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soldierswar · 3 years

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Kobik - Chapter VII

Bucky x Reader

Angst

Plot: You, Sam, Bucky, and even Kobik learn that she may be a lot more powerful than anybody thought.

Masterlist (For other chapters)

“Kobik,” you said, and signaled for her to stand behind you.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” one of the three guys barked.

You and Bucky nervously eyed each other from the corners of your eyes. You really wished you brought earpieces.

“What is it that you even want from her?” you hissed.

“Come on. Don’t you know what this thing can do? Spoiler alert, it’s not just little party tricks.”

Kobik held on to you and nervously squeezed your leg.

“Don’t you dare think about touching her,” Bucky said in a low, threatening tone.

You suddenly spotted Sam facing the backs of the men hiding behind a wall of the parking structure. You dared not look at him for longer than half a second so as to not give away his spot and stayed as still as a statue.

Suddenly, Kobik did something that you never would have expected, nor would you have let happen if you had any control. She unwrapped her arms from your legs and stepped towards the meanest of them, outstretching her arms to him so that he could pick her up.

Bucky looked livid.

“Kobik, don’t you dare.”

She looked back at him with innocent eyes and let the man pick her up.

“See?” the man gloated.

“That wasn’t so ha—”

But before he could finish his sentence his whole body lit up into a glowing blue and began convulsing as though he were being electrocuted…Because he was.

She didn’t let go of him until he fell backward and dropped to the floor. All of you stared at the two in shock. You didn’t know that she could do that. Kobik just stared at the man on the ground with a straight face.

“He’s not dead,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, as though she was talking about a bug.

Before the other two guys had a chance to retaliate against the three of you they looked like they had been stunned in the back one by one and fell to the ground writhing in pain.

“Neither are they,” she added.

“But I didn’t do that.”

“Well, are you coming or not?” Sam yelled from across the parking lot holding a stun gun waving at you to come to the car in the parking structure. Right before following the direction you realized that Kobik was missing. She was right in front of you a second ago.

“Kobik? Come on before they wake up!” you called out.

But nothing…And then Bucky looked up.

“Kobik! Get down from there!” he yelled.

And there was Kobik. She was on the roof of the hospital ten stories up.

“But I have to see!”

“No!” Bucky protested.

“Come down now! We’re leaving, and the coast is clear!”

She was too far away for her expression to be clear, but she was too concentrated and defiant to even reply. Who knew if she was even listening.

“Now you know what it feels like,” you gloated.

Bucky shot you a glare.

Finally, she disappeared and seemed to teleport from the roof. But she didn’t come next to you. She suddenly appeared in one of the parking structures. But…it wasn’t the one that she was supposed to be at.

“Wrong one!” Bucky yelled so that she could hear.

“Kobik hasn’t quite gotten full control of her powers yet,” he explained.

You both ran towards the correct structure waiting for Kobik to just appear where you were supposed to go. But she didn’t. She just stood at the entrance with her shoulders slumped over. And she began to look a little weak.

“Come on, Kobik,” you doted.

“I can’t,” she panted.

You couldn’t hear much of what she said as she was relatively far, but it sounded like she was saying that she was too tired to move now. She might have exhausted herself because of all of the energy she had emitted within the past 15 minutes.

“I’ll go get her,” Bucky sighed letting you go meet up with Sam.

“Thanks for the rescue, Cap,” you panted. You couldn’t believe how winded you were after only ten seconds of running.

“No problem,” he replied shoving his stun gun in the back of his pants again.

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. She’ll just need a lot of rest.”

And then…Before Bucky could get to her she let out a blood-curdling scream. When you turned around to her direction another guy had grabbed her. But she didn’t do what she did before. This time she glowed brighter than you had ever seen before. And then the seemingly impossible happened. The entire front half of the parking structure exploded.

“Kobik!” you screamed.

Right before you were about to run, Sam held you back standing in front of you with his hands grasping onto your shoulders tightly.

“Get in the car and start the engine. We’ve got this.”

“No! I have to get—”

“Y/N, I’m not going to tell you again.”

Your jaw clenched as you looked at the destroyed part of the building. You felt helpless. But there was no possible way that you could get out of his grasp.

“Listen if you want to help, do this.”

Your jaw clenched. And you held back an eye roll when you took a moment to accept that he was right.

By the time you turned the car on Bucky was calling you on your cellphone.

“Bucky?”

“She’s okay,” he said.

But she didn’t sound okay. You could hear her crying loudly like she was scared. She sounded close enough to the phone for you to know that he was at least carrying her.

“Meet us at the hospital exit. We’re coming.”

You floored it out of the parking spot over to the exit.

Kobik was covered in rubble and in obvious distress sobbing harder than ever.

Bucky sat in the back with her trying to get her to calm down, and Sam joined you in the passengers’ seat.

“I’m sorry,” she cried.

“I didn’t mean to I…”

“I know,” Bucky would whisper holding her close.

“Did I hurt anyone?”

But Bucky wouldn’t answer that question.

“Don’t worry about that. Let’s just get you home.”

That answer didn’t stop the crying. There was nothing that he could do that would stop her crying. And in turn, you found tears begin to fall down your cheeks. You hoped that nobody noticed.

…

When you finally got home you needed to talk to Bucky. Sam was more than happy to stay with Kobik who had finally stopped crying but wouldn’t talk anymore. You grabbed Bucky and closed yourselves in your room.

“What the hell happened back there?”

Bucky sighed.

“She…She still hasn’t developed full control of her powers yet.”

His jaw clenched as you stared at him with a very serious look.

“What do you mean? I thought you said that she was totally harmless, James.”

“To you, Y/N,” he stated.

“Listen. She’s never been known to hurt anyone that she trusts or at least doesn’t have a reason to distrust; which was why I was totally comfortable leaving her with you.”

Fair point. She was nothing but harmless and playful.

“But when it comes to things like this when she was completely alone and caught off guard…Stuff like this could happen. With what happened this afternoon and tonight…It was probably too much for her.”

“So things like this have happened before?” you questioned.

“Y/N, why do you think that two scientists were studying her and keeping her existence under wraps? In the wrong hands, she could be, well, unstable. But she’s a lot better at controlling her powers now than she was a year ago…But she still needs help.”

You sat down on the bed absolutely exhausted after the incredibly long day that you had. It barely even registered that at the beginning of the day you were having a completely normal, happy morning and afternoon.

You sat down on the bed not having the energy to carry any type of expression on your face. You probably looked like you were in a trance.

“We have to know the damage,” you said after a solid minute of sitting.

“It’s probably all over the news now.”

Bucky sat down next to you and nodded in agreement while pulling his phone out. Before he even unlocked his phone there was a news article notification headlined, ‘Brooklyn Hospital Parking Structure Destroyed: 1 casualty.’.

You were both guiltily relieved that the only person that died was the guy that tried to grab Kobik. On the flip side, a lot of car owners and insurance companies were going to be pissed.

“How was she able to harbor all of that energy, James? You had to go get her because she was too weak to walk. And then she just exploded half of a building?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t even know if she has the answer to that question. I think it just happened without her knowing that she could even do that.”

He opened his phone again and went for further news coverage.

“They’re not tracing anything back to her or us.”

Not only did nothing get traced back to you guys, but the suspects of the explosion were the three guys that had their guns pointed to you before Kobik’s little trick, and Sam’s rescue. The only weird thing to news outlets was that there were no traces of whatever could have possibly created an explosion that big. Which most importantly meant that there were no signs of Kobik existing.

“Are you scared of her again?”

Bucky seemed worried about your answer. And you knew now that it was because he loved that little girl. Probably just as much as you loved her. And for that, you were grateful to her for coming into your lives when she did. Looking back at how caring he was for her made you see how much of an amazing dad he was going to be. Flashes of your eventual future watching him make your child laugh, or taking care of them when they had scrapes, and even the cliché of teaching them how to ride a bike. No matter how terrified he might feel about now knowing how to be a father, it was clear that he knew exactly how to be a dad.

He seemed a little bit more nervous from your cryptic pause. You then frowned and kissed him, offended that he would even ask you that. So you gave him the answer that he hoped you would have.

“Never.”

Note: I am so grateful to every one of you that have gotten invested in this story. It's been truly a joy to know that reading this makes so many of you guys happy. I love you all. <3

Tagged: @buckylove123 @teenagedreams-bucky @typicalnerd98 @veroxloki @white-wolf-buckaroo @acciosiriusblack @pastel-boy-sungjae @flightsandfantasy @noiralei @unstablesleepygal

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fa-headhoncho · 3 years

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Unlike The Rest: Quidditch World Cup

George Weasley x Reader (eventually)

Prompt: The Malfoy Family goes to the Quidditch World Cup and, well, you know what happens.

Word Count: 1542

Reader: Female

Warning: I change the format of the series, so click the series masterlist to understand what’s going on now lol

Masterlist Series Masterlist

=====

You hated this. Every single bit of it. You hated the snobby crowd, you hated the constant droning coming from Draco, you hated how you were in the Minister's box; you hated the fact you had to “mingle with your status”; you hated the constant whispers shared amongst your father and your brother; you hated everything. Especially the fact that you had to deal with Draco and your father without your peacemaker of a mother. But, this was the only way you could go see the Quidditch World Cup.

Initially, you had begged your parents to let you go with the Diggory’s but they were very adamant that you don’t. You assumed it was because they were traveling with the Weasley’s since they lived in the same village. That didn’t stop you from arguing, though. It was frustrating, being close friends with the Twins have made you sensitive when your family starts openly bashing their family. You have always tried to bite your tongue because if they knew, you would never be allowed to spend any more holidays with Cedric.

At the end of the day, though, you were a bit glad you are able to see one of the most legendary Quidditch World Cups. It will be one for the history books. You’ll be able to tell your kids that you were there. You’ll be able to tell your kids how much your calves were hurting from the heeled boots and how itchy the sweater dress their grandmother made you wear was too.

“Blimey, Dad.” A whiney voice echoes throughout the throng of staircases. “How far up are we?” You follow the sound to find the Weasley clan plus Harry and Hermione. Ron, of course, being the one who was bitching.

“We’ll put it this way,” Father speaks up, him and Draco stopping at the railing to look up at them all. You decided to stay back, looking for a specific redhead. “If it rains, you’ll be the first to know.”

Father continues to walk, Draco following close behind. “We are located in the Minister’s box!” He starts to gloat, “by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge, himself.”

“Shut it, Draco.” You reach out and push his back causing him to stumble slightly. He whips his head around and sends you a nasty glare. You mockingly pout your lip at him.

“Father—“

“Well, don’t boast, Draco.” He agrees, your jaw drops a bit but then he continues, “There's no need with these people.”

You shift your gaze to the floor, embarrassed at how your father is acting and trying not to snap at him either. What grabs your attention is him reaching his cane up and putting it into Harry’s foot, stopping the group from going on their way. That’s what sets you over the edge.

“Do enjoy yourself, won’t you?” He says, a sick smile on his face. “While you can.”

“Don’t want to leave the Minister waiting, do we?” You say, pushing Draco again. This time, he just smirks and resumes walking with a cocky saunter in his step.

Waiting till their out of earshot, you turn around to see the Weasleys have continued their way up the stairs. An apologetic smile appears on your face when the twins come into view. They stop and return the smile, knowing none of it came from you. What catches you off guard, though, is their brightly colored faces.

“You look ridiculous,” You snort out, Fred’s jaw drops at the accusation.

“At least we’re dressed for the occasion.”

You shake their head at them, “You two are mental.”

Fred lets out an offended scoff, a hand going up to his chest. “Come on, Georgie. We don’t need this—“ His face overdramatically scrunches up. “—bullying.” He swings his body around and stomps up their stairs.

You stand there and giggle at Fred’s antics. George just shakes his head at his other half. He then turns back to you, squatting down and reaching something out to you.

“Take it.” He opens his hand to reveal a piece of parchment, most likely ripped out of a book of Hermione’s. You furrow your eyebrows at him but you take the note. He shoots a wink before standing to his full height and following his family up to their seats.

Unable to hold back the smile on your face, you open the small piece of parchment.

If you’re able to sneak off, come visit us after the game, Fred and I have something to show you. You can also drop off our winnings… Cedric says hi too.

It’s a simple, innocent message but you can’t help the blush that appears on your face. Over the years at Hogwarts, your unlikely friendship with the twins has been one of the best things that have ever happened. Their unbelievable personalities and ability to make anyone feel comfortable no matter their background has always been something you admired.

George and you have a special bond in particular. Him being the twin you initially became friends with back in third year. Throughout time, you’ve started to feel some type of way for the younger redhead. He’s constantly making you feel included, from just saying hi to you in the halls to keeping you company in the library. He’s always finding time to see you.

Maybe it’s just because he’s the kinder twin but Cedric is convinced otherwise.

“Oi, you twit.” Draco’s annoying whine of a voice interrupts your daydreaming. “What’re you standing around for? We must—“

You roll your eyes and slip the paper into your blazer pocket, “Don’t get your wand in a knot, Draco, I’m coming.”

=====

In the cluster of people leaving the game, you’ve somehow managed to slip away from your family. The crowd’s rowdiness being the ultimate distraction and you use it to your advantage. In all honesty, though, it didn’t seem like your father and brother were paying attention to you. They’ve been whispering all day and you overheard Draco asking what they were going to do with you.

It sparked your curiosity but you knew better than to bud into their business. They were probably just talking about Hogwarts or something. You didn’t dwell on it, it’s been a normal occurrence during this summer that they’ve been acting this weird.

Fireworks and cheers surround you as you make your way to the Weasley's plot. George left some direction but not much, having faith that you could easily find your way. How wrong he was, the fireworks have turned to explosions and the cheers turn into screams by the time you arrive at their tent.

You turn to see the grounds, everything going up in flames. People are scattering and running towards the outskirts to the woods surrounding to escape.

“Get out, it’s the Death Eaters!” Someone shouts, your heart drops. You knew the history your family has, especially your father. This has to be what they were whispering about. You’re paralyzed in fear, watching the chaos play out in front of you.

Hermione appears at your side in a few seconds, the noise obviously drawing them out. Mr. Weasley works for the ministry and fought through the first wizarding war so he’s aware of what’s going on now.

“What’s going on?” Hermione dazedly asks, staring out onto the campgrounds beside you.

“Death Eaters,” You whisper, her head snaps to yours.

“Get back to the portkey everybody and stick together!” Mr. Weasley demands, urgency in his voice. You and Hermione turn to face the group just as he pulls out his wand. “Fred, George! Ginny is your responsibility… Part!” He yells as the rest wait for direction.

Everyone scrambles while you’re just planted there. You knew what is about to come, all the conversations you’ve eavesdropped on at home now make sense. The Dark Lord is coming back and now everything is going to change.

“Hey,” A hand is set on your shoulder but you don’t need to look who it is. “We have to go.” George moves his hand to grab yours, pulling you away from the fires but you don’t move.

“George,” You manage to say, you feel like life has just been sucked out of you. He immediately understands but he can’t just leave you here to possibly die.

I know, (Y/N).” He squeezes your hand, “but we have to go.” You allow him to pull you away.

=====

Your body goes into autopilot as George leads you to safety. Narrowly dodging others as they run in chaos to their own portkeys. The two of you manage to somehow find Fred and Ginny in your journey. You don’t know where you are by the time you get to the Weasley’s portkey.

“(Y/N),” Cedric gasps, seeing you with the twins. He runs over to you and envelopes you into a big hug, glad to see his best friend safe. You melt into it, not realizing how much you needed this. Tears start to form in your eyes as he pulls back. “Are you okay, where is your family? I thought…”

You shake your head at him, not having the voice to say it. Instead, you just put your head on his shoulder. Sobs start coming before you have the chance to stop them.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley x reader #malfoy!reader #draco malfoy x sister!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x malfoy!reader #weasley twins #weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #hogwarts #unlike the rest

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words-for-holland · 4 years

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Quarantine Series: Beat the Heat

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom hasn’t had to worry about another guy taking Y/N away...but the heat? Well that’s a story worth telling.

A/N: Only 1 more part left after this?! 🥺 Definitely not trying to prolong the wait on this just so QS can live on.

Masterlist

Summer in London was anything but hot. It was your typical short, comfortable, partly cloudy type of summer with periods of rain here and there. It’s rarely below 60’s and never went over the 100’s. However one stubborn week in July turned out to be the hottest week London had ever seen. Forget high 90’s, the area’s temperature would push to 104 degrees that London itself might as well test postive for Cornavirus. For Tom, Y/N, Harrison, Harry, and Tuwaine, it was going to be a game of survival of the fittest.

“I swear global warming is a thing. This heat, the pandemic...It’s the end of the world!” Tuwaine groans as he desperately fans himself with his hand.

“Relax you drama queen.” Tom replies, as he sets up the air conditioner. “Okay so according to the Nest. If I just tilt the circle to left, it should turn the AC on in about 10 minute.” He states, reading the instructions aloud in hopes that cooling device works as expected.

“Well that was easy. So as long as we all stay inside and hydrated, we should be fine and there wont be any need for hand fanning.” Y/N justifies as she looks at Tuwaine, who was still fanning himself with his own hand.

“What? I sweat a lot when Im hot. Im just doing my part.” Tuwaine defends, as he shrugs his shoulder. “When the ten minutes pass and the air is on, I’ll stop fanning.”

Surprisingly, the air conditioner was working as expected! Tom had never felt so proud of himself, that it was all he talked about for the remainder of the day to everyone in the household. Especially since Y/N’s career was all so focused on technology. Tom wanted to make her proud and show that he too can handle techy stuff on his own. “See Y/N, I programmed the Nest all by myself, and I even downloaded the app so I can change the temperature from my phone no matter where I am.” He gloats proudly. “If you feel hot when Im away in Berlin, you can call me and I’ll lower the temp for you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes while she laughs at her fiance’s nerdiness. Of course she knew just about anyone could figure out how to work a nest, but Tom was so proud of what he’s accomplished, she couldn’t really stop him from celebrating his personal victory. “What about me? If I get hot will you turn down the temp for me when you’re in Berlin?” Harrison mocked, as he batted his eyelashes to his best mate.

“You have a phone. You can do it yourself.” Tom says bluntly as he comes around to Y/N’s side on the couch.

“So does she!” Harrison points, accusingly.

“Yeah...but it’s Y/N.” Tom points out, speaking as if it was the most obvious reason.

Harrison turns his face back to the television shaking his head, mumbling “Whipped.” with a slight smirk.

Tom did not hesitate to throw an extremely large pillow toward his best friend before saying, “Of course I am, you div. That’s why I proposed to her and not you.”

Later that night, Y/N and Tom had already cuddled into bed, falling into a deep slumber...Well one more than the other. It got extremely hot for Y/N as she noticed the change in atmosphere. The air felt much warmer, her body feeling slick and sticky from her sweat. The heavy comforter, Tom’s arm wrapped around her body, and his warm breath behind her neck were making her extremely uncomfortable. It wasn’t odd for Y/N to move a little in her sleep. Tom was very much aware of that the moment they spent their first night together, but it was rare that she’d push him off and face the other side with no blankets covering her.

