsteps faded away. You held your composure, even as they locked you away, presumably awaiting your execution.

The hours passed slowly, almost as slowly as the drips of water leaking from one corner of the room. You sat mostly in silence, listening to the rustling of leaves. You were just thinking, how could someone who you thought was a friend betray you? He didn't even seem to take a second look. You were disposable, that bastard. You rubbed your head, it was starting to get dark. Your hours were ticking by, but there was nothing you could do. You were alone, you were alone and scared. The only thing that lulled you the sleep was the dripping of the water.

Waking up with a start you heard the scraping of metal, going towards the door it was...Jack?

"Thought you'd need a little help," He smiled, you weren't happy though. He managed to break the lock and let you out. Then you both ran, ran until the ship appeared. Jack pulled up the anchor and sailed away from the island, sighing in relief.

"Why the hell would you do that?" You grabbed his shoulder, making him face you.

"Do what?" You pursed your lips,

"Blame me for everything?" He went to say oh but instead stayed in silence.

"I didn't want you to get hurt..." You raised one brow and motioned for him to continue.

"I wouldn't be able to stand myself if you had gotten hurt, so I had to let them imprison you, then get you out." You snapped at him,

"You betrayed me!" He sighed,

"It's time I tell you something," he handed the wheel to one of his shipmates and led you to the back of the ship, away from prying eyes.

"Listen, ever since I met you..." He smiled, remembering the memory.

"I've always wanted to be friends with you, you were strong and lively, much different than other ladies, plus the other ones didn't really take well with me." He smiled and took your hand in his. He seemed nervous, much unlike the eccentric pirate you knew.

"I love you," He looked away, afraid to see your eyes.

"I always have, even when we argue, I go to bed wanting to be beside you. I just can't live without you..." You grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"Hey, I love you too, I always will. I couldn't live without my favorite Captain." He smiled at you and caressed your cheek. He brought you close and said,

"You were always my favorite," You smiled, then he kissed you, slowly and filled with years of pining tension. It was perfect, everything was perfect. You knew at that moment, everything was going to be okay.

#jack sparrow #jack sparrow x reader #pirates of the caribbean #fanfiction #fanfic #jack sparrow fanfiction #jack sparrow fanfic #jack sparrow x reader fanfic #jack sparrow x reader fanfiction #johnny depp #captain jack sparrow #davy jones #elizabeth swann

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arsnovacadenza · 4 years

Text

Day 6- Home

Characters: Napoleon, Isaac, Sebastian, Isaac, Jean (with others’ cameo)

Pairings : none, Gen

Ao3 Link : Here

Warning : mentions of suicide

home

Thick black clouds rose high into the night sky as the mansion was burning.

Among the rubble stood Napoleon, holding his rapier limply. His chest heaved laborious breaths, a human weakness his demi-vampire status couldn't remove.

He tried making sense of his surroundings. It was a futile act, with fire and smoke obscuring his vision. Vapor invaded his lungs as Napoleon forced himself to walk.

Why did everything turn out this way?

Napoleon didn't even question "how" as the former emperor himself had been unaware that a fire had broken out. Even the quick and capable Sebastian was reduced to a panicked mess as the inferno began to spread over various parts of the mansion.

"Monsieur Napoleon," the butler stammered apologetically, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry. I tried, but there —there's nothing else I could do."

Meanwhile, Leonardo and the Count were rushing in all directions to find the other residents one-by-one and drag them out. Napoleon saw Theo carrying his brother out, shouting something along the lines of "Broer, forget about the paintings. We can't save them!"

Napoleon had barged through the fire with Arthur to look for Dazai, whom they found gazing at the embers around him with dissonant tranquility.

(Both men argued for a good long while until Napoleon forced the sullen novelist on Arthur and commanded him to make a run for it).

But now, Napoleon found himself trapped in the fire.

It was ridiculous, knowing that some of the men —himself included —had a sliver of death wish despite all the benefits their second life offered. Yet in the face of a deadly situation such as this, their first instinct was to flee. Napoleon thought back to Vincent and how the painter must have suffered, knowing he failed to protect the very things he'd been living for.

And then, there's that one person who'd been claiming he had no desire to live at all.

Where is he now?

Napoleon banished the mental image of the man's possible reaction to finding himself encircled by the blaze.

In desperation, he scrambled to every direction, getting more and more lost by the critical seconds. He had crossed the (now crumbling) stairs and reached the ground floor, that he was positive. But the growing panic debilitated his chances of finding any possible exit.

His emerald eyes fell on one of the paintings on the wall. Comte told him that his old friend produced it ages ago, during one of his brighter moods.

That's right, this mansion had long seen Leonardo's worst and best days. It had been home to all of them, bearing witness to times when they were at their most vulnerable as well as their most joyous.

Napoleon wanted to shut his eyes and let his memories away from this moment. Just yesterday, Isaac had been babbling to him about his pet hedgehog's recovery after not eating for two days. Meanwhile, this afternoon, Mozart handed him an invitation to some socialite's banquet, saying that he'd be presenting a new piece inspired by tales of his imperial army.

After this, he will no longer hear the composer play his most celebrated tunes nor watch as new pieces were brought to life. The music room must be ablaze right this very moment; the sterling piano reduced to ashes and the precious sheets consumed by the bonfire.

Napoleon supposed he was lucky that he'd been in the bedroom when the whole commotion started and not in the attic. It'd be more difficult to escape, then. Still, he lamented the loss of those nights when he gazed down at Paris from the window. The warm city lights, a grand sign of civilization and progress, assured him that his arduous efforts for the nation weren't for naught.

Napoleon's thoughts immediately flew to his bedroom upstairs. Regret welled as he realized that the warm bed was no more. There went his sanctuary, his cocoon where he spent lazy afternoons banishing away murky thoughts and lingering dreams of the past. That room was his temporary shelter in this life that felt even more fleeting than his mortal one.

His chest constricted as he thought of the sparring arena and the man he spent his time with dueling and examining each other's weapons. They talked about horses as well —and what of them? What about Ange? In his befuddled state of mind, Napoleon pictured Jean barreling towards the stages, freeing the alarmed horses and setting them free, including his beloved Ange.

It didn't take long for Napoleon's mind to dart towards the kitchen. Did the fire start there? Did anyone see it happen? Nonsense, Sebastian must have been around the dining room and kitchen. After all, it was close to dinnertime when Leonardo alerted them about the fire—

Ah, he just remembered that he'd promised Sebastian to help him prepare dinner this afternoon. But instead, he forgot and went to the thermae instead with Isaac and Jean. The enigmatic Japanese would never confront him about it, but Napoleon still felt guilty nonetheless.

Well, none of that matters now, does it?

So Napoleon let his weapon fall to the ground unceremoniously. Idly, he wondered why his cape still hadn't caught fire by now. The old (yes, he was old and weary alright) Frenchman toyed with the thought of perishing together with this godforsaken building.

His first life had been long and tumultuous. This one was so short and surreal, it felt like a dream.

It is sweet and proper to die for one's country. To die like this, confused and grieving, was a farce. Then again, this was a hundred times better than succumbing to his end on that faraway island, lonely and in pain.