Tom felt an emptiness in his arms, and no extra weight on his legs and waist. Something was definitely off for him, and he lazily put his hand out to feel for Y/N with his eyes still closed. “Y/N?” He grumbled in his sleep, trying to cuddle back to her. “Why...you move?”

“Too hot.” Y/N mumbled back as she pushed him away again. “AC broken.”

“Fuck.” Tom groans, as both tried to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, it was nearly impossible for Tom to go back to sleep. Not only was it extremely hot, but he didnt have Y/N on top of him. A position he’s so used to sleeping in his own bed. He certainly wasn’t going to let a good 8 hours of sleep do him dirty like this. He rolled off the bed, as he padded his barefeet on the hardwood floor. Tom went downstairs finding exactly what he needed, carrying the bulk slowly as to minimize the noise and avoid dropping them.

He makes it back to his room, where Y/N rolled on her side snoring peacefully. Tom shook his head smiling at how adorable she looked even though it was probably way too early and dark to even make that assumption, but there was no need. He knew Y/N always looked beautiful to him even on her worst days. Tom plugged the two fans in, turning it to the highest setting. Air was blasting through the fans as it turned rapidly. The room that was once hot and sticky, was now cool and refreshing. In fact it started to get so much cooler, Y/N could feel the goosebumps on her arms. Her eyes were still closed but she instinctively turned on her other side, facing Tom. “Mm. It’s cold.” She mumbles in her sleep.

Tom smiles at her, slowly lifting her leg onto his and pulling her close. “I know darling. Come ‘ere. I’ll keep you warm.” His arm was now wrapped her waist, and he smiled even brighter in victory. As if a broken AC was ever going to prevent Tom’s cuddling sleep with Y/N. Broken house appliances should know about Tom is that when it comes to Y/N...if there’s a will, there’s a way.

The next morning, Y/N and the boys had already made their way to the kitchen, installing mini fans around the house. Tom was the last to come down after his victorious slumber, where he was greeted by a sacastic applause from his best mates. “Well done, Tom. Absolutely smashed it with the AC.” Harry cheers, sweat already drippin from his forehead.

“Yeah and nice going stealing the fans last night.” Harrison laughed, chiming in.

“Oh piss off.” Tom scowls at his younger brother, making his way to the Nest. “I don’t understand. I followed the directions.” He groans trying to check what went wrong.

YN popped up from the back, phone in hand. “Well sorry boys, looks like we wont have a working AC until the end of this week.”

“What?!” The three boys shot up in unison.

“Yeah, the AC’s parts are really old, but the electric company said that they can order new ones today and have it installed on Friday..so no worries guys. We’ll all just sleep downstairs in the meantime, till then.”

They all groaned loudly, like the drama queens they were, making their own way. Tom comes up behind Y/N. “Uhh that totally defeats the whole purpose of why I put those mini fans in our room last night.” He objected with a cheeky smile his face.

“Thomas Stanely Holland. You do not steal fans for yourself just so you have an excuse to cuddle me in your sleep.” She teasingly chastises, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Steal?! I’ll have you know I don’t steal fans..I gain them.” He wiggles his eyebrows ar Y/N, making her laugh. “Plus don’t act liek you didn’t love cuddling with me last night to protect you from the cold.”

“Stop. That’s too cheesy.” She snorts, trying to walk away from him.

“Make me, darling.” He dares, holding her in place as he continues to wiggle his eyebrows.

Y/N smiles at him, her hands slowly making their face to both sides of his face. His eyes closes, as she gently strokes on side of his cheekbone down to his jawline. She leans ever so slowly into him, just barely touching his lips. Toms arms around her loosen, ready to lift her chin up just so their lips could close the painful tiny distance of air. It was then Y/N took her shot, and ran away from Tom, yelling at Harrison that Tom was going to steal the fans for himself.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Tom yells out, chasing after Y/N.

“No that’s called being clever.” Y/N cackles, poorly mocking her fiance’s British accent.

“God I cant wait for this AC to start working again.” Tom groans as he makes his way after Y/N.

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl @parkerspillow @joyleenl @kihyunwifes @holland-bowen @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @marvelobsessedteenager @viwihere

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

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sylverstorms · 3 years

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Azula x Mai

The moonlight was too bright.

Mai felt bombarded by its glow as it reflected off the marble steps of the beach house to shoot directly into her brain. A curse was hissed under her breath. Ty Lee, a few ways ahead of her, giggled. It was a wonder how she could skip up the stairs so easily considering how much she’d drank, probably the amount Zuko, Azula and Mai had consumed combined.

To be fair, she was more used to drinking than the rest of them. Or rather, she was the only one accustomed.

Zuko was nearly out after the first quarter of his gin bottle, a fact that Azula –of course— had to point out in that typical, demeaning way of hers. It quickly led to an all-out war between the two siblings about who would drink who under the table. For the record, Mai did point out how bad of an idea it was, though she knew them better than to expect either to back down.

Ty Lee put her money on Azula winning. Mai had to be a good girlfriend and support Zuko. It was no surprise to anyone when, thirty minutes down the line, he collapsed face-first into the sand. The princess erupted into a fit of laughter about how pathetic he was.

Mai had moved to help him, but Zuko, red-faced from both alcohol, anger and the shame of loss, brushed her off and stomped his way up to the beach house. Azula, knowing she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended to be, made up an excuse about not missing her beauty sleep and bid them goodnight. Mai’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the uncharacteristically ungraceful way she climbed the steps, nearly tripping twice.

That left her alone with Ty Lee over their own bottles. Apologies were said and accepted for the hurtful things spoken earlier that night, around that same fire. Mai didn’t intend to stay out so late, yet her friend’s stories swept her along. By the time she suggested they get to bed, as well, she couldn’t really walk in a straight line.

It was a small miracle she made it to Li and Lo’s house on her own. Mai would add it to her small list of achievements, if she could also locate her shared room with Zuko.

One hand glued onto the corridor’s wall for support, she managed to get to a familiar point. Two adjacent doors glared at her. Past muddled thoughts, Mai could recollect Azula picking the left one that morning. She turned the handle to her right and stumbled inside.

Zuko, bathed in shadows, had his back turned to her.

Mai sluggishly shrugged off her top and stepped out of her sandals. She tried –tried being the key word— to slide as softly into bed as possible. The body beside her stirred under the cocoon of covers but didn’t wake. If she were any soberer, she would surely start to stress about sharing a bed with the prince for the first time, or what the proper distance to keep was. Right then, however, she was drunk and growing colder by the minute.

There was no logical explanation as to why it was that chilly in the heart of summer, in Ember Island.

Mai bit the corner of her lip and decided— screw it.

She slid closer, to the part of the large bed that was wonderfully warm. Then she got greedy and pressed herself fully against the firebender. And— oh, he was warm as a furnace. Mai didn’t remember Zuko ever being that hot, before, but it was wonderful.

His hair felt longer, too, under her cheek, yet all she could focus on was the sensation of holding flames in her arms. Other things, little things, registered scarcely in the back of her brain. He didn’t smell like usual, of smoke and fresh spices. Instead, a mix of sandalwood and fire lilies tickled Mai’s nose. She couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into the source and inhale.

Was Zuko’s skin always this soft to the touch?

Mai didn’t know how she’d never noticed that or taken advantage of it. Kisses were one thing and she greatly appreciated the hardness of his muscles, in the few times things between them had gotten more heated than that. But this? This was just perfect.

Or perhaps the drink was doing more to her than just making her dizzy.

The theory was proven correct when her company shifted against her until she gave them room to roll onto their back. The brush of silky hair against her neck ignited something in her. The fingers that came to rest on the bare skin of her side felt like a brand.

Inhibitions lowered, Mai didn’t hesitate to crash their lips together.

The kiss was as burning as the rest of her lover. Lips too soft that tasted like cotton candy and gin parted all too easily for her. Mai wove her hand into raven hair and tugged. A low groan escaped Zuko that didn’t much sound like him. The nails that dug possessively into her flesh and the tongue that slipped into her mouth were unlike him, too.

If anything, they reminded Mai of Azula.

That was a thought she didn’t want to take into bed with her boyfriend… but it made her grow more aroused regardless. Right and wrong –or wrong and so very wrong— didn’t seem to matter to her body. She’d always been attracted to edges, blades, deadly things. She didn’t know of any deadlier than Azula.

Mai grew frustrated into the kiss. It was too good and that made it not enough and she wasn’t in any state to control her urges. She pressed her thighs together to relieve the ache building there, but that only made it worse. Her head was a mess. Her body was a mess.

Agni, I need—

She was wet, wetter than she’d ever imagined she could be, and she needed Zuko to make it go away so she wouldn’t go back to thinking about Azula again. Anything but that.

Just a little, she told herself as she slid a leg over her lover’s and pressed herself down on their thigh. ‘Just a little’, but it was too satisfying when that little spot was hit just right, when strong hands gripped at her hips and urged her to continue at her leisure.

Mai bit her lower lip to mute the moans threatening to spill from her lips into little gasps. It was like having sex with fire. Flames were everywhere, in her mind, under her parted legs, licking across her skin, driving her insane.

It wasn’t long before they consumed her.

Mai stilled and shook. The body beneath her followed suit. A moment suspended in time, until she collapsed into the firebender’s neck, exhausted and limp.

She drifted to sleep surrounded by the scent of fire lilies.

…

Noise. Too much noise.

Thankfully, it was muffled outside her door. Mai held tighter onto the lulling warmth against her. Ty Lee’s voice echoed in her ears. Then, Zuko’s. Something in that sound started to spring the gears of her mind into motion. Zuko’s…?

“Agni, shut up…” Azula’s voice grumbled, hoarse from the previous night’s drinking.

Only, it shouldn’t be Azula’s voice coming by Mai’s ear.

“What—” she began to ask.

Never got around to finishing that sentence. The princess’ eyes snapped open and zeroed in on her, while Mai sprang up. The flare of pain across her head at the sudden movement was nothing compared to the sheer shock of the realization…

Last night I—

What did I do…?

She remembered fire. She remembered moving in the dark against someone. Worst of all, she remembered loving it.

Mai brought a shaky hand up to her mouth, while Zuko’s complaining from outside intensified. Azula was an expressionless statue, not moving, not blinking, not even breathing. She was the first to break the standstill when she abruptly stood and went to gather fresh clothes from her bag.

Like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Azula—” Mai usually prided herself for being the level-headed one. Not this time. This time, she was panicking.

“Hm?” A non-committal noise.

“Last night…” she couldn’t even bring herself to ask. And what could she say, really? ‘Did I really cheat on your brother with you’? ‘Did I dry-hump you like a sl—

“Did something happen?” Azula turned to her with the world’s most impassive face.

Mai wanted to yell at her. To slap her across her gorgeous fucking face. The asshole did not get to do that with her, act like nothing happened, like they could go back to their lives as they were before.

“Not the first time we had a sleepover, Mai.” she said as she opened a drawer to take a bathtowel in hand. Her knuckles were white around the fabric.

The elder noble opened her mouth to speak.

Zuko’s voice cut her off.

“And where the hell is my girlfriend?!”

Azula disappeared into the shower. Mai dropped her face into her hands and wished for all of it to be a bad dream.

…

But it wasn’t a dream. It was a real-life nightmare.

Mai couldn’t even look at Zuko in the eyes. Ever since he was a child, Azula had tainted everything for him. She took and took from him. To think that she would even ruin his relationship, that she would even take her away…

The thought was unbearable.

It was too easy to be angry at Azula. For being in what was supposed to be Zuko’s fucking room, for not stopping her, for taking it all so in stride. But. It wasn’t her fault, was it? She’d drank more than Mai and she wasn’t the one to press up to her and initiate their kisses. If it had been another trick to humiliate him, Azula would have gloated already.

In a sense, Mai would have accepted that easier than her utter silence.

“Can you just tell me what’s wrong already?” Zuko asked, coming closer to her. “Did I do something last night when I wasn’t in my right mind?” His eyes were wide. He sounded desperate.

It wasn’t him who should be torn up. “…Nothing’s wrong, Zuko.” she lied in her dismissive monotone.

“How can you say that?! You flinch every time I touch you!” he snapped. His hand wrapped around her wrist to make the point.

Mai hated how lukewarm he felt compared to her flame.

She hated her.

How could Azula ruin this for her?

It took Mai years off her childhood to convince herself her crush was on Zuko and not his mean little sister. She didn’t like anything about the fire princess other than her stupid good looks. She was the devil incarnate. Selfish, arrogant, inconsiderate, powerful, deadly, gorgeous— Mai was glad to leave for Omashu, to leave her behind. She thought the years would reduce those feelings to an awful memory. And they had.

But they hadn’t wiped them completely. And one taste of the forbidden fruit was all it took—

Mai pulled away from Zuko, something in her chest cracking at the hurt in those amber eyes. “I’m sorry. I just need some time to myself.”

She left without looking back.

Azula was in her room, packing her things, when Mai barged in.

“Ever heard of knocking?” A slender eyebrow raised. The princess had her hair down again and it shouldn’t look so damn attractive on her.

Mai walked over to her, her darkest glare on. “We need to talk.”

“What about?” Such composure. She so badly wanted to mess it up with a knife to her pale throat.

“Oh, I don’t know. How about the thing after you and Zuko left the bonfire, yesterday?” Mai deliberately raised her voice.

Azula flashed into her personal space in an instant, eyes yellow like a dragon’s and ten times as dangerous. “Keep your voice down.” she ordered in a low hiss.

Ty Lee was still in the house. Not to mention Lo and Li.

“So, let’s talk about yesterday, Mai.” Azula said. “I beat my idiot brother –again. He dashed back here before he could embarrass himself further. But, of course, he couldn’t tell left from right, let alone which room was his.” she explained. “I opened the door to see him sprawled out in what I’d declared was my bed, so I grabbed my things and came here.”

Mai was dreading the next part.

“Ty Lee took the couch she’d wanted since we arrived. You took the right turn –bravo— albeit with the wrong company. We slept. That’s it. Time to go home now and focus on the actually important things.”

Lying. Always lying about everything. Are you seriously going to lie about this, too?

A part of Mai cracked. Her face didn’t show it, but she knew Azula could tell, just like she could tell the dark things the princess hid behind her mask of perfection.

“And to think I believed you when you promised to never lie to me.” A parting promise made at the docks before a years’ long separation.

Azula’s jaw clenched. “Just. Forget it.” There was a flash on emotion in her yellow eyes, like a shooting star.

“I wish I could.”

“Why, was I that good or is Zuzu just that bad?” Her tone. That smirk.

Mai’s hand moved before she knew what she was doing.

Azula’s head snapped to the side from the force of the slap.

Mai gulped the bile down. Boiling anger was instantly replaced by guilt. The princess’ jaw was already turning red, stark against the paleness of her skin, where she struck her. She deserved it. But…

But.

“I-I’m sorry, Az—”

Azula grabbed her hand before Mai could trace her thumb over the mark. Nails bit into her skin and the temperature rose to near-blistering levels. She half expected the princess to burn her for daring to hit her. She half feared it. But Azula kept the flame contained in her own body, there only as a warning.

“This time, for the sake of the help you’ve provided me, you get a free pass. Next time you try anything like this, I will burn you alive.” And who she saw in her eyes then, Mai did not recognise as her friend, nor her past crush. “Never speak of yesterday again.”

Her hand was released, the skin uncomfortably hot but not burnt.

She made it easy, at least.

She made it easy for Mai to forget any past attraction to her.

To despise the new her.

Ko-Fi

#Avatar The Last Airbender #azula x mai #maizula #Azula #princess azula #Mai #prince zuko #ty lee #fanfiction #fanfic #comission I wrote for someone who'd rather stay anonymous #thank you for the prompt #hope you enjoyed

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gellavonhamster · 3 years

Text

ghost of a lady in furs

Frontier || characters: Elizabeth Carruthers, Douglas Brown, Josephette DaCosta, Malcolm Brown, Michael Smyth; ships: Elizabeth Carruthers/Douglas Brown || AU after 2x05, rated M (?)

ao3 link eng || ao3 link rus

It’s a long way back from the dead.

At first, Elizabeth stays in bed all day – just as for weeks before, only now conscious. It hurts to speak, it’s hard to look at bright light, it’s necessary to lie down as soon as possible after each meal – liquid, as if already chewed by someone else, for her jaw still aches – because staying seated for a long time, even in a bastion of pillows, is hard too. Josephette tries to visit her as often as she can, to keep her up to date on all news pertaining to the company and not only. Sometimes she brushes Elizabeth’s hair or helps her wash herself. Sometimes Elizabeth allows herself to rest her head on her friend’s shoulder, close her eyes, and not think of anything for a while.

Not to think of what happened to her, not to try to remember how exactly it happened – all that took place after her arrival at Grant’s mansion and the arrest of Pond is covered by fog.

Not to think of the fact that Samuel Grant presently must be sure that he’s won.

Not to think of the fact that if the one who beat her – Pond or anyone else, or Grant himself, which, however, is hard to believe – hit her harder or a couple more times, maybe just once more, he really would have won.

Douglas also spends a lot of time with her. Evenings, when he comes home from the factory, they dine together. Not in the dining room, of course – she in bed, he in an armchair beside it. Occasionally, when Elizabeth wakes up, she finds him drowsing in that very armchair. His presence in her bedroom strangely doesn’t bother her. Most of the time when they’re not discussing the affairs of Carruthers and Co. or Elizabeth’s health is spent in awkward silence; Elizabeth feels it physically that he has an urge to tell her something important, or maybe to touch her, only he doesn’t dare to. She cannot figure out if his hesitance is making her angry or, quite the opposite, glad that it gives her time to contemplate. Perhaps it is rather the second; what happened wasn’t simply not provided for in their marriage contract, it is something of the in-sickness-and-in-health kind, and so on, and so forth. She wasn’t ready for this, and she doesn’t know what to make of it.

Besides, she has much more pressing problems now, and she’d rather ponder over them.

“I am going to destroy Samuel Grant,” she announces to Josephette and Douglas one evening when both of them come to check up on her. By that point her jaw has ceased to ache so much, which means she is able to speak in longer sentences. She’s been looking forward to this.

Her friend and her husband exchange glances.

“Elizabeth…” Douglas begins.

“Yes, I know,” she cuts him short. The day she almost died is only fragmentary in her memory, as a series of disjointed images; one of them is him by her writing desk, naked, frowning at the freshly signed confession in his hands. She’s aware that he has warned her, but she would still prefer him not to remind her of it. “I underestimated him. I hadn’t second-guessed what he might go for when scared. Every time I think a man cannot sink even lower, I am proven wrong.”

Douglas wisely chooses not to comment in any way on her pronouncement about men.

“Then what is going to stop him from trying to kill you again since he’s already crossed that line?” he asks instead.

Josephette takes her hand.

“Elizabeth,” she says carefully. “You are still in no condition to confront him.”

Elizabeth heaves an exasperated sigh.

“I can see that both of you have become too keen on fussing over me,” she says, displeased, but doesn’t take her hand away. “Well, I am grateful. But do both of you really think me as stupid as to go the same way? I am going to act behind his back. And you are going to help me.”

Douglas looks like he’s going to object, but Josephette, who has known Elizabeth for a longer time and better – and who knows that she cannot be persuaded to step back from a desired goal – is quicker to answer.