The former— nay, an emperor he shall forever remain —The emperor stared ahead past the screen of fumes. He took in the scenery before him one last time and sighed deeply.

Napoleon closed his eyes.

It was a great run, but even the best of times all come to an end.

Isaac struggled to break free from Sebastian's iron hold as he watched the mansion collapse.

"Let me go, you bastard! Napoleon's still in there!" Isaac thrashed about. "What are you all standing around for? If you don't go after him, I will—"

But Sebastian only embraced him tighter, his eyes red and his face stripped of its usual composure. "There is no use, sir. We can't risk going in there and getting ourselves trapped. Besides, this is Monsieur Napoleon. Of course, he'll return—"

"He doted on you like a son, you idiot!" Isaac screamed at the butler. "Are you REALLY that much of a coward to save the man you said you admired? Piss off—"

"I'll go." A deep voice rang amidst the chaos.

Isaac and Sebastian directed their attention towards the man walking in the direction of the mansion, his cape billowing in the wind.

"Jean!" Isaac called out to the soldier. "Can you go and save him?"

Sebastian winced at the thought of Jean d'Arc, braving through the fire to save another man. He can't even light a matchstick on his own, how is this even possible?

But Jean wordlessly unclipped his cape and let it fall to the ground. He adjusted the sword belt on his hip as Sebastian and Isaac watched.

Done with his preparations, he turned towards the men.

"I'm going inside." He declared. "No need to worry about us, for we are soldiers."

"We know! But—" the butler cried. He wasn't about to lose another great man to this catastrophe. "Are you certain about this?!"

Jean stared back at him through unreadable, iolite-colored eyes. Sebastian wanted to imagine that he was seeing something other than sorrow.

"I am certain," Jean replied. "Please wait for us here."

With one final nod, he made his way towards the ravaged building, the fire raging more violently than even the pyre.

Jean tightened his grip on the basket hilt of his sword.

There were not many things I could save from back then, he braced himself against the heat. There's probably not much I can save now.

But if it's for a friend, then maybe...

Jean broke into a run.

Then maybe I can reach out for it, just this once.

Made for @kissmetwicekissmedeadly‘s Napoleon Birthday Prompt 2020. The prompt was “home”.

“But Riri! Why are you hurting your readers like this? This is supposed to be Napoleon’s birthday! You should be celebrating!” Naw, I haven’t been doing angst in a while and I gotta practice.

Tagging @kisara-16 @thedollarstoresatan @delicateikemenmemes @ikesensrandomninjagirl24 @ashavazesa @hokkaido-fox @nuclearwinterexe @lulu-the-hedgehog @longingkisses @weird-profiterole @napoleonstan @scummy-writes @an-otome-cally-correct @nafeary

#ikevam fanfic #ikemen vampire #ikevam napoleon bonaparte #ikevam jean d'arc #ikevam sebastian #riri tries ikevam

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volarentarchived · 4 years

Text

@veiliisms cont.

there was a gentleness, a kindness behind gruff tonality that was simply unbearable. felid had known a fraction of afton’s prickly demeanour had been some parts farce. otherwise, why become her mentor ? why take her on despite the lack of obligation ? why put in any effort to guide this wispy trainwreck of a girl ? to be treated unkindly was what she was used to, and any light cast on shadowess, even by someone who walked the same paths, felt like burning.

she flinched back initially, fighting to keep composure as he checked her for wounds. she was, but nothing that aura wouldn’t fix within the hour. the damage had been more mental, a stab at a slowly healing psyche, an attack on what she had thought was a safe space. how had she allowed herself to forget that she could never be safe ? it was his words, an attempt at encouragement despite how awfully she’d behaved these last few weeks, that prompted blake to bite into her bottom lip, eyes becoming glassy.

arms drawn tight around her she nodded her head stiffly, blood still splattered across the white of her cloak, billowing when she followed him. it had been so long since she’d quaked in the face of bloodshed. she thought she was used to this. blake wanted to say something else, but she didn’t know what, wracked her mind for anything that would get them to some semblance of normal.

‘ i’m fine. it doesn’t ... ’ a pause, and then a wet trembly sigh. ‘ — it doesn’t hurt. ’

#veiliisms #veiliisms' afton.#bb / gen.#bb / ic.

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inkbun · 6 years

Note

What if Sombra got into a heated argument with her S/O but before they can settle it out they get called on a mission. Things go south and her S/O almost dies and gets amnesia?

Ooh, I liked writing this one. Doing everything but the amnesia part for the sake of time, but if you send a follow-up reminder I’ll write a sequel. Enjoy! 💔

(Warning: *Very* slight gore and drug mentions, if you’re sensitive to that sort of stuff)

Sombra

Words: 1,860

Genre: Romance, Angst & Tragedy

“You lied to me, Olivia,” you snarled, dashing your tablet on the table. The screen cracked, but you hardly cared. “I trusted you, and you screwed me over…again.”

“I didn’t lie,_______,” snapped Sombra, violet eyes caught between fury and fear.

She reached out to you, touch pleading. You swatted her away.

No matter how much you wanted to trust her—no, needed to—she found a way of screwing things up. At first, it’d been minor slip-ups: a shady infiltration here, a wetwork operation there. It was grey as hell and heinous in spots, but you didn’t sign up for Blackwatch to be a moral paragon.

After all, you’d sought her out like bees after honey. Forget that you’d made a rule against sleeping with your colleagues, having turned down both Lena’s and Jamison’s advances before.

She was technicolor bright, had you wrapped around her manicured finger from the first “Hey there.”

Brilliant, playful and menacing—it was a combination you’d never run across before. Her laugh was intoxicating, vanished all good sense and thrust you into her web for the better part of eight months.

Things were a little disjointed—she had a habit of sneaking up on you during work, and your schedules were out-of-sync due to last minute missions.

Still it progressed, the two of you declaring yourselves exclusive two months of dating.

Four months in and you’d saved her life during an omnic ambush at Petra—it was the first time she said “I love you.” You stayed with her in the infirmary until she was better, made it a point to volunteer for her missions whenever they had an extra spot.

Though relationships were officially forbidden between agents, Sombra made a point of kissing you on the dropship before and after each mission. “Para la buena suerte,” she’d say, tapping a finger against your lip.

Six months in, she shattered your heart.

While you didn’t approve of the “side hustle” excursions she did for Commander Reyes, it never took her away from you for more than three days. So, when she disappeared for a full week on a recon mission with no comms contact, you assumed the worst.

You asked around for her, going so far as visiting the younger Shimada for intel. No one saw hide nor purple hair, widening the pit of loss in your chest to a cavern that left you dazed. You’d just begun to grieve, bawling quietly in your room until she unexpectedly returned to base.

Except she wasn’t your Olivia.

For starters she was blonde, augments switched from purple to pink. She was twitchy and short, bouncing from gleeful to irritated in the span of minutes.

When you asked where she’d been, she answered with a cryptic “away,” before distracting you with vicious kisses that backed you onto your bed.