“Tell us what you have in mind,” she says.

***

Elizabeth Carruthers becomes a ghost.

After so many weeks in bed, she can’t and she won’t make herself lie down. At night, she waits impatiently for sleep to take over, so as not to be aware that once again she is in the same bed in which she has spent more than a month. For days on end, she keeps wandering back and forth through the house, leaning on the walls, wandering and wandering until the inevitable dizziness sets in. The servants flinch reflexively now and again when she emerges towards them from a scantily lit hallway.

Only thing she’s missing are some shackles to rattle.

Her excuse is doctor’s orders – she has to move to stir her muscles, weakened and numb due to the time spent bedridden. Yet this is just part of the truth – not even half of it, a third at best. The lion’s share of the truth is that there’s an unappeasable rage inside her, howling, growling, thrashing around, and this rage wouldn’t even let her sit at the table for a long time – she studies the company’s documents standing or perched on an armrest, she reads books as she walks around in the living room. She is a cage where a wolf is pacing in circles, and she herself is caged in that house, far from noise, meetings, deals, negotiations, life.

A couple of times, soon after she regained consciousness and became strong enough to sit in bed and even get up sometimes for a while, she let the wolf out. A couple of times were enough – she wouldn’t break down anymore. No, she couldn’t care less about the dishes, all the more about the ridiculous statuette of a shepherdess that was a gift to her and her first husband from – whom? Doesn’t matter in any case. It brought much more joy when it shattered than when it was collecting dust on the mantelpiece. Still, each such outburst is a display of weakness, which only makes Elizabeth angry at herself later. She has spent far too much time proving to the world that she is sensible, rational, and cool-headed. The world – replete with disdain, superficial, and annoyingly male – refused to believe her: she is a woman, after all, and what should one expect from women but hysterics and tears? And even if those living in this house or visiting it have seen her even weaker, they haven’t seen her pathetic – and they won’t. Not the servants, though they won’t utter a word for fear of losing their jobs, not Josephette, though she wouldn’t judge, not Douglas, who might think whatever but wouldn’t judge her openly either. If she loses her temper in front of them, it will be more difficult to keep it in check in front of the others.

She couldn’t hold back the desire to gloat when she went to mock Grant in person, and look what came of it.

And so she keeps her rage locked. Or rather remolds it, reforges it, and uses it wisely. Instead of wasting time and energy on yelling and breaking the china, she’d rather put more effort into planning her revenge on Grant – and to bringing these plans to fruition.

If he isn’t afraid of ghosts, soon he will be.

***

Few people know she’s awake. Many people don’t even know if she’s alive. By a fortunate coincidence, the passerby who found her used to work on Carruthers and Co. He went straight to Josephette, who paid him handsomely for his help and for keeping his mouth shut about his discovery. The onlookers never got a chance to amass, but someone must still have seen her, because rumours started spreading in Montreal that Elizabeth Carruthers was found dead in a ditch. No, not dead, but beaten up. No, not beaten up, just drunk. The latter in particular made her blood boil; even at the dreariest moments of her confinement, when the wolf inside urged her to lunge at the walls and at anyone who comes her way, she didn’t get drunk, not even once. A sip of brandy at dinner, and that’s all. The memories of what Peter was like when plastered are too fresh. He was pathetic when sober and so much the more when inebriated. She grimaces as she remembers. She doesn’t want to resemble him in any way.

One of the few upsides of marriage to Peter was meeting Josephette, who proves herself indispensable once again.

Few people know she’s awake. Yet Josephette, who has perfect knowledge of the factory and everyone who works there, selects some trustworthy and discreet girls among the workers, girls who own some debt of gratitude to her or to Elizabeth, and lets them into this secret. These girls sometimes enlist the help of their fiancés or brothers, just as trustworthy and discreet. And so acquaintances begin to be struck up between them and the workers from Grant’s company, so begin the casual inquiries about what it’s like to work there and what the news are, and the passing mentions of how it’s pretty good to work for Widow Carruthers (she may have got married for the second time, but most of them still think of her as of Widow Carruthers). Sometimes they spice it up with a bit or two of gossip that might make one doubt just how fair Grant is with his men. Sometimes these seeds take root. Sometimes they don’t. No one is forcing anything on anyone – just offering food for thought.

All the obtained intelligence goes to Josephette, who then passes it to Elizabeth, and together they figure out how to use it. Most of it is not too valuable – one must give the devil his due, Grant’s employees don’t complain much. However, sometimes they get to learn which suppliers have voiced dissatisfaction with the terms of bargains lately, or which potential buyers have visited the factory. Those are approached by Douglas, who offers them better terms and makes them believe that Carruthers and Co. has exactly what they need. First by playing along and then by twisting their words, he convinces Grant’s partners that it is they who want what is offered to them.

He used to be the face of the company while Elizabeth was its true head, and Josephette was the secret power unknown even to those aware that the company was run by the wife, not by the husband. Now Elizabeth herself has receded into the shadows even deeper than Josephette. Behind Douglas Brown, the figurehead of Carruthers and Co., is a Black former servant, and behind her, there is a ghost.

Perhaps Samuel Grant’s enterprise is haunted as well, since workers and suppliers start leaving it slowly but surely.

***

“Miss Dolan came by the factory today,” Douglas tells her one evening as they’re having dinner together – not in the bedroom, now that Elizabeth, thankfully, is feeling much better, but in the dining room. It takes some time for Elizabeth to remember who he is referring to: right, the Irish girl. The little traitor. In fairness, Elizabeth can see that the girl is just trying to survive, but she still cannot think of her without dislike.

“And what was she after? Surely she didn’t come to visit her former workmates?”

“Well, first of all, she wanted to return the hat you gave her.”

“I hope you told her she is free to choke on it.”

“I told her you would’ve preferred her to keep it.” Douglas fumbles with his glass that still has some brandy in it. They’re sitting at the opposite sides of the table, like a king and a queen in an empty castle – a haunted one, naturally. One day, as she was lying in bed and obsessively thinking out her vengeance on Grant, it occurred to her that she was turning into a sort of Lady Macbeth, plotting and scheming and slowly going insane. The next thought amused her: how fitting of her to have married a Scotsman. “She asked after your health, for she remembers how kind you were to her…”

Elizabeth snorts.

“…and she also asked in passing if it’s true that Deschamps and Moreau are now supplying their goods to us. Said she couldn’t help wonderin’ because she’d seen them at Grant’s before.”

“How observant of her.”

“You understand what that means, right? They suspect something, Elizabeth. And they won’t leave it like that.”

Elizabeth slams her glass on the table.

“If you are going to say that it’s time to stop, save your breath,” she tells him, voice ringing with indignation. “Because it’s too late to stop. Afraid, Mr. Brown, aren’t you?”

Douglas sighs, takes off his glasses, sighs again, and puts them back. In the light of the melting candles he looks older than he is, and very tired.

“A wee bit,” he admits. “But not for myself.”

His words produce a strange feeling in her chest, as if a ruffled bird is stirring underneath her ribs.

Elizabeth gets up and approaches him at a swift pace, and he rises too, eyes fixed on her. She rests one hand on the table – she shouldn’t have stood up so briskly, her head still spins a little at times – and tries to figure out what to say to a man who dared to care about her.

He’s waiting, and only the cracking of the firewood disturbs the silence.

“I can take care of myself,” Elizabeth finally says. “I’ve told you before: I won’t go the same way. I won’t make myself an easy target. You won’t have to nurse me back to health again, don’t worry.”

“I would’ve done it again if I had to. I’d rather it wasn’t necessary, though.”

For a change, Elizabeth Carruthers doesn’t know what to say, so she just kisses him.

When Douglas pulls away, he’s looking at her with a mixture of longing and wariness.

“I thought you didn’t remember this either,” he says quietly.

“I would’ve done it again if I didn’t,” replies Elizabeth. She doesn’t want to decipher what she means by these words. She made him marry her so that Carruthers and Co. had a representative that these small-minded pigs who don’t trust a businesswoman would agree to deal with. She slept with him, and it felt good. He took care of her while she was unconscious, and then was tactful enough during her recovery not to make her feel humiliated by his help. All of it adds up to something, but she prefers not to reflect on it. She doesn’t want to decipher what she means by these words – but she knows she’s speaking from her heart. “Otherwise I’d have to wait till doomsday for you to be done suffering in silence.”

“Frankly speaking, I… wasn’t sure that back then it didn’t happen because you wanted me to sign that bloody confession.”

“Well, I wanted you to sign it. I also wanted you. These two were not related,” shrugs Elizabeth. She cannot blame him for the lack of trust: she did use him, and he, in turn, planned together with Malcolm to go against her – what kind of trust could there be? “If you thought I was playing you, why didn’t you leave while I was as good as dead? Why did you stay?”

He responds by kissing her – not on the lips, but on the cheek right under the scar, very carefully. Again, a little higher. Again, moving along the outline of the scar but not touching her skin where it recently was too new and delicate. His moustache is tickling her face; the bird underneath her ribs is picking at her heart. And she’s mad at him because she’s addled and defenseless in the face of this unbearable tenderness, and she’s mad at herself because she is starting to suspect in horror that she might cry if he touches her like this again, this was not in their marriage contract, this was not in her scheme of things, and how dare he…

She grabs him by his curls, pushes him lower, makes him press his lips to hers – makes him do something she can comprehend. The urge to tear up subsides. She pulls him closer, one hand still in his hair, the other on the lapel of his waistcoat. Then she lets go for a moment to move the dinnerware aside without even looking (one glass must have fallen – to hell with it, to hell with everything) before sitting down on the edge of the table.

“The servants might come in,” Douglas reminds her when she runs her hand over his shoulder, his hip, his crotch, like she owns him, but his voice is husky and hot, and his hands are peeling off her dressing gown.

“So what?” she breaths out. “They are my servants. This is my house. Everything here is mine. And if I want my husband to fuck me on my table in my dining room… I don’t see what must be stopping me.”

When he lifts her nightdress and kneels between her spread legs, she doesn’t feel like a ghost.

***

One of the factory girls who were being friendly with Grant’s workers on Josephette’s orders is found with her throat cut. There is no purse with earnings on her, so it might have been just a robbery. A coincidence. Or maybe not.

That night Elizabeth sees Grant’s face hanging over her, his eyes wide with terror as he keeps delivering blow after blow to her head with something heavy.

“I’m a good man,” she hears his frantic voice. “I’m a good man.”

Upon another blow she wakes, and sits up in bed with a jerk. Something that is neither a sob nor a cry escapes her throat – a shrill animal sound. She cannot catch her breath. She cannot believe she can breathe.

“Elizabeth,” Douglas says worriedly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Some part of her mind that has either already calmed down or never had time to get scared tells her that she must have elbowed him in the face when she jerked up. “Elizabeth, what’s the matter?”

“It was Grant,” she whispers. She’s shaking, and even Douglas’s comforting warmth by her side doesn’t help. Pathetic, she’s so pathetic now. “It was Grant who beat me up. I remembered.”

“Elizabeth, it might’ve been just a dream…”

“And I am telling you I remembered!” snaps Elizabeth. She put her hand to her forehead and wipes off the sweat. ��I take it you know better than I what’s happening in my head, don’t you?”

“I mean, it is quite possible that after the news about that poor lass…”

“No. No, no, no,” she frees herself from his embrace and climbs off the bed. It is his bedroom, not hers, and the unusual surroundings are disorienting: the window is too small, the door is on the wrong side. Perhaps she’d calm down sooner if she lay down again, but presently she doesn’t want to have anything in common with the unmoving body on the floor of Samuel Grant’s mansion.

She tenses up when Douglas approaches her, but he doesn’t try to persuade her to go back to bed, just throws a shawl over her shoulders.

She closes her eyes and thinks. And thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

“You know,” she finally says, “I cannot believe I am proposing this myself, but I’m going to need to chat with your brother.”

***

This time, instead of Declan Harp, Malcolm brings her some disheveled boy.

“Michael Smyth of the Black Wolf Company… ma’am,” he announces, indicating the guest with a nod. “Michael, let me introduce you to Mrs. Elizabeth Carruthers.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” says Smyth. The beard and the overall rough-hewn appearance of a seasoned hunter are unable to conceal how young he is. He reminds Elizabeth of a small animal – a ferret or a raccoon – that has somehow managed to sneak into her house from the forest.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Smyth,” Elizabeth replies coldly, not bothering to stand up and offer her hand to him. “Although, in truth, I would’ve been much more pleased if Mr. Brown did what I asked and organized me a meeting with Mr. Harp, not with his errand boy. Who is also to blame, as far as I know, for the supply that I’ve arranged with Mr. Harp going down the drain.”

Malcolm opens his mouth, but Michael Smyth beats him to it.

“Declan Harp is in Scotland now,” he says calmer than could be expected after her remark; well done. “As to the supply, I had no other choice. Your people didn’t come to collect the pelts. Cobbs Pond told me you’re…”

“Dead? As you can see, it is unwise to believe everything Cobbs Pond says,” even the name of that man seems to taste rotten. Elizabeth cannot help screwing up her face as she pronounces it. “But I admit: my people didn’t come indeed – they were too busy keeping me alive.”

“Well, I was busy keeping my people alive,” retorts Smyth. “We had to dispose of the pelts before the redcoats caught up with us. Pond was there, and he had the silver. I am sure, Mrs. Carruthers, that you would’ve done the same if you were in my place.”

“Sureness is a fine thing. The trick is not to overdo it. Trust me, Mr. Smyth, I am speaking from my own bitter experience,” Elizabeth replies with a sweet smile. The boy is staring hard at her, waiting for what she’s going to say next. Malcolm, hands in pockets, is observing their one-on-one leaning against the door frame. “Anyway, enough of the past. This is not why I asked my most kind brother-in-law,” she makes a pause, which Malcolm fills with a loud sneering chuckle, “to bring me a representative of the Black Wolf Company.”

“Then why, Mrs. Carruthers?”

Elizabeth leans back in her chair. Today, for the first time after a month and a half in nightdresses and dressing gowns, she is wearing a proper dress – one of her best – which makes her feel splendid. As if nothing had changed. As if Michael Smyth, her first visitor in a long time who isn’t one of her household, doctors, or family (regrettably, the latter technically includes Malcolm), isn’t currently making every effort not to look inadvertently at the right side of her face – the ugly prominent scars, the greenish yellow of her bruises. And he’s making it; she can feel it.

“Your company has already stolen for me once, Mr. Smyth,” she says. “I didn’t get to have the results, but still. I need you to do it again.”

“You want us to steal the furs of the HBC?”

Elizabeth cannot hold back a vicious smile.

“I want you to steal the furs of Samuel Grant”.

***

“All right, that was not quite what I required of you, Mr. Brown,” she tells Malcolm after Smyth leaves, “but thank you just the same.”

Malcolm makes a helpless gesture dramatically.

“Well, sorry for not havin’ enough damn time to dart off to Scotland and back.”

“What business does Harp even have in Scotland?”

“Michael didn’t go into detail, so I guess it must be either something really important or something really personal.”

“Or both,” Elizabeth says thoughtfully. It wouldn’t hurt to learn what it is all about: you never know what information may turn out useful. “Let’s hope this… young man can be trusted.”

“He’s a thief. You need a thief. I don’t see why not,” shrugs Malcolm. “Besides, I warned him that you’re a witch, so if anything goes wrong, you’ll turn him into a mouse and eat him like it’s nothing.”

“Why a mouse, Mr. Brown? That’s not much to eat. Why not into a nice, fat goose, for example?”

“Not enough meat for a goose in that one,” Malcolm grins, and Elizabeth cannot help grinning back. This nonsense must be the first time in history when something resembling a friendly conversation is happening between them.

So, she used to be a ghost, and now she’s become a witch.

Or has always been one, as many people certainly wouldn’t fail to point out.

***

Josephette makes her a patch that covers half her face. The broad band of black velvet is covered in tiny embroidery – leaves, stems, bees. It looks unusual, but it matches most of Elizabeth’s dresses, and looks a little bit like a carnival mask. Someone uninitiated, upon seeing her wearing this strange accessory, might well conclude she’s going to attend a masked ball.

“If it’s too tight, it can be fastened by another hook. Or altered altogether,” says Josephette. Elizabeth looks at Josephette’s face in the mirror behind her shoulder, and shakes her head.

“It’s perfect. Really, you didn’t have to…”

Josephette gestures her to stop.

“I did,” she says. Her face, always so reserved, lights up. “Consider it a gift on the occasion of your return to the world of the living.”

Elizabeth turns around and takes Josephette’s hands in hers.

‘Thank you,” she tells her, meaning much more than just the patch, and she can read it in her friend’s gaze that she understands.

Together they descend the stairs – the queen and her éminence grise. Douglas is waiting for them below, by the door.

“Very… elegant,” he remarks, taking a look at his wife’s half-concealed face.

“Oh, I intend to bring it into fashion. Soon all ladies in Montreal will be wearing this. I’d love to look at Miss Dolan in it,” Elizabeth says with a sinister smile, and passes her arm through his. “Shall we?”

She can’t wait to return to the factory. To check personally if everything is in order, to examine the equipment, to hear how things are going in the workers’ own words. But first she has to visit the market, the very beating heart of the town. Let people see that she is back. As she passes the stalls of vendors and craftsmen, she can feel the prying eyes on her. Some start whispering as soon as they see her, some elbow their companions to draw their attention, some greet her awkwardly – those she honours with a regal nod.

She hopes to run into a certain man – and she does.

Samuel Grant is alone today, without the loyal Pond at his side. He’s talking to a couple of trappers whom Elizabeth hasn’t met before, and when he catches sight of her, he almost drops the beaver pelt he was inspecting.

Elizabeth stops and meets his gaze.

The whole market – possibly the whole world – seems to have stopped with them.

She feels ill at ease in his presence. She would never admit that – not even to Josephette, not even to Douglas – but the sight of the man who almost smashed her skull makes some sort of a cold well open inside her. But when he looks at her, he’s dumbfounded too, even scared. She is the witness of his crime. The witness of him being far from “a good man”, as he kept saying back then, trying in vain to make himself believe it.

Yet another blow, just after a large parcel of furs he was to receive was dragged into the night by black wolves.

Elizabeth forces a smile.

“Mr. Grant,” she says loudly and cordially. She is the first to break the silence, and it feels like a victory. Which is silly, of course: the real victory is a long way off. The real war has just begun. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

It’s a long way back from the dead, but she’s made it.

#frontier #frontier netflix #elizabeth carruthers #douglas brown #josephette dacosta #malcolm brown #michael smyth #clenna bringing the hat is borrowed from canon but otherwise s3? i don't know her #my fic #talk talk talk #gella talks frontier #i guess the tag is needed

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msmarvelouswinchester · 4 years

Text

Love In Sin

Chapter 5

Summary - Special Agent Winchester is forced to go undercover with his frenemy Special Agent L/N when they try to track down a notorious drug dealer. How will Y/N and Dean complete their task? Will their relationship worsen or will new feelings emerge between them?

Pairing -AU Detective!Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Warnings - Angst, Slow burn, Fluff, Implied Smut, Mentions of crime and drug, Swearing.

Chapter Warnings - Slow burn, Swearing

Word Count - 2.3k (this is probably the longest chapter in the series)

A/N - I was supposed to post this in two parts but here ya go folks!

Beta'd by the amazing @deanwanddamons (she is awesome)

The dividers by the talented @talesmaniac89

Series Masterlist

“I'm never organising a party again! I am exhausted!” you exclaimed sitting on the floor.

Dean let out a low whistle as he looked around the room full of streamers. He had been out to do the grocery shopping in the meantime. He came back with a bunch of food items and pie. That man really loved his pie.

“I knew you worked better with food in your system” he laughed.

“Shut up!” you grumbled, “we need to go and meet the neighbours now. Let them know about our party.”

“Now?” Dean raised an eyebrow at you.

“Dean, the party is tomorrow.”

“Why can't I get some alone time with my wife?” He pouted.

“What?”

“You know we haven't christened the bedroom yet,” he wiggled his brows, making you roll your eyes.

“Don't you think you are taking this undercover a bit too seriously?” Raising your finger, you poke his chest. He immediately grabbed your hand, pulling you close.

“I like roleplay,” he smirked. You jerked your handout of his grip and glared at him.

“Okay, okay. Let's go.”

You got up and went to your room to get changed into something better than the pants and oversized t-shirt you were wearing.

“Where ya goin’?” Dean asked, following you into the room.

“Get out, Winchester. I need to change,” you said and pushed him out of the room.

“You know I am your hus-” He started saying in a cocky tone, but was cut off by you yelling ‘Shut up’ to him.

You changed into jeans and a flannel and finally came out of your room.

“You look great.”

“Thanks,” you said blushing slightly. Can this man just stop complimenting you every now and then?

You and Dean approached the first house which was apparently Castiel’s .

You rang the doorbell and waited for someone to open the door.

“Yes?” A young boy of around twenty opened the door..

“Hey, is Castiel there?” you asked.

“Dad? Yeah sure. Wait here. Let me get him,” the boy said and went back inside the house, leaving you standing in front of the door which he had closed with a slam.

“Who's ask-oh hey! The Campbells right? That was my son, Jack. Come on in,” Cas said and gestured at you to follow him.

You went inside the house and took a seat on the couch. Castiel's house was beautiful. It was full of antique collections. There were also beautiful antique portraits on the wall.

“Hey! Cas told me you guys moved in here today. I'm Meg,” The woman greeted you both, and took a seat on another couch in front of you.

“Hey. Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N and he's Dean. You have a really beautiful house.”

“Thank you. It's all because of Cas. He loves to collect antique pieces and now our house looks like a museum. You just got married right? That's a really beautiful ring,” Meg said, glancing at the ring on your hand.

“Thank you but it was actually his choice,” you said looking at Dean, “so he deserves all the credit.”

“You two make a cute couple,” Meg grinned. You blushed at her words and nervously tucked your hair behind your ears.

“Thanks. We are actually here to invite you and Cas to our housewarming party. Tomorrow at seven,” Dean said.

“Oh we will be there, for sure!” Cas smiled.

“Awesome. So, as we are new here, can you tell us anything about the other neighbours?” Dean asked, hoping to get some information out of Meg and Cas.

“We have been living in this area for almost two years now. It may come off as a beautiful neighbourhood but actually it's the worst. No one talks to anyone and some of the neighbours are downright rude,” Meg said, clearly annoyed by her neighbours.

“Really?”

“Yes. There is Rowena. She lives two houses down from us. She is extremely sophisticated, she is the CEO of the company called Herbs and Magic.It's a company which produces organic skin care products,” Meg said. She definitely had a lot of information about the people living in the area.

“So, she is like the queen bitch,” you joked.

“No. Actually she is kind of polite. The queen bitch is Amara. She lives with her brother Chuck . I think you may know Amara. She worked on “Love in Sin” and a bunch of other films.”

“Yeah, I have heard of that film, not that I have watched it. This neighbourhood is really one of a kind,” you chuckled.

“Tell me about it,” Cas laughed along with you, “I don't know why Meg loves this neighbourhood so much. All the people who live here are assholes.”

“Hey! Not all of them. There is Mick Davies and Arthur Ketch - they seem like nice people and you know why I chose this place. It's easier to get to work from here.”

“Well Mick and Arthur haven't talked to us at all,” Cas rolled his eyes.

“Where do you work?” You asked.

“I work at Chuck's company.” You shared a look with Dean.

“Chuck Shurley? The producer of the film Love in Sin?"

“Yeah that and he is like the God of the business industry!” Meg exclaimed, "You know about the Carver Industries which deals with automobile manufactures?"

“Uh-yeah, of course we have heard of him,” Dean said, "Rich neighbourhood!"

“Anyways, thank you so much Meg. We have wasted a lot of your precious time. We should go now. We have others to invite too,” you said and got up from the couch.

“It was so nice to talk to you. Let's meet up some other time. You know, just a girl's day out,” Meg said.

“Definitely! I love to have a girl's day out with you,” you said and Meg pulled you in a hug.

“And they are already making plans,” Dean joked, making Cas laugh out loud.

You and Dean left the Novak household and went to invite the other neighbours - all of them definitely lived up to their reputation.

“Well, that was interesting. The Novaks don't seem like someone to be the right hand person of Crowley. Rowena is the CEO of a company - why would she need to be partnered up with a drug dealer? And the Shurley’s? How did the bureau forget to mention such an important detail?” You asked.

You had ordered a pizza because you neither had the energy nor the will to cook.

Dean hummed at your words and bit into a slice of pizza. “We need to keep a close eye on all of them. The Shurleys are our top priority.”

“Yup,” you said and noticed Dean typing on his phone after he was done eating.

“I have briefed Mr. Singer about today's incidents. Let's call it a night. We have to be on our toes the whole day tomorrow,” Dean said, making you nod in agreement.

Your eyes trailed up his body as he stretched his hands, his biceps flexing under the thin material of his unbuttoned flannel. You continued to stare as he yawned and shook his head.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Dean said, a stupid smirk on his face. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you blushed at him - this man was surely doing things to you.

“Shut up,” you grumbled and left to go back to your room.

“Night!” You heard Dean call out to you.

“Night,” you replied to him.

You woke up in the morning to find an arm draped over your stomach. You froze when you realised it was Dean's arm. What was he doing in your bed? You remember clearly you went to bed alone in your own fucking room.

Dean was still asleep. He was spooning you from behind, his hot breath fanning against your bare skin which was not covered by your tank top. Goosebumps erupted on your skin. So he was a cuddler - no that's not the important thing now. Why was he in your bed?

You tried to remove his arm from your stomach and started to stir beside you.

“Hey, morning,” Dean said in a gruff voice. You looked back and saw him greeting you with his eyes closed. Damn that son of bitch for looking like a model from one of the fashion magazines in the morning whereas you looked like you had just fought a war.

“Morning. What are you doing in my bed?”

“You don't remember?” Dean asked, finally opening up his eyes - he really did have beautiful eyes.

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’.

“So all that effort went to waste? Awesome,” Dean groaned and rolled to the other side of the bed.

“What happened Dean Winchester?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You had a nightmare. I woke up to hear you yelling and then your gorgeous mouth started saying my name. I tried to wake you up but you had turned into a sleeping beauty and I was too tired to kiss you awake so I climbed into the bed with you and voila! You calmed down and I think I fell asleep here,” Dean shrugged.

You observed him for a moment. He was straight up lying to you. If you had a nightmare that bad you would have remembered it. Why was he lying to you or maybe you really didn't remember? You wanted to ask him, but instead decided to drop the subject.

“Well then thanks. My nightmares are pretty intense,” you played along, “ready for today?”

Dean nodded and got out of your bed but stopped at the doorway and turned towards you.

“If you want to talk to me about your nightmares, I'm here for you, sweetheart,” he gave you a small smile.

You both got freshened up and Dean offered to cook you breakfast. You came down to the kitchen after some time to find Dean setting a plate of homemade waffles on the table.

“Smells nice in here,” you said.

“It tastes even better,” Dean gloated.

“Okay smartass,” you mumbled and sat down at the table. You ate a piece of the waffle.

“God Dean, these are so good,” you moaned, “you are an amazing cook.”

“I know,” Dean chuckled when you kept moaning after eating every piece of the waffle. You looked up at Dean and saw the tips of his ears had turned bright red and he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You immediately became embarrassed when you realised what you were doing. Your face became hot with embarrassment.

Dean cleared his throat and got up from his chair.

“I am going to take a shower,” he said.

“But you didn't eat your waffles.”

“I-uh,” he cleared his throat once again, “I'll eat those later.” Dean left the room in a hurry. You kept eating your breakfast in silence and decided to take a shower and get ready for the day after you were done with your food.

You went up to your room and grabbed a pair of fresh pants and a sweatshirt. You made your way towards the bathroom but before you could go into the shower, you collided with Dean, falling ungraciously on your ass.

“Shit, sorry,” he said and extended his hands at you.

You looked up at Dean and swallowed hard. He was shirtless and only in a towel. He had just come out of the shower and his hair was still wet, tiny droplets of water lining his hair and chest. You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

“Sorry, fault’s all mine. I-” your eyes travelled down to his body. You saw him smirk a little. That cocky bastard.

“My eyes are up her L/N,” Dean said.

“I-I should go,” you said, picking your belongings up from the floor and going to the bathroom.

The rest of the day until the party started was uneventful. You lazed around the house, occasionally asking about each other's lives and discussing about the case. Dean said since he was ‘the best husband in the world’ - his words, not yours- he would cook for the guests and you agreed with him, knowing you were a terrible cook yourself.

It was almost an hour before the party started, so you decided to start dressing up for the party. You decided to keep it simple and also because you had one dress with you. You chose a navy blue cocktail dress and paired it with some blue earrings. You looked at yourself in the mirror and your attention went to the diamond ring on your finger. It was for a job, but it still felt weird to look at the ring.

“You ready?” Dean knocked on your bedroom door.

“Yeah.”

“People have started to co-” Dean's words got stuck in his throat as he let his eyes roam your body.

“You,” Dean cleared his throat, “you look beautiful sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you bit your lip to stop the blush which was threatening to spread on your face, “I'm almost done.”

You gave the final touches to your makeup - you chose to go for a light makeup. You took your phone from the nightstand and stepped your foot out of the room but was immediately pulled back by Dean, turning you around so fast that you almost had whiplash.

“Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you,” Dean said, “we are newly married, we should be a little handsy - honeymoon phase, as they call it. Maybe we have to kiss when we are downstairs,” Dean reasoned.

“Okay,” you said, nodding your head.

You left the room, swaying your hips a little but you couldn't hear the groan that left Dean’s lips.

“Hey gorgeous! You look lovely,” Meg exclaimed and pulled you into a hug as soon as she saw you coming down the stairs. That girl was such a hugger.

“Thanks Meg. Right back at you.. Where's Cas?” You asked looking around the room.

“Looking for me?” Cas popped up behind you, startling you, “you guys got yourself a lovely home.”

“Thank you guys!”

“Hey! Sorry but can I borrow Y/N for a second?” Dean came down the stairs and asked your neighbours.

“Yeah sure, Campbell,” Cas said and you followed Dean into a secluded corner of the house.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the series!

Feedback is appreciated!

#supernatural #jensen ackles #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean x reader #love in sin #dean winchester x reader #au dean #au spn series #au dean x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean fanfic #dean fic #au dean winchester x reader

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bangchanshehe · 3 years

Text

Are You Mine? pt.5

You arrived in Korea to start living your dream, or so you thought until you meet a man that woman dream of throwing themselves on. His entry into your new life takes you down a rocky path where friends will become enemies and foes will make themselves be known.

word count: 2.3k

You stared at Baekhyun in complete silence for a moment as everyone else at the table ate their food as if getting in fights was something that happened all the damn time. How in the hell did you not know about this? Why did Cole not say anything? Or Baekhyun say anything for that matter? Was Cole okay…. He didn’t seem like he was hurt when you saw him after that night.

“Emily?” Xiumin asked softly as he looked at your blank face.

You blinked your eyes after being brought out of your trance and looked over to Xiumin “ah, sorry” you said standing up and pulling your phone out of your back pocket “ I need to go make a phone call” you said softly before you headed for the front door of the boys apartment.

Once you were in the hallway you dialed Lydia’s number and walked to the elevators as the phone rang.

“hello? Emily?” she answered chipperly.

“Hey, Lydia, how are you?” you asked her hoping that you didn’t sound too flat or upset

“I’m fine! Just getting ready to eat dinner. Have you eaten yet?” she asked with a small glimmer of hope in her voice.

“yeah, I just ate actually” you lied.

“Bummer. Well, how are you? How’s SM Entertainment? And your new apartment. Is it awesome?” she asked at the speed of light.

You giggled softly and you could finally feel you frown begin to turn into a smile. “Everything is amazing. The building is awesome, and my apartment is pretty big so right now everything seems really empty.” You said before letting out a big sigh “can I ask you something about the other night when we went to the club?” you asked.

You heard a slight pause on the other end of the line before Lydia answered, “yeah what about it?”

You didn’t know how to ask her the question without possibly instigating more problems between Lydia and Cole and the members of Exo. You knew that things had to be dealt with delicately since you were working with famous public figures. Its not like people were totally unaware that the boys do go clubbing, but if news were to break out of one of the members getting into a bar fight for hitting on a girl…. Then dispatch and other news outlets would probably have a field day. And who knows what kind of trouble Baekhyun would get into.

“Did Cole mention anything about going back to the club after we left?” you asked.

The other end of the phone went quiet and you listened in to hear Lydia walking and a door shutting. Finally, you heard the squeak of a mattress and she let out a big sigh.

“I have to talk quietly because the boys are in the living room” she answered “look I made a promise with Cole that I wouldn’t tell you anything so you cant tell him that I told you anything, okay?”

“promise” you said quietly

“Shit.” Lydia cursed quietly under her breath “What he told me is that he went back to the club after we came home because he realized that he left his ID at the bar. When he walked in he saw Baekhyun and some guys standing around near the dance floor, and he tried to ignore them at first. It wasn’t until Baekhyun had made some dumb comment like ‘where’s your girlfriend’ that Cole flipped out. Apparently, he was walking up to them pretty quick and aggressively, so the bouncers saw him and tossed him outside.”

You hissed just thinking about how much damage bouncers could do when they were pissed off “Is he okay?” you asked her.

Lydia chuckled before answering with a smile “He’s fine. If anything, when they threw him out he landed on his ribs and now they’re bruised. Nothing too serious, ya know. He’s just a little sore.”

You let out a small sigh of relief and nodded your head to yourself. At least things weren’t as bad as you imagined. “why would he not want me to know about that? Its not like he did anything wrong?” you asked.

“bruised ego probably” Lydia answered, “I mean you guys aren’t dating or anything and he’s known you for less than a week so it probably would have been awkward for him to explain that he got pissed of at a celebrity hitting on you pretty hard.” She explained.

She was right. There was nothing going on between the two of you, so it did seem a little excessive for him to be so angry about the situation. But you also would have done the same thing for a friend if the roles were reversed. Who cares if you and Cole only knew each other for a short amount of time. He was trying to take care of you in this small way…. It just so happened to also get a little out of hand.

“Emily?” you heard a voice coming from beside you

“Hey thanks for letting me know about that night it was just brought up and I was worried that something worse had happened” you said making eye contact with Baekhyun who was walking towards you looking pretty down and shy “I’ve got to go so I’ll talk to you later.”

“bye” Lydia said before she hung up

You dropped your phone to your side and slid it back into your pocket before you turned towards Baekhyun. You looked over his face and he seemed unsure of what to sat to you before he just started blurting out words

“I didn’t fight with him or anything. The bouncers just kicked him out. Nothing bad happened.”

“nothing bad happened?” you repeated his last word as if they were a joke to you. “you’re very lucky that things didn’t end up any worse. Could you imagine what kind of trouble that you would be in if a fan or the company found out how you were hitting on women pretty strongly in the clubs?” you asked him

He looked at you for a moment before he turned to look away from you, unable to hold eye contact.

“baekhyun what if that night you had pissed off the wrong guy and they made it public about how you were hitting on a girl and then had bouncers beat him up for coming in between you?” you asked

He turned to you visibly upset now with his eyebrows bunched together “that’s not what happened!” he almost yelled

“I know that, that’s not what happened…” you said back quietly hoping to give him the clue to keep his voice down “but do you see how easily that I was able to twist the truth and make you seem like a bad guy?” you asked him

Baekhyun looked at you for a moment before he let out his held breath. “I know, I know. It could have been a lot worse” he replied like a stubborn child

You looked him up and down before you looked into his eyes once more “you’re pretty damn lucky that I recognized who you were in the club despite how dark it was.” You explained to him “if it was anyone else this would have played out totally different. I would have never answered your phone calls or text messages, or have even given you the time of day to show me that you could actually be serious about something.”

Baekhyun looked up at you with a small smile “what is that supposed to mean?” he asked searching your eyes for the answer.

You hesitated to answer his question and looked away from him for a moment trying to figure out how to answer in a way that wouldn’t give yourself away too soon.

“Emily? What is that supposed to mean?” he asked again with his smile growing wider by the second.

You looked back at him for a split second before turning your head back away to answer “it means that I know that you aren’t really a bad guy”

“and how would you know?” he asked getting a step closer to you forcing you to look up into his eyes.

You stared up at him softly looking into his brown eyes and glancing over his features. You would never tell him to his face directly but Baekhyun was really beautiful. His skin looked smooth and well hydrated. His cheeks were round, and his lips were so pink and looked so soft.

You bit your bottom lip as you looked back up to him “because you’re my bias” you answered as softly as possible, making it almost impossible to hear.

You were ready to pull away and book it for the stairs, unwilling to see Baekhyun stand around and gloat that he was your bias. You could almost see him jumping around his other members and annoying them for the rest of the night just because of your favoritism.

You quickly turned to make a run for it, but Baekhyun had grabbed onto your hand tightly and pulled you back to were you stood.

“why are you running away?” he asked with a cocky sideways grin as he turned and trapped you against the wall with both of his arms stretching out to the wall.

You started at his with wide eyes “baekhyun!” you whisper shouted as you checked the hallways for anyone possibly walking in your direction. “let me go before someone comes!”

“say it again” he said as if he was the least concerned person in the world

You lightly hit his arm “no, let me go!”

“say it again and ill let you go.” He said as he stood over you with a devilish grin, happy because he had you exactly where he wanted you

You straightened out and looked up at him defiantly “let me go or else –“

“or else what?” he asked cocking his head to the side “say it or ill punish you”

You looked at him for a few moments weighing your options before you rolled your eyes. Fine. You had made your bed and now you were going to lay in it. “you’re my bias” you said softly again

Baekhyun’s smile slowly transitioned from cocky to soft as he looked down at you. Feeling vulnerable you looked back up to him shyly overly aware of how close the two of you were and how loud the sound of your heart was in your chest.

“sorry” Baekhyun said sternly

You looked up to him confused and within a moment his hand was clutching the back of your head while the other held your cheek and his lips were pressed firmly against your own. Your eyes flew open and you stared at Baekhyun who had his eyes closed with passion as he kissed you. You were frozen in place unaware of what to do or how to react.