To your shame it worked, sheer relief of having her home outweighing your curiosity.

That is, until a baggy fell from her go-bag when you were cleaning your quarters.

It was packed with white powder, a pink sugar skull on the front. You secretly took it to the lab, ignoring Dr. O'Deorain’s scowl as you handed over the suspicious packet. Her accented voice told you what already knew.

“Cocaine—Los Muertos product by the looks of it.” Shaken, you confronted Sombra, hoping she had a good explanation.

She did. “A party favor from Don Galano, nothing more,_________. I couldn’t get the intel Reyes needed without a show of faith.“

You believed her. Sombra wasn’t a Girl Scout and you weren’t a fool.

Los Muertos was a serious international gang and her connections were a great source of intel for Overwatch. Still, you didn’t like how quickly she’d resumed that dangerous persona.

The ordeal blew over, though she insisted on finishing the Muertos’ coke and keeping the blonde hair.

Discomfort lodged in your chest until at last you turned to her one night, pulling her close against you. Trembling, you pressed a kiss to her forehead; your words came out choked.

”Promise you won’t take as many risky missions, Liv—or at least tell me before you do? I can’t lose you.“

“I promise, mi cielo.”

And then she did it again.

This one cut you to the quick, hurt compounded by the “cover” she’d assumed. Reyes sent Sombra and McCree to intercept a Talon-bound weapons shipment ferried by Deadlock. Jesse was playing prodigal son, supposed to ask for an “in” on a courier mission to prove his loyalty.

Olivia played his girlfriend, leveraging her notoriety as Sombra to lend some credibility to the farce.

You knew this not because she told you, but because you happened to pass by the Blackwatch control room on your way to the R&D wing. Genji, O'Deorain and Reyes were huddled around a screen, headsets on as they monitored the situation. Backup teams were on standby to bust the deal, but the Deadlock leader was skeptical of Jesse’s loyalty.

“You show up outta nowhere and expect me to believe you, Jess?” said the portly man, hand fingering a revolver. “I don’t. Now your lady here—she’s different. I’ve seen what she can do.”Reyes’ voice rung out, jolting your terrified trance. “Sell it, Colomar. We need those weapons.”

So she did. You heard her speak the words, your heart caught between betrayal and worry for her safety—Deadlock wasn’t known for their mercy.

“And I’ve seen what he can do,” she rasped, trailing a finger down Jesse’s shoulder. “If I didn’t think he was back for real I would’ve shot him myself. He’s got my stamp of approval, O'Toole…”

Sombra trailed off, turning to face McCree. You had a good idea where this was going, had seen that same heavy-lidded gaze leveled at you so many times before.

“Don’t, Liv—please,” you whispered, not caring if anyone heard you. They didn’t, and neither did she.

Sombra closed the gap and kissed McCree, looping her arms around his shoulders as he took her hips.

It was enough to break you. An inhuman noise ripped from your throat, grabbing Genji’s attention.

You scurried away before he caught up, ignoring cries of “__________, come back!”

She doesn’t care, she doesn’t care… The miserable song kicked in your head for three days, visions of her slung around McCree enough to make you ill.

Mission or not, you hated that she was so quick to ignore the one request you’d made of her. Her refusal to tell you about the mission coupled with her kissing Jesse ached something awful.

Reeling from the hurt, you stormed 76’s office and accepted the first high-risk mission you could, bypassing his concerns with a growled,“Do it.”

Sombra’s voice tore you from your thoughts, brought them back to the woman who’d carved your heart out. “I told you, it was part of the mission and I couldn’t tell—”

“Just stop!” you shouted, slinging your go-bag over your shoulder. Furious tears wet your cheeks, belying the little composure you’d maintained. “The coke I could get past. I wasn’t happy about it, but I got why. As long as you don’t pick it up again, I’m fine. But fucking McCree? He’s been after you for months and you jump at the first opportunity to pose as his girlfriend?”

“He’s not been after me…” she started, shadow of guilt on her face.

“You’re many things, Liv; stupid ain’t one of ‘em. After you, interested in you—however you put it, he wants sex and you dangled it in front of him without a goddamn thought for how I’d feel about it…you didn’t even tell me where you were going. Again.”

Sombra’s worry hardened to outrage. “You think I’d cheat on you, __________?”

There it was, the question that haunted you at the bottom of the wine bottles strewn around your room. You looked at her—your Olivia—and remembered the flutter you’d felt the first day you saw her on-base.

She’d winked at you, tongue caught between her teeth in a silent chuckle.

An angel, you’d thought, inquiring after her just as soon as you could. Standing here now with a chasm between, you realized just how much your opinion soured since then. You held her gaze, answering with the only truth you knew.

“I don’t know.“

You were halfway out the door when Sombra managed to speak. “Where are you going?”

“Does it matter?” you quipped, tired of the ache whenever you were around her. “Either way it’s away from you.”

With that, you were off to Jakarta. A war zone since the omnic uprising, 76 sent you, Tracer, and Roadhog to retrieve an encrypted archive lodged in one of the overrun Overwatch research stations.

He told you it’d be rough, but that was an understatement. It was a shitshow, the three of you spotted by omnics as soon as you touched down.

Roadhog’s shrapnel gun kept them at bay while you picked them off with a pulse rifle. Tracer eliminated whatever you couldn’t down, the three of you clearing a smoke-filled path to the lab.

Sure you were reckless, and no you didn’t need to bash that omnic’s head until you saw circuits, but there were no medals awarded for being merciful.

All was going well until you breached the archive door. Taking point, you used your decryption kit on the biometrics and walked in. Whether it was your team’s success up to this point or the tide of emotion from your fight with Sombra, you weren’t paying attention.

So, when your foot tripped an omnic trap and activated a bot shrouded in the darkness five feet away, you didn’t notice.

But you sure as hell did when it slammed its fist against your head. You yowled, aiming your gun at the attacker. The damn thing was fast, stomping its metal foot on your ribs before you could block.

CRACK!

Your vision went white with agony, smeared by blood from your head wound. You wailed, jaw strained by the scream of pain.

Roadhog hooked the bot, shooting it point-blank with his shotgun. It fell dead but you didn’t care—your ribs were broken and you were clawing for breath.

Tracer was immediately at your side, radioing for emergency evac clearance and a triage team. With another shuddering inhale came a white-hot stab of pain as you felt something pierce you.

The air fell out of you, failed gasps burning your chest as it collapsed under the puncture.

Your vision went black at the edges as you felt a big pair of hands scoop you up, fading further as you saw Tracer race ahead to reach the dropship. Ceding to the lack of oxygen and trickling blood loss, you welcomed the black oblivion.

In it, you saw a pair of violet eyes and her wry smile.

#sombra x reader #olivia colomar x reader #sombra imagines #olivia colomar imagines #sombra overwatch #sombra #mcsombra #overwatch imagines #ovw imagines #ow imagines #ow imagine #gender neutral #bodily harm tw #gore tw #overwatch #overwatch fics #cocaine tw #drug mention tw #drug tw

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years

Text

Love Yourself (Chapter 13)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 7.3k story words: 88.3k (so far) chapter: 13/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: i was GOING to wait until monday to post this... and well, it's after midnight where i live, so it's technically monday. i linked a few not particularly nsfw stuff again, by no means do you have to click on them. big thanks to @auroraphilealis for always making me better and honestly telling me when something i’m doing doesn’t land so i can fix it.

Dan sat ramrod straight in the uber, completely uncomfortable with Isabella’s hand on his thigh. Well, it had started on his knee and in the two minutes they’d been in the car it had slowly started drifting up his leg. A month ago, Dan would have found the tease of her hand hot, would have encouraged her hand to go higher, would have let his own hands slip up her dress. He would have been unbelievably turned on by fooling around a bit in the back of an uber, it had always been one of his guilty pleasures.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, Dan had his hands folded rigidly in his lap, conveniently placed directly over his cock, a solid roadblock in the path of Isabella’s wandering hands. If Isabella wanted to touch him, she’d have to knock his hands out of the way. Even she wasn’t bold enough to do that.

The whole ride, Dan stubbornly stared out the window, refusing to so much as look at Isabella. He knew any amount of eye contact would surely only encourage her, and that was the last goddamn thing he wanted to do. A million thoughts were rushing around his head as he watched the city speed by them, the pavement filled with happy couples holding hands.

Sometime during the last year, he’d forgotten what it felt like to be one of those happy couples. He wanted to remember. He wanted the chance to be one of those couples again.

After they’d fought, Isabella had tried to be sweet, to make up for her behavior, which Dan suspected had much more to do with her trying to make him forgive and forget issues that even she was smart enough to realize could make him leave her. As a result, the entire thing felt like a farce — both of them knew that something was wrong, but, for completely different reasons, both were determined to ignore it.

So why had he agreed to go back to Isabella’s flat with her? The entire night, all Dan had been able to think about was how desperately he wanted out of the date, out of their relationship. And then she’d asked him to come back and he’d just… said yes?

Dan knew that Isabella wasn’t offering him just a drink when she invited him over for a nightcap. Throughout their relationship, both of them had relied on sex to wash away their fights, never actually talking about or dealing with their issues. Dan knew that was why Isabella had invited him over tonight. He knew her intention was to lure him into bed, probably with the intention of being selfless enough that Dan would let the fight go without her having to actually apologize. Like always.

Dan knew. He knew all of this.

And yet he’d said yes.

Dan let his forehead fall against the window with a thunk. The glass was ice cold against his forehead and he was vaguely aware of the fact that the thunk meant that his head should probably be hurting, but he was too numb to feel anything right now.

The car stopped at a light and the urge to open the door, to duck out, to run was nearly irresistible. Dan wound his hands together more tightly, squeezing his fingers so firmly that his knuckles cracked. Isabella hated it when he cracked his bones — the fact that she wasn’t saying anything about it, though, spoke just as much to her desire to wash away their fight as her hand on his thigh did.

Instead, her hand dipped down, sliding to the inside of his leg. Fuck, Dan regretted sitting with his legs spread far enough apart to allow her to trail her fingers along his inseam, to allow her to caress the inside of his thigh.

Dan had no idea how he was going to derail her advances, or how he was going to get out of this mess. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get her to agree to breakfast tomorrow, especially since he was essentially running away tonight.

But if Dan was sure of one thing, it was that he knew that there was no way in hell he was going to sleep with her tonight.

The car ride felt both forever long, and too short. When the uber stopped outside of Isabella’s building, Dan had to muster up the will to get out of the car, walk the seven steps to the front door, and follow Isabella into her flat.

Inside the building, Dan trudged behind Isabella as she led him to her flat, each stair feeling like a march to his death. If there had been any doubt in Dan’s mind that Isabella had asked him over so they could fuck, it would have been washed away when he glanced up and saw the deliberate swing of Isabella’s hip as she climbed the stairs, when he saw that she was making an effort to stay just far ahead of him enough that her arse was at eye-level.

At a different point in Dan’s life, that would have worked. It had worked. But it wasn’t going to work tonight. He needed a way to get out of this without drawing too much attention to the fact that he was refusing to sleep with her for the millionth time in a month.

Isabella worked her key into the lock of her door, bending over much more than necessary, and pulled it open. Dan took a deep breath, summoning his courage to cross the threshold, and followed Isabella in. Just as he’d expected, soft, pink, glossy lips were on his the moment he stepped inside.

He fucking hated that sticky lipgloss.

Dan’s face scrunched up, and his hands flew to her hips — but not in order to pull her closer. No, he wanted Isabella the fuck away from him.

“Hang on,” Dan said, prying Isabella off of him with what he hoped was a gente push. Even as he held her at arm’s length, Isabella was leaning back in, chasing his lips with her own. Dan tipped his head back slightly, tilting so that his lips were out of Isabella’s reach. “Why don’t we—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, though, because Isabella interrupted him with another kiss. His lips were too high, though, so her mouth landed on Dan’s adam’s apple, kissing her way up his throat. Dan let out a strangled groan — she was perfectly aware of how sensitive his neck was. He hated when she paid attention to his throat, it always felt too intimate, too intense, and right now, it felt overwhelming.

Overwhelmingly bad.

Dan pulled back again, this taking a small step away. “Let’s not rush things,” he suggested.

It wasn’t a no, but Dan hoped it would stall things long enough that he’d have time to come up with a proper excuse to leave.

Isabella’s eyes narrowed slightly, confusion muddling the lust-blown look she was trying to cultivate, but she maintained her composure. “You’re right,” she murmured in her most sultry voice. “It’s been awhile, let’s make it count.”

Stepping out of Dan’s grasp, Isabella grabbed his hand in hers, her fingers delicately brushing the sensitive inside of his wrist intentionally. She walked backwards towards the lounge, her eyes roaming up and down Dan’s body. Reluctantly, Dan let himself be tugged along. A few weeks ago, he would have fucked her with his eyes, maybe even pushed her along a little faster, running his hands along her sides.

Today, he was fighting the urge to rip his hand from hers. Today, he had to force himself to look in her general direction.

Isabella dragged Dan over to the sofa, and pushed him down with more force than was strictly necessary. Dan wasn’t sure if it was Isabella’s anger slipping through, or if this was the kind of sex she wanted to have tonight — either way, the sudden shove knocked the wind out of him for a moment, leaving him breathless as she stepped between his legs and towered over him.

“Stay here for a second, babe,” Isabella whispered, leaning in close to speak the words into his ear, grazing the lobe with her teeth. It was a move that always sent shivers down Dan’s spine, and tonight was no exception. But tonight, it wasn’t waves of pleasure — it was a rush of repulsion.

Isabella drew back, batting her eyes at him, looking victorious. She was so wrapped up in herself, so unaware of Dan’s true wants and needs, that she’d taken his silent shudder as a sign of arousal. Slowly, Isabella turned, and sauntered away, swinging her hips far more than necessary. The sway of her graceful hips, her slender waist, her confident steps… it all reminded Dan of why he once liked her.

But as Isabella walked away from him, Dan’s imagination wandered. Images of broad shoulders, clumsy steps, and big, sure hands flooded Dan’s mind.