Baekhyun could feel your body freeze and after a moment he pulled away to gauge your reaction. He had a look of concern etched across his face as he looked at you waiting for any type of response.

You looked up at him in total shock. Had he really just kissed you. He… you could see him start to withdrawal from you and without thinking you grabbed his collar and stood on your tiptoes to return his kiss.

This time you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned into the kiss. You shut your eyes and let your lips follow Baekhyun’s lead as he took control.

He had backed the two of you into the wall so you would be kept in a tight firm spot, leaving you no space to run away now. the two of you were so wrapped around each other that you didn’t bother pulling away from him until you absolutely needed oxygen.

As you pulled away to catch your breath you had looked up at Baekhyun as if you were absolutely starstruck. You couldn’t believe that you just kissed him in the middle of the hallway.

Suddenly the door to his apartment opened up and Baekhyun quickly leaned against the wall to hide your faces from whoever was coming outside.

“hyung!” Chanyeol shouted from the door

“what?” Baekhyun shouted back without tearing his eyes away from you for a single moment

“we’re going to play league now!” Chanyeol said quickly before going back inside and closing the door

Baekhyun let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before looking back down at you softly. He had opened his mouth to say something, but before you let him get the chance to say anything you beat him to it.

“I should get going now. I still have a lot to unpack” you said

Baekhyun looked down at the floor and then nodded his head

“goodnight” you said politely before you walked towards the stairs.

You kept your head straight as you walked, listening for the sound of the apartment door before you dared to look back again.

As you looked back you stared at the apartment door and steadied your breath and heart rate. You couldn’t believe that you had just kissed Byun Baekhyun. It was by far the craziest thing that had ever happened in your life, but one thing was abundantly clear now more than ever. Whatever lingering feelings you had for his as an artist or a person were going to have to be pushed aside as long as you were working for them as their English instructor.

The two of you couldn’t risk being in a relationship and getting caught like what almost happened in the hallway. It could get you fired and ruin his career, and you would rather be his friend than the most hated woman among his fan club and his group members.

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lotusjwy · 3 years

Note

“Please come get me.” nhs to anyone, but preferably Da Ge - @gremlinmetawin

You left so many I love u 💕 💜 anyway I could really only see this as modern au, bc phone calls and all! i hope u enjoy it and it lives up to ur expectations~ 🥰

He pressed the phone to his ear, letting out a soft breath, “please pick up, please pick up, please pick up…” As the phone rang, he watched as the chilly air exhaling from his mouth. His brother would likely kill him for this, and he wouldn’t really blame him for it.

When he was about to give up and accept that he would be stranded here all night, the ringing had suddenly stopped, and he could hear muffled fumbling noises come from the other end. Ah, he’d definitely woken up his brother. Fuck, he was definitely going to be murdered for this.

“Huaisang…? What fucking time is it?” Nie Mingjue’s sleep filled voice came through his phone, and Huaisang had never felt more relief at hearing his brother’s voice than he was at this moment.

“Da-ge! You answered!” Just as quickly as his relief came, it left, as Huaisang realised that he’d have to explain why he was calling in the middle of the night. “Um… It’s 3am… Maybe closer to 4. I don’t. Um… Please come get me…”

There was more rustling coming from his brother’s end, signalling that he was likely getting out of bed and pulling clothes on to come get him, as he frantically barked out questions at Huaisang. “Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

“Da-ge… I’m not hurt… I’m...” Huaisang let out a long, pained sigh, knowing he couldn’t get around this, “um. I’m at Yao-ge’s.”

It was as if all movement had been halted, like Mingjue had stopped in his tracks, probably willing himself to not kill his brother. “…You’re at who’s? I know I didn’t hear that correctly. I know you didn’t just tell me that you’re at my ex-boyfriend’s apartment, at 4 in the fucking morning.”

“Da-ge! Please! Just come get me!” Huaisang cried into the phone, not wanting his brother to yell at him over the phone, while he’s outside, alone and cold. He’ll cry, he swears he’ll cry if he has to endure this for much longer.

Nie Mingjue let out a rough exhale, “fine, but don’t expect this to be the end of this. We are going to fucking talk about this.”

“Yes, fine, whatever, just come, it’s cold!”

As Huaisang waited for his brother to pick him up, he texted his friends informing them of his impending death and how they should absolutely keep after his birds after his brother burns his body to ash. He also cursed them for suddnely having decent sleeping schedules and not answering his phone calls. He flinched when he saw headlights blinking in front of him, his brother glaring at him from the driver’s seat, waiting for Huaisang to get in the car.

He scrambled into the car, cosying into the seat and soaking in the warmth of the car. Pointedly avoiding looking at his brother, Huaisang sighed, “thank you, da-ge. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t answer. Jiang Cheng, Lan Zhan, and even Wei Ying didn’t answer when I called. Since when does Wei Ying have a proper sleeping pattern, what bullshit!”

“What the fuck is going on, Huaisang?” Mingjue wasn’t stupid, he knew his brother was trying to distract him with mindless chatter, but he wasn’t to be deterred. He would get to the bottom of this mess, he thought he’d never have to go near Meng Yao’s place ever again, and yet here he was, picking his little brother up from there in the middle of the night.

Huaisang froze, knowing there was no way out of this, “well. Um you see. Yao-ge invited me over for a movie night?”

“Since when are you still in contact with him? What the fuck, A-Sang?”

“I… was never out… of contact with him?” He voice was barely above a whisper, as if, if Mingjue didn’t hear it then it wasn’t important.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Nie Mingjue willed himself to not stop the car right there and shake his brother stupid. “Stop phrasing everything like it’s a fucking question, I know you’re not an idiot. What the fuck do you mean you never dropped contact with him?”

“I just- I don’t- Da-ge. He was my friend before he was your boyfriend. What was I supposed to do? Drop a friendship because you guys fell apart?” Huaisang flinched at his own wording, knowing just how badly the breakup had affected Mingjue. He always did wear his heart a little too on his sleeve, was always the one to get hurt in relationships.

With a clenched jaw, Mingjue swerved the car, parking it quickly before turning to face his brother, who was suddenly very interested in the tree outside of his window. “If Meng Yao and I had broken up because we didn’t work out, then fucking fine, but you’re telling me that you’re unwilling to stop being friends with someone who cheated me? Who used me for his fucking career? Who tried and is continuing to try to make a fucking move on my best friend?”

Mingjue couldn’t remember the last time he’d been more frustrated and hurt by one of Huaisang’s decisions. He would generally let Huaisang do whatever he wanted, knowing that the other would learn from the few mistakes he would make, but this. This was crossing a line and Huaisang had to know that. Huaisang had seen him after the breakup, had heard all of the stories that Mingjue had told him. And he still chose to keep the company of Meng Yao?

“Well, I mean… It’s not like he’d never get far with Huan-ge, not with A-Cheng always being around…” He wasn’t lying per say, Jiang Cheng had more or less staked claim on Lan Huan and everyone in their immediate circle knew it, including Lan Huan, who apparently was taking his time on making a move. But he knew that saying that was more than likely a mistake, flinching when his brother began yelling.

“Huaisang!” Mingjue shouted at his brother, willing the other to take this situation seriously. He was concerned that Meng Yao was somehow trying to use his brother, and now Huaisang was trying to make jokes about the situation. When would he start to take these things seriously?

“What the fuck do you want from me, Da-ge?” Huaisang rounded on his brother, fury in his eyes, “you’re right, I fucked up! Nie Huaisang, the disappointment yet again.”

“Do not start with the woe is me bullshit, and just fucking explain yourself.” He barely grit the words out, his voice growing harsh.

He hated arguing with his brother more than anything in the world, yet he had brought this upon himself. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Yes, I was friends with him, even after you broke up, even after all the stories you told me. I wanted to hear his end of things, I thought maybe it was a misunderstanding…” He trailed off, knowing that this would likely make Mingjue even more mad than he already was.

“Misunderstanding? A misunderstanding?” Mingjue repeated, his voice coated with disbelief. “And what’s your conclusion, then? What lead you to need to call me in the middle of the night for a lift home from his place?”

Huaisang shrugged, knowing the other could already tell that it had gone badly. “What, so you can gloat? Clearly, it wasn’t a misunderstanding, and he did willingly and knowingly do all the shit you said he’d done. And more. I called him out on it, and he and his other friends started saying shit about you, and so I left.” It was a very watered down and short explanation, but Mingjue didn’t need to know everything that had happened tonight. If Huaisang could get away with it he’d never tell Mingjue the full story.

“Did they hurt you?” Mingjue could tell that his brother was beginning to shut off from the conversation, so he pulled it back, knowing he wasn’t likely to get anything else from him at the moment.

“No. Can we go home now? I’m tired.” He didn’t wait for the other to respond and leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, hoping that if he fell asleep, he could avoid having anymore conversations with his brother.

With a soft sight, Mingjue silently started the car and continued to drive home, knowing that he’d have to be pestering his Huaisang for weeks to get any actual information from him. He couldn’t let it sit as it is, he couldn’t let Meng Yao get away with hurting his brother.

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by-nina · 4 years

Text

Dissonance

AO3 | FFN Royai Week 2020 | Day 4 – Crackle Rating: K+ Genre: Romance/Angst Word Count: 946

A/N: This is a POV rewrite of Roy's most destructive moment in the series, written about the sounds Riza hears as it happens. I wanted to finally write something light for Royai Week this year, but Promised Day!Royai is way too good to pass up. I promise to go easy on them for Day 5.

She hopes that they don’t hear the desperation in her voice, the plea for him to come back, the fear that she is losing the man she loves to his own flame.

The tunnels turn dark for a moment as Riza hits the ground. There is nothing but sound, too much of it—the stone bricks breaking beneath her, the raucous gloating of the homunculus Envy, even her own heartbeat as she slips away for a moment.

A snap, a blaze, Envy’s cry of pain, and her own strained voice calling for the Colonel. She hears his slow, careful footsteps—she would recognize them anywhere. And then he speaks, and all the sweltering heat in the tunnels turns into an ominous chill.

“What in the hell are you doing to my Lieutenant?”

The inferno is in his voice as well.

Riza sits up and regains the rest of her senses. The Colonel appears into view; amid her terror she knows it’s him at last and not some shapeshifting monster, but what in the world is this? Who are you?

“Don’t interfere, Lieutenant.” His voice remains unfamiliar, unforgiving. “I told you I would take care of him myself.”

She has known Roy longer than she knows anyone else. She knows his voice and how it normally crackles with the warmth of a hearth, how it can become as soft as candlelight when he calls her by name. But she doesn’t know the man in front of her, neither by sight nor by sound. His voice has never burned with this much hatred—not when he destroyed the homunculus Lust, not in the immediate aftermath of Hughes’ death—and it terrifies her more than anything she has faced with him.

The flames begin erupting again, and the homunculus screams in agony and the Colonel roars as furiously as the inferno he creates. He becomes less and less like himself, and Riza fears he may shatter before the tunnels can even collapse around them, and suddenly it’s over. The brief silence is broken again when the homunculus crawls out of their human body as a small, crying, ugly green thing. He approaches the homunculus, and Riza watches with bated breath.

He speaks again. Her heart breaks at the venomous sound.

“Now burn in hell!”

Click.

Riza doesn’t know when she got back on her feet, or when she approached him, or when she pulled out her gun and pointed it at his head. When she speaks, she remains clear and steady, even as the fire in his voice flares up with a command—no, a threat—and then the homunculus screams with Edward and Scar’s arrival.

His voice turns level when he speaks to Edward, but it’s clear that the fire hasn’t gone away. It grows, and then it bursts again, and Edward yells back:

“Is that what you want to be, Colonel? Another monster?!”

Scar’s much calmer voice surprises her. He isn’t angry so much as he is disappointed and disgusted.

“Are you becoming a beast, giving in to its passion?”

The fire flickers for a moment. Scar continues:

“I shudder to think what a world created by a man held captive by his own hate would create!”

Roy’s resolve crackles at last. Riza speaks to him again, and before long she begins to tremble. She hopes that they don’t hear the desperation in her words, the plea for him to come back, the fear that she is losing the man she loves to his own flame.

“You’re better,” she whispers. “I know you’re better than that.”

She can hear him struggle as the fire recedes. It turns inwards, no longer fueled by hate and destruction, but by grief and longing and loss. He hasn’t truly let himself feel the gravity of Hughes’ death until now. She wants to save him from it, but it is a fire she cannot reach, a fire that only he can extinguish.

For a moment, it seems that he has given in to it.

“If you’re going to shoot me, shoot me.”

His voice is empty now, hollowed out by exhaustion. “But then, after you’ve done that, Lieutenant, what will you do?”

Only then does Riza realize how much the fire has burned through her as well. Everything around them seems to disappear for a moment; Edward, Scar, Envy, even the tunnels and the battle that is surely being fought above them. She keeps her hand outstretched, not for the gun pointed at him, but in the hope of still reaching Roy.

“I can tell you I have no intention of carrying on by myself.”

Riza allows herself as much honesty as possible in the company of others. It is her last chance to find him and pull him out of the embers now.

“Once this is over, I’m going to end my life,” she continues, and the hateful fire is inside her for a moment, “and remove the secrets of flame alchemy from the world.”

She sees a spark—a brief flash of fear and anguish in him—and for a moment he tries to contain it, but he snaps. He swings his hand in the direction of a dark, empty tunnel to his right, and out comes a spectacular final burst of that frightening fire from the depths of him.

“That can’t happen.”

The flame continues to burn in the empty space, but at last she hears it. The hearth that welcomes her back home to a Roy she knows.

“I can’t afford to lose you.”

Roy speaks to the men before him, and then he turns to her. His hand is warm and soft when he takes hers and lowers it along with her gun. His knees give way. Soon, she falls onto her knees as well, face to face with him.

“Please forgive me.”

At last, he is candlelight again.

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lihikainanea · 4 years

Note

The idea of Tiger almost fainting during sex has me intrigued. What if she did faint? Not even necessarily during sex, but just in general. We know she’s not the best at taking care of herself and pushes herself constantly, so maybe she goes snowboarding with Valter and she never takes a break. So by the time the two of them get back, she’s exhausted and collapses. Good Dude Bill always seems so calm, despite his worries, but would Tiger actually losing consciousness change that?

Oh my god, I have so many scenarios for this.

First of all, when I teach self defence, usually we have the participants sign the classic waiver that basically says please don’t sue us if you get hurt–but then we also sort of try and delicately ask if they are currently dealing with any triggers, any PTSD from maybe an incident that happened in the past. I’ve taught self-defence in women’s shelters, in schools, basically everywhere and I always adapt my lessons to the women that I’m teaching, because sometimes it can be very triggering–especially if we’re dealing with grabs, from-behind attacks, the works. In any case, this one woman said she didn’t have triggers but that she would literally just like….faint. When she got spooked or surprised, she deadass fainted. So while we were working on grabs from behind, on an attacker physically trying to pin your arms and pick you up or drag you somewhere, even though this poor woman KNEW I was going to grab her and even gave her a countdown–she fainted in my arms. Every single time.

So like, what if tiger has something like that? I think she has a case of coulrophobia because clowns are fucked up, and Bill’s family probably has a few of those clown masks hanging around that they like to make fun of him with. Except tiger never really mentioned her intense fear of clowns to Bill’s family, because why would she, and then Valter suddenly pops up behind her wearing the clown mask, grabs her shoulders and boom–tiger wilts. Bill catches her because of course he does, swoops in right as she faints and lifts her up in his arms, giving Valter the death glare. He’ll have some choice words with his little bro as soon as tiger comes to, but for now he carts her off to the couch, goes to get a cold rag for her forehead.

But I also really like this idea that like…tiger really is just shit at taking care of herself. And often times, she will run on empty for so long that eventually her body just….gives out. And if Bill is home then he definitely tries to circumvent it, to stop it before it happens, but sometimes he just can’t. Sometimes there’s no reasoning with her. And how sweet/terriying is it–guh, maybe it’s a work thing, right? A huge project. And tiger is burning the tank on empty and then some–not sleeping, not eating right, her anxiety is dialled to 100 and all Bill can do is just try and be there for her, but despite his insistence and his concern she’s going full steam ahead. And it’s gone on for so long that maybe by the time the project launches, tiger is just this ball of full on anxiety, stress, malnutrition, the whole bit. And at a work function to celebrate the launch–hell even if it’s just a casual happy hour–tiger is having to do a lot of everything else she hates. Shmooze. Fake laugh. Talk to big wigs at the company. And Bill can see it, can see her mind finally shutting down and her body following suit. She’s a sickly pallor colour, her eyes are sunken in, and every time Bill reaches a soothing hand to rub her back, she’s clammy as hell. She’s a little wobbly and her eyelids are twitching, and she keeps pinching her nose between her fingers that way she does when she’s trying to fight something off–a migraine, a bout of nausea, whatever.

She wobbles to the bathroom at one point, it’s not discernible to anyone who doesn’t know her well but she leans heavily on the walls down the corridor and Bill follows her, pushes his way into the one stall with her as she falters.

“It’s okay kid, I’ve got you,” he wraps his arms around her waist tightly from behind.

“Bill–” she objects, but her knees are already giving out.

“You can do your thing tiger, I’ve got you,” he murmurs in her ear. Because at this point, there’s no use fighting it–it’s too late. This is happening, and it’s more about making sure she’s safe and okay when she comes to. And sure enough, as soon as he murmurs it to her–she just goes limp in his arms. Faints. Passes the fuck out. Bill sinks to the floor with her, boosting her legs up, wetting some paper towels for the back of her neck and just keeping her head on his lap. She’s never usually out for long, only a few minutes, and it’s like a reset for her body when she’s gone too far. She’ll wake up dizzy, unfocused, she might throw up. It’ll take her some time to be able to stand and even then, she’ll wobble. It’s fine, he’s already planning a way out from the work thing and the stern talking to can wait until tomorrow–when she’s had a proper night’s rest and a few good meals.

but ALSO–look, I warned you I had a lot of scenarios–also, I think tiger is shit at taking care of herself when she’s having a lot of fun. Listen man, our girl is scrappy, but her survival instincts are basically at zero when she’s surrounded by love and comfort and warmth because like…whatever, somebody else will handle it for her. If she’s gone too long without eating, Bill will point it out. If she’s not sleeping well, he’ll point that out too and help her fix it. Surely, one of the other bros will make a passing comment about how maybe she wants a vegetable–like an actual one–to go along with that humongous plate of French fries. Or about how aquavit is called water of life but how she should also maybe drink some actual water. Either way, listen, that Swedish fresh air in the mountains you know? Man, that shit is good. So maybe her and Valter do go snowboarding. And maybe it’s an awesome day and they’re at it for hours–from basically morning until late evening. And snowboarding is hard fucking work, man–from all the falling and getting up, and then when you actually do get the hang of it, basically every single muscle in your body is clenched and strained for the entire time that you’re upright. It’s a fucking workout.

So they’re having fun and Valter is a hoover so he’s basically stopping for food whenever he can–but it’s quick stops. A breakfast sammie on the way to the mountain. A few stops at the various hot dog carts on the way down the mountain, on his board. Some gatorade from one of the vending machines. And he just assumed tiger was doing the same, because she never mentioned she was hungry or thirsty. But it’s because tiger literally doesn’t feel any of those things when she’s having fun or when she’s competing–and right now, Valter has beaten her down the mountain 3 times out of 5 and tie your tuque on tighter blondie, that ain’t gonna fucking happen.