Fiddling with the buttons of his coat, Dan debated on whether or not he should take it off. He didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary, but it was hotter than hell in Isabella’s flat.

Or maybe that was just Dan’s residual anger burning in his stomach.

Dan settled for a compromise, unbuttoning his coat to cool off a bit, but leaving it on so that he could make a quick escape if need be. Dan’s eyes scanned the room, hoping for inspiration to strike. Everything in Isabella’s apartment was rose gold and white, everything arranged perfectly, not a speck of clutter in sight. It felt stiff, cold, inhospitable.

Dan closed his eyes for a moment, remembering a place where everything was louder, more vibrant. A place that was full of clutter and personal trinkets. A welcoming, intimate place. A place that wasn’t here.

He forced his eyes open. Now wasn’t the moment to dwell on that.

Now was the moment to find an excuse to leave.

Much to his dismay, Dan heard the signature clack clack clack of Isabella’s heels coming down the hallway before he’d had the chance to come up with an excuse. God, if he never heard that sound again, it would be too soon.

“This is for you, Danny.” Isabella handed him a flute of white wine with a seductive smile.

Grimacing in a way Dan hoped could pass as a smile, Dan curtly nodded his head in thanks and took a sip, just for the sake of being polite. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, Dan had to resist the urge to immediately spit it back into the glass. It was horridly sweet — not that he liked white wine much in the first place, but this was positively undrinkable. He made himself swallow it, though, trying not to flinch.

Isabella seemed to take his audible gulp as a sign of lust, and smiled coyly. “Patience, sexy,” she purred, leaning back over Dan again and trailing her fingers down his face, brushing his lips with her nails. “I’m going to go slip into something more comfortable. I’ll come get you in a few minutes,” she added with a flirtatious wink.

With that damning promise, Isabella left him alone.

More comfortable my ass, Dan thought. There had been a time when he lived for hearing those words come out of Isabella’s mouth. Without fail, they were always followed by something that looking incredibly uncomfortable — he never felt too bad, though. It wasn’t like any of the lingerie ever stayed on long enough for it to matter.

But tonight… tonight, Dan wanted nothing less than for Isabella to come out of her room wearing something strappy or lacey or frilly. He always had a bit of a thing for dress up in the bedroom, but he was so fucking over sleeping with Isabella, so fucking done with their relationship, that there wasn’t a sexy enough outfit in the world to entice him into fucking her.

He desperately wanted her to come out in massive sweatpants and a tshirt instead, suggesting they watch a movie and curl up on the sofa together. That was probably the only way Dan could handle staying at her flat for any length of time tonight.

There was absolutely no chance of that happening, though.

Dan knew Isabella was determined to brush over their fight with a blowjob and sex. Not to mention, Dan was fairly certain that Isabella didn’t own anything as unflattering or casual as sweatpants or a baggy tshirt.

Deciding to get more comfortable — actually comfortable, not Isabella’s version of it — Dan put down his glass of wine and shrugged out of his coat, tossing it onto the sofa next to him. The sweltering heat of the apartment was getting to him — he was uncomfortable enough as it was, he didn’t need to add to it.

As Dan desperately tried to brainstorm an escape plan, he picked his glass back up and took a sip of the wine, forgetting how bad it tasted. Blergh. He recoiled at the taste, and this time he actually did open his mouth on instinct and let the wine dump back into the cup.

He set the glass on the far side table so that he wouldn’t accidently drink out of it in habit again.

Dan needed out. He needed away from this shitty wine, this shitty night, this shitty relationship. But how the fuck was he going to get out of tonight without hurting Isabella’s feelings or causing yet another fight he couldn’t be bothered with — or worse, making her realize why he was refusing to sleep with her?

A fake emergency.

Yes, Dan could do that. It was the oldest trick in the book, and it might be a little too transparent, but whatever. At this point, Dan didn’t care.

Dan mentally ran through a list of people he could text to call him. Louise was probably busy with her boyfriend, meaning there was too high of a chance that she wouldn’t see the message right away and Dan would be stuck here. He could text his mum — she was always made sure to look at his texts immediately, just in case, but she’d ask a million questions later and he really didn’t want to explain to his mother what was going on. He could DM Phil. Surely he’d still be awake, and Dan knew he wasn’t doing anything tonight. But Dan was pretty sure he wouldn’t get out of here without another fight if Phil was the one who called him.

Who the fuck could he text?

Adaline.

Dan glanced at his watch — it was just after her nine o’clock weekday curfew, meaning she’d most likely be home and awake. Plus, Adaline was just as addicted to her phone as Dan, meaning there was almost no chance that she would miss his text. Perfect.

Quickly glancing up to make sure Isabella wasn’t on her way back already, Dan unlocked his phone and opened a message to his sister. Without thinking too much about it, Dan typed out a quick text.

Dan: SOS i need you call me in like 15 and fake an emergency

Much to his relief, Addie responded with a thumbs up emoji almost instantly. Just as he’d suspected, she must have had her phone in her hands.

Dan had never been so glad that his parents strictly enforced curfews.

It dawned on Dan that he had no idea how long Isabella was actually going to take to change and that fifteen minutes might not be enough. Sometimes Isabella was gone for five minutes, and sometimes she made him wait nearly half an hour. Maybe he should have Adaline wait a little longer to call.

Dan: actually make it 20 and if i don’t answer call again in five minutes

Adaline: wtf did you get yourself into

Dan: a trainwreck of a relationship

Adaline: well you’re not wrong there.

Hopefully, twenty minutes wouldn’t be too long, but he’d rather to have to stall for a few minutes than have Adaline call too soon.

Thankful to have an escape plan in place, Dan leaned back into the sofa and tabbed over to twitter, killing time until he got to leave. Most of his mentions were currently in response to the picture Isabella had posted of them at the restaurant, and while Dan didn’t really care about what anyone had to say about his relationship with Isabella, he scrolled through the tweets anyway.

@DanIsIsbellasMan: @IsabellaDeLaRenta and @danielhowell are my otp #danella

@DanAndIzzyForever: @IsabellaDeLaRenta and @danielhowell might be the prettiest couple to ever exist #danella

@ishipdanella: #danella is couple goals @IsabellaDeLaRenta @danielhowell

With each new reply, Dan felt more and more sick to his stomach. Not one of these people seemed to know what Isabella — or their relationship — was really like, or what couple goals should actually be. Regardless of his disgust, Dan kept scrolling, reading message after message screaming about how perfect him and Isabella were.

God, their breakup might not go over well.

Not that Dan cared, really. He hadn’t chased music as a career for the fame or the fans. He had chased it so that he would have the freedom and the resources to make the music he wanted, the music that made him feel passionate, and to share it with the people who would appreciate it.

All of the danella shippers would just have to get over it when the news of their breakup spread.

A few tweets interspersed in between all of the #danella replies managed to lift Dan’s spirits a little.

@AmazingPhilippa: @IsabellaDeLaRenta that picture is crashing my ship @AmazingPhil @danielhowell #phan

@DanielsHighNotes: @danielhowell this might be controversial but if you want a partner prettier than an actual model, consider @AmazingPhil #phan

However, while the tweets made Dan smile, he was surprised by them — he’d never publicly done anything to imply that he was bisexual, nor that he and Phil was in a relationship, though some of his tweets and pictures had been a bit flirty. Still, he hadn’t realized that there was an actual community of his and Phil’s fan’s out there that were shipping them.

Their chemistry must be more obvious than Dan had thought. Or maybe they were just that flagrant with their flirting. Maybe Isabella wasn’t being entirely irrational when she’d said that Dan’s tweets with Phil were crossing a line.

Oops.

Dan wondered what Phil thought of the shipping, how he felt about the influx of mentions about a post he wasn’t even tagged in.

Dan hoped he didn’t mind too much. He couldn’t help feeling a little guilty that Phil’s feed was now wrecked by tweets about Dan’s date, especially since Dan had made an active effort to avoid the topic of Isabella with him as much as possible.

And Isabella — Dan couldn’t help but snicker when he thought of her reaction to #phan. He had no doubts that she would see. She was obsessed with twitter, and monitored replies to all of her tweets religiously. When she found the camp of #phan shippers, she’d probably have a heart attack. Thank fuck Dan was breaking up with her tomorrow, because he had no clue how he’d deal that fight.

There was one tweet, however, which only tagged Dan. Dan’s brow furrowed. That was weird. Everything else seemed to either be tagging him alongside of either Isabella, or Phil.

Dan paused, reading over the message. It was from Tatler, one of the most annoying gossip websites on the web.

@tatler: @danielhowell Looks like someone hasn’t heard about our big post for tomorrow. [picture]

Rolling his eyes, Dan clicked on the picture, knowing that it was probably just some clickbait from the trashy site designed to spread some bullshit made-up rumor, but he was unable to curb his curiosity.

The picture loaded on Dan’s screen, and his heart stopped.

Holy. Fuck.

It was another picture of Izzy — similar to the one from the club weeks ago. She wasn’t looking at the camera, her body didn’t have that subtle freeze from when she modeled. This was a candid picture. And, from the looks of it, a candid picture that she hadn’t known was being taken.

But unlike the picture from the club, this one was well lit and not grainy. No, this picture was in high fucking resolution, taken with a proper camera. And it was painfully clear what was happening in the photo.

It was Isabella in a barely-there bikini, leaning into the arms of a very fit Italian man that Dan vaguely recognized from Ralph Lauren underwear ads. Isabella was holding a drink-filled pineapple — a drink just like the one Isabella had texted him a picture of the day before yesterday. The fruity drink she said she was letting herself have just one of as a reward to celebrate the end of a successful shoot.

In the picture, Isabella and the man were lounging on a beach, sharing a towel. There was a second towel spread out, a towel that must have been abandoned when Isabella crawled into this bloke’s lap. The man was propped up on one hand, legs sprawled out in front of him. Isabella was sat between them, her back pressed up against his bare chest. His other arm was snaked around her waist, his hand cupping her breast.

That’s not what stood out the most to Dan, though. Isabella’s head was tilted back, resting on his shoulder. Her lips were puckered up, as if she was expecting a kiss — and if the way he was looking down at her was anything to go by, she was going to get one.

Dan tried to rip his eyes away from the picture, but he couldn’t. He just kept staring and staring and staring, finding more and more little details. The bracelet he’d bought her for her birthday catching the sun. Isabella’s free hand resting high up on the man’s leg. A red mark on Isabella’s neck.

A red mark. A blood-red mark.

A hickey.

How dare she?

How dare she give Dan a hard time for talking to Phil on twitter when this was what she’d been up to while in Turks and Caicos!?

At this point, Dan didn’t know if this public display of affection with someone other than him was Isabella looking for attention — his or the media’s, or both — or if this was actually a snapshot of something more.

It didn’t matter, though. Dan didn’t care why Isabella was wrapped up in the Italian model’s arms, he didn’t care who took the picture, he wasn’t even sure he cared what had been happening when the picture was taken.

There wasn’t any acceptable excuse for the position they were in, for the way the man was touching Isabella, and the way Isabella was touching the man.

He was done. Out.

Dan’s blood was positively boiling. Suddenly, he didn’t think he needed that fake emergency phone call from Adaline anymore.

No. He definitely didn’t.

He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about hurting Isabella’s feelings. He didn’t care about whether or not it was acceptable to break up with someone on Valentine’s Day. He didn’t give a fuck about anything. Because the one rational thought he could latch onto was this was not okay.

It was not okay that Isabella was off frolicking with attractive models, petting them, being petted by them. Letting them leave tell-tale red marks on her neck.

This was not okay.

Dan jumped up from the couch, unable to sit still any longer. He had to do something with his energy, let of steam somehow, otherwise he was going to storm down the hallway and scream at Isabella right now.

The only real reason he was forcing himself not to do that was because he wanted to sort out his thoughts first. He wanted to have some idea of what the fuck he was going to say.

So instead of rushing down the hallway, he paced up and down the lounge, walking from the balcony to the sofa and back again and again and again, determined to come up with a plan. His fingers were wrapped so tightly around his phone that he thought it might buckle under the pressure. The case dug hard into the inner knuckles of his hand, surely leaving red indents behind. He tried to see past the white hot anger that was clouding his vision and think rationally for a moment.

Was it possible that this was part of the shoot, and it had just been taken out of context by the gossip website? Dan tried to remember what she had been modeling. Didn’t it have something to do with boats?

Definitely. Dan remembered now — Isabella had whined that the company wanted their entire summer line to be modeled on sailboats in order to communicate that their clothes were associated with a life of luxury. She hated the boats because her hair kept getting messed up.

Boats. So this picture from the beach couldn’t be from the shoot — not to mention that Isabella had told him that the unique, pineapple drink was a celebration for the shoot finishing. No, whatever was happening in this picture had nothing to do with modeling. And everything to do with Isabella.

Fuck.

He needed to leave. He needed to rip off the fucking bandaid, end this relationship, and then fucking leave.

Dan forced himself to try to think about what he was going to say, what he was going to do.

Did he have any belongings here?

No. No way. He’d had a spare shirt here at one point but it had been so long since he’d slept over that he was almost certain that it had migrated back to his flat by now. And if he did happen to have anything else here… fuck it. He could buy a replacement.

Clack, clack.

Fuck. Isabella was coming out of her room now.

Clack, clack.

She was coming towards him, towards the lounge.

Clack, clack.

This was it. Dan didn’t have any longer to figure out what he was going to say. Dan froze, facing the glass door to the balcony, unable to so much as look at her right now.

Dan grounded himself by focusing on the dead-looking plant that Isabella never brought in. He liked that plant, once upon a time. He’d bought it for her, thinking that her flat needed some life, some color — which was rich, coming from him of all people. It had done well outside on her balcony, for a while anyway. And then it got cold, and Dan told her to take care of it, to bring it inside. He warned her that it wouldn’t survive the first freeze. It hadn’t.

Turns out Isabella just might not be good at caring for things.