So the next time they’re at the top, tiger counts to three to start off their descent and then guns it like she’s a pro in the Olympics. She’s able to cut and glide down the mountain, reaching the bottom a good 15 seconds before Valter does. And when he finally slides down and brakes–no doubt showering her in snow–she fist pumps, yells. Gloats.

“Eat shit, Sweden!” she points at him and yells, “I win!”

And then, to Valter’s horror, she just falls right back. Crumples at the knees, wilts, and fucking faints. Because she’s starving, because she’s totally overheated in her snowsuit, because she’s dehydrated, and because this was a lot of exertion on a very empty tank.

Valter panics, starts smacking her cheeks–which are bright red, and way too hot. Right, she’s probably too warm. So in an effort to cool her down, the idiot starts shoving snow down her snow suit. Just unzips it, grabs it at the neck, and shoves handfuls of snow down it. Tiger comes to a few minutes later–now fucking freezing–asks him what the hell happened. Valter couldn’t even explain it if he wanted to, but even in her haze, tiger figured it out.

“Right. I need lunch,” she grumbles, and then grabs him by the front of his suit and pulls him in, “Valter? Don’t tell Bill. Not a fucking word.”

And then as she gets up, she grabs a handful of snow and shoves it down his shirt.

“Asshole,” she mutters, “Why the fuck would you shove snow down my shirt.”

And when they get back that night, they both try to play it casually. But as she takes off the jacket to her suit, Bill leans in for a bear hug and makes a face.

“Why are you soaked?” he asks. His first clue in was when both of them got shifty eyes at the exact same time.

“It’s uh, sweat,” tiger tries, “Snowboarding is hard work.”

Bill glares at her but she doesn’t flinch, then his eyes flit to Valter. Valter has had a tell since he was a little kid–when he’s lying or uncomfortable, he picks his eyebrows. Bill glares at his little bro, glares at all the little plucked blond hairs he can see fallen on his shirt.

“What happened.” and it’s not even a question–it’s a demand. A statement. Tiger whacks him lightly, laughs.

“Nothing, bud,” she tries, but it sounds fake even to her. Bill’s eyes are still on his brother.

“Valter,” Bill advances on him, “Why does it look like a little blond fox ran across your shirt?”

Bill flicks his hand over where all of the blond one’s eyebrows are on his shirt, Valter visibly winces. Tiger makes a cut-throat gesture to him from behind Bill.

“She passed out, man,” Valter is weak.

“She what,” Bill’s head spins on a swivel, eyes tiger down.

“I don’t know man, I’m sorry, we were racing down the hill–”

“Valter!” it’s tiger’s turn to shriek, but Bill just turns back to his brother and places a giant hand over tiger’s mouth without even looking back at her.

“And she won and when I got there she just looked at me and fucking fainted man I don’t–”

“You swore!” tiger peels Bill’s hand away from her mouth to yell at him some more, but it’s muffled again soon after.

“She fain–” Bill starts to accuse little bro, but then turns his attention back to tiger instead, “You fucking fainted?”

Tiger tries to bite the hand covering her mouth, but it doesn’t work. Bill snaps back to little bro.

“Did you feed her? Valter I told you that you needed–”

She lands a bite and Bill yelps, retracting his hand and shaking it out.

“She is right fucking here. And she is a goddamn adult. I don’t need anyone to remind me to fucking eat, Bill,” she crosses her arms, and Bill looks at her in challenge.

“Oh really?” he quirks a brow, “Tell me then, kid, what did you eat today?”

Tiger opens her mouth, but then realizes that she didn’t eat today and snaps it shut. Bill’s look of sheer righteousness was enough to keep her quiet for a minute.

“Why is she soaking wet?” Bill turns his attention back on little bro, who is shifting nervously.

“It’s sweat, I told you,” tiger butts in. Bill just points at her in warning.

“Valter,” he says again. Valter actually winces.

“I shoved snow down her shirt to try and get her to come to,” he mumbles, “I thought maybe she overheated.”

Bill pinches his nose and winces as if this physically pains him, and tiger actually feels a little bad for the toe-looking one. He really did his best given the circumstances.

“I WAS overheated,” she says, “Thank you, Valter. It worked.”

She walks to him and raises her hand for a high five, but Valter isn’t stupid. And he sees the fire in Bill’s eyes, so he leaves her hanging. Out of sheer fear of his older brother.

“You,” Bill grabs the back of her pants, gives them a rough yank and she stumbles back into his chest, “Kitchen. Now.”

“You,” he points at his brother, “I’ll deal with later.”

And like, how fucking cute is this–Bill being so pissed off and angry that this happened, all while taking such sweet care of tiger. Like, once she’s changed into dry clothes, he’s sitting her down and putting a huge bowl of delicious food in front of her.

“Going the whole day without eating,” he mutters to himself as he puts a plate in front of her and grinds some fresh pepper over it, “What were you even thinking?”

She gives a half-hearted shrug, her mouth full, and pouts out her bottom lip as she pushes her now-empty bread plate towards him while he continues to putter about the kitchen.

“That was stupid, wasn’t it?” he asks rhetorically as he puts another bread roll on her plate and puts it back in front of her, “Cheese?”

She nods, and he grates some fresh parm over her dish for her.

“Yes it was stupid,” he continues, and he takes a clean fork, pushes some of the veggies on her plate to one side and scoops some more pasta onto it once she’s done her helping.

“There’s food all over that place,” he’s still muttering to himself as he scoops her some salad into a bowl, “You could have easily grabbed a bite. But no you didn’t, did you?”

She shakes her head, her eyes wide, and goes to stab some salad.

“Wait,” Bill says, “Green onions.”

He digs through the bowl with another fork, picking out all the big pieces so she doesn’t eat them. He sprinkles some salt and pepper over it and slides the bowl back in front of her.

“You’re an idiot,” he grumbles, “You know that?”

She shoves a huge forkful into her mouth, chews loudly.

“Your idiot,” she says, and taps her fork on her plate, “More, please.”

#BFF!Bill #soft bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #funny

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7deadlycinderellas · 5 years

Text

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch4

A03 link

Gendry

Gendry had always hated King’s Landing. The crowds, which somehow managed to make the already near intolerable late summer heat even more unbearable. The smell, of the smoke from food stalls, of shit, both animal and human, made worse in the humidity, and the smell of just those animals and humans pressed into far too small a space.

And the noise, the noise was the worst. Hooves and wheels squeaking. Shouts from men and yells from children, and the thundering of their feet. Again, the noise that would emanate from a crowd forming as it stopped being made of people and started becoming a beast all its own. Noise so thick you could hardly hear yourself think, and at all hours of the night, making sleep a distant dream.

When he’d woken on his cot in the back of the forge, Gendry had been certain that he had died and this was one of the seven hells.

It had been enough to convince him, when he’d reached out and Arya wasn’t there. After all those years apart, he’d become accustomed to her presence, dependent on it, nearly instantly. He hadn’t believed all the stories about marriage rendering two into one, but here he was, feeling lost without her.

He remembered the first night after she killed the Night King. The single night where they thought they would get peace. He’d wanted to join in the celebration, but she’d slipped off by herself. She had never been one for glory.

He’d found her in one of Winterfell’s underground hot springs, trying to scrub the dirt and ash from her skin, while hissing in pain when the water touched her wounds.

He had tried to help her fix herself up, though his stitches were even clumsier than her own, a fact which she made perfectly sure to remind him of.

After, he had gotten up to leave and she’d reached and grabbed his hand.

“Stay with me?” Arya had asked him, her eyes searching.

Part of him hadn’t known how to respond. He hadn’t been shocked when he’d woken the night before with her already dressed and preparing for battle. He hadn’t really let his mind wander to what would become of the two of them after.

“Of course,” he had said, his tone casual. They had redressed and were leaving the spring then. He had merely supposed that she would want company joining the feast, or (perhaps foolishly) that she might want him to join her in her bed again.

Arya had looked at him then, differently than before. As if looking for understanding.

“No, I mean...for good.”

His heart ached when he recalled her face. When he recalled his own mind when he’d realized what she meant.

And then his days began and the ache only got more acute.

Then the pigeon had appeared. Arya’s younger brother had always been...inscrutable...but he understands the significance, that the boy had had a kind of affinity for birds. And at least, in that moment, he accepted that he wasn’t crazy. But he still was going to have to deal with his life as a fifteen year old apprentice again.

He could bow his head respectfully, and do his work as told, but his years had soured him. The fire in his gut tells him not to accept anyone who speaks down to him, who makes demands. It tells him that they can’t treat him like that just because they think they are the ones in charge.

Mott gives him shit for it, as he probably should. But his traitorous mouth still talks back. His work is good, better than it should be, or else Mott would have turned him out on the street.

That would be better, Gendry mused. If he got turned out, he could try and find his way north.

But in his cot at night, his mind wanders, and part of him can’t fight the feeling that even fleeing is a beautiful dream.

It’s a foggy, humid sort of day when it happens. He’d stopped to get a bowl for the mid-day meal. This particular shop was one of the usual, stuffed full of other laborers and the destitute trying to silence their empty stomachs.

He’s barely has a chance to scoop the good bits of meat from his bowl when he’s hears a voice.

“That’s him.”

He doesn’t even have time to turn his head before the blow comes. The side of his head explodes with pain and he feels the hot trickle of blood.

He tries to stand and turn, but falls to the ground when he’s struck by another blow.

He manages to catch a glimpse, finally. The man’s thin, ratlike face reveals him. He can’t remember the name, Cassaway or Cossway, something like that. Not nobility, but a merchant of some note. He had wanted a proper pair of gauntlets made.

He probably shouldn’t have made the crack he did, about who he was going to be fighting, some haggling crone. But the man’s face had rubbed him the wrong way, and his words even more so. It was bad enough, being called “boy” again. Being called it by a strutting arsehole who clearly thought quite a bit of himself was far worse still. The man had gotten in his face after it, and Gendry could still remember his sour breath.

Well he was clearly going to pay for that crack, Gendry thought as he feels the skin of back begin to smart from striking the edge of his fallen chair.

Cassaway or Cossway, or whatever the fuck his name is, brought friends apparently, because when Gendry tries to stagger to his feet someone else he doesn’t see tries to grab him. And so he bolts.

The dirt roads pound roughly against his feet. He doesn’t make it far before he’s sure he’s being followed. He doesn’t slow down, he keeps moving, though his head is beginning to pound from the wound.

There’s no where he could even go. It’s not like he has friends here. If he went back to the shop, they would just follow him there, and get Mott involved in this mess. He should have listened to his master’s words and remembered how to keep his tongue.

He’s run so far he’s nearly down by the docks. He pauses for just a moment, trying to catch his breath, before a hand grabs him roughly and drags him into an alleyway.

“Gods boy, I get in in the morning thinking I’m going to have to scour Flea Bottom to find you and you wander right in front of me!”.

Ser Davos may have been a handsome man before his years touched him, and right now he is the most beautiful creature Gendry has ever seen.

“Maybe it was a good day to piss someone off,” is all Gendry can respond.

Davos rolls his eyes, but his words are sympathetic.

“We all think we won’t get full of ourselves when we rise above our station, but it’s not easy to accept the way people treated you. I’m guessing even before this all happened it made you angry enough.”

He reaches out to shake Gendry’s hand firmly.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any belongings to retrieve?”

Gendry shakes his head.

“Then let’s get on my ship and get the Hell out of here.”

When they reach the docks, Gendry gazes up at the Black Bertha in awe.

“Not going to pretend,” he admits to Davos, “When I woke up I was fairly certain I had gone crazy. Still not sure we both haven’t.”

“If this is what crazy is like, “ Davos tells him with relish, “Then I will take it.”

They board the ship, and Davos introduces him to his crew, has someone hand him a line and show him the ropes. Gendry still has no sea legs, even on a ship as large as the Black Bertha. It takes all his energy not to lose his meal over the railings. But as King’s Landing begins to disappear on the horizon, Gendry feels his stomach begin to flutter again, this time in anticipation.

Sansa

They were going to have to explain so much today.

Her stomach is completely unsettled all through breakfast. Her oatcakes feel like ash in her mouth. Even Mother notices, asking her if she feels ill.

“I’m fine.” she insists, “Just a bit out of sorts.”

“Perhaps you should sit out today’s lessons, take a rest.”

Sansa nods, but she has no intention of returning to her chambers.

She walks and finds Arya and Bran, who were sneaking back from the stables.

“What should we do while we wait?”

“We could just take Lady and sit in the yard.” Arya suggests.

Sansa shakes her head.

“We should find Father. We should give him a bit of a head’s up before this all comes down around him. And see if there’s anything important that might get put off by it.”

“Do we know where he is?”

And as one, they all look to Bran, who sighs deeply.

“One of these days I’m going to stop letting you make me do this in order to avoid having to walk.”

And with that complaint, his eyes turn white briefly.

“He’s in the training yard with Robb, Theon and Ser Rodrick.”

“Well,” Arya says, “At least we’ll get some entertainment before this all.”

They slip onto one of the walkways above, sitting with their feet over the edge. It’s on the far side, and they probably won’t be visible unless someone knew they were there. Bran sits sideways as to not dangle his cast.

Father is sparring with Robb. Robb was the family member that Sansa found she could look at the least now. Her joy at seeing Father and Mother again had overrode the lingering horror at their deaths.

Robb was different. Even if Sansa’s romantic heart hadn’t been so torn by his ill-advised marriage, the image Joffrey had put into her head of what had become of his body would have been stuck in her head from the get-go.

And down below them, Robb is at the peak she remembers. His hair is perfect, his stance solid. He follows directions, and doesn’t gloat. There’s a hint of loneliness in his eyes, probably that Jon isn’t here to spar with as he usually was. Robb had always treated Jon just as another brother. It will hurt them all beyond belief if they can’t do anything to save him, in a way that it won’t for Mother and Father.

In her sadness, Sansa turns her stare to Theon.

“What are we going to do about Theon?” She questions the others.

Bran laughs, a hard rough sort of laugh.

“It’s taking all my strength not to gather a basket of rocks and pelt him with them, even though I know that’s not fair.”

“Without Robb having to go to war he might never betray us,” Arya comments, “It almost seems cruel to admit I never really liked him even before. He was always such a lech, and he liked to mock me almost half as much as you did,” she says, pointing to Sansa.

“He always seemed to know he was a hostage,” is Sansa’s take on it, “And didn’t seem to realize we were really too young to understand.”

She studies the man a bit. He is just as cocky as she remembers.

“I know the man he became better than both of you. But I can’t, I won’t ask anyone to go through what the two of us did just to become a better person.”

The other two nod grimly in agreement.

The morning almost comes to an end, and the men break for the mid-day meal.

All three of them take a breath, and stand to try and catch their Father by himself. Arya helps Bran up and gives him his crutches. The metal scraping the wood makes them move slowly, but Robb has gone on ahead to the Great Hall, and Ned is bringing up the rear when the three children ambush him.

Ned

“Arya, you should still be Septa Mordane,” he scolds, then turns his eye to Sansa, “It’s good to see you feeling better, daughter.”

The three of them continue to look at him warily, and Ned feels a cold sensation begin to creep down the back of his neck.

Finally, Sansa breaks the silence. Arya and Bran had both made it clear that she could speak for all of them if need be and they wouldn’t object, but in her younger body she feels the confidence she had earned in her years slipping away.

“Do-are you planning on doing anything important after the meal Father?”

To say Ned looks surprised it an understatement.

“I was going to go over some of the planned repairs in Winter Town before winter proper begins,” he states, he doesn’t want them to move on, he wants them to speak their due, to tell him what’s been going on. “But it’s nothing I can’t put off.”

Sansa takes a deep breath.

“You’ve...probably noticed we haven’t been exactly acting like ourselves the last few weeks. “

The cold feeling spreads to the rest of Ned’s body. It is true, but he had used all that he could to try and ignore the changes in his children. To pretend he was simply seeing something where there was nothing. And some of the changes, like the newfound friendship between Sansa and Arya, had been greatly appreciated, especially by Catelyn.

“Well, there is an explanation, but it’s not an easy one, or one we thought you would easily believe.” Sansa’s voice is wavering, but it has an unexpected power behind it. “That’s why we held off telling you, we didn’t want you to think all three of us had somehow been struck mad.”

“Why now then?”

Bran steps in this time.

“Old friends are coming to Winterfell. They should arrive sometime today, and two of them can verify our story, so we thought it would be easier to wait until they arrived. But for now, lets just go eat.”

Ned lacks an appetite after that conversation. His mind is running a mile a minute, trying to piece what his children had told him.

To their credit, Arya, Sansa and Bran seem as unsteady as he feels. Arya is the only one who seems to be able to eat, scarfing down her stew like a little wolf. Bran, he notes, is especially pale and quiet. Sansa is eating little, and her face keeps going through a cycle, of excited girl to nervous wreck.

He spares a glance at his wife beside him, one of the only at this meal who seems her normal self.

He’s just managed to barely clear his plate when a guard enters the Great Hall.

“My Lord, my Lady,” he starts, “There are unannounced visitors at the East Gate,” the man spares a glance at Bran, “And one of your children’s beasts is with them.”

Bran laughs quietly, “Oh, that’s where Summer’s been all day.” The laugh sounds almost empty, and the boy is just as white as he has been all meal.

“Are our visitors familiar?” Ned ask the guard, who nods.

“Lord Howland Reed, and his children.”

Old friends, he remembered Bran had said. That was true, but none of his children had ever met anyone from House Reed. He himself had not seen his old friend’s children since they were themselves only toddling. His wife had sat the trip out, keeping herself busy at Winterfell with Robb.

“Well,” Cat starts, giving Ned a look that asks ‘did you know anything about this?’ without being accusatory, “Let’s get this all cleared out and welcome them properly.”

The servants clear the table, and move the furniture to its usual position. Ned has taken his place on the dais, with his children at his side. Cat and Robb sit to his right, the younger three to his left, Sansa at his side, and Bran on the end so he can leave his cast and crutches stuck out to the side. Bran is somehow even paler than he’s been, but Arya reaches an arm out to steady him.

He swears he hears her whisper, “Don’t you dare faint, we need you.”

Sansa is sitting tall at his side. Her shoulders are straight, but not stiff, and her face is carefully serene. It looks like she was born for this, and Ned’s not sure where it came from.

When the three figures enter, Ned tries to get a look at them.

Howland Reed looks much as Ned remembers him. Short, and sandy-haired, with the years having added more lines to his face. He also looks gravely serious. His son by his side, looks much his double, though thinner and paler. Unlike his father, Jojen Reed looks completely befuddled as to why he’s here.

Ned turns his eye to Meera. He’s remembered her a bit better, a child of four when he’d seen her last. Now she was at most fifteen, a small fifteen at that. She’s dressed boyishly, carrying her spear on her back. And her face….

Her face is the image of the flashes he’s seen on his own daughter’s faces the last few weeks. She looks as though she has seen the end of the world.

Despite his unease, Ned stands to greet them.

“It’s good to see you again, my family and I welcome you to Winterfell.”

And then something utterly bizarre happens. Lord Reed turns his attention from Ned to Sansa.

“I take it we’re starting from the beginning then, my Lady?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ned sees his eldest daughter smile wryly.

“I’m afraid we didn’t feel we could spring this on people just ourselves, or we would be dismissed. It seemed prudent to wait for some of our other companions to back up our story, and who could help us provide proof.”

“Any word from the others who were with us?”

Bran speaks up,

“Both are in King’s Landing as of this morning. They should be traveling soon.”

His voice is thin, and careful, Ned notes. And with a start, he realizes Meera is staring at his son, looking as though she might be ill. And Bran, for his part, will not meet her eye.

Sansa’s voice cuts through again, and she gestures to one of the servants.

“Can you bring our guests chairs? This might take a while.”

The girl, Ellyn is her name, Ned believes, obeys. It’s an easy request, but Ned is still knocked off center.

The three of them sit, and Sansa speaks up again.

“Sorry for this, Mother and Father, but this is a very long story, and I fear it might take a while.”

Further down the table, Ned hears Arya whisper,

“Why do I get the feeling she had that memorized?”

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #gendrya #breera #fic

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hillbillyoracle · 6 years

Text

Why I haven’t been posting lately...

I’m putting what I wrote for a reddit post warning people away from my landlord beneath a cut. It’s been pretty hellish and I’ve been scared/nervous to talk about it but I want people to know what’s going on isn’t small.

In addition to what I wrote below, we realized the stairs aren’t well constructed after I fell down half a flight of them on Monday evening - in bare feet (no socks) on hardwood flooring. The ledges bend in different directions and I slipped/tripped on one that wasn’t level. The whole right side of my body is a series of black and purple bruises, my feet and hands got scraped up by baseboards that didn’t seem to get sanded. I’m still recovering.

More below the cut:

TL;DR: What we’ve dealt with since moving into a [landlord redacted] place:

- They were hard to get a hold of and now they won’t respond at all

- Multiple code violations they either didn’t fix or placed the onus on us to arrange for

- Zip Code is wrong on the lease which made getting our drivers licenses and such a pain

- Charged us for rent we already paid multiple times; put notice on door

- Charged us for HOA fees incurred before we moved in

- Maintenance guy is incredibly incompetent and condescending

- They’ve failed to do anything about the roach infestation

- They started up a construction project next door that’s active 12 hours a day

Other than what we’ve seen personally:

- They have code violations on record with the city

- The owner's twitter features the line “It’s all about whose ox is getting gored” - guess his tenants are the ox.

- He weirdly almost gloats about kicking people out and upcharging the next tenants

More Info:

We had to move very quickly and weren’t able to research places as well as we would have liked. So I’m writing this to make it easier for other folks to know what they’re getting into with them. If you’re okay with all of this, then by all means, I support you renting from them. But it was certainly too much for us and I wanted to spare other folks what I could.

I’m actually afraid to share this as I wouldn’t put it past them to be retaliatory, to make a up a reason to kick us out over being more public about what they’ve done. Tried to put it on a throwaway but alas.

I think the best summary of both [landlord’s] property and their service is what my partner said - “It’s not really living, it’s surviving, and that’s not really what I look for in a home.”

So many things have gone wrong at this place that I’m going to go thematically rather than chronologically. Which is wild given that we’ve only been living in the place for three months.

The workmanship in this place is horrible. There are shelves falling out of the wall. The dishwasher leaked and then the maintenance guy “fixed it” by having it overflow through the sink which leaves a bunch of crud in it. They didn’t even both trying to make the basement floor remotely level so our washer and dryer are on stilts – the best fix we can manage right now. Every now and then they come off them and rock around which I’m sure isn’t great for the machine.

They got the zip code wrong on the lease which has caused problems trying to get identifying documents switched over and other things switched over. Small but important. Since they’re nigh impossible to contact (see further down) we’ve mostly not bothered trying to get this sorted with them but it’s been a real pain.

When we moved in, we paid 6 months ahead. A mistake, yes, we know. But they kept trying to charge us for rent we’d already paid. We contacted them three times about the charges on the account and still they packing taped a failure to pay rent notice on our door.

They’ve continually tried to charge us for things we do not have to pay. They tried to charge us for a fee they incurred before we moved in and when we pointed it out to them they did not apologize. The second time they did it they didn’t contact us at all and we had to repeatedly check to see if it’d been removed.

We figured out this was because the yard crew kept pulling our trash can out and not putting it back so we asked them to stop yard services - which we never signed up for. We had to ask them 4 separate times and even then we only got them stopped when we paid for a lock and put it on the back gate and the mower came to talk with us.

The maintenance guy is not only very incompetent but completely condescending. He was two hours late and gave no heads up. I had to call to get any updates. When I tried talking to him about it when he arrived, he walked in essentially said that he’d done nothing wrong and walked away while I was in the middle of a sentence. He would not tell me what was going on and flat out ignored my questions. Our dog is epileptic and was getting nervous with all the strangers and loud noises so I decided to take him away from the apartment for a while. I tried to find the man and again was ignored. Once he realized I’d left he called to yell at me for leaving.

When we moved in they pointed out that they were aware that the basement electrical outlets were not up to code and gave us a number of an electrician to call. We called him and never heard back. Our basement is still not up to code.

They also pointed out they knew our backyard was a flood risk and said they’d be sending someone to fix that. They never have. It’s basically a pond out there when it rains and it’s filled with mosquitos.

We asked about bugs well before we moved in. We were assured they’d send someone to spray. We contacted them multiple times about it. They eventually sent their maintenance guy who left us with a couple roach traps and some spray that did nothing. Our kitchen, even after a month of keeping everything spotless is still infested. He said that the root of the problem was the abandoned house next door and he couldn’t do anything about it.

We found out two days later that the house was not abandoned and they owned it so they could do something about it. Because they began very very loud construction without any notice, construction that was happening for 11 hours a day. When we contacted them initially, they were very condescending, saying it was just because it’d been unoccupied for a while and we weren’t used to the noise (we’ve both lived in shared housing for almost a decade at this point) but said that they’d limit the hours to business hours Monday – Friday. But then without contacting us further and ignoring all our calls and emails – they continued to work 11-12 hours a day. I still cannot understand why they promised it at all and then turned around and go against it. It’s just spiteful.

They’ve ignored all of our emails for 2 weeks straight. We cannot get in contact with them.

A person we’ve never interacted with from their company called us to ask about our dishwasher, meanwhile they’d ignored 5-6 emails we’d sent trying to get more information about what was happening. What a blatant way to say we don’t care about you, just our property.

I am disabled, I do what work I can out of my home and my partner works from home several days a week. This has forced me to basically live somewhere else in order to sustain any kind of income and has taken a major toll on my health. Even if I did have a 9-5 job, I’d still be dealing with this an hour before and two to three hours afterward. When I am at the house I’m getting up early and staying out late just to not have to deal with the noise.

In trying to find out what I could about them more recently, I found that they have at least one code violation they were found guilty of and had to pay the city.

We also found that the owner of the company has a twitter in which he kind of weirdly gloats about kicking people out of their homes and doing very little work so that he can charge people more money. His bio features the line “It’s all about who’s ox is getting gored” – guess the ox are his tenants. I’m now very very skeptical of his “trouble tenants” as I wonder if they didn’t refuse to pay for a place he wouldn’t fix and he kicked them out, “upgraded” the place, and upcharged the next tenants. He brands himself as an entrepreneur and adding value but I can tell you this house is made to sell, not to sustain actual human life in them.

A warning to women and queer people: I would especially advise women and queer people away from this company. They’ve been really weird about my partner and I living together. We told them when we moved in we were a couple and yet weirdly we just get referred to as roommates or just grouped together under “ladies”. It’s really uncomfortable. With the maintenance guy being as patronizing and horrible as he was, I wouldn’t want another woman to have to go through that but it’s whatever you’re comfortable with in the end I suppose.

So that’s what I’d want people to know about doing business with [landlord]. More power to you if you want to but I would never ever recommend them to anyone.

If you know of anything we can do about this, let me know but I'm not hopeful.

Editing to Add Some Pictures

We could post a lot more but I feel like these sum it up for right now: https://imgur.com/a/uzXQPzM

#personal

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wall-krawler · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2- Casual Sunday

New York City. Some would argue that this place was the best city in the world. Sure it has a lovely historical attraction but that wasn’t the heart of city. It was the people, they’re the ones who made New York mean something. Without them there wouldn’t be a city. At least, not one worth protecting.

Spider-Man thought about the people as he frantically typed on the computer, making sure not to overthink as the timer above him continued to countdown. It was one of those moments.

“You’re too late Spider-Man! You won’t be able to stop what I’ve already started in time.” Spencer Smythe gloated from the top floor, leaning against the railing as he watched the hero try to stop his plans.

Despite the tense situation Spider-Man was still able to still let out a chuckle. “Haven’t you noticed by now that you always say that right before I stop your plans?” He types faster, watching the commands and schematics glow from the computer screen. The ticking clock didn’t make concentrating easier though.

3 minutes left

Spencer continues to ramble on, ignoring the hero’s comment. “Jameson will pay for making me look like a failure. After today the only headline we’ll be reading about is his demise.”

2 minutes left. Cue the evil laughter.

The floors in front of Spider-Man began to slowly open as the timer neared its remaining minutes. Steam hissed as a rather large object emerged from below, towering over him. With wide eyes he watched as the ceiling to the lab also opened up, giving him a good look at the blue skies above. It was a beautiful day today.

“Don’t do this Smythe! You’ll kill hundreds of innocent people!” Spider-Man yelled, now seeming more worried as he stared at the giant robotic spider that stood before him. An object that big was meant for only one thing. Destruction.

“They’re Just as guilty as Jameson! Everyone at the Bugle played a role in running my legacy, destroying my name. They’ll all pay.” The countdown turned red as it reached its last minute.

‘Jeez where does the time go?’ Spider-Man thought while coming up with a backup plan on the fly. No matter how much he pleaded Smythe wouldn’t stop the countdown. There wouldn’t even be enough time if he did have a change of heart. Which only left one option.

Abandoning the keyboard Spider-Man uses the computer as a platform, jumping off of it to leap towards the robotic spider. As he landed he could hear Smythe’s laughing and the timer going off, which soon was joined by rockets activating. The spider itself began to hover as its thrusters propelled it and Spider-Man upwards.

“Ta-Ta Spider-Man!” The evil inventor waved as his spider rocket sailed off, taking his enemy away as well. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. There was no way his plans could be foiled now.

🕷🕷🕷🕷

The force of the wind caused Spider-Man’s suit to ripple and his grip to loosen slightly. His masks lenses were the only thing keeping his eyes open as he clung to the rocket. It was obvious from the start that Smythe wanted Jamison to pay but Spider-Man had no idea he was willing to kill to do it. With something this large he could only guess what the target was. The Daily Bugle, the company that released career ending information about him to the public.

“I hate robots!” Spider-Man yelled out as he pushed against the wind resistance to climb towards the robots head. The fact that it resembled the spider he wore on his suit somewhat ticked him off. Somehow he just knew things would bite him in the butt later in the day.

He however quickened his pace when he saw the city up ahead. Again, probably only a few minutes before things turned really bad. Once at the head he used his full strength to pummel it. Cocking his right arm back as he clung with his left, he’d strike at the glowing eyes. The metal of the robot would only crease upon impact, taking the powerful blows with no affect.

Civilians now would begin looking up to see a spider shaped rocket sailing through the air, just slightly above the skyscrapers. Gasps would travel throughout the bundled groups while others would immediately start filming, getting a good look of their hero repeatedly punching the head.

🕷🕷🕷🕷

J. Jonah Jameson was sitting at his desk lazily listening to an editor give pretty decent article topics they should cover. But the big man himself didn’t do decent or simple. Everything had to be-

“-Exciting! The news has to be huge or no one will want to even pickup the damn thing!” Jameson exclaimed suddenly. It was very difficult to tell if he was angry or just very expressive when it came to being excited. “I want something BIG on the front page, you hear me!?”

The editor sighs and nods, knowing that there was no point in trying to change Jameson’s mind. “Yes sir...”

He sulks out of the office as Jameson smirks and crams a cigar into his mouth. He told everyone it helped him relax, which was a good enough reason to keep people from saying anything about it. A little smoke was a price they were willing to pay if it kept Jameson from exploding. But even as he turned around to look out his sky view the internal confusion began to rise as he saw something in the distance. The explosive anger didn’t start to boil until he realized Spider-Man was on it. “What’s that skinny wall crawler doing?!”

🕷🕷🕷🕷

Back on the robot Spider-Man was giving it all he had, smashing his now aching fists against the head with nothing but determination. But the metal seemed to be too thick to punch through. There wasn’t enough time. People were going to die if he didn’t come up with something.

It wasn’t until that moment that it clicked. Smythe’s inventories worked based on their sight, which is why the rocket even had eyes to begin with. Blinding them would only cause it to fly downwards but if he could force its line of sight upwards. “It’ll fly upwards!” Spider-Man said with sudden realization.

Clenching his fists he lets out one last calm breath before using his middle and ring fingers to press down on the palms of his hands. A small hissing noise can be heard before two sticky lines of webbing shoot out to latch onto the sides of the spiders head. Spider-Man rises into a full stand and starts pulling upwards, letting out a yell as he strained his body. His feet slightly cave into the metal as he continued to pull, slowly moving the head from forward to upwards.

With eyes squinting from exerting his own strength Spider-Man caught a glimpse of J. Jonah Jameson’s outraged expression just as the robot began to tilt upwards. It was working!

The people below started to cheer as they saw the robots body badly miss the buildings and begin heading upwards and away, saving a bunch of people from casualties. “Go Spider-Man!”

Super hearing allowed those encouraging words to reach the hero as he averted the giant death trap from harming anyone. His body screamed out in pain but his heart and mind relaxed as everything seemed to me looking up. That is, until they started to fly past the city and head straight for the waters. “Ah crap..”

🕷🕷🕷🕷

About an hour later Damage Control was fishing the robot out from the Central Park Reservoir while the fire fighters watered down the few tree that burst into flames after the thing blew up. Property damage always ended up in the equation when it came to saving lives. But at least this time is was manageable.

Spider-Man was lucky enough to bolt before the robot went up in flames, saving his butt along with a few bystanders who were a little too close.

From a nearby rooftop Spider-Man watched the aftermath of everything, glad that no one besides him actually got hurt. Crazy to say this but he was even glad Jameson and the Daily Bugle were safe yet again. Sure the white haired lunatic ranted about how terrible he was for the city but Spidey Just had a soft spot for the old man. And yet still, everything always came back to bite him later.

“Whew, another casual Sunday for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” He chuckled to himself, stretching out his stiff shoulders before jumping off to start swinging.

Sure, Smythe escaped and would probably come back (just like the other crazy villains) to fight another day but there will always be a hero to stop them. Because this city was worth fighting for no matter how dangerous the job got. New York would always have their one and only Spectacular Spider-Man!

🕸🕸🕸🕸

#spiderman #ripeter except hes super alive #fanfic #action #chapters #spidersona

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hellomissmabel · 6 years

Text

Nothing under 7 inches (2)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Baker!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of a sugar daddy/baby relationship. Mentions of sex but nothing NSFW. Mentions of disease. It’s also unedited haha

Word count: 3k

Summary: Bucky is a baker in Y/N’s hometown and with her mother’s birthday right around the corner, he’s excited to see her again. Y/N however doesn’t plan on staying for too long and aims to return to the city life, a dirty little secret getting in the way of her love life.

A/N: My prompt was “cottage”. This fic is written for @soldatbarnes her writing challenge.

Series masterlist can be found here

Previously

“So turns out you’re not such a nun after all,” the redhead grins wickedly. “Who was that, hm?” Your lips move to deny her statement but she instantly shuts you down. “Don’t you dare lie to my face, Y/N. I know what I heard. You’ve got a man on the side, haven’t you? A sugar daddy. And that’s why you never date.”

“Nat,” you address her in a warning tone, worried she’ll jump to incorrect conclusions. “Before you say anything else, would you please let me explain?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she nods softly. “I’m listening.”

She closes the front door behind her, stepping inside the hallway so your conversation is more private. “First of all, I am not a prostitute or an escort. If that’s what you’re thinking, you’re so wrong. But that man you saw, he’s some kind of benefactor to me. Some people would call him a sugar daddy, but I’d rather not use that term.”

Natasha squints her eyes at you but doesn’t say anything – yet. Taking a deep breath, you continue in a hushed voice. “Tony and I met at a party. Sharon had set me up with this guy, Sam Wilson. We were supposed to go for a drink at a bar but ended up at a frat party instead. Turns out Sam was more interested in getting to know the hostess than me. So I sat down at the bar and ordered myself a drink, waiting for a reply from Sharon.”

“I was about to leave when Tony came up to me and offered to buy me another drink. I wanted to refuse but there was something about him… I just couldn’t say no. So we had a couple drinks and afterward he asked his driver to take me home. I woke up to a delivery of two dozen red roses from Tony.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at this and makes a gagging noise, not one to fall for grand romantic gestures. “He took me to dinner, and after dinner came lunch and after lunch there was breakfast. Like I said, there was just something about him that intrigued me. I thought I had found a man where I could really tick all the boxes.”

“But you were wrong.” Nat purses her lips and gives you a sour look. “Surprise, surprise.”

You didn’t feel the need to tell Natasha the whole story, but she kept digging and prying, giving you no other option but to share it with her after all. “We had rented a hotel room for the night. The next morning, room service knocked on my door and Tony was nowhere to be found. The hotel bill had been paid already and there was a note and a check on the bedside table… for services rendered.”

The redhead scrunches up her nose in disgust. “Such an asshole!”

You tell her to keep her voice down, holding a finger to your lips. “I called him for an explanation, demanding he’d talk to me face to face. So we met up at the same bar we first met.”

“Let me guess,” Natasha hijacks your clarification, “He just used you for sex.”

Giving her a hard glare, you ignore her comment. “No,” you reply harshly through gritted teeth, getting frustrated by Nat’s tendency to jump the gun all too eagerly. “He told me about his divorce and how he found out his now ex-wife had hired a girl, an escort to seduce him so she could divorce him on grounds of infidelity and ask for more money. He thought I was that girl. Later he found out that his wife only said that to anger him.”

“Still, what happened really hurt me and I didn’t feel like continuing the relationship. But Tony wanted to give us another shot… He had already fallen for me and thought he could buy my love with expensive gifts and such. At first I let him because I really needed the money, and I still do.”

You look down at your feet, a guilty expression etching your face with the shame that bubbles up in your chest. “That’s how we came to our present arrangement…”

“You have sex with him in exchange for money?” Natasha hits the nail right on its head.

You confirm with a slight nod of your head, accompanied by a heavy sigh. “Tony… despite his flirtatious nature… I believe he really does love me.”

Your answer is met with a scoff. “Love? A guy like that doesn’t know what love is.”

“I need the money, Nat.” You gently rest your hand on her shoulder. “I have student loans to pay off and medical bills and…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha sighs, getting a little fed up by your need to clear your name. But as soon as you mention medical bills, you’ve grasped her attention again. “Medical bills? I know about your student loans, but I thought your parents were helping you with those?”