Clack, clack.

Her footsteps where in the lounge now, not far behind him.

“Hey there, baby,” she cooed, as if she was innocent. As if she hadn’t been cozied up to another man a mere forty-eight hours ago. “Why don’t you come sit on the couch and I’ll —”

“Do you call all of them baby or is that just me?” Dan spat, slowly turning around to face her, doing his best to stay in control.

His eyes flicked over her, taking in her appearance.

He’d been right. Something more comfortable meant something expensive looking and — fuck.

For a split second, Dan’s breath caught in his throat as he realized that Isabella had put on his favorite outfit. He’d been expecting something red, something probably covered in ruffles, something to properly celebrate Valentine’s Day.

But no.

No.

She was wearing the strappy, sheer black bra and panties combination that drove Dan crazy — the one with the little crystals everywhere, and the sheer skirt thing that attached to matching thigh-high black tights. Overtop, the delicate lace kimono he’d bought her for christmas was hanging open, surely not adding any warmth and definitely not aiding in hiding any of her skin (that had been one of the biggest selling points when Dan bought the damn thing).

Of fucking course. Of fucking course she put on the one outfit she knew that Dan couldn’t resist, even though she probably did have a Valentinesy outfit she could have worn. Of course she’d pick tonight to go above and beyond, to do whatever she could, to make Dan stay with her.

But no matter how good Dan thought Isabella looked like this, it wasn’t going to work.

Dan crossed the room in two big strides, and halted in front of Isabella. He reached for her, but he didn’t grab her hips the way he once might have. Instead, he grabbed either side of Isabella’s open Kimono. Nimbly, Dan wrapped the garment around her, and cinched the fabric together with the big silky tie.

The change didn’t do much to add modesty to Isabella’s outfit, but Dan felt a little bit better having one more piece of fabric between them — even if that fabric was essentially just a five hundred pound bit of lace.

“I asked you question,” Dan said, staring into her confused eyes. His tone was tight, rigid — he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back his fury.

“I — I don’t — I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Isabella stuttered out, allowing her accent — the one she normally tried so hard to hide — slip through. A careful, calculated choice to make Dan feel bad for her. There was a worried look in her eyes that made Dan suspect that she had some idea what he was talking about, though.

“Allow me to refresh your memory, then,” Dan stated condescendingly. “Let’s see… drinks on the beach, a fit looking model...” Isabella’s eyes grew wide, filling with feigned innocence, as Dan spoke. “His hand on your breast, your head tossed back on his shoulder, your ass pressed up against his cock… does that help?”

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” Isabella responded quickly.

Too quickly.

“Oh it wasn’t, was it?” Dan laughed hollowly. He couldn’t wait to hear how she tried to explain this.

“No—”

“You better think really hard about what you’re about to say,” Dan warned her, his anger leaking out until he knew he sounded just as furious as he felt. He could feel his fists clenching at his sides, and while Dan wasn’t a violent man, would never hit someone, he needed some kind of outlet for the rage that was surging through him.

Isabella’s mouth fell shut. Her lush pink lips opened and closed one, two, three more times before she finally spoke again. Dan thought he could see her lips trembling. “It was for, um, publicity.”

“You didn’t exactly look like you were posing for the camera, Izzy.” Dan challenged.

“I — well, no. But we knew there were cameras there, we knew the gossip sites had reporters around. So we, um, we thought we could…” Dan gave her a so what look. “We thought — we just thought it would be good for our images.”

Dan laughed again, a hauntingly empty sound, even to his own ears. “And pray tell, what image is that? Cheating girlfriend?”

“No!” Isabella bristled, sparks of anger flashing in her eyes. “How dare you? It’s just two attractive models on a pretty beach. It was innocent.”

“Innocent?” Dan cried. “Innocent!? Innocent my ass. You don’t get a hickey from anything innocent.” Dan was seething with anger, glaring at Isabella, who was staring defiantly back.

“You’re being dramatic, Danny. I’m not some puta who cheats on her boyfriend,” Isabella remarked with a roll of her eyes and a toss of her hair. Dan could feel himself gritting his teeth at her glib attitude.

“Oh, really? Could have fooled me,” Dan said sourly. “And the rest of the world, for that matter. Did you think about that? Think about the fact that to the rest of the world you would look like a cheating puta? What’s that going to do to your precious image?” he spit out.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather be in a scandal than forgotten,” Isabella shot back. That might be the first honest thing she’d said all night, Dan thought, laughing harshly.

“Oh my god, do you hear yourself? Do you realize how fucked up that is?” he asked. Faintly, he was aware of his phone vibrating in his back pocket — Adaline was no doubt calling with his scheduled emergency, like a good sister. But he wasn’t about to answer now. He didn’t need a fake emergency anymore.

Oh no, he was getting out of here using the very real emergency of we’re done.

“At least they’ll be talking about me,” Isabella argued. “You could learn something from me, or you might just be forgotten,” she stated, her voice patronizing.

Dan was fuming, his fists were clenched tightly, and his chest was puffed out. His thoughts were scrambled in his head, and he couldn’t make words come out his mouth. Such a ludicrous claim was barely even worth a response.

“Besides,” Isabella continued flippantly, before Dan could think of anything to say. “It’s not like what some gossip site says about me affects you or us. You know I’m not a puta, so what’s it matter?” she asked, as if she’d already won the fight. As if Dan accusing her of cheating wasn’t directly affecting their relationship right now.

Dan wanted to lash out, to scream, to yell, anything to make Isabella see just how stupid she was.

“Do I?” Dan asked, keeping his voice dangerously low, refusing to let it shake. “Is that a thing I know?”

Isabella whipped her hand through her hair, gathering it on one side of her face — something she always did when she was agitated. “Yes?” she cried, her gaze fixed on a spot just above Dan’s head. Dan was sure she meant for it to come out strong, harsh, but Dan could hear the questioning tone leaking in.

It wasn’t very convincing.

“Look me in the eye, then.” Dan grabbed Isabella firmly by the shoulders, wrapping one hand securely around her chin and holding her head so she was forced to meet his gaze. The worried look in her eyes had grown into full-fledged panic. “Tell me nothing happened,” Dan challenged. “With him, or those guys from the club, or anyone else for that matter.”

She asked him that question so often that Dan had never thought of asking it in return.

Isabella’s eyes flickered down as she drew her lip into her mouth and said nothing. It was all the answer that Dan needed.

He dropped her chin as if it was iron hot, physically recoiling from her. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “Something did happen. You actually fucking did something,” he gasped. His heart was racing, and while Dan didn’t want Isabella anymore, while Dan didn’t care who she flirted with or kissed or fucked in the future, he did care about their past relationship. He did care about the fact that she’d done something with other men while she was dating Dan.

“We were drunk, it didn’t count,” Isabella fought half-heartedly, refusing to meet Dan’s gaze. Her lip trembled and her hands shook, both of which were probably intentional efforts to make Dan feel bad for her.

Dan wasn’t sure anything would make him feel bad for her. At this moment, he wouldn’t even feel bad for her if she was attacked by an angry mob of bees — and he was pretty sure she was allergic to bees.

“What happened?” he demanded. Isabella’s eyes flickered away, again, and she didn’t answer. “What the fuck happened when you were drunk?” Dan practically growled.

“We just hooked up a few times,” Isabella admitted. Her voice was sharp, defensive, but Dan could hear a hint of defeat in it.

“Hooked up? A few times?” Dan barked out. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

Isabella looked at him blankly and gave a small shrug, but didn’t say anything else.

Slowly, realization began to dawn on Dan.

“Oh my god, you fucked him didn’t you?” he asked, betrayed.

“It didn’t mean anything, not like it does with you!” Isabella shouted, suddenly coming back to life. “If you’d just come home with me the night before I left, maybe I wouldn’t have done it!” she accused him, looking almost triumphant, as if Dan not fucking her was good enough reason for her to fuck other guys.

“Right, so it’s my fault you cheated on me, then?” Dan asked, voice pointed. Isabella looked like she was about to agree, so Dan cut her off before she could. “What about those guys from the club, then, huh? Did you fuck them, too?”

Face glazed in anger, Isabella stood her ground, glaring at Dan, but not saying anything. Despite the defensive tilt to her body language, however, Dan could see that she was petrified. A growing look of horror was building in her eyes.

This was the end, and they both knew it.

“Jesus,” Dan rubbed his hands down his face. “You did, didn’t you?

“We had all had a lot to drink…” Isabella argued weakly, giving the same shitty excuse again, as if being drunk excused everything.

It sure as hell hadn’t excused Dan from cuddling up to Phil last week, not in her eyes — and not in his own, either.

Dan pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to calm down enough to speak again. Was this fight even one worth having? He knew, now, that absolutely every aspect of their relationship had been a lie. Until now, he’d known that Isabella was using him for fame, for money, but he’d never thought that the affection, the sex, the physical part of their relationship was a sham too.

But, apparently, she’d fucked at least two — maybe three, who knows what happened with the guys from the club — other guys while they were dating. Dan wasn’t sure he wanted to know how many others there were, how deep this problem ran, how long he’d been unaware.

He just wanted out.

“You know what?” he asked rhetorically. “Fuck this. I’m done.”

Dan stalked back to the couch and pulled his coat on, positively seething. He spun around sharply, heading for the door.

Isabella lept in front of him, blocking his path.

“Babe, wait.” Isabella’s voice was desperate. Her hands reached out for Dan’s coat before suddenly changing directions, pulling open the sash of her nightgown instead. Her breasts, her stomach, her tanned thighs, they were all back on display. For Dan.

Isabella trailed a hand down her side, lightly caressing all of her best features, trying to draw Dan’s eyes to the swell of her breasts, the curves of her hips. “Come here, Danny. I don’t need them. Let me show you that you — that our love is enough.”

“Love?” Dan scoffed, getting frustrated that Isabella was still trying to seduce him. “This isn’t love,” he spat, “It never has been.” Dan ruffled his hair in frustration. “And honestly, I’m tired of being in a loveless relationship. You can officially go sleep with whoever you want, whether it’s for media attention, or because you’re drunk, or whatever, because we’re not together anymore.”

Dan brushed past her, ignoring her call of his name as he moved to the front door. He was done with this. He didn’t need to be here anymore. He’d said his piece, and it didn’t matter how hard Isabella begged or whored herself out — Dan wasn’t taking her back.

Dan had almost made it all the way out of the lounge door when Isabella switched tactics.

“This is about that boy, isn’t it?” Isabella accused, her voice shrill, apparently hellbent on turning the blame onto Dan.

She couldn’t argue that she wasn’t a cheater, but she could sure as hell try to argue that their break up wasn’t about her.

That drew Dan to a halt. Suddenly, he felt more angry than he’d ever felt in his entire life. He squeezed his hands into fists at his sides.

“Phil?” Dan raged, whirling around to face her again. “You think this is about Phil?” he accused. “This has nothing to bloody do with Phil! This is about you! And me! This is about us!” he bellowed, chest heaving with anger.

“Well excuse me for not believing you!” Isabella spat bitingly. “We were fine until he came along!” she pressed.

“Fine? Fine? You think we were fine? ” Dan roared, his voice growing louder with each word. He couldn’t believe the audacity of her. “News flash: we weren’t fine! I was just so fucking blind that I couldn’t see the fact that you treat me like shit!” Dan ran his hands through his hair again, yanking painfully on the strands in an attempt to do something with the anger pulsing through him. “How — how I didn’t see it is beyond me. Fucking everyone else did, ages before I finally realized!”

Dan didn’t know what else to say, and yet he wished he did. He wished he could find the words to articulate his utter hatred of Isabella. He wished he could shove it into her face that Dan knew she’d only been using him this whole time. He wished he could tell her how fucking hurtful it was that she had actually fucked around. But he just couldn’t make the words come out.

“We’re done,” he repeated instead.

Isabella floundered. Every attempt, every word out of her mouth to defend herself, had failed, and she knew it. Her face went purple with repressed frustration.

“You’re going to regret this, Danny,” Isabella eventually threatened.

“Unlikely, Izzy,” Dan replied, unable to keep the mockery out of his voice.

“You’re going to be lonely and sad,” Isabella stated cynically. “I give it four nights of being alone in bed before you come back here, tail between your legs.”

Dan scoffed.

“I’m better sleeping on my own! I’d rather spend every single night of the rest of my damn life alone than sleep with you for one more night!” Dan spat.

That had struck a nerve — Isabella looked aghast. If there was one thing, one thing Isabella always had, it was her sexuality, the way men wanted her.

“You’re weak, Howell!” Isabella screamed, a manic glint in her eye, her hand pointing up at him. “You’re weak, and you’re desperate, and you’re needy, and you’ll come back. You’ll see!”

To hell with this. Dan had tried to leave it at that, but he wasn’t having this. He wasn’t.

“You know what?” he seethed, standing his ground. “I have been weak. For months I’ve been weak. I’ve let you push me around, tell me what to do. All for what? The hope of a little affection? Well fuck that. I’m not going to be weak anymore. Go fuck yourself, Isabella.”

Dan turned on his heel, and stormed down the hallway, his last piece said.

He could hear the clack clack clack of Isabella’s stilettos chasing after him, but he didn’t stop until his hand was on the doorknob.

“Danny, what’s going on?” Isabella pleaded quietly, her entire tone shifting. It was ridiculous, so unbelievably not fitting with everything that had happened. It was like Isabella thought being sweet was going to fix this. The same way she’d thought sex would.

Dan twisted the handle, cracking the door open slightly, before turning halfway back around — just far enough that Isabella could see his face. Just enough so that she could see how fucking serious he was.

“I’m done. With being weak, and with you.”

Dan pulled the door open the rest of the way, stepped into the hallway, and slammed the door closed behind him.

He was done.

COME SCREAM YOUR THOUGHTS AT ME

but i’ll leave you with this one

[[next chapter]]

#love yourself #ly #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phan au #au #barista!phil #singer!dan #dip and pip #iminclinedtowriting #coffee shop au

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