Eying her awkwardly, you cough once to voice your uneasiness with the subject. Yet Natasha isn’t one to let you get off the hook that easy. “Come on, Y/N. You’ve already told me this much…”

“I – I -,” you stutter in an attempt to find the courage to speak plainly. “I am…,” you swallow thickly. “I’m sick, Nat. I have sickle cell disease.”

The redheads eyes soften at your words, her arms enveloping you in a comforting hug while she whispers soothing, sweet nothings in your ear. “I got it from my father,” you mumble into the fabric of her shirt. “And my kid will most likely get it, too.”

Coming face to face with your roommate again, she stares into your eyes with a puzzled expression, like she is debating something in the clever head of hers. Or plotting. You never know with Nat. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. I won’t do that to you.”

“Thank, Nat. I appreciate it,” you exhale in relief.

“But,” she continues and you dread what’s coming next, “You gotta stop seeing that guy. I’m sure there are other ways to pay for your medical expenses. You don’t need a sugar daddy. You don’t need him.”

“Nat,” you whine softly, distancing yourself from her. “I know. Just one more party on Friday and then I’m done.”

“Sounds like you have a busy weekend ahead,” Natasha comments dryly, clearly not amused. “Your trip home, the party, your dinner date with Steve. Yeah, I heard,” she adds matter-of-factly, marking the end of your conversation. “Sharon has a very loud voice.”

Your friend reaches for the door knob to enter the apartment again and you follow right behind her. She goes straight back to the couch to finish up on her article and you head back to your room where Sharon is still waiting for you, bored out of her mind.

“What took you so long!,” she practically yells at you, throwing her phone on the bed as dramatically as she can to make her point.

“I’m sorry. Just a guy from work handing over some paperwork. He’s really chatty.”

Sharon doesn’t question it any further and goes back to scrolling on her phone. You look over her shoulder and see she’s checking out guys on Tinder again, but when you want to make a comment about it, she shuts you down at once.

“Look who we have here,” she coos as she shows you the picture on the screen of her phone. It’s a pic of Steve and as she wiggles her eyebrows at you, she secretly swipes right.

“Steve’s on Tinder?,” you gasps as you open your closet, prompting a giggle from your friend’s lips. “How scandalous…” You go back to selecting a couple of clothes that you’re sure you want to take with you, too busy to notice her gloating when she finds out it’s a match, your attention focused on packing your suitcase.

Bucky waits for you at the train station, casually leaning against his car as he watches you get off the train and run towards him, right into his arms. “Hi there, doll,” he greets you with that one pet name you’ve always loved so much. It’s a pleasure to hear your name roll off his tongue, but you can’t resist the warm and fuzzy feeling that erupts in your tummy when he calls you doll.

He’s just as you remember. That same brown hair brushing his shoulders ever so slightly, those same baby blues that can pierce your heart like an ice pick, and a mild scruff dusting his razor sharp jawline. “I’ve missed you, Buck.”

“Likewise.” His breath fans your cheek as he presses a tender kiss to your skin, smelling like cookie dough and sugar, a dash of flour on his plaid shirt. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

The brunet picks up your luggage and puts it in the trunk of his car, opening the door to the passenger side for you. He rushes to the other side and slides into his car, revving the engine for added effect. He’s still a bit of a show-off too, you see.

The car ride home is filled with light banter and a lot of catching up. Bucky tells you that his bakery has been getting a lot more attention, people coming from all around to taste his marvellous white chocolate cheesecake. You tell Bucky you finally managed to get a job in graphic design for a company that specialises in coming up with, creating and designing advertisements.

“Seems you made it big in the Big Apple,” he whistles lowly, impressed by your achievements.

“I can say the same for you, Buck. Why haven’t you moved to a bigger city yet? You’re so talented! And it’s a shame to deprive the world of your heavenly pastries!”

Bucky’s grip on the wheel tightens. “Nah, I’m good here. This is where I belong,” is his answer.

What follows is a short silence, your nerves tested by Bucky’s reluctance to start another conversation. You have no clue why this struck such a sensitive nerve, but you decide to drop it anyway. “So… what kind of cake have you made for my mom?”

“Raspberry chocolate cake,” he chuckles softly. “She didn’t want anything with too much chocolate.”

You burst into a fit of hearty laughter, giggling at your mother’s ridiculous reasoning. “Let me guess, the raspberries make it healthy?”

He smirks and gazes over to you, promptly taking your hand in his and squeezing it affectionately. “God, I’ve missed the sound of your laugh.”

You don’t know how to react to his sudden touch, so you pull back your hand after a little hesitation. Bucky is surprised by your reaction and puts his hand back on the wheel, shifting gears when he reaches a red light and stops the motor.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he sighs as he leans the back of his head against the head rest. “I shouldn’t have… I guess some part of me still thinks we’re together.”

Turning your head to look outside, you focus your eyes on anything but the man sitting next to you, deflecting his words and banning all memories from your mind. “I need you to drive me back Thursday evening, not Friday morning. It’s okay if you can’t, I’ll just take the train back again.”

“No,” he quickly replies, “I’ll drive you back. Why you need to be back in New York so soon?”

You shrug, humming quietly as you see your parents’ house pop up in the distance. “A boring office party. I have to go because I’m up for promotion and I wanna make a good impression.”

Parking the car outside the house, Bucky takes a couple more minutes to just look at you, cupping your cheek so you’re looking back at him, too. You don’t say anything, your lips don’t move and your mind stop reeling for just those few seconds. But it feels like an eternity, an eternity of Bucky.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t fall in love with you again,” Bucky whispers eventually, smiling sadly at the girl in front of him. “But I guess I never fell out of love with you in the first place.”

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @howlingbarnes @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplansteverogers @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @barnes-heaven @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @supernaturaldean65 @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @aletheladyinred @tessiethompson @xbergiex @reniescarlett @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @lovemarvelousfics @yknott81 @rrwilson66 @pegasusdragontiger @salty-holographic-stickers @sammyissassy @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @kudosia @bellejeunefillesansmerci @lumelgy @mizzzpink @southernbellestatues @daringtodreamawake @neurotic-narwhal @cokamarie24 @blue1928 @movingonto-betterthings @breezy1415 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @jesspfly @weenie-butt @debzybrazy @fuckingchaotic @always-an-evans-addict @petersunderroos @thegreentgirl @nedthegay @eve1978 @yourtropegirl @4theluvofall @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @pineapplebooboo @curvybihufflepuff @thefridgeismybestie @supernatural508

Series tag list: @buckyappreciationsociety @alexaduke @incoherentsmiles

Strikethrough means Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you!

#nothing under 7 inches part 2 #soldatbarneswritingchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #tony x reader #tony stark #natasha romanoff #marvel #marvel fan fiction #fan fiction #avengers #bucky barnes fan fiction #james buchanan barnes

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thestylesproject · 7 years

Text

#27 The Last Stick Standing Part 2 (Harry Styles)

LAST WEEK HERE!

SO HERE IS THE MUCH REQUESTED IMAGINE!

(It’s quite long so, I hope you like the story!)

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PART 1

Maybe, time has a way of healing things. Maybe it is like a balm on a wound, and slowly it helps heal the cut. Slowly stop the blood from flowing, slowly start making a net to stop it. And, my life was like a sharp nail, that kept scratching at the wound till the blood started flowing again. I wanted to stop now. I couldn’t get myself to jump off the cliff. I couldn’t, and I wanted a fresh start now. So, I cut all my nails. It was time to start fixing myself before I blamed myself. It was time to redo.

More time was spent by me. For the first time, in a long time, I didn’t look for the company that always wanted to surround myself. I grew up with the idea that having a group of people around you led to happiness, and Matthew had it. I just didn’t fit in that group. I visited the library, reading the self-help books which helped me a lot. Just to find peace at times, and for the time to go away. It hurt initially, I wanted what my brother had, what people around me had, but maybe I wasn’t meant for it. And that was okay. I didn’t have to conform according to the world around me, I could form a new path.

It was difficult in the start. Keeping to myself, not crying, but it had been better lately. I was feeling better. I was taking care of myself now. I liked my body, my hair, my eyes, I was falling in love with myself for a start. Figured that was wrong, I had this need to always hold on to people to validate myself, first Matthew, then Harry. I had myself now, and it felt wonderful. I was laughing more. I was happy. I had a few people who I talked to in class, or some were library specific. Some were from the coffee shop I went to, but I kept a distance. Not till I was ready would I let them close, and I wasn’t ready yet.

I didn’t go back home in the summer. I got myself an internship instead, and they paid me quite well. My parents weren’t pleased, but it was Matthew was upset.

“You don’t have to work to run away from me,” He slammed his hand on the door.

“I’m not running away from you or anyone for that matter,” I smiled. I smiled at him lately. No, I didn’t talk to him. It wasn’t healthy at first, I knew. But no one treated their family like that. And, I didn’t have to give respect when I didn’t receive any in return. He chose his girlfriend, his friends repeatedly over me. When I was treated like shit, he said nothing and, then expecting me to be all love and care, when we are alone was some shit.

“Yes, you fucking are! I know you! You just want to ignore me like a punishment,” I rolled my eyes, “Like some revenge, and then blame all your shit on me in front of Mom and Dad like you always do!” He screamed and, I dropped my stuff I was holding in my hands.

“Is that it then? You don’t want to be blamed for me not coming back home?” I folded my hands.

“That’s not what I meant,” He tried to correct himself, but I knew better.

“Well that’s shit, but don’t worry. I didn’t tell mum and dad anything about us. I want to work, and therefore I am. Not everything in this world is about you, you know.” I folded my arms, “And, as far as my dealing with my shit goes, I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

“Giselle...” He came forward, and I stepped back. "You’re my sister, my twin...”

“You’ve lost all your rights to call me that. It shouldn’t matter to you. It isn’t going to make any difference to your life,” I got back to my work. “You should be glad I’m not coming back with you. The perfect child can be with his perfect parents who love him all alone!”

“You don’t mean that,” He shook his head.

“Why because it hurts you? Because it is finally being stated? You are the perfect child, the perfect little boy they wanted to have while I just came along with the package. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt me being treated like that, oh wait, you won’t know! Because you spent all your time gloating about how you got the better! It’s so in your face in everything. For people outside, we must be a family that provides equal chances to everyone, but we know it’s not. So, why don’t we accept it and move on. I will not live in this illusion that my parents love me like they love my brother, and then live in this complex my entire fucking life!” I yelled.

“Gissy...” He tried to hold my hand.

“You couldn’t even be there for your sister when she was actually in grave danger. What sort of a family is this? Did I tell you, I don’t get a call from mom, every Saturday. I call her, while she calls you! Thank fucking god, I got a scholarship for this place, or they wouldn’t have even sent me here while you weren’t even pressured to get one! Where were you during all this, Matthew? You don’t have the right to call yourself a brother. Go to your fucking girlfriend and family!” I screamed, it all came out. I couldn’t control it. There was so much that was never said, so much hidden, I couldn’t let it all out, no, this wasn’t right. “Get out!”

Was he going to cry? He ran out before that, and I couldn’t help myself from following him. I didn’t see him, but I saw Harry standing in the hallway. He looked at me with shocked eyes, “What? Enjoying the show?” I slammed the door before he could answer.

The good thing was that I saw none of them during the summer. It was a relief and a good escape. My internship was hectic but brilliant, and I earned quite a bit while my spending wasn’t much. It was good for me, mentally and emotionally. After I didn’t call mom for two weeks, she finally did. She screamed at me for not calling and about how worried she was, but couldn’t say much after I told her that she didn’t hear from me for two weeks, and dad didn’t send the money so, there wasn’t much worrying happening. The ‘enjoy with your son’ was another thing that stopped her. All my life I was treated like the second best. Like I wasn’t important, made to feel that way, if I wanted to stop pretending and get over this competition and want for attention, I had to start afresh.

Today, I was soaking in the sun. My body was toned now by all the running and workouts I put in every day. My hair was longer, and I for the first time in a long time, felt happy in myself. I had made a few friends as well, and was hanging out with them when I saw him.

He was tanned now, and I could see the muscles that developed over the summer. His eyes widened as they took me in, I did look different.

“Hey Gissy, let’s go get those pancakes now. I’m sure they’re ready!” I offered Nick my hands, and he pulled me up. I felt his eyes follow me as I got up and walked to the stall.

“Giselle,” I turned around knowing it was his voice. I smiled, “You look different.”

“I grew my hair,” I nodded. “This is Nick,” I introduced my friend, and they greeted each other.

“I’ll meet you there,” Nick nodded and I turned to Harry.

“So, how was summer?” I asked.

“Fine, yeah how was yours?” He asked.

“Quite lovely, hectic but lovely,” I nodded, “So, I’ll see you around, yeah...”

He held my arm, “Where were you?”

“What?” I asked.

“You didn’t come back home. Why? I know you were mad at him, but he is your brother,” He frowned. “And, being as righteous as you claim you are, I expected you to be there.”

“What are you talking about?” I frowned.

“Wait, you don’t know?” his eyes in shock. “Matthew, he met with an accident...how do you not know?”

“What? How? When?” I took out my phone to see if I missed any call or message. I had nothing.

“A week ago, he is bad, Giselle.”

“I wasn’t...I didn’t...fuck!”

“If you’d like, I’ll be leaving to see him in about an hour, I can give you a ride,” He said, and I nodded wiping my tears. He was my brother after all, and I couldn’t believe mom hadn’t mentioned anything! Not much could be expected out of them, though.

Rushing back to my room, I packed my things and met Harry outside. It was a four-hour ride back home, and I couldn’t wait. “You know, that night when I had asked you out...”

“I really don’t want to talk about this, Harry.”

“Fuck! Why? Why can’t you give somebody else a chance to explain themselves! You did the same with Matthew when he constantly tried to reach out to you. He can’t help being who he is, but I have seen him fight every person who said shit about you. But he couldn’t always protect you! I don’t know what you guys had while growing up, but I know he genuinely does love you and care about you! Fuck, I saw him howling in the car after you slammed the door that night!” He yelled.

“That night, I called him up to pick me up, the night you left me, remember? He switched off his phone to have sex with his girlfriend and came knocking at the door three hours later...”

“He wasn’t having sex with his girlfriend, by the way,” Harry cut me off. “She had taken his phone, and thrown it across the room. When he went to fix it, it was broken. He then went to replace the model so, he could contact you. Meanwhile, that bitch hid his keys, and then after arguing for a long time, she finally gave it. He looked for you the entire night, I looked for you with him because for some reason he thought you weren’t safe. We finally gave up and reached your dorm where you were, thank god!”

This was a perspective that I didn’t know. All this while, I thought he had left me alone, but he hadn’t. I had misjudged the situation so bad.

“And as for me, if you’d let be explain myself,” He waited for me to interrupt. I didn’t. “I really liked as you as well. I still do for fucking’s sake, knowing how impulsive you are, and such a pessimist! I told you I was caught up with Ally and the gang. They had my book in their hand. Fucking never using a typewriter again in my life! And, all my books as well. They threatened to burn it, they actually did burn a few chapters to prove a point. Ross had my things which he was so ready to pour oil on and burn. Earlier, the plan was to mess around with you, and I thought fine. I will go with it, and then tell you everything they did so, you’ll understand and we’ll have our date!”

I looked at him, wanting to know more, “But, it didn’t happen that way. Then, she didn’t stop the car when we went forward. Drove all the way to the pub and took me and kept me the entire time until Matthew came to look for you. He beat Joss up and, I handled Tyler and we rushed outta there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I asked, now crying.

“I was so guilty for the longest time, Giselle. Knowing what had happened, knowing how you weren’t talking to Matthew, knowing I could lose you forever with one wrong word because you weren’t listening to anyone,, I just couldn’t do it. I loved you and I was so guilty. On your birthday when you went back home, I planned to tell you everything. But you were so broken, I didn’t know what to say to fix it. And then, you thought I liked Ally and hated you and, I was so guilty Gissy,” Harry shook his head.

“Thought time would give me a chance, and when I built up the courage to tell you, you threw Matthew out, slammed the door, I couldn’t reach you with the wall you’d created.”

“Oh god, this is such a mess,” I cried into my palms.

“It is,” he said.

We reached the hospital in my town and I rushed to reception. Asking for his room, I ran up the staircase and Harry followed me. I reached the room and stopped when I saw our parents outside.

“Giselle, what are you doing here?” Mom asked me. Dad looking at mom accusingly.

“How could you not tell me?” I asked them.

“You were working, Giselle. We thought better not to distract you!” Dad cut mom.

“Bullshit! She knew I finished work last week!” I yelled.

“Do not raise your voice at us, young lady!” Mom spoke in the voice she used whenever she wanted to make me disappear.

“Then stop coming between me and my brother!” I told her. “If you want me out of the family, say it to my face instead of creating a divide between us!”

“Giselle!” She yelled.

“Enough mother. I have had enough,” I said, pushing his door open. Walking inside I saw the doctor giving an injection to Matthew. Matthew oh god, his hand and his left leg was broken, he had bruises on his face. His upper body was covered in bandages, his head was hurt. I wanted to cry.

“Gissy, hey...” he tried to smile. I stood away from his bed. “Please come here.”

I wiped my tears and slowly walked to him, sitting on his bed. The doctor gave his last pain killer and left. “What have you done to yourself? You didn’t have to get so bad to get my attention.”

He laughed and then grimaced in pain, “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

His left hand which was better pulled me closer, and he kissed my cheek, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” I said, crying into his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I thought you hated me, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you’re my twin. We’re basically the same. I could never hate you in my life! I’m sorry for not noticing the differentiation earlier. I’m such an idiot, but you should have mentioned this before and not hid it from me.”

“It was what I was taught,” I shrugged. “Does this hurt?” I asked, touching his ribs.

“I broke two,” he whined. “You’ll have to take care of me now. I can’t live in this town anymore!”

“The jailers should let you go,” I laughed.

“I think we should shift into that apartment you saw. It seems like the perfect opportunity!”

After talking a bit more with my brother, Harry came in and they talked for a while before he slept from the pain killers. Dad walked with me outside leaving mother behind. “Your mother loves you too,” he said.

“But loves Matthew more. You do too. It is not exactly hidden,” I said.

“It’s not like that, Giselle. You are as precious to us and Matthew. Yes, we have been harder on you, but that’s because your mother faced a lot of problems being a woman and, she wanted to prepare you for that. Yes, maybe a son is seen as more important, but we don’t want to lose you for it.” He said. Maybe some wounds take time to fill, but slowly with time, everything becomes alright and I could only hope for this to become better.

“So, you like me?” I ask, handing Harry a coffee.

“Pretty much,” He said, taking some time. “You know, there is a very good restaurant down the road.”

“Hmm, I grew up here,” I said, sarcastically.

“I’d like you to take me on a date there then. Right now would be nice. I’m starving,” Harry said, standing up.

“You’re driving me. To cancel all the chances of a repeat, you know!” I laughed.

“Shut up!” He said, pulling me as we walked towards the car.

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Please tell me what you think about this. I’m posting my last few imagines...would love some feedback!

Please send in your requests for all my stories and even new ones if you think you want a work from me.

Thank you for all your support and love!

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xx. theStylesproject.

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